The nobles of Victoria arrived in County Hillock at nightfall. They did not resemble a defeated army, yet they appeared worn and disordered. As their noble troops began to occupy the city, Hillock, already far from peaceful, sank into a stagnant stillness.
The Tara people dared not leave their homes, while the Victorians shut themselves indoors. Their clothes and belongings were packed, ready for departure, but whenever they attempted to leave the city, they were stopped by soldiers. Hillock had been declared a restricted zone. No residents were permitted to leave, and everyone was ordered to remain in their homes without exception.
This naturally stirred discontent among the Victorians, but their resentment quickly faded once they saw the noble army enter the city. The nobles showed no concern for civilian lives, even when those civilians were Victorians themselves.
As night deepened, thin streams of smoke rose slowly from the chimneys. The nobles gathered to discuss strategies for repelling the enemy, while their soldiers took over from the original Victoria garrison and began spreading into every corner of the city.
Before long, the sounds of smashing and looting echoed through Tara Street. One family was dragged from their home because their residence was the tallest and most suitable for observation, and it was forcibly requisitioned by the noble army.
They were not the only Tara residents driven out. Many more were pulled from their homes and herded into the streets. The soldiers, expressionless and gripping cold steel, looked down on the trembling Tara people. The victims did not even dare to show hatred in their eyes. All they could do was lower their heads and remain silent.
The Victorian aristocracy harbored deep resentment toward the Tara residents of County Hillock.
Hidden in the shadows, Frostnova narrowed her eyes slightly. In the past, she might have rushed forward in a surge of emotion, but now everything had to be weighed against the greater good. This was not the time to expose herself. Perhaps she had seen too much, and her heart had grown cold. Or perhaps not, for Frostnova believed she had never truly changed.
"Big sister… should we act?" Petrova whispered.
"Wait a little longer."
Frostnova's voice was calm. She continued observing the square through the images transmitted by Clever. Though it was summer, the Tara people were wearing only thin clothes, and a chill wind made many of them shiver.
"They're moving."
Frostnova focused her attention and saw the noble soldiers herding the Tara people toward a warehouse, seemingly clearing the streets in preparation for positional warfare. She also saw nobles entering the vacated homes, beginning to modify them into defensive positions. Meanwhile, Clever continued to trail the group.
The Tara people were locked inside an empty warehouse. To prevent escape, the soldiers sealed the windows and locked the main gate, leaving only two guards outside while the rest withdrew.
"Big sister, should we save them?" Petrova asked after a moment. One of their missions was to establish contact between Tara and Victoria. They had no intention of provoking further conflict or becoming entangled in war.
Tomorrow's Developments had never been a company that sought war.
"They're safe for now, according to the scan," Frostnova replied. "What comes next is the battle between Victoria and Tara. That's not something we can interfere with."
"Understood."
Frostnova turned and quietly led the Yeti Squad away.
Elsewhere, Talulah was conducting reconnaissance alongside the Dynasty and Tyranny teams. Her presence surprised some of the players who had witnessed her strength before, but now that she stood on their side, the strange looks gradually disappeared.
She could not possibly integrate into Tomorrow's Developments overnight, but she was willing to stay grounded and do the work. That alone was enough for Hellagur to place his trust in her. Before the mission, he had briefly spoken with Felix about Talulah.
Felix had told him not to focus on her identity, race, or past, but on her inner world and the way she thought.
Talulah claimed she had come to terms with everything, but who could truly be certain?
Back at the base, Hellagur, representing Tomorrow's Developments, arrived at Horn's ward.
Bagpipe, standing nearby, nodded slightly. "Thank you again to Tomorrow's Developments for your help."
"There's no need to thank me," Hellagur said. He always showed a certain gentleness toward soldiers, and seeing Horn and Bagpipe reminded him of days long past that he could never forget. "You should thank your comrades for bringing you here."
Hellagur smiled faintly and continued, "Now that the Victorian nobility has settled in County Hillock, I assume you're already aware of this. What are your plans going forward?"
Horn drew a deep breath, feeling the weakness still lingering in her body. She clenched the blanket in her hands and grit her teeth.
"With my men imprisoned, my only goal is to rescue them first. After that, whether we're ordered to charge the battlefield and fight the Tara nobles to the end or to withdraw, the Tempest Platoon will not hesitate."
"And whose orders do you follow?" Hellagur asked.
"It was originally an order from my superior," Horn replied, her voice tinged with bitterness, "but now the Victorian nobles have arrived. They hold the highest authority." She paused briefly. "The officer who issued my original orders was killed by the Sarkaz Military Commission in Londinium."
"This is the fate of soldiers," Hellagur said quietly.
Horn echoed the words, her voice firm and proud. "This is the fate of soldiers."
"The Victorian garrison now includes not only the original troops, but also the noble armies," Hellagur continued. "Have you devised a plan to rescue your men?"
Bagpipe stood anxiously by Horn's side. She longed to storm the camp alone and free their teammates, but she knew she wasn't strong enough, and more importantly, the captain would never allow her to act on her own.
At that moment, scouts and players returned one after another. In a short time, they had mapped out the deployment of the Victorian noble army with remarkable efficiency. To be honest, this intelligence was of limited value to Tomorrow's Developments, but it would be extremely useful to the Tara forces. Tomorrow's Developments had no desire to wage war. After reporting back, they distributed the information throughout the city via the underground waterways and then began to rest.
