Chapter 133:
The Harun Fortress, boasting a population second only to the capital in the kingdom, was also the largest producer of grain, with food harvested from the Grandia Plains stacked like mountains within its walls.
The faction supporting the First Prince aimed for a major counterattack starting at Harun Fortress, but after suffering significant damage in yet another major battle, they were now focused solely on defense, unshaken by any provocations.
A strong fortress, a formidable military force—it was clear that occupation would come at a great cost, one none wished to incur lightly.
And the leading nobles of the Second Prince's faction, the border lords, none of them wanted to bear such sacrifice.
After all, should someone else capture Duke Juan Douglas and the First Prince and earn the credit, they would be left in a hapless state.
Duke Yordan also had no wish to embark on a foolhardy venture in the current favorable circumstances.
A cornered rat might well bite the cat.
Why would they rush when victory seemed assured just by waiting for food supplies within the isolated fortress to run out?
Thus, the frontlines became stagnant again, and the war began to drag.
This waiting game was particularly torturous for the Second Prince's forces, maintaining formation outside Harun Fortress and maintaining a semi-siege.
"Why don't we just leave Harun Fortress and go hold the coronation in Grang instead? If we clean up every fortress around it and leave Harun alone, what can the bastards do about it!"
Such arguments were not surprising under the circumstances.
Certainly, the idea had its merits, but considering the potential dangers of an ambush during a retreat and the fluidity of the frontlines, it was nothing more than an empty hope.
During this period of silence from both faction leaders, the tide of war began to shift from an entirely unexpected, yet perhaps inevitable, place.
* * *
"A supply unit disguised as Phillip's merchant company has safely arrived at the frontlines," reported a soldier.
"Already?"
"The Second Prince's side provided the food supplies. Since we don’t need to transport food separately, the unit could move much faster with reduced size."
"Even if it’s just ammunition and Liberatio, the quantity must be substantial?"
"Phillip said he knew a shortcut. It's a trading route developed by one of the top three merchant associations in the country,” the soldier explained.
"Hmm. The talents my brother has drawn in are indeed different," commented Dwayne with a wry smile.
As a vassal, it wasn't a problem to see his lord's children getting along well, but the behavior of the younger prince was excessive to the point of seemingly worshipping the brother for every positive event in their domain.
Dwayne, filled with curiosity, couldn't help but tease a little.
"Phillip is competent, but it's not all thanks to the eldest prince, is it?"
The gaze of the young prince became sharply focused.
"It was you, Sir Dwayne, who said the domain's management became much easier thanks to the steward, Damian Nadal, also brought in by my brother."
"Selecting talents is a mix of hits and misses. It's less about my brother's abilities and more about luck..."
"Are you questioning my brother's capabilities, Sir Dwayne?"
An icy threat seemed to emanate from the prince's red eyes.
Dwayne quickly changed the subject, feeling a shiver run down his spine.
"Of course not! I mean to say your brother has an exceptional eye for people. Yes, that's it."
"...My brother simply has high standards."
Dwayne suppressed his thoughts that luck played a role as well and redirected the conversation.
"Also, lastly, the market inside the town is growing. With more outsiders coming, we should probably allocate more security forces there than to other cities."
"The new recruits are still in training, right?"
"Yes. And even after they complete training, it will take time for them to perform their duties properly."
"Sigh. Well, the regular soldiers are already at their limits, so use the town militias for alternating patrols there. Make sure they get a proper stipend."
"That will be done."
The young prince was meticulous indeed.
Such clever brothers—how very fortunate this domain was.
Dwayne nodded with a pleased smile. As he was about to leave, having stamped the last document, Ronian stood up from his desk before him.
"Going to Hamar again?"
"Of course. My brother specifically asked me to check on him."
"There’s no need to go every day, though."
"The achievements of our domain on the frontlines are all thanks to the repeating crossbows and Liberatio. Hamar is key to their production; how could I not take care of that? It's essential to keep an eye out for any discomfort or issues."
"Truly admirable."
"It's merely my duty."
* * * Cough. Cough.
"I’m gonna drop from exhaustion. Will the young prince come again today, Hamar?"
"That relentless one. Even more than his brother. Everyday supervision... Don't slack off and keep the lines running smoothly! If you resemble your brother that closely, who knows what you might do the moment something goes wrong."
Hamar and Temar, the dwarves standing by his side, shivered at the thought. The tale of Hamar getting caught out once and then getting put to 'vacation work', fabricating weapons named 'Dwarf's Romance' for six months, was already legendary among the dwarves.
