Distinguished Again?

With her hands clasped behind her back, Little Kanna leaned forward, admiring the blaze below woven of blood and fire. From time to time, a stiff, obscure smile curled the corners of her mouth. Just then, Karen shifted his posture up ahead, turning to speak to Alfred while casually flicking his wrist. Little Kanna immediately copied the motion, flicking her own wrist while paying close attention to the angle and frequency of his swing. "Alfred, do you think things will be a little quieter from now on, after tonight's retaliation?" "I'm afraid not, Young Master. There are too many fools in this world, and you can never kill them all." "Well, at least it brings some peace of mind." "Indeed. Leon should feel much relieved as well." In the distance, Leon knelt upon the dragon's back, fists clenched tight, staring fixedly downward. If the others, Little Kanna included, were taking in the sight with a sense of lighthearted pleasure, Leon was completely immersed in it. His obsession with vengeance ran exceedingly deep. Alfred continued, "I know the gloom he carries in his heart, so I usually make a point of giving him extra work, keeping his days as full as possible." "Mm." On a rainy day, when someone ran home drenched, the walls kept the rain out, but the chill still lingered, leaving them shivering. Karen called down to Augie beneath him, "Augie, we can head back now." If they didn't leave now, was he supposed to linger here, continuing to impersonate the Whip-Wielder and accepting homage from all sides? Or perhaps stick around to guide local governance? Augie wheeled around and flew back, landing within an area set with a Church of Order teleportation circle. Reverting to her human form, Augie rolled her neck as she watched Karen walk past her, speaking with a hint of gloating in her tone: "Hey, do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?" Karen cast a glance at Augie, said nothing, and continued walking inside. Little Kanna, on the other hand, said to Augie, "Big dumb dragon, did you eat something foul recently? How come you seem even stupider?" "I haven't... I don't think so." "Then you definitely did. Is there something wrong with your pills?" "What do you mean by that? Don't you know your master's caused big trouble?" "First off, he's not my master. We're equals. And let me tell you, I share his last name!" Augie: "..." Augie took a deep breath and demanded, "What do you know?" "I don't know much, but I know posture." "Posture?" Little Kanna clasped her hands behind her back and swaggered past Augie, full of herself. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Dummy!" After passing through teleportation circles and making several transfers, the sky was already growing light by the time they returned to Yorktown. "Young Master, I suggest we head to a roadside stall for a grilled sausage. What do you say?" "They've probably packed up by now." "No, I don't think they have." Upon receiving his young master's spontaneous notice about a "team-building" outing, Alfred had not only prepared a radio, but had also sent someone with riels to pay the late-night sausage stall to stay open. Arriving at the stall, everyone ate grilled sausages against the backdrop of music from the radio. The difference this time upon "mission completion" was that Neo wasn't here; what remained unchanged was that the sausages were as awful as ever. Returning home, Karen went to his office, took a shower, and fell asleep. When he woke, it was already afternoon. Freshened up, he stepped out to find Little Kanna already seated behind the small table in the office, doing her homework. "Where are they?" Karen asked casually. Last night, the house had been yielded to Dena and Augie, while Little Kanna had also stayed home. "Eat, sleep, sleep, eat," Little Kanna replied. Karen nodded. "A very disciplined routine." Little Kanna set down her pen and walked out of the office. Xili was at home, and Kanna was going to fetch Karen's meal. Philomena used to handle this chore, but she was out in the desert now. Karen sat down behind the desk and pressed the call bell. This signaled Alfred and the others that he was awake and ready to work. Under normal circumstances, Karen would not be disturbed during his rest unless something of great importance arose. Soon enough, Vic came in carrying a stack of documents. "Regional Chief, these are inquiries from the Regional Chiefs of several other districts and the Head Bishop of the Regional Administrative Office sent earlier today. Since they all called personally, only you can return them." Had official letters of inquiry been sent, Alfred and the team could simply reply under their own