The Lord’s army, fueled by aggressive momentum and absolute confidence, set out from the northwest and appeared beneath the walls of Salostini. Though the city's defenders had made preparations for war, they ultimately buckled under the ferocious onslaught. The victorious Lord exercised his power with reckless abandon, imprisoning and even executing respected citizens and officials, and ruthlessly plundering the property of the populace. This was, by all accounts, yet another violation and humiliation of the Willem Royal House. Gerdin, a vassal of the Marquis of Sirleid, spoke to his liege with profound concern:

　　"I beg your Noble Excellency to hear the counsel of your humble servant. You have hoisted the banner of 'Protecting the King' to launch this campaign; you must surely know the distinction between a sovereign and a tyrant—it is that the former protects his people from violation.

　　"Yet, I see only arrogant officers leading insolent soldiers, carrying out orders born of private vendettas. They arrest and execute honorable citizens at will, or burst into the homes of the innocent under the pretext of searching for fugitives, only to extort their wealth or strip them of everything they need to survive."

　　"I fear you misunderstand my methods," the Marquis replied with growing impatience. "If I punish these people, it is solely to extinguish the flames of rebellion and strip them of any hope of further revolt. Since these people revere the Sun God, they ought to recognize their station and adhere to the order that governs it." Gerdin, however, responded with even blunter honesty:

　　"Noble Excellency, you are now the master here. Your soldiers should maintain order and provide security for the defenseless citizens; the officials you appoint should bring them justice. This is their hope and their plea. These people once took up blades and raised banners only because they were consumed by fear. Now, by stripping them of everything in this earthly life, you are driving them directly into the ranks of our enemies."

　　"Your words shock me, Gerdin. That you would risk my wrath to defend these people proves your courage and loyalty—and that alone shall save you from the dungeons. It is the only reason you are not currently rotting in a lightless cell alongside those urban prisoners."

　　"I only hope your heart might find a little more room for tolerance," Gerdin persisted. "Your cause must also be the cause of your subjects. If your Excellency’s justice and mercy can win the hearts of all, even the humblest commoner will take pride in you; but if—"

　　"I respect the standing of the Diris family, Gerdin, but that does not mean you may overstep with your sovereign! No more of these useless pleas for those who have earned their fate!"

　　Satisfied with their plunder, the Lord’s army pressed onward. Near the outskirts of Casnoli, the Highland League decided to seize the initiative and launch a counter-offensive. This strategic shift was credited to the insight of the provisional headquarters; the assembled representatives had ultimately appointed Wesica to replace Cadmus as the commander of the League’s forces. Cadmus had previously served in the campaigns against the barbarians under the veteran general Rede, where he had been a key tactician and commander.

　　Ever since the passing of the valiant veteran general, Cadmus had been entrusted with heavy responsibilities due to his perceived command ability. Yet, this general, who had once led his compatriots against the barbarians, suffered a string of defeats against the lords. Ultimately, he advocated for a retreat to Razli, a city whose fortifications had stubbornly withstood the barbarian hordes in the past.

　　Wesica vehemently opposed the retreat, believing the lords’ army was merely blustering. He reminded his people that the Great Highlands was their ancestral home; they knew every blade of grass and every tree, all of which could be turned to their advantage. Furthermore, they had not squandered the precious years of peace, having continuously trained and forged superior weaponry. This, coupled with their love for their land, would allow them to face the perils of the battlefield with courage and endure the hardships of a siege.

　　The soldiers could feel the optimism and passion radiating from their new commander, yet they harbored secret anxieties, for it remained unknown whether he was truly seasoned in the art of war. The sons of wealthy families were particularly fearful of the lords' cavalry; they knew that if the enemy launched a reckless, all-out charge, the League’s slight topographical advantage might vanish in an instant.

　　Before this, Wesica was but an ordinary magistrate; the people knew only that his father had led the commoners of their fief to Huruhan to join the campaign against the barbarians. Despite his decision to take the initiative, Wesica opted for a defensive stance for the actual confrontation. He spoke with tempered, steady words to the officers clamoring for a fight:

　　"I am deeply mindful of the weight of the responsibility placed upon me by the representatives who chose me to lead this battle. Before we marched, I received the mandate of the Highland Assembly: we are to utterly crush the enemy's forces, ensuring those arrogant lords never again dare act recklessly against us.

　　"Since you have placed the lives of fathers, husbands, and sons into my hands, my first priority is to secure the greatest victory at the lowest possible cost. Your bravery stirs my spirit, and when the moment demands it, every man may unleash his fervor.

　　"But what I require most is your absolute obedience to orders. You must coordinate with one another, playing to our strengths so the enemy finds no opening. This is how our army overcame the barbarian cavalry to win the day. As a commander whose every move affects the fate of the army and the safety of the League, I know that to achieve lasting results, one must be comprehensive in thought and cautious in action."

