Cofea, the mother of Count Trosbini of Colibia, was the daughter of an eastern lord. Despite her noble lineage, her heart was a wellspring of malice and cruelty. Her resentment toward her firstborn, Trosbini, stemmed from the agonizing complications she endured during his birth—a trauma that led her to regard her own son with inexplicable loathing. In stark contrast, her second son, Heven, whose birth had been effortless, became the sole object of her doting affection.

　　Despite the mother’s blatant favoritism, the boys' father, the Lord of Colibia, remained clear-headed. As the old Lord grew frail, Cofea frequently slandered her eldest son in his presence, desperate to secure the succession for Heven. Yet, the Lord, guided by tradition and the public interest, steadfastly refused her, noting that Trosbini had committed no fault to warrant being passed over.

　　In the early days of his reign, Trosbini enjoyed the trust and support of his people, thriving on the legacy and prestige of his predecessors. Within the family, despite the ill-treatment he had endured, Trosbini remained a man of deep sentiment; he cherished his siblings and remained dutiful to the mother who had raised him, never allowing a hint of neglect to touch them.

　　His sister, Dasneheya, was wed into a prominent family with a grandeur that befitted their mutual status. His other brother, Her, supported the Lord’s wars and served faithfully under the command of the general Liades. However, this very loyalty only served to stoke the fires of Cofea’s pre-existing hatred.

　　Even Heven could not escape his mother’s poisonous whispers. He began to believe that Trosbini’s decision to place him under the seasoned Liades was a calculated move to suppress his own potential, rather than a gesture of mentorship. He even interpreted his placement on the front lines—a prime opportunity for glory and reward—as a sinister plot by his brother to see him dead on the battlefield.

　　When the war ended, Heven’s malice finally curdled into action. He began lacing the Lord’s meat pottage with a slow-acting poison. Hearing reports of his brother’s agonizing spasms as the toxin took hold, Heven felt a secret, dark joy, yet he maintained a mask of frantic concern. He feigned a devoted vigil at the bedside, even personally cleaning linens soiled by the Lord’s sickness, all while cold-bloodedly observing the progression of the disease.

　　The poison often cast Trosbini into vivid hallucinations. In his fevered state, he superstitiously believed these visions were a divine summons, a sign that his time on earth was at an end. Yet even then, in his lucid moments, he offered words of comfort to his mother, his wife, and his siblings. In a formal declaration, he announced that he would not leave the domain to his young, inexperienced son, but would instead entrust it to his grown brother, Heven.

　　However, the truth eventually reached the kind-hearted Lord through other channels, leaving him reeling with a mixture of profound grief and incandescent fury. One night, Heven was abruptly summoned. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was tackled by warriors, bound hand and foot, and hauled away to a small, secluded chamber.

　　While this was unfolding, Trosbini was in Cofea’s quarters, unleashing a torrent of righteous anger against his brother’s depravity and venting the years of pain caused by his mother’s coldness and cruelty. Once his emotions were spent, he went to the small chamber to face his brother.

　　Under the weight of Trosbini’s scathing rebukes, Heven broke down in tears, his cries bordering on incoherent wailing. Despite everything, Trosbini still intended to grant him mercy. He could not bear the thought of his mother, Cofea, being consumed by the unbearable agony of losing a son—especially since his earlier confrontation and outburst had already left her bedridden with illness, a fact for which Trosbini felt a deep, agonizing guilt.

　　Thus, the Count arranged for his brother to reside in a designated estate, providing a family of attentive servants to wait upon him and permitting him to visit their mother at appointed times. Yet, haunted by the crushing twin burdens of guilt and terror, Heven eventually succumbed to illness. Trosbini wept bitterly at his brother's funeral; as he watched the coffin being slowly borne away, he was so overcome with grief that he momentarily lost consciousness.