names. The problem was that Karen's standing was scorching hot right now. Everyone had politely placed personal phone calls to check on the situation. Even if Karen hadn't picked up then, now that he was awake, he would certainly have to return their calls himself. "Mm, understood." Karen picked up the list and scanned it. "Regional Chief, this is the latest progress on the new departmental reforms, as well as the budget proposal..." "No need to show me those. You guys handle it first. I only look at results." Vic smiled wryly. "The voucher issue is a bit tricky." "Even if you have to divert funds from elsewhere, satisfy their needs first. The pace of reform cannot slow down." "Yes, understood." In truth, the main issue was that revenue from the militia had yet to materialize. Neo had served as a frontline trench-filler for a while before finally finding a chance to slip away and raid a tomb—only to unearth a living person. The merit was immense and desperately needed right now, but the trouble was... it couldn't be cashed in for the time being. "How are things in the desert?" Karen took a sip from his teacup and asked. "Have they made a move on the next target?" "As things stand, it's rather difficult. With militias organized by other regions and branches entering the desert, the Knight Order is taking the lead, coordinating everyone for a major campaign." "A major campaign?" "Yes. It might be because Mili, the number two figure of the desert rebels, was captured alive, disrupting their command structure; or perhaps they're desperate to reclaim ground and restore morale. In any case, the desert rebels originally scattered across the wastes have begun rapidly massing, intending to launch an active offensive. The Knight Order wants to seize this opportunity to wage a massive encirclement and annihilation battle. Commander Neo has detailed the operational plan and his own views in the report." "Oh." Karen set aside the list and picked up the report. Due to communication constraints, there had actually been a substantial lag between Neo capturing Mili and Karen receiving the news here. Communication arrays were infinitely more potent than radio transmitters, but they carried the same drawback: they were easily detected. Moreover, even setting up a temporary long-distance communication array required significant time and energy. Adding to that, Neo often conducted illicit operations, which made him all the more cautious about maintaining his unit's secrecy. As a result, Karen was several days behind on developments regarding Neo's regiment. Knowing exactly who this report was meant for, Neo's choice of words was exceedingly casual. First off, he cursed the secret realm—the burial ground of the desert ancients—for containing zero funerary goods; he hadn't even found a single mummy! A priest's remains were worth a fortune. The older, better preserved, and more distinguished the priest had been in life, the more valuable they were. After all, the foster son of the Desert God was supposed to be buried there. Yet, who knew how many years or generations ago, the people of the desert had cleared it out themselves, leaving behind nothing but a stone stele recording the site. Even Kevin hadn't foreseen this. Next, Neo went on a tirade against the militias sent by other regions and departments for shamelessly tailing them. Not that they harbored malicious intentions; rather, seeing the Yorktown Region Militia make such a massive splash out of nowhere, everyone instinctively gravitated toward them, hoping to scavenge some leftovers. Consequently, Neo had to dodge searches from the Knight Order's command hierarchy while shaking off his following militia peers, all the while keeping an eye out for desert rebels. It was driving him mad with fury. Tomb-raiding was meant to be done behind closed doors; how could anyone justify opening it up for a public tour? "Sigh." Reading up to this point, Karen couldn't help sighing as well. Neo was pouring out his grievances, explaining why revenue hadn't arrived yet; he was well aware of the financial difficulties here. Finally, Neo appended the orders from the Knight Order commander, directing all militias to coordinate with the knights in casting an encirclement net. The Knight Order would spearhead the assault, while the militias would hold the lines, spread the net, and mop up stray small fry along the way. This was the intended function of militias to begin with: maintaining order in the war zone, securing logistical supply lines, plugging gaps in the lines, and so forth. They were not main combat forces, yet the regular army could not fight without them. Neo could have evaded this order under normal