Ever since the just and prudent Wilhelm departed from Salostini due to his failing health, the Highland League—stymied by convoluted election procedures and a lack of preparation—watched as the Eastern lords seized the initiative. This sparked a wave of bitter resentment throughout the League.

　　The newly appointed administrator, emboldened by the backing of the Eastern lords, acted with such arrogance and insolence that an enraged citizenry dragged him from the city hall without a shred of dignity. Amidst thunderous cheers, they welcomed Calvin, an official from the Highlands who viewed the city entirely through the lens of the League's interests, treating Salostini as an inseparable part of their union.

　　Though the citizens' defiance incensed the lords, their retaliation was repeatedly delayed by pressing matters in the West and the persistent barbarian threat. It was only after Mobi-Lite’s army secured the defenses at Alahus that the Eastern lords finally turned their gaze toward the Highland region. Lord Glennis was the first to strike, ordering his vassals to construct a fortress near the city and garrison it with troops.

　　The Highland League, fueled by grievance and high alert, decided to seize the initiative. Their army appeared before the walls of Salostini, hoisting the League’s banner and proclaiming that they had reclaimed and secured the city. After a long period of quietude with the "Royal family," the League once again stirred the embers of conflict with the Eastern lords.

　　Faint voices of protest rose from Sirleid and Lal, but the Eastern lords viewed the League’s actions as a blatant transgression. They issued scathing condemnations and mobilized their hosts in response. As the city bells tolled, the citizens hurriedly donned their armor and seized their weapons, mounting the ramparts under the command of their local district leaders.

　　Following the lead of Colibia, the lords' army finally breached the walls of Salostini, leveraging the devastating power of their heavy siege engines. Upon entering the city, the lords hacked down the League's flagstaff and raised the banner of King Willem once more. The army did not linger; having learned the direction of the League's retreat, they left a garrison to maintain order and pressed onward.

　　The negligent League suffered heavy losses to their supply train in a rear-guard ambush. Yet, far from forcing a retreat, this setback only steeled their resolve for battle. In the ensuing clash, the League's forces feigned a retreat—a ruse that misled the lower-ranking Eastern lords. These minor lords broke formation, surging forward in a disorganized mass. Instead of scattering the enemy, they met fierce resistance and were sent fleeing in a panicked rout.

　　The commanders of Colibia quickly ordered a withdrawal to avoid further catastrophe. Refusing to admit defeat, the lords encamped on the spot, intending to launch a second assault. However, a sudden, violent gale swept away their fighting spirit, forcing them to retreat to Salostini to preserve what little they had gained. Ultimately, the skirmish ended in a hollow truce, with both sides agreeing to maintain the neutrality of Salostini.

　　Meanwhile, Mobi-Lite Worksmile—maintaining a posture of profound humility—received the lordly banner and the crest of Alahus from the King’s own hand. Through a royal decree, he was granted the formal authority to wage war, tasked with driving the barbarians out of Limidian lands once and for all to guard the borders of the Kingdom of Willem.

　　Following the solemn ceremony, Mobi-Lite dispatched envoys to Sirleid, Lal, Binehes, Feren, and Susaslair, expressing his gratitude and forging friendly ties. Simultaneously, he appeared at Nirsu, the capital of Colibia, with a low profile and flattering words. Once these external affairs were settled, Mobi-Lite began plotting a military campaign against Berhtlis.

　　This vital border stronghold was occupied by a man named Balkden, who had once served under Cheban’s command as a vassal. After suffering losses in Abar, Cheban had promised this disgruntled chieftain that Berhtlis in the south would be his compensation. However, the region had been so thoroughly ravaged by barbarians that it was now little more than a collection of crumbling ruins.

　　During this period, Balkden claimed to offer sanctuary to refugees. In truth, to expand his own power, he took in a swarm of criminals, bandits, and defeated barbarians. Thus, Berhtlis—having barely escaped the barbarian yoke—morphed into a haven for the lawless.

　　The arrival of Mobi-Lite and the Limidians brought secret joy to the long-suffering people. However, an overconfident Mobi-Lite believed he could easily crush this army of criminals. Ignoring the persistent warnings of his subordinates and refusing to wait for the return of the scouts led by Manyas, he marched his main force out of camp to give battle. As a result, he found himself trapped and besieged upon a high ridge.

　　In that hour of dire peril, an envoy named Delga accepted a desperate mission. Setting out from Gebilun, he journeyed to Sirleid to implore the Marquis for aid. When his request for an audience was flatly rejected, he did something extraordinary: for the next several days, he lay prostrate before the gates of the Marquis’s manor, weeping aloud day and night without ceasing.

　　His wretched wailing drew crowds of curious citizens. This prolonged agony and total fast took such a toll that blood began to seep from Delga’s eyes and nostrils. When the Marquis finally learned of this, he was struck with terror and rushed out to lift the nearly lifeless Delga from the ground. Observing this, Loscum could not help but sigh to the Marquis:

　　"When a man of such honor serves his master with such devotion, it is clear the gods do not wish to see Alahus perish. I pray, my Lord, do not defy the will of the heavens."

