The opening stages of the war progressed with remarkable smoothness. Settins, the brother of Edward, seized the momentum to persuade Delm that the chieftain should utilize his prestige and the strength of his domain to transform the region from the steppes to Pilater into a stable and secure rear base.

　　After triumphantly entering Andrus, the chieftain readily adopted this counsel and dispatched a force toward Pilater. The troops hoisted the ancient banners of the steppe tribes; during the march, these colors were held in the left hand by the youths of the Hank family, while in camp, they were guarded by the most robust soldiers.

　　The emblems on the banners won the favor of the steppe herders, yet Settins’s grand vision failed to materialize. While inspecting his troops, Delm fell from his horse. He received orders to return at once, leaving Edward to lead only a small contingent toward Pilater.

　　After two days in a coma, Delm bid farewell to this world. His eight sons, following their father’s dying command, honored their eldest brother, Gulgar, as the new leader in a traditional steppe ceremony. Gulgar introduced the grand pageantry of a Limidian sovereign—a gesture that amounted to a declaration of his status as the legitimate ruler of the land. The new leader intended to reign over the Semerians, yet he had no desire to act as an arbiter for the steppe tribes, nor did he possess any interest in Pilater.

　　At this time, the ruler of the Pandirians was Queen Caelina Rufus, a woman of prudence and focus. The lords admired her magnanimity, the courtiers praised her brilliance, the commoners sang of her benevolence, the clergy lauded her piety, and her allies held her in profound respect.

　　Due to the untimely death of her elder brother and the fact that her younger brother had consecrated himself to the celestial god Gruen, Caelina was able to receive the scepter from her father, shouldering the heavy responsibilities of both the kingdom and her family. While diligently managing state affairs, she also oversaw the lives and upbringing of her nephews, ensuring the future heirs would be fit to bear the kingdom's great burdens.

　　Her father, Druber Rufus, had been an enlightened monarch. Though Druber mourned for his sons, he saw hope in his daughter and grandchildren. When the King marveled at his young daughter's inquiries regarding legal matters, he did not dismiss her; instead, he appointed a scholarly tutor to provide professional guidance.

　　Regarding the reports from her courtiers, Caelina expressed a desire to shield innocent civilians from the ravages of war. To this end, she dispatched peace envoys to perform dangerous missions within the hostile enemy camps. This not only ensured the Pandirians held the moral high ground but also bought precious time for their own mobilization and deployment.

　　After a perilous confrontation at Bengil, the Pandirians and the Count of Eket’s forces decided to voluntarily abandon their positions. The former withdrew to Puhost, while the Count’s troops held Pitnum. They intended to use these two locations as anchors for a defensive line, fully exploiting their tactical advantages to secure a favorable outcome.

　　Local farmers and lords obeyed their ruler’s commands, moving their property into designated cities or burying it early on. Two generations of peace had allowed the Pandirians to accumulate considerable wealth. The Queen advocated for frugality and led by example, avoiding the squandering of hard-earned riches on trifles. Now, this wealth was entirely directed toward the war against the rebels and the barbarians.

　　Gulgar’s forces launched a confident assault on Pitnum, which had originally been a mere watchtower-fortress against bandits. Expecting an easy victory, they were met with such fierce resistance that Gulgar was forced to suspend the offensive. Trapped on barren land with no means of forage, they could only wait. During this time, tireless scouts discovered a poorly defended local unit at Rodel, which also served as the junction between two enemy detachments.

　　After routing these men, the army surged through the gap and advanced rapidly toward Mauladras. At this juncture, had Gulgar turned to strike at the Count of Eket’s rear, he would have surely achieved a decisive victory. However, the sight of low walls and the city’s fabled wealth led Gulgar to issue an ill-advised command to commence a siege of Mauladras.

　　The warning bells of Mauladras’s high towers rang out. Men of all ranks, noble and common alike, joined the struggle to defend the city. Before reinforcements could arrive, the citizens of Mauladras had already sustained heavy casualties. Traitors within the city, having accepted enemy gold, plotted to sell their compatriots’ lives and the weaknesses of the walls to the foe. It seemed Gulgar was on the verge of taking the city.

　　The guards in one watchtower were slaughtered, and the following troops scaled the walls using ropes. However, a mobile patrol intercepted them, sounding the alarm and narrowly preventing a total collapse. The defenders threw the enemy from the ramparts, cut the ropes, and hung the corpses of the foe upside down from the walls—an act that satisfied their desire for vengeance but incited the enemy to a frenzy of rage.