circumstances. Shut off the communication array, then later claim he had been hot on the trail of desert remnants. But with a whole crowd of third wheels clinging to him now, shutting down his communication array was useless; nearby militias from other regions could simply send runners to deliver the orders by hand. Thus, Neo would have to wage war in earnest for the foreseeable future, putting tomb-raiding on hold once more. By now, Neo's militia might well be in position, squatting in some trench to support the main Knight Order. Karen set down the report and rubbed between his eyebrows. "Vic, go inform Alfred that I've approved issuing bonds. Raise funds under the pretext of supporting the frontline militia." "Understood, Regional Chief." Revenue from the desert had failed to arrive, yet the local fiscal crunch was already biting. Karen had to secure fresh financial sources to sustain the momentum of reform; robbing Peter to pay Paul was only a stopgap, and he couldn't allow broad, prolonged paralysis in the region's operations. In truth, Karen could have applied for funding. He could submit proposals to his own system or relevant departments in the Holy City. However, even children who took money from their parents had to accept interference in their lives. To say nothing of seeking external political aid: no department had budget to spare, and asking to borrow funds always came attached with a host of political strings. For Karen, who intended to build the Yorktown Region into his own independent stronghold, that was unacceptable. Ultimately, this stemmed from the Holy City of the Church of Order claiming far too much fiscal authority. Furthermore, ever since the High Priest took office, centralization within the Holy City had tightened, leaving the regions to tighten their belts even further. This directly resulted in Karen facing immense financial hardship despite Bern's full cooperation. "They want the horse to run, but won't feed it grass. What kind of logic is that?" Karen deeply resented such constraints, and he believed this resentment would persist until the day he stepped into the Holy City's inner circle. "Regional Chief, static has started to surface in the other regions that copied our reforms." "Hm?" "They approached Order University as well, copying our talent recruitment and project onboarding model." "The academics wouldn't focus solely on me; they certainly wouldn't pass up other regions either. But did some issue crop up?" "If our region's finances are this strained, the other regions are even worse off. The faculty, students, and projects they brought in have already begun flowing back out. Numerous articles by those involved have appeared in newspapers and internal journals, slamming them and accusing the Whip of Order in other regions of mistreatment and oppression, claiming it left indelible trauma on their minds and bodies." "What kind of mistreatment and oppression?" "Giving those faculty and students the exact same allowances and compensation as ordinary regional priests." "Heh." Karen chuckled and shook his head. "So all grassroots priests are enduring oppression and mistreatment every single day?" "Regional Chief, our region offers the best compensation and funding." "I know. Right now we need them to do the work and build the stage. Once the job is done, we'll keep those who genuinely want to work. As for the rest, they can go back where they came from. I can't afford to pamper a bunch of self-important gentlemen. In an era where the gods themselves remain hidden, how on earth did Order University manage to cultivate so many deities detached from mortal flesh?" "Heheh." Vic laughed. "All right, go attend to your duties." After Vic left, Karen began returning the calls one by one. To those unaware of the situation, Karen offered an explanation. To those already in the know, they spoke with chummy familiarity: "Brother, you acted rather rashly this time." Every call concluded on friendly terms; after all, anyone disinclined to be cordial wouldn't have called in the first place. Little Kanna and Xili came in carrying insulated containers. Karen checked the time; it was slightly on the early side for dinner. Once he finished eating, he began reviewing documents while Little Kanna continued her homework. At midnight, a late-night snack was brought in by Augie and Dena. The moment Dena walked in, she clamored, "Hey, Karen, did you really just dump the two of us at your place and ignore us?" Karen put down his fountain pen, raised his head, and looked at her. Dena froze slightly, only then remembering that Karen was currently sitting in the seat of a Regional Chief. While a Regional Chief might not mean much to an