POW Camp, Fort Cambia.

1215, 2 April 2025

Baron Mhors' face filled with bitterness as he entered the Prisoner of War Camp at Fort Cambia. A few days ago he left the giant fort as one of its rulers, but now he must return as a prisoner of war.

'At least I'm alive.' Baron Mhors tried to cheer himself up.

Previously, as soon as he knew that Fort Cambia received a fatal attack and Riders who had launched a counterattack were wiped out, Baron Mhors and Baron Eslei immediately withdrew from the front lines.

It was a correct decision, because from 5 km away he could still see the calamity that befalling the Northern Coalition Camp.

While Baron Eslei chose the detour route to the northeast, Baron Mhors chose a direct route to the north, hoping that the route would be safe because it was still in a corridor guarded by elements of the Northern Coalition.

The problem was that without prior warning a Northern Coalition post located 1 km in front of him was suddenly hit by a shower of fire spears, and got destroyed until it barely remained.

Baron Mhors did not have time to think about how the enemy could attack from such a distance. He immediately spurred his horse as fast as possible. However, before he crossed the border, out of nowhere two flying carriages suddenly appeared and blocked him.

Fortunately, the people who rode the flying carriages recognized him as a noble and chose to capture him. Of course, it happened after they slaughtered most of his bodyguards who tried to knock down the flying carriages using arrows.

"Welcome to join your friends, the nobles are gathered in the cabin on the far right," said one of the guards before smiling cheerfully.

After glancing at the simple cabin that would become his residence, Baron Mhors frowned and turned towards the Centurion who was escorting him.

"This is not proper treatment for a Baron even though he is a prisoner of war."

The Centurion casually answered, "For your information, if within five days the Northern Coalition refuses to pay the war compensation. All nobles who are caught will be executed for the crime of killing civilians at the border, and the invasion on the Northern Coalition territory will be launched."

'Sentencing nobles to death just for the slaughter of several hundred commoners? I heard it wrong or this bastard is scaring me.'

Baron Mhors wanted to ask further, but the Centurion escorting him had already walked away. Meanwhile, the Tuscan Guard guarding the gate looked at him with scorn.

- - - - -

Dohark Castle, Dohark City, Tarai Region.

0800, 3 April 2025

In a luxurious meeting room, three nobles sat facing each other with grim faces.

Count Weizz, the highest leader of Tarai Region,

Viscount Olrig, the highest leader of Liqua Region,

and

Viscount Yelk, the highest leader of Darpha Region.

The Northern Coalition's three highest leaders had just received a list of the nobles that were caught, with the ransom proposed by Tuscan Region that was so expensive until they almost vomited blood.

The problem was that before sunrise, the 12 divisions that had been deployed to intercept Tuscan Guard, which was expected to launch a counter-invasion from Fort Cambia, were destroyed for reasons that could not be ascertained just when they reached the position 10 km from Fort Cambia.

"I decided to comply with their demands to prevent further damage," Count Weizz opened the meeting in a deep tone, like an opening speech at a funeral.

Viscount Olrig added in an equally heavy tone, "Well, their demands are extremely expensive, but they are not specifically asking for gold. So we can pay for it with land on the border."

"Are we just going to follow their wishes?"

Reluctance was evident in Viscount Yelk's gaze.

Count Weizz said firmly, "Of course not, we will spread negative sentiment towards Amethyst Merchants. Also sending all the information we know to the Kingdom of Makai. I believe some greedy nobles will be tempted to devour Amethyst Merchants. Then, we will bring them into a total war."

Killing intent flashed in Count Weizz's gaze, while Viscount Olrig and Viscount Yelk grinned from ear to ear.

- - - - -

CO Office, Harley Quinn MOA.

0700, 7 April 2025

This morning, all of TF Amethyst higher-ups gathered in General O'Neil's office.

Brigadier General William Rayden from Ground Combat Group,

Daniel Nate from Intelligence & Diplomacy Group,

Col. Patricia Cruz from Aviation Combat Group,

Col. Emil Montana from Logistics & Support Group,

and

Vex.

All TF Amethyst higher-ups gathered to discuss, the outcome of the conflict with the Northern Coalition, which consisted of:

=> The three field commanders of the Northern Coalition survived the artillery salvo, because they happened not to be in an area where the Northern Coalition's elements were concentrated. When interrogated they cooperated fully, and were willing to name all of the Northern Coalition spies in Tuscan Region.

=> Tarai, Darpha, and Liqua Region are willing to pay war compensation using land at the border. Tuscan Region will lease the land to Amethyst Merchant free of charge for the first 20 years.

=> Fort Cambia will be operated by Tuscan Guard with the assistance of TF Amethyst. All the spoils of war, be it property, logistics, or military equipment will belong to Tuscan Region.

=> As a form of victory celebration, Amethyst Merchant will extend the public facility payments subsidy for Tuscan Region's residents for up to three months.

Vex took a sip of his tea before saying, "Actually, I hoped we eliminated 80% of the Northern Coalition military capacity."

Brigadier General Rayden nodded slightly.

"At least this conflict ended without needing to divert GCG personnel in the southern tip of Southeast Triangle."

General O'Neil smiled before saying, "Yes, and now we can get back to our daily routine."

Without any victory celebrations, General O'Neil ended the meeting. The TF Amethyst higher-ups then returned to their offices.

Every TF Amethyst higher-ups were aware that they were responsible for the departure of more than 100 thousand souls to the afterlife.

They therefore chose to avoid celebrating victories, or anything else that could remind them of how thick the blood had stained their hands.

*****