　　Thus, from his state of siege, Mobi-Lite looked out to the jubilant cheers of his soldiers as the banners of Sirleid and Lal appeared in the distance. After shattering the enemy forces, Mobi-Lite pressed his advantage. Guided by Atufa, he easily stormed Demos, the defenseless stronghold and primary nest of the bandits. In the wake of victory, Mobi-Lite used the spoils to express his gratitude to his allies, while a pale, trembling Balkden was sent to Hedlim to face the King’s justice.

　　In the name of the King, the victorious Mobi-Lite raised the banner of Alahus over the vast territories that once belonged to the Border Alliance. Yet, despite holding a formal decree of investiture from King Wingham, he did not follow the traditional feudal customs of the Willem Dynasty. He refused to elevate his subordinates to the rank of local lords, which would have granted them autonomous control and hereditary privilege.

　　Instead, while rewarding his followers handsomely, he promulgated a new legal code that strictly defined their duties and limits. He ensured they managed local affairs according to the Lord’s specific regulations, allowing Mobi-Lite, as the supreme ruler, to maintain direct control over his subjects, the land, and the tax revenues. Simultaneously, he distributed land to the displaced masses, allowing them to lead stable, settled lives and breathing new life into soil that had been ravaged by barbarians.

　　For a long time, the King at Hedlim had lived a quiet, inconspicuous life within his court. His actual power was confined to the city itself and a few surrounding orchards and estates. Occasionally, for the sake of political leverage, the great lords would remember their sovereign, only to cast him aside once their goals were met or their efforts failed.

　　Even so, after the passing of King Wingham, his two sons fell into a bitter feud over the empty throne. The eldest son secured the royal arrows and the unicorn crest through theft, using them to barter for the military support of the Highland League to seize the crown. The new King received the League's representatives and officers with a lavish ceremony, stripping away what little remained of the royal family’s dignity.

　　Colibia, acting as the self-appointed "arbiter," expressed fierce indignation. But the Highland League was prepared; they marched into Salostini once more, hoisting their banner over the city. Thanks to their meticulous strategic deployment, the Colibian army suffered staggering casualties beneath the walls of Salostini and was forced to retreat in humiliation—a victory that filled the League with exultation.

　　Amidst these seismic events, Lord Mobi-Lite remained uncannily silent. But as soon as Colibia retreated in defeat from Salostini, the army of Alahus, after a brief period of preparation, crossed the old Alliance borders. Without a trace of hesitation, they launched a military campaign against Sirleid. The people of Sibilis offered no resistance, raising the banner of Alahus as Mobi-Lite marched unopposed to the very gates of Desalair.

　　In his manor, Loscum stood before Mobi-Lite and denounced him with a booming voice:

　　"The King hoped you would take Calaurens as your model; instead, you have chosen to emulate Willa-Mo!"

　　Though he found no words to answer the stinging rebukes, Mobi-Lite nevertheless accepted the submission of the Marquis within his camp, for the displaced noble now had nowhere else to turn. Loscum, refusing any titles and unwilling to ever set eyes on Mobi-Lite again, led his family away to a remote and desolate backwater. Upon hearing the news, Mobi-Lite intended to bid his patron farewell; he waited since the early hours on the road he knew they must take. When his patron finally passed, Mobi-Lite bowed to him with deep reverence. But Loscum, sitting high upon his horse, gave no sign of acknowledgment, riding on until he vanished from Mobi-Lite’s sight.

　　In his newly conquered lands, Mobi-Lite partitioned the territory into great districts, appointing officials and instituting new laws. His descendants would go even further, casting aside the title of Alahus bestowed by the King to name the land after their own family—a testament to their grand ambitions. These victors had no intention of halting their advance; instead, with swords gripped tight and bows drawn to the limit, they forced the nobility of the Willem era to bow before the raw might and authority of the Worksmile name. In the past, these very aristocrats had looked down with utter disdain upon men born of farmers and herdsmen.

　　To the East, Nor had long set its sights on conquering the Forest Lords, seeking to establish a stable rear for its ultimate struggle for dominance over Skolo. Following the confrontation at Fegarus, Dreste dared not make a move for the time being. The Lord of Gal, having accepted Nor’s overtures of peace, maintained a posture of detached indifference in the period that followed. Even during Nor’s conflict with Trewell, the greedy Lord of Gal allowed the Nor army to march across his lands, lured by the promise of plunder. In his mind, even if Nor failed to win, he could simply sit back and watch both sides exhaust and slaughter one another.

　　However, the Forest Lords, ever vigilant, sensed the peril threatening their very existence. Their envoys first arrived in Samolai—a land that shifted like the wind—and then appeared in Trewell. Though met with a cold reception in Trewell, the envoys' words nonetheless stirred a sense of unease and alarm in the Lord’s heart.

　　When the Viscount of Nor turned his blade toward Trewell, he was surprised to find the enemy already battle-ready at the border. Samolai had tacitly allowed the Forest Lords' army to pass through its territory to join forces with Trewell. In the battle of Brastie, the pikemen of the Forest tribes provided such formidable support on the flanks of their allies that the Nor cavalry found themselves utterly baffled and without recourse.