adoptive daughter of the High Priest, she was well aware of the potential Karen had demonstrated. A privileged second-generation youth merely drifting by and unable even to set foot on a proper battlefield could not help feeling self-conscious when facing a rising talent advancing on his own strength. It was only because she was accustomed to being willful that her words and actions repeatedly slipped into delayed regret. Karen ignored them, returning his gaze to the document before him. Dena and Augie arranged the late-night snack on the coffee table in front of the reception sofa. Little Kanna dropped ice cubes into Karen's water and said, "Time to eat. Starving isn't good for your stomach." This was what Sister Purr had taught her, though she had no idea what a stomach was. Karen got up and came over to eat. Dena and Augie remained quiet this time. Having finished eating, Karen returned behind the desk and began writing a report. The conflict in the desert continued to ferment, and its ramifications extended far beyond the battlefield. Order's first-day war against Samsara had ended too quickly, whereas this desert campaign, destined to drag on, was more than enough to reenergize the entire apparatus of the Church of Order. The Whip-Wielder was by no means the only one seeking to seize power through this war; the other heavyweights were no fools either. Relatively speaking, the Whip-Wielder remained at a disadvantage. Only two militias on the desert battlefield could legitimately bear the "Whip of Order" label: one was the Yorktown Region Militia, thanks to Karen holding actual executive power here, and the other was the Dinge Region Militia, assembled through the sheer scale of the capital region. In other regional jurisdictions, the Whip of Order could only partner with the Regional Administrative Offices, rarely securing even a fifty percent share. Most held a mere twenty to thirty percent, and some as little as ten percent. Command, control, and naming rights were naturally out of the question. The Whip-Wielder wanted to alter this reality and was currently pushing for change, but Karen viewed it as unrealistic. Some authority could be secured through internal Holy City meetings with the High Priest's nod, but true power depended on actual capital contributions. The newly revived Whip of Order held varying degrees of power across the different regions, with most branches still in a subordinate position. Given this grassroots foundation, even the Whip-Wielder couldn't perform miracles out of thin air. Yet this was a case of shaking the tree whether there were dates or not; Karen doubted the Whip-Wielder truly expected to take such a massive leap forward. Asking for the sky and settling for whatever landed was still pure profit. Thus, the article Karen now needed to write was meant to assist in shaking the tree. Speaking in his capacity as Regional Chief of the Yorktown Region, he would present his experience to expound on the efficiency and systemic advantages of placing militias under the control of the Whip of Order. In short, it was a content-free piece that could easily be titled "Where I Sit Determines What I Say." Its only real selling point wasn't even the text itself, but simply that the Yorktown Region Militia had achieved merit. When you achieved merit, you earned the right to show off. After quickly drafting the article, Karen pressed the bell on his desk. Leon, who was on night duty, walked in. "Send this out. Oh, right—submit it not just to our system's internal bulletin, but also to Order Weekly." The editor-in-chief of Order Weekly had solicited an article from him, hoping he would share his insights. It wasn't as though he had led troops into battle on the frontlines himself; he had been sitting in his office all along, so what insights could he possibly share? Yet in the eyes of outsiders, every achievement scored by the militia in the desert would be credited to Karen's name. It was essentially frontline warriors risking life and limb while he sat in the rear tallying the merits. Then again, Karen reflected that he had no reason to feel ashamed. He had planned and organized the militia ahead of time; every officer had been personally scouted and nurtured by him; nearly his maternal grandmother's entire family had marched onto the battlefield; and he had even reformed the leader of the Light remnants into leading troops for Order. Mm, I really have done quite a lot. The telephone rang. Very few people could ring this line at such an hour. "Hello, Karen speaking." "Heh heh, do you know what kind of trouble you've stirred up?" Miguel's voice came through from the other end. "Heh heh, I know." "The Whip-Wielder