　　The infantry narrowed their front to bolster the strength of their flanks and rear, using their spears in tandem with sharpened stakes to enhance their lethality. Observing the field, Wesica noted that the thickets of low brush on the right flank could disrupt the momentum of a cavalry charge. Consequently, he concentrated his elite archers on the right and boldly deployed them in an oblique formation.

　　These archers had mastered the art of firing while on the move. They could draw their powerful bows to the limit, and their broad-headed arrows were specifically designed to pierce heavy armor. The stakes provided them with an extra layer of protection, and through close coordination with the front-line spearmen, they soon made the lords’ army feel the full weight of their prowess.

　　Unwilling to see his expensive cavalry decimated, the Lord signaled a retreat and committed his infantry to the fray instead. Wesica strictly forbade his troops from pursuing, wanting to maintain the integrity of their formation. However, one infantry unit broke ranks and gave chase, suffering heavy losses and leaving a dangerous gap in the line.

　　The lords’ army sensed the opportunity and attacked, determined to shatter the line in one stroke. Three infantry columns raised their shields and pressed toward the League’s archers through a storm of arrows. The cavalry prepared to wheel their horses around, intending to gallop through the breach to widen the gap and cut the archers off from the main body.

　　Wesica signaled his archers to engage in close-quarters combat rather than retreating to safety, while simultaneously dispatching two cavalry units to support them. Armed with short swords or axes, the archers fought alongside their reinforcements, quickly plunging the lords’ troops into a chaotic, bloody melee.

　　Wesica galloped between the ranks, monitoring the tide of battle and bolstering morale, personally joining the fight while judiciously committing his reserves. An ensign carrying the general's banner followed closely at his heels. The soldiers watched as the banner fell, only to be hoisted back up again and again; after several such instances, the enemy finally signaled a general retreat. The commander ordered his men to reform their ranks but withheld the signal to pursue. After a tense standoff, the battle ended—at least for the moment—with the lords’ army withdrawing amidst the triumphant cheers of the Highland League.

　　During that night’s council of war, Wesica spoke briefly to honor the fallen, before sobering his officers with the truth: the aristocratic forces would not simply slink away. Tomorrow’s battle would be fiercer still, and many friends and brothers currently standing among them would likely not see the next sunset. He personally visited the aid stations to check on the wounded and the supply of medicines, then dispatched a report to the provisional headquarters at Biracino, detailing the situation and requesting urgent shipments of grain and medical supplies.

　　Despite the exhaustion of the day, he tirelessly inspected the sentry lines, offering smiles of encouragement to the men on watch. He sent scouts to probe the enemy camp’s strength, and only when he was satisfied that all was in order did he return to his own tent. There, he ate a meal of simple, coarse fare before lying down to rest. Yet, his sleep was fitful; at intervals, he would bolt upright and ride out to inspect the camp perimeter once more. Inside his headquarters, the lamps remained ablaze throughout the night, ensuring that officers and messengers could enter at any moment to report.

　　The lords, meanwhile, resolved to renew the assault the following morning. Some, driven by pure contempt, were convinced the enemy was on the verge of collapse. However, the more cautious and seasoned veterans argued against such rashness, urging a redeployment of their lines and better coordination between units. They warned that they must be wary of the preparations the enemy had made to counter their cavalry, lest they throw away their natural advantages.

　　Wesica instructed his officers and military representatives not to seek a decisive showdown the next day, but rather to preserve their strength and avoid heavy engagement with the enemy’s main force. Thus, he maintained his original formation but kept his reserves at a significant distance. When the battle began, the archers loosed only a perfunctory volley before retreating; the infantry, having donned lighter gear for mobility, began to fall back. Wesica himself led the cavalry in the rear, conducting a disciplined fighting withdrawal. Watching this, Marquis Stiam of Sirleid turned to his retinue with exultation:

　　"Though we made a tactical withdrawal yesterday, the moment their army reappeared today, I knew the true victory was ours, not that of those rabble-rousers. Look at their scattered, disordered lines—it is clear they have no heart for the fight. The fact that their other units remain so far from the front proves there is internal strife among them. Now, I intend to commit every man of my command and my allies' forces. Let everyone feast upon the fruit that is ready for the picking!"

　　The lords' soldiers poured out in pursuit, but after covering some distance, they were met by a piercing trumpet blast from the front. The retreating infantry suddenly snapped into a tight, orderly formation, while a unit of cavalry surged from the flank to strike. The infantry line swung into a concave, crescent shape, advancing to the rhythmic beat of war drums. On the commander’s order, the archers bravely stepped forward to take their positions on the leading edges of the flanks.

　　An orderly and courageous force pitted against a disordered and unsuspecting one—the outcome was inevitable. Wesica now held total mastery over the battlefield. Yet, even in victory, he struggled to restrain the excesses of his men. He turned to the officers beside him and said:

　　"Countrymen and brothers! I feel your passion in my own heart. But I ask you, leave these lords a shred of their dignity so they may withdraw from the field with some honor. Show mercy to the captives and the wounded, that they may return safely to their homes. And bury the fallen soldiers of the enemy; their loyalty and courage deserve our respect. The Sun God has stood with us this day—though I know not how much longer the Great Lord’s favor will last."

