The citizens of Ferafea, having previously purged the Kerite family from their gates, seemed to have developed a habit of turning to riots to resolve their grievances and vent their frustrations. The newly appointed city administrator, Colram, possessed a remarkable talent for mediation. His humble origins meant he held no ties to the nobility—a quality that earned him the profound trust and commission of the Lord.

　　However, during the conflict in the West, the Lord’s commands were deliberately stalled by the self-serving nobility. This sabotage not only denied Ferafea timely relief but forced the defeated Lord and his nobles to flee in a panicked exodus toward Swatell. The subsequent fall of the city was promptly blamed on the administrator’s alleged negligence by the very nobles who harbored a deep-seated grudge against him. Yet, to preserve their own wealth and status, these same men maintained clandestine ties with the Alliance.

　　As the city teetered on the brink of collapse, Colram struck a defiant, desperate posture, vowing to see the city consumed by flames before allowing it to fall into Alliance hands. The Alliance army halted their advance and sent word, assuring him that their arrival would neither damage the city’s infrastructure nor disturb the lives of its inhabitants.

　　In a bid to restore tranquility, Colram worked tirelessly to soothe the public temper, urging the citizens to restrain their fury lest they invite bloody retaliation from the Alliance. Simultaneously, he used his personal funds to grease the palms of Alliance officers, gathering intelligence on the world beyond the walls. But while this capable administrator managed to dodge the daggers of the nobility, he could not outrun the poison of rumor.

　　The feeble Lord of Feron and his circle of nobles cowered behind the walls of Swatell, content with the hollow promises of peace offered by the Alliance, remaining blissfully ignorant of all else. Following their victory at Soler, Sirleid intended to press their advantage and reclaim Sibilis. However, the other "Royal Members," feeling a false sense of security in the wake of the Alliance's tactical withdrawal, had no desire for further confrontation.

　　When the East Town lords withdrew a portion of their forces, the Marquis of Sirleid once again sensed an opportunity. Although the local populace trusted their administrator’s competence, the wary Alliance garrison, fueled by whispers and paranoia, began to believe the citizens were planning a general uprising to coincide with the troop withdrawal.

　　Dreading a bloodbath, Colram persuaded the agitated crowds to return to their homes, successfully convincing the tense Alliance soldiers to sheath their blades. He had already established a working rapport with the Alliance commander, who agreed to hand over portions of the city’s defense to the elderly and infirm citizens. These men, armed with only the crudest of weapons, took up the task of patrols and watch-duty. Meanwhile, Colram secretly re-established contact with his weak-willed Lord.

　　Then came the night when a fire, sparked by a citizen’s simple carelessness, was mistaken by the paranoid garrison for an all-out assault on the occupation. The spreading flames—which defied all efforts to quench them—and the frantic screams of the night only deepened the fatal misunderstanding. A patrol sent to investigate was attacked by a mob of confused and vengeful citizens, and the battle-horn was sounded.

　　The administrator rushed to the scene of the clash, but before he could utter a word of mediation, he was struck down by an arrow or a stone. The unrestrained fury of the mob collided with the might of the Alliance, and for several days, Ferafea was shrouded in a pall of blood and fire.

　　Sensing an opening, Sirleid boldly deployed its strength to the lands west of the city. Binehus followed Ral's lead, positioning their troops to the south, where they waited in stony silence, watching the movements of both the Alliance and Sirleid. Their strategy was cynical: if the Alliance prevailed, they would claim to be supporting the occupation; if Sirleid gained the upper hand, they would hoist the "Royal" banners and swoop in to reap the spoils.

　　After much internal bickering, the Alliance lords finally decided to abandon Ferafea. Following a brief negotiation, the garrison withdrew, joining forces with the troops at Morasa before retreating to the Sibilis Camp. When the jubilant Lord of Feron finally rode back into Ferafea, he found a city in ruins. Colram had vanished without a trace, and the streets were littered with the dead and wounded.