Temar, scratching his arm with his hooked hand, nodded.
"Yes. I'll keep a watchful eye..."
"I'm just here to lend moral support," came a voice, taking them by surprise.
"Ah! Young master!"
The two dwarves practically jumped out of their boots.
The unexpected arrival of the red-haired noble.
Hamar's heart still bore branding from that someone, a softer image than the current visitor, but at this moment, no one could be more terrifying.
"We’re just gearing ourselves up to work hard, right Temar?"
"Yeah, y-young prince. Just our resolve to contribute to the domain's prosperity, nothing more."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Awkward silence followed.
Ronian then gently patted Hamar's shoulder and offered a surprise that the dwarves couldn't believe.
"I hear the war is dragging, so I'm giving you some time off. It seems we've been pushing work onto you too much."
"Th-thank... "
Thump!
"Ugh. Why?"
"Hahaha. No, no, young prince. This is a critical time for the domain—how could we take a break?! We're fine!"
Flustered by the backhand slap he'd received, Temar struggled to comprehend the nonsense spilling from Hamar's mouth.
'If we take this break, it'll turn into hell. These red-eyed sorts are devils, don't fall for it!'
The younger devil was watching with wide eyes, and all Hamar could do was desperately pour his silent sincerity into his gaze.
Alas, his earnest telepathy failed to reach Temar.
"Why would you refuse a break offered so kindly..."
Sigh. Such a dense one.
Annoyed and clutching his chest as Temar obliviously continued on.
"Take a few days off. The market's got a lot of new sights and food, go look around."
"Really...?"
"Yes, relax. The first supply delivery's successful, and we have enough time before the second one since Phillip's return."
"Really, truly?"
"Yes, really. Did you spend your life getting duped?"
Uh. Like by your brother.
But Hamar wouldn't let the truth stuck in his throat come out.
Instead:
"Thank you so much! Temar, bow with me!"
"I've been......ugh."
Humbled and overwhelmed, all they did was bow repeatedly.
"Ah. But you have to stick with either me or one of the knights. Hamar, you’re too important to our domain not to be careful."
The young prince's words sounded so sweet.
At this moment, Hamar started seeing the younger prince as an angel rather than a devil.
* * *
However, Hamar didn't exactly throw himself into relaxation on the first day.
'It could be a trap, after all, from that devil's brother.'
A lingering wariness tempered his behavior.
But the instant the variety of food items for sale in the newly established market and the beer, harder to acquire back in Macline, hit his palate, his guard began to drop.
By the third day:
"Young prince! There’s a new skewer stand that pairs perfectly with beer. Let's start there today!"
Hamar, now a fervent disciple of the market's food, had pulled Ronian towards the stalls once more, with a homemade orc barrel strapped to his back like a knapsack.
Attached to the enormous barrel was a straw long enough to reach his mouth, an item Hamar proudly referred to as his 'straw' and used religiously.
Rather than show admiration for this unnecessarily ingenious creation, Ronian extricated himself with a hesitant expression.
"Hmm. Isn't it a bit early for that?"
"Nonsense! When better to hit the market than in the morning!"
Not entirely wrong, but he was referring to the vendors setting up shop.
Ronian’s expression soured, but Hamar was undeterred, munching down another skewer as he steered them to less crowded outskirts of the market.
Suddenly, Ronian sensed something amiss.
'A Force user?'
A man who seemed to be subtly concealing his Force passed by them.
Ronian wasn't as transcendentally perceptive as Logan, but as a Force Core trainee, he was sensitive to unusual energies, as the Force Core, a pure energy conglomerate, responded keenly to anything foreign.
If the passerby had been an ordinary Force user, he might not have caught Ronian's attention.
'A disguised Force user posing as a peddler...'
As his usual lax nerves tensed, Ronian began to notice more oddities he hadn't before.
'One in front. Two behind.'
And these men exuding that strange feeling weren't alone.
"Wow, this meat is really tasty—what is it? Rat? You mean, eeew, an actual rat?"
"The cheek! Eat now, pay later!"
As Ronian moved closer to Hamar, who was arguing with a vendor, he discreetly sent an alert signal that had been prepared for such scenarios.
Signals for the stationed soldiers and knights throughout the town.
"Outskirts tend to have lots of new sellers. Good call, young prince."
Fortunately, Hamar, turned devout follower of the market's food, seemed blissfully unaware of anything odd, busy slurping down another skewer.
The dwarf's face, refreshingly flush from drinking beer through his straw, was already turning a rosy red.
And as the jovial smile had hardly faded from Hamar's face, 'they' made their move.