wants you to come over so he can reprimand you in person." "Thank you." "You're welcome." "When?" "Tomorrow, the Whip-Wielder must accompany the High Priest to the temple. The day after tomorrow, his schedule has him in Lokalin Region to attend a senior figure's funeral. The day after that, he will accompany Cardinal Kred to inspect the First Knight Order under the guise of escorting the remains. How about this: come around noon the day after that. Arrive a bit early, and I'll slot you in during the Whip-Wielder's lunchtime." Karen asked, "Is it really fine to delay a reprimand for so long?" Factoring in the time difference between the Yorktown Region and Dinge Region, that would be nearly five days. The Whip-Wielder might well have forgotten by then. Miguel laughed. "I'll be sure to remind him." "Thank you, Miguel." "We can skip the formalities and thank-yous going forward. Passing the ball back and forth is unnecessary and makes us seem like strangers." "Still, Miguel, you're the only one who can say that." "I believe that one day in the future, I will be the one repeating those exact words to you. Haha." ... Over the days that followed, Karen's routine continued as usual. After that night, however, only a single assassination attempt occurred over the span of five days, and it was detected and neutralized by the Whip of Order beforehand. Throwing a fit every now and then did have its uses, though fools were bound to have short memories; it likely wouldn't take long for the frequency of assassination attempts to rebound. No wonder Muri's Benda family had hereditarily served as captains of the High Priest's guard. It was a lesson born of experience. If assassinations were this frequent for a mere Regional Chief, the High Priest of Order would only face far greater peril. On the desert frontline, Neo had officially entered an extended phase of trench-sitting. His daily duty consisted of leading the entire regiment in constructing fortifications along their defensive line. It wasn't that Neo was particularly cautious. In truth, so long as both sides maintained organized formations, the desert rebels' combat effectiveness was mediocre at best. Furthermore, the Knight Order dealt with the toughest nuts to crack, leaving the militias merely to intercept and mop up routing forces. The real reason Neo did this was that with nothing else to do, he was leading everyone in digging drills—which was essentially "tomb-raiding training," striving to make future excavations faster and more precise. Screening formations, high barricades, perimeter traps, interior excavation techniques, spatial control—all methods originally meant to evade detection by outsiders and counter interior tomb traps were now repeatedly drilled under the guise of constructing fortifications. The tombs of religious figures were far more lethal than those of secular nobles. Commander Daan of the Knight Order even singled out "Muri" and Senrol for praise regarding their attention to detail and diligence, earning Neo a "little red flower." Senrol was the commander of the militia deployed by the Dinge Region's Whip of Order. In Neo's report, he was described as the stickiest piece of chewing gum. Perhaps because they both belonged to the Whip of Order system, Senrol felt a closer bond and clung tightest. When Neo started drilling hole-digging, Senrol promptly ordered fortifications built in his own sector as well. One could say he pushed the art of imitation to its absolute limit, earning a "little red flower" of his own. Then again, this likely reflected instructions from the Whip of Order higher-ups. As the only two militias bearing the Whip of Order brand, they naturally needed to watch out for each other—and, of course, piggybacking on merits was much easier that way. Before departing for Dinge Region, the latest battle report Karen saw in his office indicated that the militias had cast a vast net while the Knight Order commenced a fierce assault against the core zone of the desert rebels. The operational momentum looked promising; having lost Mili, the rebels seemed to have lost their wits entirely, daring even to engage the Knight Order head-on. Dena had already been assigned to the second echelon and was undergoing training. Willful as the young lady was, she accepted training as a common soldier without a single complaint; having grown up in the Knight Order, she possessed fundamental military discipline. Augie, surprisingly, hadn't left either. Under the pretext of protecting Dena, aside from ferrying Dena to and from training each day, she spent most of her time around Little Kanna. Augie harbored an instinctive dread of Little Kanna deep down and knew Kanna