　　The Sibilis Camp stood as a vital link between the Alliance territories and Longedis to the north. Controlling the southward road also meant a direct path into the heart of Sirleid—it was the last bastion of Alliance interests in the south. The camp was perfectly situated and meticulously fortified, boasting stout defensive walls and smooth, paved roads.

　　Loscam, the chief general of the Sirleid army, acted on the advice of his strategist, Mobilet, to scout and intercept the Alliance supply trains. After driving a pursuing Alliance unit back into their camp, Loscam followed Mobilet’s counsel once more. In a dispatch sent to Desaler, he laid out his strategic vision for the campaign to the Marquis.

　　To prevent the garrison from fighting with the courage of desperation during the subsequent siege, envoys should be sent to assure them that as long as they remain within their camp, they will be safe. Once the encirclement is complete, negotiations should be opened with the preoccupied Alliance—using talk as a ruse to probe their resolve and buy time, while simultaneously dispatching messengers to other lords to secure reinforcements.

　　Yet, at this critical hour, Marquis Heles was struck down by a sudden illness, lying bedridden and oblivious to the world. The ambitious courtiers, long in league with the lord’s servants, acted swiftly upon the news. A rogue officer, wielding a forged mandate from the Marquis, besieged the eldest son’s residence under the guise of "protection." The grieving heir was barred from his father's side, denied even a final glimpse of the Marquis before he was laid in the earth.

　　The decadent second son, Razimus, ascended the throne. As the new Lord of Sirleid, he possessed neither capability nor the will to lead, caring only for his private life within his luxurious manor. He was all too willing to delegate the grueling burdens of state and military affairs to anyone willing to shoulder them, utterly blind to the consequences. Thus, Sirleid fell entirely under the control of two rival factions.

　　Manipulated by these factions, Razimus ignored the strategic counsel of Loscam and issued a reckless order for a forced assault. The conspirators hoped to use the Alliance’s blades to prune the power of their rivals. However, the Marquis soon heard rumors—whispered by Mobilet—that the people of Sibilis were welcoming Loscam with open arms. Consumed by suspicion, Razimus abruptly ordered a retreat.

　　Mobilet Voxmeyer, a man of peasant stock, had once been a beggar on the brink of death. Had it not been for Loscam’s intervention during a devastating drought, Mobilet and his family would have perished. Having been educated in the private schools of Lorim, this rescued beggar possessed refined speech and graceful manners, which he used to express his profound gratitude. Impressed, Loscam took the man under his wing.

　　Because of his humble birth and lack of military merit, Mobilet initially held only a lowly position. When war erupted, he volunteered to follow his benefactor’s army to Ferafea and Sibilis. During this period, the East Town lords were amassing troops at the border to confront the barbarians. While those forces clashed, the Sirleid army conducted reconnaissance around Sibilis until the capture of a massive supply train finally forced the Alliance to take notice.

　　The East Town lords, however, were too distracted by their own borders to intervene in the east. Some voices wisely suggested that even if a weakened Sirleid temporarily held Sibilis, they could not sustain the advantage, let alone threaten Longedis. Thus, a temporary peace treaty was proposed.

　　The West Town lords, viewing Sirleid as beneath contempt, were eager to return to Sibilis. Lacking the support of the East Town, they used their wealth to recruit mercenaries from the Hurur tribes, marching toward Sibilis under the Alliance banner. This act not only compromised the long-established border defenses but also invited condemnation for colluding with barbarians.

　　After several skirmishes, the West Town forces realized that far from achieving victory, they had incited public fury through their Hurur allies. Colibia, claiming the mantle of "protector against the barbarians," rallied allies to its banner and secured the support of the Highland League.

　　These Hurur tribes preferred to solve their supply problems through plunder; they rarely lingered and refused to join their allies in prolonged standoffs or defensive maneuvers. Meanwhile, the East Town lords desperately urged their partners to withdraw their troops to safeguard the Great Wall.

　　Having secured the submission of the Piratel Highlands, the barbarian leader Cheban turned his gaze toward the glittering wealth of the south. Though he wished for no more blood to be shed on the steppes, he was indifferent to the lives of those elsewhere; he was no true king, but merely a barbarian chieftain like those before him.

