The report reached the Rebel Army's position in the dead of night, while the camp was shrouded in silence.
Normally, the night was a time when only the sentry soldiers remained awake. Under the steady glow of the autumn moonlight, the rhythmic sound of a horse's hooves approached the rebel lines.
The sentries who heard the approach held their breath, wondering if it was an enemy raid, but the hoofbeats were sparse. In fact, by the moonlight and the flickering glow of the bonfires near the camp entrance, they could see only a single cavalryman.
Still, the sentries remained cautious. The soldier on watch exchanged a brief nod with his comrade and tightened his grip on his spear's shaft. It had not been long since the last midnight disturbance within the camp, so vigilance remained high.
"Halt!"
At the command, several soldiers leveled their spears at the approaching rider. However, when they saw the cavalryman’s face, they hesitated; he looked utterly exhausted.
The rider looked at the soldiers with an expression of profound relief.
"Forgive me, but I must request an urgent audience with Count Obrisin," he gasped. "I am a messenger serving the acting lord of Lacroix, a town in Count Obrisin's territory. I have come with an urgent report. This is a letter from the acting lord, Lord Heitor."
The cavalryman held out a letter to the soldiers. It was secured with a wax seal, serving as proof of its origin, but the rank-and-file soldiers had no way of verifying its authenticity themselves. They exchanged glances until the soldier who had first spoken addressed the man again.
"Look, we can't make that call here. Let us contact our superior. You look like you're about to collapse. Why don't you rest for a moment while we wait?"
Though they maintained a degree of caution, the soldiers’ suspicion toward the rider had almost entirely evaporated. The fact that he had arrived in such a haggard state, knowing full well he would be suspected for traveling at night, actually worked in his favor. No spy would be so overtly suspicious.
Seeing his comrade run off to fetch an officer, one of the soldiers handed his canteen to the rider.
"Here, take this. You look like you need it."
"Thank you, you've saved me. I haven't stopped since I left... If possible, I’d like to rest my horse as well."
"The stables are deeper inside the camp. But wait a moment. I can manage some water for the beast."
The soldier left, returning shortly after with a bucket filled to the brim. There were more than ten soldiers present, and since the rider had already dismounted and was clearly spent, they felt they could afford a moment of kindness.
The moment the bucket was placed down, the horse plunged its muzzle in and began to drink greedily. The water level dropped at a visible rate. The messenger patted his horse’s neck with gratitude.
"So, what happened that would send a lone rider out in the middle of the night?" the soldier asked, handing the man a cup.
The messenger drained it in a single go, then shook his head.
"I don't know the specifics. I imagine it's all in the letter. But I saw many people busily entering and exiting the acting lord’s manor... it must be related to that."
"I have a bad feeling about this," another soldier muttered. "Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not good news for us."
The other sentries nodded. The messenger looked equally grim, his face clouded with unease as he stroked his horse's back.
About five minutes passed in a heavy silence until the soldier who had gone into the camp returned.
"Count Obrisin will see you. Bring the letter and follow me."
"I understand. Will you look after my horse?"
"Don't worry, we'll handle it. Go on."
The messenger bowed his head slightly, returned the cup, and followed the soldier into the camp. Watching his retreating figure, the remaining sentries gripped their spears and resumed their posts.
"So, what do you think it is?"
"Who knows? But it's definitely trouble."
"Yeah, thought so. But maybe... just maybe..."
"Want to bet? I'll wager three ales it's bad news."
"Ugh, fine. But make it one ale."
"Man, you're a coward, aren't you?"
A wave of suppressed laughter echoed around the camp entrance.
While the guards joked, the messenger was ushered into the Magic Tent at the center of the Rebel Army's position. Despite the hour, many Rebel Army executives were already present, a testament to how few were actually sleeping.
Upon entering, the messenger knelt before Mercureo.
"Forgive this sudden intrusion, Your Highness. My name is Silas, stationed in Lacroix under Count Obrisin. It is an honor to meet Your Highness Mercureo."
"I was wondering why we were being summoned in the middle of the night," Mercureo said calmly. "I hear you have business with Gurgast?"
"Yes, Your Highness. I have brought this letter from the acting lord."
Silas produced the letter and handed it to a nearby soldier. Once the soldier confirmed it was safe, he passed it to Gurgast.
"Hmph. This seal certainly belongs to the acting lord of Lacroix," Gurgast grunted. He broke the seal and scanned the contents, his face twisting into an unpleasant grimace.
Gurgast was fearsome enough on a good day; to those unaccustomed to him, his current intensity made it seem as if he might kill someone at any moment.
"Gurgast, what does it say?" Vihera asked.
Gurgast silently handed her the letter. Taking that as permission to read, Vihera scanned the lines, and her beautiful face darkened.
