Chapter 708.2: Not Bad, My Child Has Grown Capable

Still, it was unlikely the money remained there. Raging over what was already lost was pointless. It was better to use what had been spent for something meaningful.

For example, paying reparations.

In his view, with the empire’s current strength, turning the tables was impossible. The more they struggled, the tighter the grip on their throat would become.

Wutuo Xilande gulped down his tea and slammed the cup onto the table, as if venting his last bit of anger.

Seeing his breathing slow, Yarun calmly laid out his prepared proposal. “First, please accept this ceasefire agreement.”

Silence fell over the council chamber.

Not a sound could be heard among the three.

McClennan raised an eyebrow at Yarun, then looked away, idly twirling the teaspoon beside his cup.

Wutuo Xilande stared blankly at Yarun, then glanced at McClennan, who wasn’t even looking at him, before turning back to Yarun. “... Where is your army?”

Yarun took a sip of tea to moisten his throat and replied softly, “Each one of our armies has its own operational plans. We dislike unexpected arrangements. And while it’s easy to invite them in, it’s hard to send them away.”

Wutuo Xilande stared at him wide-eyed. “Aren’t we the closest of friends?!”

Yarun looked back at him in surprise, as if puzzled by the question. “Your Majesty, of course we are. That’s why we’re offering you a solution, instead of letting things spiral to the worst outcome. The Marshal does not wish this regional conflict to turn into a full-scale war. You wouldn’t want them rolling aircraft, tanks, and artillery ashore either. Frankly speaking, they’re already more restrained than they were in the Sunset Province.”

“But Port Gallon...” Wutuo Xilande was nearly in tears, gripping the chair’s armrests like a child whose toy had been stolen. “If we pull back 100 kilometers, what if they keep pushing forward?!”

The silent McClennan finally spoke. “You don’t need to worry about that. They’ll pull back, at least to the vicinity of the port. But knowing them, they’ll probably pull some tricks, like they did in the Falcon Kingdom.”

Yarun looked at McClennan curiously, as if unaware of what had happened there. “For example?”

McClennan replied casually, “They set up a citizens’ self-governance committee to check the nobles’ power. It’s a hassle to explain, ask Cohen. He replaced General Klass and is now the governer-general of the Sunset Province.”

Yarun then turned back to the ashen-faced emperor, having apparently used McClennan’s words to convey his point. “You’ve heard it. Expecting the New Alliance to withdraw obediently is unrealistic. No matter how many times you flush, the mess they leave won’t wash away. My suggestion is... establish a buffer zone at Port Gallon. Retain its sovereignty, but exclude it from the empire. That way, at least their residue won’t undermine your authority.”

After a pause, he continued to the despairing emperor, “Of course, we understand how important Port Gallon is to you. The empire’s finances rely on the gold it contributes. But gold isn’t the only valuable thing. If you don’t mind, we can help you build a similar port on the west coast of Poro Province, closer to Triumphant City, and even assist you in developing heavy industries the empire currently lacks... Naturally, for the plan to proceed smoothly, we would need some autonomous decision-making authority locally.”

Wutuo Xilande looked at him in a daze. “... What’s the point of that? What I need is an army, not craftsmen.”

“I know you need an army, and that’s exactly what we’re giving you,” Yarun said with a smile. “Do you know why the New Alliance can chase you around with just a few hundred men? Because they have something you don’t. Their factories can mass-produce rifles and cannons. Once you have factories too, you won’t be any worse than them.”

To be honest, Triumphant City already had plenty of servants, especially now that those Wislanders who had returned defeated from the east had begun thinking about how to live better lives.

After all, no matter how fast slaves fan the air, they couldn’t compete with electric fans or air conditioners, and physical needs were among the easiest things to satisfy.

Although the Army does have a few factories producing consumer goods in addition to its weapons plants, their share of total industrial output was very small. As a result, costs remain high, consumption was mostly limited to officers, and it was hard for the benefits to reach everyone the way they do in Ideal City.

Letting Poro Province help take on part of the mid and low-end industries might actually be a good idea.

There were resources and manpower. Even if the prices of consumer goods in Triumphant City could be lowered by just 1%, the interest groups backing him would make a fortune.

At the same time, it would slightly arm the not-too-bright little brother of theirs, making it a win-win situation.