disliked her, yet she couldn't resist gravitating toward her. Karen only turned a blind eye because Augie was a female dragon. Had it been a male dragon, Karen would have banished it back to where it came from long ago. While others raised dragons as pets or even slaves, Little Kanna was being raised as a daughter by him and Purr. Karen returned to the dormitory to pick up Little Kanna and head to the teleportation hall. Augie was at home. She knew where Karen was going, but deliberately pretended not to be awake, likely dreading that returning would mean being locked back in that cage known as an "office." It was morning when they arrived in Dinge Region. Holding Little Kanna's hand, Karen left the teleportation hall first and headed to a secular restaurant for a meal. Food inside the teleportation hall was exorbitant, and even though Karen could expense travel costs with public funds, those public funds were effectively his own now. Little Kanna ordered plenty of local snacks from Dinge Region to sandwich her pills in, eating with utter delight. Once finished, as Karen led her toward the Whip of Order headquarters, she suddenly recalled something and asked, "Wait, aren't you supposed to have lunch with the Whip-Wielder?" "Yes." "Then why did you eat just now?" "That meal won't fill me up." "Oh." Arriving a bit early at headquarters, Karen submitted his official paperwork and was escorted to the waiting area. The reception suites were stratified by rank, and Karen's accommodations were quite splendid. An inner door opened to reveal a private waterfall; one could even picnic there while awaiting an audience with the Whip-Wielder. After a while, an aide arrived and escorted Karen and Little Kanna to the Whip-Wielder's office. Miguel was seated in the outer office by the entrance. He nodded to Karen, stood up, and went inside. Before long, he reemerged and signaled for Karen to enter. Holding Little Kanna's hand, Karen stepped into the office. The Whip-Wielder, seated behind the massive desk, looked up. His gaze fell instantly upon Little Kanna as he remarked: "Augie was very cute when she was small, too." Karen knew that when the Whip-Wielder first acquired Augie as a hatchling, he must have been thrilled and fond of her. Back then, the Whip-Wielder's standing was nowhere near as exalted as it was now, and Augie hadn't been as foolish as she was today. The Whip-Wielder continued, "Pity that as she grew up, Augie only got stupider and stupider." As expected... "Karen, I neglected her education. You must discipline that dragon of yours properly." "I will, Whip-Wielder." At this moment, Miguel opened the door at just the right instant to inquire, "Whip-Wielder, shall I postpone your lunchtime?" "Have it brought in," Foden said. "We'll eat together." "Yes, Whip-Wielder." And so, Karen was granted the opportunity to share a meal with Foden. The two sat at a dining table carved from solid ice. The spread was modest, yet exquisitely prepared. "About that night—did you lose your head?" Karen immediately set down his cutlery, stood up, and delivered a self-critique: "Whip-Wielder, I acted impulsively." "Sit down before you speak." "Yes, Whip-Wielder." Karen sat back down. "It's good for a young man to have drive; that's a virtue. But you are a Regional Chief now. You need to break the habit of doing everything yourself." "Understood, Whip-Wielder." "Don't take such things to heart. They know they can't assassinate you; their goal is simply to disgust and vex you. If you genuinely let it rattle your temper, then the vouchers they spent hiring killers were well worth the price." "Yes, I understand. Thank you for your guidance." "How has work been lately?" "The reforms are proceeding smoothly." "Any difficulties?" "There are difficulties, but all manageable." "Good. I intend to hold your region up as a model benchmark. Do a fine job." "I will." "That article of yours wasn't published." Hm, which article? Karen had churned out quite a few articles recently; he had been remarkably prolific with those formulaic pieces, overturning his peers' impression of him as merely a youth who only knew how to hack and slash in person. Yet Karen couldn't ask the Whip-Wielder which one he meant, so he could only ask: "Why was that?" "The Knight Orders cannot be touched; they are too insular. The garrisons have long been carved up and answer directly to the Holy City. These militias, however, even after the war ends, will be retained as a new independent force to deal with potential turbulence across the church circle. That is why every faction is fighting over them tooth and nail." Ah, that article. A political tug-of-war had evidently broken out, and rival factions