　　But at the critical moment of decision, the Trewell commander was busy calculating for his own private gain. Fearing that the spoils of victory might be snatched away by this group of outsiders, he moved this allied force to his army's left flank during the second engagement. Nominally, it was to protect the flank; in reality, he left them to face the brunt of the Nor army alone.

　　At the very start of the battle, the Forest units were suppressed by a hailstorm of arrows. As the Nor army pierced the loose junction between the two forces, the pikemen were forced to drop their long weapons and draw their side-axes and daggers, fighting hand-to-hand against the Nor infantry who followed close behind with swords in hand. Though they fought with legendary valor, they were abandoned by the cowardly men of Trewell.

　　Between the stubborn resistance of the tribes and the retreat of Trewell, the Forest army found itself in a deathtrap of encirclement. After a desperate struggle, they were cleaved into two parts. One group fled toward Gefetis, finding cover under the Trewell army. The other part broke and fled toward the southeast. After raiding a village for a meager pittance of food, they finally reached the border of Samolai, believing they would find sanctuary there.

　　But the Nor army, relentless in pursuit, crossed the border directly into Samolai, forcing the panicked and defeated soldiers to surrender their arms. Afterward, these captives were sent to Gal by the Lord of Nor—a gift of gratitude for his "cooperation."

　　The Forest Lords were forced, during a joint council, to agree to an audience with the arrogant envoys of Nor. While negotiations were underway, Nor’s forces laid siege to Gefetis in Trewell, while a high-ranking emissary entered Samolai with great pomp and ceremony.

　　Amidst this tense standoff, a daring Nor envoy appeared in the capital of Trewell, claiming that Nor had already signed a formal alliance with the Forest Lords. Although his subordinates urged him to first verify this with the Forest tribes, the Lord of Trewell—desperate for peace—agreed to let the Forest troops, who had sought his protection, depart. In doing so, he effectively traded his allies for a hollow promise of safety.

　　These abandoned soldiers were immediately seized by the Nor army to be used as political leverage, while news of an alliance also arrived from Samolai, finally extinguishing the Forest Lords' will to resist. In the treaty that followed, Nor successfully wrested away the protectorship of Smolis.

　　Yet, the Forest Lords would not yield so easily. The eruption of fierce fighting between Nor and Trewell offered them a flicker of new hope. They gathered in secret at Bilaso, deliberating through the night; they concluded that it was better to strike now with all their might than to sit idly by and wait for a grim future.

　　However, these movements, which they believed to be shrouded in secrecy, did not escape the notice of the lowly servants. A coachman noted his master’s suspicious travels and leaked the information to a Nor informant. Although the exact location of the enemy's strike remained a mystery, the border guards were placed on the highest state of alert.

　　The subsequent withdrawal of Nor’s troops was hailed by Trewell as a sign of divine protection, for they were entirely unaware that it was the Forest tribes’ mobilization that had diverted the immediate danger. While Nor and the Forest Lords locked horns, Gal remained a detached spectator, watching the struggle from the sidelines. Meanwhile, the Lord of Trewell wavered between war and peace, squandering precious time in his indecision.

　　The showdown in the Reher Forest turned the earth crimson. A torrential night rain mixed with the fresh blood, forming grisly crimson rivulets. Stretched thin by an overextended supply line, the Nor army eventually chose to pull back to avoid catastrophic losses, prompting shouts of victory from their equally exhausted Forest opponents.

　　By the time the Lord of Trewell finally abandoned all thought of peace—executing two courtiers on charges of treason and accepting Nor’s gold—the Nor army had already returned to the Reher Forest. They came back to the very ground where their comrades had bled and fallen, and after a savage struggle, they raised a cry of victory over the corpses of their enemies.

　　Trewell’s late attempt to reinforce the Forest Lords only served to delay Nor's inevitable triumph. Both sides fought with legendary valor in the second encounter, but the will and conviction of the Nor soldiers proved superior. Eventually, the Trewell forces informed their allies that they had to withdraw; they needed every remaining blade to safeguard their own capital and the life of their Sovereign.

　　After a brief regrouping, the Nor army launched an assault on Lotway, a city of Limidian style and a vital defensive bastion for the Forest tribes. The final fall of the city was determined more by the starvation of the garrison than by the force of arms. Showing a calculated magnanimity, Nor promised no reprisals, allowing the soldiers to depart with their weapons while shipping in grain to relieve the city’s famine.

　　The Viscount, ever cautious that constant victory might provoke the Western lords into a grand coalition against him, decided to conclude a peace treaty with the Forest Lords at Smolis. The victorious Nor not only annexed a vast expanse of territory but also shifted the entire moral and legal weight of the war onto their opponents. They demanded a colossal sum of gold as "restitution" for the fallen Nor soldiers and their families. This staggering indemnity was designed to drain the wealth of the Forest lands, ensuring they would never again possess the strength to challenge Nor’s supremacy.