　　"Forgive my insolence, Commander," one officer replied, "but if it were our army fleeing in disgrace today, I doubt those men would show such a generous heart!"

　　"We offer our prayers to the Sun God only in our direst moments, seeking His intervention," Wesica said. "But mark my words, my comrade Labisis: if the Great Lord chooses to abandon us—wretched souls who truly need His aid—then no one will be left to offer pious prayers or sacrifices. Faith is the very wellspring of divine power; a god who loses that power is less than a common mortal."

　　"I shall signal at once, Commander," Labisis replied. "We must temper the soldiers' fury, lest we squander the fortune the gods have bestowed upon us by abusing our power as victors. We must not defy the divine will if we wish for His favor to remain our shield."

　　While these words earned the commander praise for his mercy, others leveled accusations against him, dismissing his restraint as a cowardly facade and a web of excuses. Some even went so far as to blame him for the earlier setbacks at Salostini. Despite the internal friction, the League spent a restful night in camp. At dawn, they launched an organized pursuit, dispersing their forces to move with greater speed. Along the way, as word spread of the League’s approach, the people hoisted their own banners in defiance. Everywhere the lords turned, they met a wall of deep-seated hostility, leaving them no choice but to continue their retreat.

　　After abandoning several towns in succession, the lords' forces fell back to Salostini. The lords were loath to camp outside the walls, fearing the League’s nearby army would launch a night raid; yet, huddling behind the ramparts felt no safer than the open field. As the soldiers marched through the city streets, they were met with vigilant, hateful glares from every corner. The slightest spark, it seemed, would ignite a conflagration of conflict and bloodshed.

　　In this tense hour, the arrival of the Nor units was a profound surprise for the lords. Several high-born lords, who had previously looked down upon this minor frontier ruler with disdain, now displayed a friendly front and received the Nor commander with formal hospitality.

　　Though few in number, the Nor troops served as a deterrent, ensuring the enraged castellan and citizens dared not act rashly. The Nor commander learned from the garrison that the lords intended to hold the city at all costs, determined to protect the fruits of their campaign and prevent Salostini from falling back into the League’s hands.

　　Wesica deployed his forces, intent on reclaiming the city. The Urban Alliance's military actions were bolstered by the support of the local populace; a man claiming to be a citizen of Salostini appeared at the camp, assuring Wesica that the moment the League struck, the city would rise in rebellion from within.

　　Despite the favorable momentum, Wesica remained cautious. He ordered the construction of siege engines to tilt the odds in their favor and conducted thorough reconnaissance to identify the most vulnerable points of attack. These measures were designed to overcome the city's defenses while minimizing casualties.

　　However, Wesica was soon beset by a flurry of urgent orders from the Highland Assembly, forcing him to cut short his preparations. To appease the restless citizens and prepare for the coming storm, the lords not only opened their tightly guarded granaries and treasuries but also released those they had imprisoned, allowing them to return to their families. The supply lines to the city were heavily guarded and remained open, ensuring the garrison would not be starved into submission.

　　The League’s next three assaults ended in failure, and the planned uprising within the city was stifled by the lords’ heightened vigilance. Driven by tactical necessity and a genuine concern for his men, Wesica sent a battle report to the Assembly. He could not, however, mask his frustration; his words were blunt and impatient. Though he eventually received orders to cease operations, his intemperate tone provided his political enemies with the leverage they had been seeking.

　　The victorious lords then displayed a flash of the old Willem era spirit. They released their captives, allowing the enemy to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades. Afterward, they sent envoys to the League’s camp, bearing respectful greetings and gifts of consolation—though this was, in truth, a thin veil for a scouting mission to probe the League's remaining strength.

　　The state of irreconcilable enmity remained. To build sufficient siege engines, the League’s forces nearly stripped the surrounding countryside of its trees. At the same time, heartening news arrived: a relief force was marching day and night to join them. The commanders used every rhetorical device at their disposal—along with a mixture of rewards and punishments—to steel the resolve and morale of their men.

　　The ensuing battle was a nightmare of carnage. Even those long accustomed to the horrors of war were shaken to their core. Berbisri Avenue, which led directly to Salostini’s central square and the Governor’s Palace, became the primary killing ground. Houses lining the street were transformed into fortresses; once-pristine cobblestones became a slaughterhouse carpeted with corpses and severed limbs. The once-tranquil nights were swallowed by a deathly, hollow silence.

　　Only when both sides realized they could not break the other did they return once more to the negotiating table. Though their language remained steeped in vitriol, the verbal sparring was merely a way to vent their bitterness. Ultimately, forced by the crushing reality of exhaustion, both sides chose to yield. The lords and the League both withdrew their troops, leaving behind a city forever scarred by the calamities of war.