Mage? Magic Engineer!

The commanders of the Sardinia Kingdom had just endured three terrifying days.

Their troops had inexplicably assembled in the center of a valley. To this day, not a single officer—not even the Sardinian general—dared to admit to giving such a foolish order. Even the soldiers and junior officers, when questioned, couldn’t recall how the army had stumbled into the valley, only to be caught right in the open by the National Guard.

Riding in on trucks and singing songs, the Valois National Guard’s Southern Front Army arrived to find the dazed and disorganized Alliance soldiers. Though they found the situation comical, they still took it seriously, deploying their forces and engaging the motley crew of invaders in a proper fight.

The speed of the National Guard’s advance had taken them completely by surprise. Both the Southern Alliance and the Church had estimated that their enemy would need at least five more days to arrive—a window of opportunity they intended to use to take Anion.

If they took the city, they planned to hold it and raise the banner of liberating the Church, which they assumed would rally the faithful of Southern Valois to their cause. If they failed, they would simply retreat, deluding themselves into thinking the National Guard would always be one step behind.

All of the above was the "precious experience" accumulated by the Church and the Southern Countries over many sacred expeditions.

Then they were promptly routed by veteran infantry regiments—at least three-star rated—fresh from the Republic-Empire front. They were faced with incomprehensible tactics, weapons, speed, and communications. For the Southern Alliance, the experience was eye-opening, mind-blowing... and for some, chest-opening.

’Are you people and the Empire both this powerful?’

The Southern Alliance was utterly shaken. The National Guard was equally stunned. These invaders seemed to have no stomach for a real war. After a setback, the Empireists would conduct an orderly retreat, grab their entrenching tools, and dig trenches so maddeningly effective they could make a man sick. The Southern Alliance, on the other hand, surrendered at the drop of a hat, looking dazed and confused even as they did.

The battle only lasted three days because the National Guard’s mobile forces were limited, resulting in a relatively small number of troops reaching the Anion area initially.

Meanwhile, so many entire Alliance units were surrendering that the Valois couldn’t even process them all. Just as the National Guard was debating whether to "neutralize" these prisoners, Monks from Anion’s "New Holy See" stepped forward, offering the captives a way to survive.

As long as they acknowledged the Church of Anion and participated in a mass held by the New Pope, they would be allowed to live.

General Garisha observed this "Great Peace Mass." It was held in the same valley where the Southern Alliance Army had been routed. All the prisoners of war were given tools. Ostensibly to prepare the grounds for the mass, the Church of Anion had the captives level the field and put up tents.

The Church then constructed a "Holy Ceremony Platform" and a "temporary bell tower" on the high ground... For the third time, singing echoed through the valley. This time, it came from a pure-voiced choir, and the moment their ethereal song began, the prisoners were moved to tears.

’It feels so good to be alive! Thank the Lord, praise the Lord!’

The two men observing the prisoners from a high vantage point were very satisfied with this harmonious, orderly, and vibrant scene.

"General Garisha, the prisoner-of-war camp you wanted will be finished before nightfall. The work is entirely voluntary; no one will resist or cause trouble."

Dipresy, who rarely left the Bishop’s Palace in Anion for public appearances, was the one who spoke. As he ascended the Holy Ceremony Platform, he leaned on a crutch and dragged a lame leg, yet Garisha could barely keep up with the former Bishop, a man who claimed to be ’just clinging to this broken body while I wait to return to the Lord’s embrace.’

"This is... I’m incredibly grateful. I will report this to the Committee and try to convince them that religion does have its uses for the nation..."

Dipresy frowned slightly at the general’s words but remained noncommittal, deftly changing the subject. "General, there is also the matter of food. We now have nearly thirty thousand more mouths to feed, I believe..."

"Ah, yes. That’s why we were originally planning to disarm them and send them all back. Or, failing that, just..." The Republic itself was short on food; feeding these prisoners was out of the question.

"We could try another way," Dipresy said, narrowing his eyes as he gazed south. "I suggest that you and the New Holy See jointly write a sternly worded letter..."

The letter was delivered to the headquarters of the Southern Alliance Army.