　　Observers noticed female silhouettes upon the ramparts and concluded that the city’s fighting men had been wiped out. Gulgar instructed his troops to show no mercy and to reward their hardships with indiscriminate pillage. The two sides first battled upon the walls, then fought a desperate melee for the body of the city’s Mayor. Gulgar intended to preserve the corpse of this brave Mayor in a vat of chemicals as a trophy.

　　Ultimately, scouts spotted the dense, moving lights of torches in the night, forcing Gulgar to halt his assault. However, the Count of Eket’s timidity prevented the coalition from completing a pincer movement, allowing Gulgar’s army to retreat safely from Mauladras. The Pandirians and the Basin Count’s forces united at the city. The Queen’s decree followed shortly after, first commending the citizens of Mauladras and then granting full command of the army to Sahel.

　　This Pandirian general from Akran served as both the Queen’s Treasurer and the Commander-in-Chief. He stood upon his horse clad in armor, his tan-colored turban serving as a distinct mark of his presence. The two sides drew up their battle lines in an open plain, each staking their hopes on this single engagement.

　　The flat terrain left no room for concealment; thus, the outcome rested solely on the valor of the men. Swords clashed and arrows flew like rain. The Pandirians fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the Count’s troops, the death of their comrades only fueling their fury and resolve. Sahel deployed a band of musicians to the front lines, and until the battle reached its end, these players tirelessly performed high-spirited melodies.

　　The battle raged until dusk before both sides withdrew to their camps. However, the advantage clearly lay with Gulgar’s opponents, as they still held five thousand fresh Pandirian soldiers in reserve, yet to be committed to the fray.

　　Gulgar’s situation had become dire. His choices were limited: either risk everything on a final, desperate stand, or execute a cautious retreat under the shroud of the terrain. Sensing this, the Akran general decided to organize a night raid. The Hensland army saw sudden movements of torches and heard a great clamor within the enemy camp, signaling an imminent strike.

　　Yet, Gulgar took no measures for combat. Instead, accompanied by a retinue of bodyguards, he was the first to flee the great camp. Utterly abandoning his honor and responsibility, he left behind the nobility, the common soldiers, and the wounded to fend for themselves.

　　The thrill and joy of victory swiftly dispelled the exhaustion of battle. The surrendered troops received temporary mercy from their victors; those who laid down their weapons were spared from execution. However, as payment for the Pandirians' service, these captives were sent to the mines and timberlands of the Pandirian mountains, their fates left to the whims of overseers and lords.

　　Gulgar halted his panicked flight near Lerz, intending to wait for his retreating units. Initially, the chieftain was well-received. But as soon as the local mayor learned of the front-line disaster, Gulgar found the town that once supported him turning hostile. Forced to disguise himself, he continued his flight as a fugitive, driven to stealing from farmers' orchards just to fill his belly.

　　Other regions followed the shifting winds, throwing open their gates to the Count of Eket and the Pandirians. The Count pardoned their transgressions, though he imposed heavy fines to reward his soldiers and the Pandirian host. The allied forces established their camp at the border of Hensland, where the soldiers could rest in their tents, recouping their strength while awaiting their comrades from the rear.

　　During this brief respite, the Count issued a list of public enemies, placing Gulgar and his followers at the top. He offered rewards for any information leading to their capture or for the delivery of their corpses.

　　Meanwhile, the chieftain cowered within his castle, regarding every piece of advice from his subordinates with deep suspicion and dismissal. Ultimately, he succumbed to rumors, blaming his failures on the alleged defection of Settins. This retainer had faithfully defended Andrus throughout the war and funneled supplies to the front, yet he was now accused of planning a rebellion—simply because it was believed he would do anything to preserve his family estate and property.

　　After Andrus fell, Settins led his remaining troops to Hensland, only to be promptly arrested and imprisoned. Laxon, the official in charge of the investigation, had no desire to bear the guilt of harming a loyal man, yet dared not offend the chieftain. Thus, he cast Settins into a dungeon while secretly spiriting the man’s family out of Hensland.

　　No sooner had the family left Hensland than they reached the allied camp and delivered a petition to the Count. Beyond the defensive lines, the troops were poised to strike. The Count, optimistic about the internal situation of the city, promised to pardon the locals and spare their property. He even granted Settins’s eldest son a suit of armor and ten squires, allowing him to enter the city alongside the army.