___
The battle began at dawn.
A thunderous roar erupted beyond the distant walls, waking the sleeping city. The noble army responded immediately, their artillery answering in kind as they exchanged fire with the Tara forces. Before long, the deafening blasts echoed across the entire city.
Fear gripped both Tara and Victorians alike. In the face of war and disaster, identity meant little. Death made no distinctions. Rather than fighting each other, many chose to gather their belongings and hide in abandoned corners of the city and prayed silently for the war to end.
Horn was awakened by the relentless cannon fire. Her waist still ached, and although the wound bandaged the day before seemed to be healing, the layers of gauze made movement difficult.
"If only my men were here," she murmured, feeling powerless as she strained to understand the situation through sound alone.
While the Victorian noble army fought at the front lines, six men dressed in black military uniforms and caps appeared before the warehouse where the Tara people were being held. Their faces were hidden, and their movements were swift and unnatural. They killed the guards at the entrance without hesitation. One kicked the warehouse door open, while another placed several portable bombs on the ground.
What happened next was up to the Tara people themselves.
As the six men departed, the first Tara cautiously stepped outside. The sudden sunlight blinded him, and he cried out in pain, covering his eyes. Tears streamed down his face before he finally noticed a transport vehicle parked in front of the warehouse. Inside lay a package that looked strangely familiar, with a note attached.
"These bombs were meant to be used against us. Now, we'll use them against them."
The Tara people exchanged glances, then turned their eyes toward the distant city walls lit by fire. Having made their decision, they approached the vehicle and began retrieving the bombs.
No one needed to explain what they were for. Somehow, everyone understood what they, and those around them, were meant to do.
Soon, the area in front of the warehouse was completely deserted.
Explosions followed. One after another.
When a soldier rushed to report that the Tara prisoners had escaped and that multiple explosions had erupted in the Victoria district, the noble in command flew into a rage. To them, the Tara were nothing more than dogs on a leash, expected to obey without question.
But the situation had changed.
The nobleman was drenched in sweat. He should have wiped them out while he had the chance. Now, those escaped Tara had brought chaos beyond imagination.
"Retreat."
The word fell like a stone in the meeting hall, silencing everyone instantly. All eyes turned toward the speaker, then to the noble seated at the head of the table. These were men known for their pride, men who would fight to the last breath for their interests.
And yet, today, one of them chose to step back.
"This battle can't continue. Our supply lines within County Hillock are nearly exhausted, and the Victoria District is under constant bomb threat. We simply don't have the manpower to hunt down the fleeing Tara. If this goes on, the Victoria army is very likely to be defeated."
"…"
"…"
The Victorian nobles remained silent. No one spoke, as if being the first to open their mouth meant admitting defeat. Even now, they clung to their pride. Losing to the Tara nobles had already carved their names onto Victoria's list of shame.
The Victorian supremacy you have always preached, the status of the Tara as second-class citizens, why has it all collapsed here?
You are nobles. And yet, you suffer defeat after defeat. Is there something fundamentally wrong with how you wage war?
The truth made the aristocracy seethe, but there was no solution in sight.
"Even if we lose, we must still teach the Tara nobles a lesson. We cannot allow them to maintain stable control over County Hillock." One noble finally spoke. After pausing to draw everyone's attention, he continued in a cold tone. "Begin the evacuation of the Victorians. Since they want County Hillock so badly, then we'll destroy it."
"Colonel Hamilton…"
A bitter taste rose in Hamilton's mouth. The moment these nobles arrived, they seized command, leaving him no room to resist. He stepped forward at once. "What are your orders?"
"The Tara people want County Hillock, don't they?" The noble sneered. "Then I'll give them a ruined County Hillock. Colonel Hamilton, if I remember correctly, there are still plenty of bombs stored in the armory."
"Yes."
"Think it through. You know what to do, just like before. I trust you understand my meaning."
Were these so-called important figures afraid that even naming such 'glorious deeds' would bring bad luck? Hamilton forced himself to recall happier memories, struggling to keep his expression from collapsing.
Not long after Hamilton left, an earl rose from his seat. "I'm returning to my own lands."
"You're not staying to fight?"
"Fight? All the dead are my soldiers."
"Heh. Your little force is nothing. I've lost plenty of men myself, but at least none of them lost their noble rationality like you."
"…Enough. Stop arguing."
The leading noble clapped his hands, silencing the room. His gaze shifted to the lord of County Hillock, Baron Bolton, a local noble whose title was the lowest among them and who was often looked down upon by the mid-rank aristocrats.
"Baron Bolton."
"Y-yes… I'm here."
"This bombing counterattack must destroy the foundation of the Tara presence in County Hillock. If they think they can take this place from us and emerge victorious…" The noble laughed softly. "They're dreaming."
Cold sweat instantly broke out on Baron Bolton's back. He stammered, unable to speak, and swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue.
What would it mean if he said them aloud? He knew the others did not truly care. In reality, only a handful of nobles would contribute to the fighting. The rest were already considered helpful simply by not being a burden.
Those nobles could flee whenever they wished. Only Baron Bolton would be left behind, because his home was here. The thought made his brow crease even deeper.
As a noble, he was supposed to stand firm. Yet three months ago, he had already begun secret dealings with several Tara nobles. He did not consider himself a traitor. A noble, after all, would call it acting in the pursuit of profit.