　　He gathered his subjects' forces and launched a probing attack on the East Wall. Sensing their weakness, he sent humble envoys to sign a treaty, lowering his posture to lull them into security. Cheban’s patience finally bore fruit. On the western border, the Hurur tribes, driven by greed, followed the Limidian forces south, leaving the entire region exposed.

　　Cheban mobilized rapidly and struck west, invading the Hurur lands and leaving the elderly and children in a state of terror. By the time the West Town forces scrambled back, the barbarians had already breached the thinly defended border. As the West Town army entered the Hemira Corridor, the swarming barbarians were already rampaging through northern Galenico and Mimir.

　　The Lord of Hemira led his army to support the West Town, defeating a barbarian scouting party near Gardes and pushing northwest. Hearing of this, the barbarian host converged on the spot, and battle erupted again. The Lord of Hemira fell in the fray. His son took command, ordering his father’s body back to their lands while he remained to hold the line with his allies.

　　The indecisive East Town army remained stalled in Hemira, paralyzed by constant alarms of barbarian raids. Only when the lord learned that the West Town forces had been decimated due to a lack of coordination—forcing the survivors back to Hemira—did he decide to stay and assist in the defense.

　　This left the West Town lands at the mercy of the barbarians. They committed horrific acts of slaughter, piling Limidian corpses into towers as trophies of victory and warnings to the living. After a brief rest, without waiting for the rest of his host, Cheban advanced toward Hemira.

　　After several defeats beneath the city walls, rumors spread from the barbarian camp that they intended to withdraw due to supply issues. However, within his heavily guarded tent, Cheban secretly told his men his true plan: he would lure the Limidians out from behind their walls into a pitched battle on open ground. He demanded absolute obedience and coordination.

　　Despite some skepticism, the East Town army left their fortifications to pursue the retreating foe. The first clash ended with another barbarian withdrawal, causing the Limidians to drop their guard. By the time they reached Kades-Nos, the Limidian army found the barbarians waiting in battle formation.

　　The barbarians, who had been grumbling about their previous retreats, were now eager for a fight. The overextended Limidian army was shattered in the ensuing slaughter. The survivors fled back to Hemira, carrying with them the stench of defeat and the seeds of panic.

　　Cheban’s specialized siege corps, funded at great expense, finally arrived. They deployed heavy engines to ram gates, shatter walls, and assist the ladders. After a brutal struggle, the barbarians stormed the prosperous city, their baser desires ignited by the wealth within.

　　Cheban rewarded his battle-worn warriors with a license for destruction. As they razed the city, the people of the East were horrified to learn that the Hemira Corridor had fallen. Faced with a common threat, they finally set aside their feuds. The barbarians, slowed by their own greed and indulgence, allowed the armies of Scrolo and the Great Highlands to mass at Sibilis.

　　Mobilet sought to enlist to repay his debt of gratitude, but due to his connection to Loscam, he was sent by spiteful rivals to Dithmai. This secluded camp held only a lazy cavalry unit whose primary task was chasing off wild beasts to protect the Marquis’s estates. Ironically, this exile saved Mobilet from the initial disasters.

　　Mobilet trained this "beast-hunting" unit with rigor while gathering news of the capital and his benefactor. The soldiers engaged in training and labor, which secured their supplies and maintained strict discipline. The barbarian invasion and the "Royal Army’s" defeat at Coreda left the Marquis trembling and his anti-Loscam advisors humiliated and discredited.

　　When his benefactor finally regained command, a messenger carrying Loscam’s summons arrived at Mobilet’s camp, granting the low-ranking officer a significant post and a ringing title to join the front lines against the barbarians.

　　To rouse the broken spirit of the Royal Army, Loscam raised his banner and led from the front, drawing the full fury of the barbarians. When the general was wounded and the standard-bearer killed, Mobilet arrived just in time. He hoisted the fallen flag and roared a battle cry. The rescued Loscam issued a stern order for his retinue to follow the lead of this humble officer.