"Since the Southern Alliance Army brazenly invaded the Republic, gravely violating our nation’s sovereignty and territory and causing immense losses... As of this writing, a total of over twenty-eight thousand of your men have been captured. Out of humanitarian concern and in accordance with the doctrine of the Master of Light and Order, our forces have made appropriate arrangements for their housing, but we will not be responsible for their rations. We demand that your army and the other belligerent nations provide daily provisions for each man according to the following standards...

"...If you can immediately provide ten days of rations for them, our army will suspend its pursuit. If you cannot provide them by sunset tomorrow, you will be responsible for the consequences!"

An officer from Vinaia read the letter aloud, adding his own commentary at the end. "The prisoners won’t be released before the war ends unless exchanged for prisoners we’ve captured... Hmm, that’s reasonable.

"Each man is to receive no less than 800 grams of fine flour per day, which can be delivered as a proportional amount of coarse flour, wheat, or other grains..."

The Vinaian officer slammed the letter onto the table. "Are they raising pigs? Who eats that much?!"

Another commander, from one of the city-states, figured it out. "They want us to sign an informal agreement to supply the Valois with grain for the duration of the war."

"What if we give them the grain and they go back on their word and attack us anyway?"

"Is Valois that short on grain? I have a contact who can get wheat from the Land of Sand..."

"Has the army made you stupid? They haven’t been able to pay cash for over a year."

"Whether they can pay now doesn’t matter. If they win this war, we stand to make a profit..."

The command post erupted into an argument over the "extortion letter." Everyone was talking and gesticulating wildly as they traded opinions, and somehow the discussion veered off into the grain trade.

"Gentlemen, we are at war," the Sardinian general said, his voice cutting through the noise. The Sardinia Kingdom’s troops had suffered the heaviest losses over the past three days, but they remained the strongest force in the Southern Alliance. The moment he spoke, the others fell silent and lowered their hands, giving him the respect his standing demanded.

He scanned the other commanders. "Since they want grain, we can hand over a portion of our supply train. First, it shows our willingness to cooperate. Second, it keeps our captured comrades from starving. And third, it will allow our army to withdraw faster.

"But handing over grain won’t solve everything. We still have fifty thousand men. We cannot rout. We must execute an orderly, organized withdrawal. Otherwise, if the Valois capture another large group of our men, are we going to return home and ask the Church and your respective nations to come up with feed for another fifty thousand pigs?"

"Easier said than done. Are you suggesting we can still defeat such a powerful enemy?"

The man who spoke up was the officer from the commercial city-state, the same one who had been so vocal about the grain trade. He was standing within three paces of the general. Blood rushed to the Sardinian general’s head. He gauged the distance, drew the Rapier from his belt, and ran the noisy bastard straight through.

He withdrew the Rapier cleanly and planted his boot on the screaming man’s mouth. "And most importantly, this alliance must have a unified command and iron discipline! Start acting like soldiers, gentlemen!"

Blood gushed from the wound, splattering across the Sardinian general. He looked like a demon, and everyone in the command tent was struck dumb with fear.

Having truly seized command of the Southern Alliance Army, the general made the necessary arrangements for the retreat. Afterward, he returned to his tent, where a handsome Minstrel was plucking at the strings of an instrument.

The Minstrel had appeared unexpectedly during the battle three days prior, taking a stray bullet for the general. To repay his savior, the general had invited him to travel with the army, ordering the military medics to tend to his wounds, giving him his own mount to ride, and letting him rest inside his personal tent.

The Minstrel claimed to be a world traveler and expressed a desire to accompany the general to the Sardinia Kingdom. During their conversations, the general found himself secretly impressed by the handsome young man’s knowledge and insight.

He told the general about the Transformation in Valois, the Empire, and Bayern, analyzing the current state of the world. He convinced the general that if Sardinia—and indeed the entire southern shore of the continent—wished to become as powerful as those nations, it must unify and reform.

Now filled with such ambitions, the first thing the general said was, "I don’t know what came over me today. I did something impulsive." He couldn’t help but open up to the man who had saved his life.

"But you don’t regret it." The Minstrel’s bright, clear eyes seemed to see right through the gruff warrior. "You believe you did the right thing."

"Yes. I was not wrong. It was all necessary. Sardinia... no, I will be the one to unite all the Southern Countries."

"Excellent. Excellent... I must witness this magnificent feat and compose an epic in your honor, one that will be remembered and sung for ages!" Balan exclaimed in admiration.