　　In the Frontier, Casalens solemnly donned the robes of the Crown Prince. After a period of transition, he received the sovereign's sword from the hands of his uncle, Bird, through a grand ceremony. The ultimate fate of Situs remained a mystery, yet his disappearance became a convenient tool for slander and a pretext for war. The machinery of conflict, never truly idle, was rapidly mobilized toward the east and south as soon as the opportunity ripened.

　　The primary objective of the Frontier army was the capture of Ferafea. Once this city was brought to heel, they intended to push further north to clear the passages to the east and south, effectively bridging the lands of Longedis with their own. Leveraging their superior numbers and combat prowess, the Alliance forced the Lord of Feron to abandon his capital, leaving him to flee in haste with his kin toward the northern region of Swatell.

　　Having no interest in the northern reaches of Feron, the Frontier forces halted once their opponent’s power to resist had vanished. Simultaneously, another army massed at Ferafea began its southward march toward Susales. The people living around Wimoretis, who had once gained their freedom through the benevolence of the Baron, now took up arms and rallied under his banner to defend their benefactor’s soil.

　　The gloating Count Ral stood by, watching the Baron’s struggle against the Alliance, believing he could use the latter's strength to eliminate the commoners who threatened his borders. These people, once rebels, had been granted amnesty and freedom by the Baron—a kindness they repaid with fierce loyalty to him and enduring hostility toward Ral.

　　Sirleid, for its part, quickly assembled a force and marched to Susales, engaging a Frontier unit at Danret. Long ago, at this very spot, a bellicose Sirleid had once attempted to wrest Danret from the Baron’s grasp. Only when word reached them that Susales had been defeated and besieged did they hastily withdraw to defend their own heartland.

　　Flushed with victory, the Alliance army maintained a broad front as they continued their southward push, their divisions keeping a mutual covering distance. Though their progress was slow, their formation was so disciplined and impenetrable that it proved nearly impossible to shake. Splitting into three columns, the army bypassed Ral and instead pivoted toward Desaler, the capital of Sirleid.

　　The eastern lords initially adopted a posture of "watching the tigers fight from the mountain," clinging to their old hope of weakening their rivals while reaping the spoils for themselves. However, Colibia had not anticipated that the Sirleid forces would retreat so far, nor that Ral and Binehus would remain so paralyzed by indecision. Consequently, the capital of Desaler was soon surrounded on three sides by the Alliance.

　　The people of Ral and Binehus wasted precious time in hollow debates between war and peace. Though they finally shed their thoughts of compromise in favor of a unified resistance, they placed their entire hope on the lords of the East, praying for a helping hand.

　　The Alliance, brimming with confidence, believed their superiority in manpower and equipment would bring a swift end to the siege. But the defenders, galvanized by the Marquis of Sirleid, fought with the desperate courage of cornered beasts, turning the city into an unbreakable fortress. The Frontier army was forced to peel off a portion of its strength to enter Saboris in Ral, serving as a screen to watch the eastern movements.

　　During this period, the only success the Frontier army achieved was breaching a section of the city wall. Thinking victory was within their grasp, they were stunned the following morning to find that the gap made by day had been mended by night. An envoy sent by the Lord of Ral arrived in Colibia, vividly recounting the struggle within Desaler to the Count:

　　"By the Lord's command, the citizens have dismantled the temples of Desaler, using the stones to mend the broken walls and casting arrowheads from the bronze of the pillars. The Marquis has torn down his own manor, fashioning arrow shafts from the roof beams and rafters. The Alliance has exhausted every stratagem to no avail, and their ranks are now fractured by internal bickering. If the lords of the East extend their aid now, the enemy will surely suffer a shattering blow."

　　The Count of Colibia issued the call to arms and summoned his allies. Once they had massed within Ral’s borders, they advanced toward Sirleid. Upon hearing of their approach, the Frontier army lifted the siege amidst the jubilant cheers of the defenders. However, on the flat plains north of the capital, the Alliance drew up their battle lines, determined to have a reckoning with the eastern forces.