Wutuo Xilande fell into thought. After a long while, he loosened the fingers that had been digging into the armrest and nodded hesitantly. “I’ll... think it over.”

Yarun knew he was tempted. Something so big would need to be discussed with his officials and relatives first.

But what constructive advice could those echo chambers really offer?

At best, they would help him polish the wording of an edict, dressing up something deeply humiliating in prettier language so it didn’t sound quite so disgraceful.

As such, Yarun wasn’t in a hurry. He said patiently, “We’ll await your good news... though to be frank, other matters can wait, but the ceasefire agreement really should be settled as soon as possible. You’re already at a disadvantage, and you won’t be able to reverse it in the short term. The longer this drags on, the more it benefits them.”

Wutuo Xilande gave a slight nod and rose to leave the council chamber.

That retreating figure looked lonely no matter how one looked at it.

The room quickly fell quiet.

Watching McClennan sitting there wordlessly, Yarun’s stern expression broke into a smile as he leaned back comfortably in his chair. “We didn’t do anything, yet we gained no less than our opponents.”

Seeing his nominal superior still speechless, he continued smugly, “See what I said? If you want to get along with them, you can never be more anxious than they are.”

McClennan cleared his throat as a reminder. “But at least Bist Town is outside the Falcon Kingdom. We didn’t lose a single inch of land.”

Yarun shrugged and smiled. “Who cares? They’re not our vassals.”

...

Bad news has always spread faster than good news.

In just a few days, word of the Grey Wolf Army’s defeat at the front reached the Heavenly City, throwing the entire capital into panic.

Some said the Grey Wolf Army had been completely captured; others claimed that only a single division had been taken prisoner, while the remaining four divisions still had the strength to fight.

But no matter how it was spun, those dogs had thoroughly disgraced the royal court, using the most expensive equipment to fight the dumbest war.

General Alyang fell from a war god revered by tens of thousands to a clown spat upon by tens of thousands. Furious Wolffolk youths threw his propaganda portraits out of their homes, only for Ratfolk and Snakefolk to pick them up and use them as material for clothing.

The rumors grew ever more outrageous. Someone claimed the New Alliance intended to advance upriver all the way to the Heavenly City, terrifying many people. The gates of the settlements filled with carts and ox wagons fleeing.

Fortunately, the emperor’s edict was issued in time, calling back those fools who had rushed for the outskirts and clarifying all the rumors.

[... Due to climate factors hindering the bandit suppression campaign, the Grey Wolf Army is permitted to redeploy westward by 100 kilometers and reestablish defensive lines in the eastern forests of the City of a Thousand Pillars. Trenches must be dug deep and fortifications strengthened.]

[Additionally, the Fierce Tiger Army and the Black Panther Army, totaling 100,000 troops, will advance from the south and north respectively to the front, forming a three-pronged encirclement with the Grey Wolf Army against the enemy.]

[At present, bandit activity is rampant in Port Gallon. Imperial subjects are advised not to go there unless absolutely necessary.]

The edict seemed to say everything, and yet nothing at all, but it did make two points clear. The Empire’s enemies would not continue advancing westward, and 300,000 soldiers were already deployed along the front, ready to deliver a devastating blow at any time.

Upper-class citizens and nobles more or less knew what had happened: the emperor’s clever-clever decision had brought New Alliance retaliation.

As for the middle and lower classes and most of the poor, they called the seaborne enemies “iron men,” and their attitudes varied wildly, some curious, some indifferent, but most inclined to curse at them.

Where once only the emperor and his ennobled aristocrats sat on their heads, now another lump had been piled onto the emperor’s shoulders.

The hierarchy of status slipped down another notch. Those who were already ground into the dust could only despise themselves even more.

Port Gallon, however, presented a completely different picture.

The nobles and citizens welcomed and flattered the iron men to such an extent that even the players themselves felt embarrassed.

The poor, by contrast, became more restrained.

Aside from those who had quietly pocketed money while digging trenches, demolishing houses, or acting as guides, and who lined the streets to welcome them, most people felt a mix of fear and obsequiousness, but more often indifference and apathy.

Those who ate dirt continued to eat dirt, with no change at all. Those who could afford a few meals of beans complained bitterly about rising feed prices. The price of black beans finally broke through the 10 Xilande Coins mark, and life got harder and harder...

...

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