　　The Royal Army razed a barbarian camp, rescued prisoners, and seized supplies, drawing the main barbarian host toward them. On Mobilet’s advice, they retreated to Rimreth, where they found the protection of walls and the enthusiastic aid of the locals.

　　Though Loscam reached out for help, the Eastern forces, stung by their previous defeat, refused to advance, citing the need to protect supply lines. Mobilet, however, confidently told Loscam that without the interference of those arrogant men, they would move more freely. In the brief respite allowed them, the Royal Army dug a deep trench around the small town—a defense that would soon cost the barbarians dearly.

　　The victors piled the barbarian corpses high as a warning to the enemy and a signal to their allies. In the following battles, the Royal Army was finally reinforced by the Eastern lords. They established a firm line at Rimreth, successfully halting the barbarian tide. However, survivors fleeing from the west brought terrible news.

　　A city lord named Karlice had abandoned all resistance, inviting the nomads into his lands and towns. This act of "inviting the wolf into the house" secured his personal life and property but dealt a devastating blow to civilization. Most tragic was the destruction of the Kebia Library and its temples—places that had been among the few where class distinctions did not exist.

　　The library housed vast collections of scrolls for all to read, attracting the learned from every social stratum—even scholars from the East who braved the long journey. Gardeners, translators, and scribes worked tirelessly, funded entirely by Karlice’s personal income.

　　There, the high and the low studied in quiet comfort. The side rooms and gardens were often filled with the hum of debate. When great masters visited, the halls were packed with people seeking enlightenment. This atmosphere of learning had made Kebia the academic heart of the frontier, a sacred temple for scholars.

　　Yet, Cheban viewed the destruction of these buildings and the burning of the scrolls with utter indifference. He arrogantly claimed to have personally "destroyed the gods of the Limidians." When he heard of the protests and condemnations, he merely scoffed—proof that this conqueror, despite his power, had never truly left the ranks of the barbarians.

　　After meeting stiff resistance at Rimreth, the barbarians began to adapt to Limidian tactics. They built outposts for a prolonged standoff and sent small units to scout the Eastern camp. They established supply depots nearby to protect their looted goods.

　　Cheban’s son was mortally wounded during a skirmish. After two days of struggle, he died in his tent under his father’s grieving gaze. The enraged leader declared that he would launch an assault the following day, leaving not a soul alive. At his son’s simple funeral, Cheban gave a cruel order: he had the barbarian followers who had accompanied his son into battle executed with volleys of arrows.

　　Cheban’s first assault yielded nothing. Thus, he sent a bold barbarian envoy to the Limidian commander’s camp to mock their cowardice and perceived weakness. The noble who received the envoy expressed contemptuous admiration for the man’s courage and rewarded him with a bag of gold. Then, in a gesture of "reciprocity," he asked the envoy to return a gift to the barbarian leader.

　　When Cheban opened the exquisite wooden box, he found a pleated woman’s skirt and several cosmetic items. The hapless envoy became the first victim of his fury. Cheban lashed out with his whip, ordering a second, desperate charge against the Limidian lines.

　　Loscam did not stand in the second line with the Eastern lords; instead, he stood with Mobilet and raised his personal commander's flag high so his men could see him and follow his signals. This bold act drew the full, concentrated fury of the barbarians, who believed he was the supreme commander and sought to kill him.

　　In the Royal Army's sector, the battle turned into a frantic struggle to protect Loscam. In the moment of greatest peril, the noble forces from the rear extended their aid, stabilizing the crumbling line. Because so many barbarians had concentrated their attack on Loscam, it allowed the allies on other fronts to launch a devastating counterattack.

　　The stubborn Cheban refused to retreat until his followers began to grumble and protest. Only then did he signal a withdrawal. The emboldened Limidian army pressed their advantage, pursuing the foe to Yarahas. Their unity secured a decisive victory. Soon, Cheban’s envoy appeared in the camp—postured in humility and offering a gesture of peace—intending to play the same old trick by signing another unreliable treaty.