　　Pre-battle reconnaissance intensified, followed by a series of small-scale skirmishes that forced both sides to maintain a state of high alert even through the night. While the first direct confrontation resulted in casualties for both sides, the second clash convinced the Frontier that the Eastern League was not as monolithic as it appeared.

　　In the third engagement, the Frontier concentrated its fury on the lords' armies on the flanks while merely containing and defending against Colibia in the center. After the fighting ceased, they continually sent envoys into the Colibian camp—a tactic that sowed seeds of suspicion and resentment among the eastern allies. To answer the murmurs and accusations of his partners, the Colibian Counselor acting in the Lord's name decided to launch a proactive assault on the Alliance.

　　Had the commander Liades not issued a timely order to retreat, the hastily engaged eastern army would have surely suffered devastating losses. Nevertheless, the eastern forces established their camp to the northeast of Desaler, a position so strategic that the Alliance dared not resume a full siege of the city. Subsequently, both sides engaged in localized skirmishes, vying for control of the vital supply line leading into Desaler.

　　The eastern army held its ground, making it difficult for the Frontier to encircle the city. A retainer from Mimir named Ritis, accompanying his master in the Frontier camp, remarked to those gathered—with his master's tacit approval:

　　"The appearance of the eastern army is meant to steel the resolve of Sirleid, encouraging them to hold the city's ramparts and exhaust the Alliance’s strength. Thus, the eastern forces now hold their camp with no intent to seek a decisive battle, yet they have no plans to retreat from the field either. The Alliance must now choose: either launch an immediate, all-out assault to seize Desaler quickly, or withdraw their forces to preserve the gains they have already won."

　　However, as the secret agent knew all too well, the Marquis had dismantled his own manor and the city’s sacred temples to bolster the fortifications. This act of sacrifice had galvanized the populace, who now followed the Marquis with fierce loyalty, resolved to resist until the bitter end. With the people within the walls determined to die fighting, and the eastern army outside controlling the supply lines, the siege was unlikely to yield a quick victory. Conversely, while a retreat might preserve the Alliance's current gains, it risked driving Sirleid—and indeed all the "Royal Members"—permanently into the eastern camp and into direct opposition to the Alliance.

　　Thus, the agent proposed a diplomatic pivot: initiate peace talks with Sirleid. By offering favorable terms, the Alliance could convince the eastern forces that their objective had been met, thereby removing any reason for them to remain. This strategy was designed to prevent a weakened and isolated Sirleid from leaning entirely toward the enemy, keeping them within a range where the Alliance could still exert its will through threats and control.

　　The Frontier took Ritis’s advice to heart and immediately prepared for negotiations. Lidre, a prominent courtier of the Marquis, adamantly opposed these so-called peace overtures. He believed that without a decisive military victory, the struggle would never truly cease, nor would the lands previously seized by the Alliance ever be recovered. Nevertheless, under the combined pressure of the pro-peace faction and the envoys from Colibia, the Marquis of Sirleid signed the treaty during a grand, solemn ceremony.

　　Trosbini, the Count of Colibia, boasted loudly of the outcome, claiming that it was the eastern forces who had brought peace to the region and restored the lost territories to Sirleid. Meanwhile, Lidre, now marginalized and neglected by his Lord, resigned his post and took his family to live in the countryside. The moment he next heard news of the Frontier army, he hastily gathered his belongings and fled with his kin toward Ral.

　　After a period of thorough rest and preparation, the Frontier army suddenly reappeared in the Soler region following a swift night march. Moving south without resistance, they encircled Desaler once more, severing the vital eastern supply lines. Aided by meticulous prior reconnaissance and the failure of any reinforcements to arrive, the Alliance finally planted their victory banners upon the inner citadel of Desaler.

　　Under the cover of a desperate rearguard, the Marquis of Sirleid evaded capture and escaped the city, seeking temporary sanctuary in Ral. Flush with victory, the Frontier Alliance pushed their forces to the Ral border. At a place called Raga, they deployed in a massive, imposing formation, conducting military drills to showcase their might.