"They aren't targeting us directly. They're sending troops against the towns and villages in Count Obrisin's territory. I suspect this is Big Brother Cabajid's work."
The gravity of the situation sank in, and most of those present frowned. Until now, the Subjugation Army had focused solely on the Rebel Army itself. But Cabajid’s new strategy was to ignore the army and strike at the foundation that supported it.
"But why?" one noble asked, looking perplexed. "I understand the effectiveness, but they have focused all their attacks on us until now. Why change tactics so suddenly?"
"Precisely because of where we are now," Tilleul replied. Though his tone was calm, a faint trace of anxiety flickered in his eyes.
The Rebel Army had originally staged its uprising from Count Obrisin's territory. Though they had since pushed into the lands of nobles closer to the Imperial Capital, they still relied on the proximity of the Obrisin earldom as a fallback point. Furthermore, while traveling merchants supplied them, the majority of their goods were sourced from Count Obrisin's lands.
If the Empire crushed their supply lines, the Rebel Army would be in dire straits. Their numbers had swelled with each successive victory, but that growth meant their consumption of resources had become immense.
"So, Big Brother Cabajid's aim is a logistical siege," Mercureo concluded.
Vihera nodded. "Exactly."
"Then I shall bring supplies from my own territory!" one noble cried.
"Wait! Given the distance from Count Obrisin's lands, my territory is much closer—"
Several nobles began volunteering their resources, but Theoreme raised a hand to stop them.
"Please, wait. This is His Highness Cabajid we are dealing with. He will have predicted our next move and taken steps to counter it. We must assume he has already dispatched units to every major highway. If we carelessly attempt to transport supplies now, the caravans will be ambushed and the goods burned—or worse, stolen to fill the Empire’s own coffers."
No one accused Theoreme of overthinking. Everyone knew that Cabajid was exactly the kind of man to do such a thing.
"But still..." one noble murmured, "they avoided attacking towns and villages until now because they feared the backlash from the populace after the civil war ended. Why the sudden change?"
The others wondered the same. Public resentment was something the Imperial Family tried to avoid at all costs. An entire town or village rising in revolt was a messy, complicated affair.
"There are several possibilities," Mercureo said, glancing at the letter. "First, Big Sister Frizziore may have successfully escaped the Imperial Capital. If he fears her strength merging with ours, he might have decided on a logistical siege as a desperate last resort."
Excitement rippled through the gathered nobles. If that were true, their military might would receive a massive boost—even if it made the supply issue even more critical.
However, several people in the room knew of a way around that particular problem.
"If it's just a matter of supplies, Rei's Item Box can solve that," Vihera noted. "With Seto, he can bypass any road blockades from the air. Or, if necessary, Rei can simply destroy the units holding the roads."
The Bestia Empire, still reeling from the Spring War, had naturally gathered intel on Rei, the primary cause of their defeat. They were well aware that he had transported vast amounts of supplies during the war using his Item Box, a fact that frustrated the Imperial high command to no end.
Of course, the Empire had Noise, who also possessed an Item Box. But Noise had no interest in the war and refused to help, forcing the Empire to rely on traditional, vulnerable supply units.
"I see! Then the highway blockades won't matter!"
"Don't be a fool," Vihera cut in. "That isn't a fundamental solution. At best, it only delays our eventual defeat. He can carry materials, but he cannot transport living people. Besides, Big Brother Cabajid is well aware that Rei has an Item Box."
Living people. For example, materials to repair weapons and armor were useless without the blacksmiths to work them. While they had blacksmiths in camp now, they were not a limitless resource. Furthermore, essential services—including the prostitutes who followed the army—were not mere "merchandise" that could be tucked into a void.
"To return to the point," Mercureo continued, "the second possibility is that Big Brother Cabajid and Big Brother Schuls planned this from the start. They may have deliberately lost several battles to encourage people to flock to the Rebel Army. If that is the case, we have been dancing in the palm of their hand."
"Is such a thing truly possible?" a noble asked reflexively. "Why would they deliberately cause damage to themselves?"
Tilleul was the one who answered.
"In terms of gathering the unrest elements scattered across the Empire into a single location, it is incredibly effective. To put it bluntly, many people harbor grudges against the Empire. There are those from conquered nations, those planning revolts against nobles who squeeze them for taxes, and nobles who were exiled after losing power struggles. This strategy brings them all together."
The noble who had questioned Mercureo fell silent, realizing the truth of Tilleul's words.
"Regardless," Mercureo said, his voice echoing through the Magic Tent, "we cannot simply sit by while the towns of Count Obrisin's territory are occupied and the highways seized. The Rebel Army can survive for a while with Rei’s help, but other villages will face catastrophe if traveling merchants cannot reach them. Besides... by dispersing their forces to strike at these targets, they have given us a perfect opportunity to defeat them one by one."