The smell of war was permeating the air, subtly shrouding all of Kisia. Passersby on the streets frowned and glanced at the grey skies.
It seemed something bad was about to happen.
“Is it going to rain?” a noodle shop owner looked up at the sky.
“No, it’s going to be war,” an old bespectacled teacher who kept up with current affairs knew what was coming.
“Ah, as long as the Primus is here, I’ll feel safe to keep doing business,” the noodle shop owner smiled honestly. He was a simple man, making a humble living for his family.
To them, the Primus was an object of faith.
“The Primus is no longer Primus,” the teacher said.
“I know about that. It’s people slandering the Primus. My son participated for 1, 000 bucks to walk one street. Don’t worry everyone, he’s still kneeling at home, has been for three days now, the little brat, daring to slander the Primus.”
“Though some professors say the Primus really did it. I don’t understand the big shots’ world, but I know he’s always protected us commoners. He hasn’t changed. I believe in him.”
The noodle shop owner’s words “I believe in him” resonated with the crowd.
“Standing to live, kneeling to die, I too believe in the Primus!”
“Whatever the Primus does must have his reasons. We’re nobodies, can’t understand the big shots’ thinking. But he’s always shielded us, that’s for sure.”
“I almost got misled too, but I also believe in him.”
“Primus is still Primus, even if he’s lost his position. I’ll only recognize this one Primus.”
The noodle-eating patrons all echoed the sentiment.
The bespectacled teacher paid and left. Outside, he glanced at the grey sky, as if the only light beyond it.
“Perhaps my mission is complete,” he murmured.
Yes, his mission.
He was not only a teacher, but a Shadow Guard member planted among the masses by Mr. Berger, to steer opinions at critical moments. But he realized there was no need – the people’s hearts still belonged to the Primus.
Next, he lowered his head and walked towards another alley. He had another mission – eliminating spies from the Temples, Harding family, South Land, and other countries.
Scum, all deserving of death.
…
St. Sunday.
All the generals were atop the city walls, with Jeff Reczek as leader. Not only were the top positions given to Jeff Reczek on Robin’s orders, he was also placed in charge of St. Sunday.
Though still aggressive, Jeff Reczek was no longer rash after learning from Robin over the years. He could handle St. Sunday. Even if not, there was an advisor in the city – Theresa Lindsay’s mother, Rose. She had no martial talents, but was born to a martial family and studied military strategy since childhood.
After Robin left, Walton Myers had attacked the city with schemes, but they defended successfully, half thanks to Rose.
“No enemies within 10 li,” a scout reported back.
“All withdrawn,” Theresa Lindsay bit her lip, then said to Jeff Reczek, “General Jeff, the Primus is alone and endangered in Mountland. Should we go rescue him? There’s nothing left to defend here in St. Sunday.”
She had thought the Primus was framed before. She was very upset for a while.
Only later did she realize it was the Primus’ scheme to tear Mountland open. Her sadness turned to joy. But the next second, news came of the South Land army marching on Mountland, and the Primus was in danger again!
So she suggested going to Mountland to save the Primus.
“No,” Reese Daniels said from the side, “That’s only within 10 li. Venturing further, we lack scouts. No telling if there are ambushes. Too risky without knowing if it’s another scheme.”
Having lost an arm from the previous incident, Reese Daniels had matured greatly, thinking more cautiously now. No one knew if this was a trap.
If it was like last time, St. Sunday’s fall would be the real disaster.
“Then what do we do?” Theresa Lindsay hugged herself.
Eventually, they both looked to their direct superior, Maclean Lyons. But he shook his head and stepped back, giving the spot to Jeff Reczek, who strode forward and swept his gaze over them before shouting, “Theresa Lindsay, you’ll lead an army of 50, 000 new recruits, all under you. Reese Daniels, you’ll lead an army of 50, 000 veterans. You have your father’s old generals – listen to them. Your mission for both armies is beheading – kill South Land’s commander Walton Myers within two days.”
“Maclean Lyons stays to defend St. Sunday. Rose’s health is too poor for long distance marches. You two will remain to guard the city. I’m heading out.”
Jeff Reczek issued his orders.
But shockingly, confusingly, a beheading order?
And Walton Myers at that? The commander of a 600, 000 strong army?
They only had 100, 000 men, and half under Theresa Lindsay were new recruits, many former students who had abandoned books for swords just days ago. They had only fought with the veterans’ support before.
Sent alone, the new army’s combat ability wouldn’t even be a tenth of Reese Daniels’. Useless against the South Land forces.
Even Reese Daniels knitted his brows. Though he had veteran generals who had defended the south before, many had died or were injured then. But some stationed elsewhere had come to help him, letting this young man command an army.
Moreover, his youthful mind had matured.
“This is an order. Theresa Lindsay, you have an additional order – your army must expose itself within South Land’s sights,” Jeff Reczek said with complex emotions, “Sometimes, sacrifices must be made. This isn’t just my command, but the Primus’. May you all fight this final battle for Kisia.”
Final battle.
Rose’s face paled. She reached out a shaky hand and touched Theresa Lindsay’s shoulder. “Theresa…”
But Theresa Lindsay placed her own hand over hers. Then she smiled brightly, “Mother, I know this is certain death, but I’m the most suitable to go. If not me, who? It’s the final battle. If I die, bury me with Father. I miss him.”
Theresa Lindsay understood.
Her army wasn’t the main force, but a sacrifice, bait – the only exposed force on the battlefield.
Zero chance of survival.
Yet she did not refuse, because this was the final battle for Kisia’s survival or destruction.