　　Edward, having received word, could only pray silently for his brother's safety while remaining profoundly grateful for the Count’s magnanimity. When the Count launched his assault on Hensland, those who had previously remained silent surrendered without a fight, even hoisting banners to welcome the Count’s arrival.

　　The smooth progress of the campaign allowed the allied forces to advance in dispersed units, making it easier to forage while fearing no hostile action. They eventually converged at Kelton, the capital of Hensland. The garrison made a show of a fight to the death, but the city’s defenses were quickly betrayed to the enemy. A banner was raised at a certain point on the wall as a signal. The Count fulfilled his promise, accepting the surrender of local officials and ensuring his troops did not harm the citizenry.

　　However, at Clair Castle, Gulgar’s private residence, the troops loyal to the chieftain fought with the desperate courage of cornered beasts. Delm had once spent vast sums to gather master craftsmen from many nations to labor here. Pandirian architects were masters at building structures that followed the contours of the mountains, while Limidian engineers had designed a private garden for Delm, so ingeniously crafted that it appeared to hang in mid-air.

　　Workers had carved into the cliffside, transporting building materials up the rock face by hand and machinery. The chieftain himself had inspected the site, encouraging the workers with kind words and generous rewards. Yet this structure, which combined utility with sublime beauty, existed for only a brief time before being utterly destroyed by the Count’s vengeance and the army’s pillage.

　　The chieftain had amassed his wealth within this private domain. The soldiers stuffed their pockets and bosoms with gold and silver, some even casting aside their weapons just to carry more, yet they continued to find even more dazzling treasures. Days later, the Count watched with satisfaction as the spoils were piled onto wagons, the horses and oxen slowed to a crawl by the sheer weight.

　　Yet even this was not enough to appease the Count’s wrath; he ordered Clair to be put to the torch. The brilliant glare of the fire could be seen from a great distance, serving as a warning to all rebels. Soon after, a sudden downpour swept over the scorched cliffs, triggering a massive collapse that erased every trace of the once-magnificent castle.

　　As Edward rejoiced at the survival of his brother and the fate of the Hank family, the southern ruler had already prepared for his grand ambitions. For the first time in an age, a Limidian army set foot in Pilater. The broken ruins of the ancient structures stood as a testament to these descendants that the Limidians had once been the pioneers and masters of this land.

　　They marched through the breached walls and advanced toward Gravel City along the Conqueror’s Highway. The farmlands that once lined the road had long since vanished; from the architectural remains, later generations could only surmise that these weed-choked barrens were once inhabited or tilled. Yet, it was the temple structures that most vividly spoke of the former splendor; even in their ruined state, the broken walls and fallen columns commanded a profound reverence. Men offered prayers before these ruins, vowing that if the gods would grant them victory, they would surely rebuild these grand abodes to their former magnificence.

　　When Edward learned that a massive host was advancing toward Gravel City, he was forced to weigh the fate of himself and those under his care. Although the odds of a successful defense seemed favorable, the Limidians did not launch an assault after establishing their camp. Instead, they dispatched an envoy to the City Hall of Gravel City to address the nobleman with respectful and decorous speech.

　　The envoy expressed the Frontier Lord’s admiration for Edward, praising the Hank family as noble and wealthy, and remarking that Edward’s personal virtue would surely bring even greater glory to his house. Simultaneously, the envoy subtly hinted that while his liege understood the people’s fervent desire for peace, he would nonetheless not hesitate to wage war to reclaim the heritage of his ancestors.

　　Throughout this period, the gates of Gravel City continued to open and close according to their normal schedule; though the people knew a great army was encamped outside, they felt no sense of an impending war. This normalcy greatly facilitated the activities of the Limidian envoy.

　　Inside the City Hall, Edward listened to the counsel of his loyal retainers. His followers steadfastly declared that regardless of what Edward decided, they would support him without reservation. Ultimately, Edward politely declined the titles and riches offered by the Limidians. Having already secured the pardon of the Count of Eket, he intended to return to his ancestral home to live a life of tranquility.

　　The local populace had grown accustomed to the changing of banners, yet Edward still garnered their deepest respect. As he passed through the streets, the men bowed to him in salute, while the women held branches dipped in water, gently waving them toward his carriage in a gesture of blessing.