had begun their suppression—stifling public discourse being one of their weapons. Karen remarked, "Our grassroots foundation remains insufficiently solid." "Yes, you're right. But rebuilding and reinforcing that foundation takes time." Foden let out a sigh. "If only the other Regional Chiefs were as capable as you, my life would be far easier." "Every region faces different circumstances. I was merely fortunate to cross paths with a Head Bishop willing to cooperate with me." "Bern... I know the man. He isn't an easy customer to deal with." Miguel pushed open the office door, holding a document in hand, his expression grave. "Whip-Wielder, there has been a sudden shift in the desert campaign!" "What happened?" Foden reached out and took the document as Miguel briefed him: "The Knight Order mounted a fierce assault against the core gathering of desert rebels, successfully routing them. However, the militias forming the outer encirclement suffered catastrophic blows when intercepting the fleeing rebels and have virtually collapsed. Every single militia has now lost communication array contact." "All of them?" Foden confirmed. "Yes. Before contact was lost, the dispatches from every militia reported spotting routed enemies and moving to encircle them, followed immediately by reports that the routed forces were exceedingly formidable and our lines could not hold, after which communications were severed. It's possible..." Foden pressed on while scanning the document, "Possible what?" "Possible..." Miguel glanced at Karen. He wanted to say they might have been completely wiped out, yet hesitated to speak so definitively. At the end of the day, he was a secretary who hadn't yet been posted to the field to earn his stripes, and even if he had, military affairs weren't his forte. Karen chimed in, "It's possible they were shattered by the rebels' charge." "Shattered?" Foden's brows furrowed slightly. "Are the rebels truly that formidable? And routed rebels at that?" Karen conjectured, "Then in all likelihood, they aren't desert rebels." Foden glanced at Karen. "Go on." "While our Order militias cannot match the Knight Order, the desert rebels never possessed such combat capability. Unless this was a deliberate trap: the rebels assaulted by the knights were indeed desert rebels, but those breaking out and charging into the perimeter lines manned by the militias were regular forces of the major orthodox churches donning desert vestments. Whip-Wielder, the orthodox churches that once stood behind the scenes may have entered the fray in person." Foden licked his lips and nodded. "Then this game has truly begun to get interesting." Previously in the desert, Order and the desert rebels had basically been playing a game of cat and mouse. Now, with worthy peers finally taking the field, a true contest could begin. As for the damaged militias... harsh as it sounded, if they were lost, new ones could always be raised. So long as Order's Knight Orders and garrison regiments suffered no losses and the core field army remained intact, it was nothing to lose sleep over. Just then, the second secretary arrived at the door carrying a dispatch. Miguel stepped over, took it, and walked back, reporting: "Whip-Wielder, latest update from the front! Two militias have reestablished communication. They are rounding up the other retreating militias and rebuilding a defensive perimeter to await relief from the Knight Order. They belong to the Yorktown Region and the Dinge Region—the two militias directly under the banner of our Whip of Order!" Foden took the dispatch, glanced over it, and tossed it to Karen. Karen looked down and saw the designations of the two reconnected militias clearly inscribed, along with the communication sign-offs of their respective commanders: Muri and Senrol. Foden looked at Karen and asked, "Why aren't you smiling?" "I..." "Heh heh. After this, who will dare claim that my Whip of Order shouldn't meddle in militia affairs? Our mettle is proven for all to see. As for that article of yours, I'll go ask them later and see if they dare keep holding it back." As the very inventor of the Church of Order's "ear-cleansing" workplace culture, Karen knew smiling right now was completely inappropriate and would almost certainly provoke a sharp about-face reprimand. But since the Whip-Wielder was in the mood to play this game, one had to indulge the supreme boss's whims. Thus, Karen allowed a faint smile to surface. Instantly, the Whip-Wielder's expression tightened. He pointed a finger at Karen and lectured: "You, of all people! Our forces just suffered a defeat on the frontlines—what is there to smile about? Straighten up and show some gravity!"