FL - Chapter 56: Not Enough

Louis strolled out of the banquet hall. The cold wind struck his face, clearing away the smell of wine and greasy meat.

He exhaled, the corner of his mouth lifting.

The banquet had been even duller than expected.

And Zachary Diaz was every bit as unimpressive as Louis had thought.

The man believed he could control the colonization lords with polished words and a few petty favors, persuading them to risk their lives for him.

But the looks in their eyes had already begun to change.

At first, they had crowded around Zachary and showered him with praise like obedient sycophants.

It had taken Louis only a few words to plant the seeds of suspicion.

*Was Zachary truly acting for everyone's benefit, or only his own?*

Once that question entered their minds, it would be difficult to ignore.

"Ha! Boss, you were incredible in there!"

Jon hurried to catch up, his face bright with excitement. "You should've seen Zachary's face. It was almost green! I bet he wanted to bite you to death on the spot!"

"Is that so?" Louis raised an eyebrow. "Too bad he lacks the courage."

"Of course he does!" Jon nodded vigorously, delighting in Zachary's humiliation. "You're a young master of one of the Empire's Eight Great Houses. He may be from one too, but he can't compare to you."

Jon mimicked Zachary holding a wineglass and raised his chin with affected dignity. "Oh, Lord Calvin, unity is so very important!"

Then he switched to a disgusted expression and waved a hand. "Bah! What a pretentious bastard."

Louis burst out laughing.

Jon certainly knew how to embellish a story.

Remembering Zachary's livid face put Louis in an even better mood.

Still, he couldn't become complacent.

This was only the opening exchange.

If Zachary had any intelligence, he would try to repair his reputation.

He might even turn the banquet incident to his advantage by slandering Louis and strengthening his own position.

If he was a fool, however, he would rush to retaliate.

"Boss, do you think he'll send someone to cause trouble for you?" Jon leaned closer and lowered his voice. "The more I think about it, the more certain I am that he's planning something big."

Louis mounted his horse and smiled. "I hope he is."

"What?" Jon stared at him in confusion.

Louis didn't answer. Instead, he surveyed the knights and soldiers camped outside the banquet hall by the various lords.

The knights' armor wasn't ornate, but it was reasonably well maintained. Their cloaks still displayed their house crests, proof that they retained some pride and honor.

Their mounts were another matter. Many of the warhorses looked underfed.

The ordinary soldiers were in even worse condition. Their armor was battered, and rust coated their weapons.

Their morale was just as poor. Some huddled in corners for warmth, while others slumped against the walls with vacant eyes.

The sentries could barely stand upright, and the patrols trudged along without energy, like a strong gust might knock them over.

*Can troops like these really fight the Snowsworn?*

Louis shook his head and laughed. "Jon, how much fighting strength do you think this army has?"

Jon followed his gaze and immediately began to mock them. "Ha! Now that you mention it, Boss, you're right!"

Admittedly, Jon's own knights and soldiers were in much the same condition.

But he had seen Louis's forces the day before.

The knights of Crimson Tide Territory wore polished armor and carried sharp, well-kept weapons. Every warhorse was strong and well fed.

Even the ordinary soldiers obeyed commands without hesitation and shifted formations with speed and precision.

The difference between the two forces was night and day.

Louis merely smiled at Jon's praise.

He knew Zachary Diaz hadn't brought these southern nobles together through his own strength.

Their shared plight had united them. Their families had discarded them.

Almost every colonization lord here was an overlooked and unwanted member of his house.

They hadn't been sent to the Northlands to win glory or build great legacies.

Their families had merely needed bodies to satisfy the Emperor's Northlands Colonization Edict, so they had cast these men into the frozen frontier.

Louis understood because he had once been one of them.

But he was no longer like the others.

When they were sent north, they truly became abandoned pieces.

Louis had relied on hard work, knowledge from his previous life, and the Daily Intelligence System to carve out a road to greatness.

After seeing what he had accomplished, Duke Calvin had increased his investment in Crimson Tide Territory.

Louis's domain had once been as barren as this one, and his soldiers had been just as disorganized.

After nearly half a year of training, reform, and careful planning, however, the army of Crimson Tide Territory had begun to take shape.

It was no ordinary colonization militia. Even by the standards of the Northlands, it had become a force ready for battle.

After his laughter subsided, Jon leaned closer and lowered his voice again. "Boss, I didn't mean he'd send troops to attack you. I meant he might go to Count Firth and whisper poison in his ear."

Louis gave a contemptuous snort. "Let him. I've already prepared for that."

He tugged on the reins. "Come on. Gather your knights. I'll take you to earn some military merit."

"Military merit?" Jon froze, then realized what Louis was suggesting. "W-wait! What exactly are you planning?"

Louis didn't answer. He drove his heels into his horse's flanks and surged forward.

"Hey! Boss, at least explain! Wait for me!"

Jon yanked on his reins and raced after him.

The two men and their knights rode hard toward their encampment.

...

Hiro sat beside a long table in his tent, his fingers drumming against its wooden edge.

His gaze remained fixed on the intelligence report before him. One line was written with stark clarity:

*Duke Edmund has summoned the lords of the Northlands and is preparing a campaign to exterminate the Snowsworn.*

Hiro read it again and again, a nearly hysterical light rising in his eyes.

"At last..."

His voice was hoarse, forced from the depths of his throat.

He raised a hand and stared at his trembling fingertips.

With those hands, he had buried his mother.

Painful memories flooded his mind, yet he began to laugh.

The low chuckle grew louder and louder until it approached madness.

"The time has come. Blood will be repaid with blood!"

A sudden gust lifted the corner of the tent flap, bringing a bone-deep chill.

Hiro's laughter stopped. His body went rigid.

A gentle male voice whispered beside his ear, almost soothing him. "Not yet, Hiro."

He spun around.

The candle flame flickered, illuminating a long, elegant hand resting on his shoulder.

Its fingertips were ice-cold, without the slightest warmth.

The eerie voice spoke again, calm and deliberate.

"The ritual to awaken the Ancient God of the Frozen Abyss is not yet sufficient."