Translator: CinderTL
The biting north wind howled through the fortress's arrow slits as Stanford stood before the massive gate, watching the slow approach of a carriage convoy in the distance.
When the black carriage bearing the Alden Army banner came to a halt, a familiar figure lifted the curtain. Scholar Alvey's face was pale from the cold wind, but his sharp blue eyes remained as keen as ever.
"Old friend!" Stanford strode forward, helping the scholar out of the carriage. "It seems you've been doing well in the Northwest Bay."
"Indeed. I've gained a full fifteen pounds since I left the Black Worm's Nest!"
The two men walked side by side toward the fortress command room, the newly installed steam heating pipes humming softly against the stone walls. Alvey suddenly stopped, gazing at the soldiers training in the courtyard. The human soldiers in blue uniforms were practicing coordinated combat with Forest Orc hunters, a scene that seemed almost fantastical.
"It seems much has changed here in the year I've been gone," Alvey murmured. "More Forest Orcs willing to serve you now?"
"To serve Lord Grayman!" Stanford corrected him.
Stanford pushed open the iron door to the command room, and a wave of warm air mixed with the aroma of coffee washed over them.
"Speaking of which..." Stanford handed his old friend a cup of steaming black coffee. "Why did you come back with the Expeditionary Force again? Didn't Lord Grayman arrange a warm office for you in Alden Town?"
Alvey pulled a letter of appointment from his pocket. "It's a commission signed personally by Lord Marquis. I'm now the Expeditionary Force's Chief Advisor."
After reading the letter, Stanford asked with concern, "Did you encounter Gabella's assassins again during your time in Northwest Bay?"
Alvey's fingers unconsciously traced the rim of his teacup, the hot tea long since cooled. "Yes, they found me during the Academic Conference."
The sound of wind and snow outside the window suddenly intensified. Stanford leaned forward. "And then?"
"She almost succeeded!"
"She?"
"Yes, a female assassin."
Alvey forced a wry smile. "Thank goodness Lord Marquis was there with his guards at the time."
Stanford exclaimed, "Lord Grayman was there too? That assassin was incredibly bold! Was she brought to justice?"
A strained expression crossed Alvey's face. "Well... she has... pledged her allegiance to the Marquis."
"Submit?" Stanford slammed his teacup onto the table. "That assassin who nearly killed you? Just like that, the Marquis pardoned her?"
Alvey's expression became subtle. "It's more than just submission." He carefully chose his words. "Her relationship with the Marquis now is closer to... or perhaps already is..."
The crackling fire filled the command room with an awkward silence.
"This isn't like the Marquis," Stanford murmured. "He's always been strict about separating public and private matters. According to Alden law, that woman should have been convicted of attempted murder at the very least."
Alvey nodded. "That's true. Technically, she wasn't pardoned. But considering her sincere remorse and the fact that the victim—myself—issued a letter of forgiveness, Marquis Grayman sentenced her to three years and four months in prison, under his personal supervision. In short, everything followed proper procedure."
Alvey couldn't explain the situation clearly. He couldn't tell Stanford anything about magic; Spellcasters remained a clandestine presence in Aldor.
As for the relationship between Frostine (also known as Coleridge) and Paul, even he himself was confused. He was certain they had no prior connection, but after mysteriously disappearing together for a week and then returning, the two were inseparable. The old scholar's experienced eyes could see at a glance that their glances exchanged were as natural as those of a couple who had lived together for years.
TL/N: I don't know why author can't seem to stick to a name for Coleridge.
At that moment, the door to the command room swung open, and Baron Andrew strode in.
"Your Excellency, forgive my late arrival. I had matters to attend to in the barracks." He executed a crisp military salute. "The Expeditionary Force's vanguard has arrived as planned."
Stanford rose to greet him. "Welcome, Baron Andrew. The entire Northern Three Lands will fully support the Expeditionary Force's operations." He gestured to the war map on the wall. "Our granaries and armories are open to your troops, and my men stand ready to follow your orders."
Andrew removed his gloves and rubbed his hands by the fire. "The Marquis specifically asked me to thank the Northern Three Lands for their support. I suspect those Forest Orcs know more about their distant kin than an entire reconnaissance corps."
"All this is to end the war as soon as possible," Stanford said, handing over a cup of hot tea. "If you need any support, don't hesitate to ask."
The three men sat around a wooden table covered with a military map, the firelight from the hearth dancing across the paper.
Stanford tapped a finger on the vast blank area of the map, frowning. "Baron Andrew, while I'm delighted by your arrival, I must be frank: controlling the entire Grassland with only fifteen thousand men is unrealistic. Moreover, the Orc Clans are nomadic, and we can't even catch their shadow. Our only previous strategy has been to burn down one patch of grassland after another."
Baron Andrew replied, "Scholar Alvey will explain. Lord Marquis adopted his suggestion."
Alvey spread another yellowed sketch across the table.
"Lord Stanford just touched on the key issue. That's why we've decided to adopt a strategy of passive defense."
His fingertip traced several winding blue lines. "Before the Orc invasion of Aldor, many merchants traveled to the Grassland for trade. We gathered them and collected information about the region. One result of this effort is the hydrological map before you."
"Have you noticed? The Grassland seems boundless, but the number of drinkable water sources is actually quite limited."
Stanford leaned in to examine the map, noticing the rivers and lakes marked on it.
Alvey said confidently, "Lord Paul has approved the 'Net Strategy.' We'll build fortresses and set up cannons at key water sources. Each stronghold will be garrisoned by a company, allowing us to control a fifty-mile radius of grazing land."
"But the Orcs won't just sit and wait," Stanford said, pointing to the largest lake on the map.
"That's exactly what we want," Alvey said with a sharp smile. "We want to force the Orc cavalry to abandon their mobility and launch a frontal assault on our fortresses. Each cannon will then unleash ten times the destructive power it would in open battle."
"We'll advance step by step, only moving to the next area once we've completely secured the previous one."
"During this process, we'll strengthen our forces. Orc clans that surrender to us will gain access to water sources."
(End of the Chapter)
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