　　For the time being, Ral and Binehus were spared the direct ravages of war. At the Marquis’s urging, however, they dispatched envoys to Nisur, the capital of Colibia. Appearing before the Count with high-profile bravado, these envoys employed every ounce of their rhetorical skill to declare that the "Royal Members" were prepared to fight the Frontier to the death.

　　A delegation from the Alliance also arrived in Ral, professing a desire for peace and a continued "friendship" with the Royal Members. They cleverly shifted the blame for the war onto the eastern lords, while simultaneously dispatching secret emissaries to the courtiers surrounding the Count of Ral.

　　Swayed by the lavish gifts they received, these courtiers advised the Count of Ral to send the exiled Marquis back to Sirleid. They argued that by acting as "mediators," they could showcase their close ties with the Alliance. They further noted that Trosbini of Colibia would loathe to see such cooperation and would surely send envoys—or perhaps even an army—to negotiate with Ral to maintain his own influence.

　　Some time later, the Marquis of Sirleid, under the escort of the Ral army, made a smooth return to Desaler. The citizens hoisted the banners of Sirleid and the Willem Royal House high; the jubilant scenes offered a momentary balm to the Marquis’s grief over the loss of his son. Meanwhile, the Alliance forces withdrew to a considerable distance, dispersing across the vast expanse from Ferafea to Sibilis to rest and refit.

　　The Count of Colibia intended to dispatch an envoy to Ral. However, his courtier, Nerfas, issued a sharp warning, arguing that there was absolutely no need for Colibia to rush into contact. He urged the Count to keep a vigilant eye on Ral's movements instead, lest they surrender their own strategic advantage and invite unnecessary trouble.

　　Ignoring this, Trosbini sent a high-ranking emissary to Loren, the capital of Ral, where they were received with a grand welcome by the Count of Ral. Sirleid also sent an envoy, but notably, the Marquis’s messenger did not head east; instead, he offered a respectful and exclusive expression of gratitude to the Count of Ral. At that moment, the Count of Ral was bursting with vanity and self-importance, utterly oblivious to the fact that the Alliance was pulling every string to pit the "Royal Members" against the East.

　　Setting out from Ferafea, the Alliance army quietly bypassed Wimoretis in Susales and reached the Ral border. Boasting of eastern support, the Count of Ral struck a defiant battle stance at Tenera. However, he was swiftly crushed by the Alliance and retreated in haste into the city, where he was forced to endure a siege while desperately awaiting eastern reinforcements.

　　Nerfas intervened once more, counseling against sending the army on another long, grueling march to join a senseless conflict in the west. He argued that they should not provide aid to those who had lost their strategic value, but should instead forge ties with the lords of the Great Highlands. But the Count believed he could not stand idly by while an ally was under fire, fearing that a refusal would tarnish Colibia’s prestige and honor. Thus, he issued the call to arms once again.

　　Upon learning of the Colibian mobilization, the Alliance immediately withdrew its forces. When Ral raised a second alarm, the Colibian courtiers again tried to dissuade their lord. After Trosbini rejected his counsel once more, Nerfas offered one final suggestion: if Colibia must act, it should prepare for a decisive showdown with the Alliance. To do this, he argued, Colibia ought to reach out to the various lords of Scrolo, mobilizing the army in the King’s name with a grand and solemn departure ceremony.

　　Trosbini, however, remained obstinate and refused. This allowed the Alliance to employ the same ruse once more, causing Colibia to return empty-handed from two consecutive military operations. By the time the Alliance broke through at Tenera and marched straight toward the capital of Loren, Trosbini had been poisoned by rumors; he rejected the pleas of the Ral envoys with a heart full of loathing.

　　According to the reports the Count had received, Ral had already struck a secret deal with the Alliance. It was said that Ral had issued false alarms to lure the Colibian army into an ambush at Raga, near the border of Binehus, orchestrated by the Alliance. These suspicions effectively severed the ties between the "Royal Members" and the eastern lords, allowing the Alliance to launch its final assault on Loren without any fear of outside interference.