Philomena shoveled the last bite from the tin into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and let out a sigh of relief. As she smacked her lips for the third time, Richard handed her another warmed, freshly opened tin.
He didn’t bother asking if she was full or wanted more, because he knew all too well how difficult it was to sate this girl from the Felsher family.
Besides, she had been lying in wait out there for days; she certainly needed the nourishment.
After cracking open five more tins in a row, judging by the pace of her swallowing, Richard could tell she was nearing her limit. He opened three cans of fruit, tipped them into a pot, added a little water, and simmered a sweet soup for her.
*Gulp, gulp, gulp...*
Philomena finished the soup and rested her hands behind her on the makeshift steps.
Despite the carpet of empty tins at her feet, after gorging on so much food, her stomach showed not the slightest bulge, remaining as flat as ever.
Richard marveled silently: *She really never gets fat no matter how much she eats.*
After a moment, Philomena stood up. "I'm going to take a bath."
Richard warned, "It's not good to bathe right after eating."
"Get me a few extra bars of soap. The more, the better."
"I'll grab some from logistics for you—lavender scent. Go on ahead to the showers. I'll fetch your clothes from your tent."
Philomena's figure dissolved, reappearing in the distance, then dissolved again, appearing even farther away.
Only then did she stop sucking in her gut, letting her belly puff out.
Richard first went to Philomena's tent to retrieve her clothes, then stopped by logistics for the scented soap. Outside the women's bathhouse, he hailed a female priest who was about to go inside and asked her to take the items in.
As he was preparing to leave, Richard saw his parents and his aunt walking toward him, carrying their toiletries.
The main force in this battle had been the Whip of Order squads. Aisen, Kaixi, and Lucie did not belong to that branch, so they had been able to pull back to the main camp early. However, they were due to head into the canyon shortly to design and construct defensive arrays, planning to move camp right after washing up.
With a teasing smile playing at her lips, Lucie said, "We ran into a deputy supervisor from logistics on the way here. He said our grand signal officer hauled off all the lavender soap and shampoo. I was just telling your mother that maybe you set them aside for us, but it looks like we were flattering ourselves."
"Auntie, if you like that scent, you should have told me earlier. Next time logistics brings in a shipment, I'll just have them add an extra batch of that fragrance to the roster."
This didn't count as abusing authority or embezzlement; to the logistics division, goods procured directly from the secular world were negligible in cost.
After all, the price of a cubic meter of magic crystal artillery shells was enough to treat the entire legion to a lavender-scented wash.
Kaixi glared at her sister-in-law, then asked her son, "Is she all right?"
"She's fine. She even performed a great service—beheaded the enemy commander."
Lucie looked at her sister-in-law, Kaixi, and sighed in wonder. "Wow, she really is an impressive girl."
Kaixi said, "As long as she's safe, that's what matters. On the battlefield, there are far too many people you see today and never see tomorrow. But she's someone we know, after all. If something really happened to her, your grandmother would be devastated. Even if it sounds a bit improper, look for the right opportunity—when you feel the timing is right—and speak to the Corps Commander. Since she already took the risk and earned her merit this time, next time she shouldn't..."
Aisen cut in, asking, "Do you think the Corps Commander is your nephew?"
Kaixi shut her mouth, but reached down and savagely pinched the soft flesh at her husband's waist.
Mr. Aisen was, after all, a man with extensive experience in shutting himself off from the world; he showed not a flicker of pain from the pinch. Addressing Richard directly, he said, "The fighting ahead is over. You should be at the Corps Commander's side taking orders and keeping busy."
Lucie murmured under her breath, "Who knows, maybe looking after her was an explicit order from the Corps Commander in the first place."
"Dad, Mom, Aunt Lucie, I'll go get to work then. Once we reach the new camp, I'll come visit you again."
After Richard left, Aisen spoke to his wife once more. "Don't say those things to the boy next time."
Kaixi frowned. "She's your mother's student. You know full well the look your father gives her. Back in Yorktown, he was sending buckets upon buckets of food over every afternoon. Hmph, do you think I was eager to embrace her? So why take your temper out on me? Go lose your temper with your parents!"
"I'm not losing my temper. Richard serves as the signal officer, I serve as a battalion commander, you as an adjutant, plus Lucie as a squad leader, and Dake as a cavalry battalion squad leader... when it comes down to it, we're all riding on coat-tails.
"Many of the array masters pulled from the Whip of Order squads in the Pioneer Space possess both academic brilliance and rich combat experience; they really aren't any worse than us.
"Since we've already received special care, we need to know our place all the more, and stop asking for favors."
"Oh my, it looks like my brother's condition really has improved leaps and bounds! Look, Sister-in-law, a year ago, could you ever have imagined such words coming out of his mouth?"
"He's far more eloquent than I am now, and far better at handling people. When he lectures me, he has whole treatises prepared. I suspect his condition hasn't improved at all—it's just gotten worse in reverse."
Lucie remarked, "Still, that girl really is quite something, and her relationship with the Corps Commander is so close. If Richard could truly get together with her, the Guman family's future would surely be even brighter. I think the two of you should urge Richard to make a move soon. If he really likes her, he should just con—"
Lucie's words caught in her throat, because Philomena, fresh from her bath, had appeared right before them.
For someone trained as an assassin like Philomena, concealing her presence to approach three array masters was simplicity itself. Of course, she hadn't come to eavesdrop; she had only wanted to get back to her tent to sleep early, but hearing her own name mentioned had made her pause.
Lucie felt thoroughly embarrassed. Elders chatting about such matters was perfectly normal, but being caught red-handed by the girl herself was mortifying—especially since what she had said sounded rather mercenary.
Kaixi cleared her throat and asked the very same pointless question she had just asked her son: "Are you all right, Philomena?"
Philomena looked at Kaixi, then at Lucie, before merely nodding to Aisen.
She was the commander of the reconnaissance battalion, and Aisen was the commander of the array masters' battalion—they were of equal rank. Most importantly, Philomena knew that Aisen was Karen's maternal uncle. Toward Karen and those close to him, Philomena had always exercised restraint.
Aisen nodded back to her.
Then Philomena turned to Kaixi and said, "Excuse me, please make way."
"Oh, of course."
Kaixi stepped aside instinctively. The moment felt strikingly like the times back home when she would stand at the kitchen doorway asking her mother-in-law if she needed help, only to receive the exact same response.
Philomena walked past them. One step, two steps, three steps... and her form vanished.
A look of schadenfreude spread across Lucie's face. She tapped her sister-in-law's arm. "'Excuse me, please make way.'"
Kaixi snapped her arm away in annoyance. She didn't throw a fit, but merely let out a helpless sigh.
Lucie added, "She truly is Mother's student—the spitting image of her."
"You can shut up now, Lucie."
"Looks like someone is in for quite an ordeal. What do you call that—a happy dilemma? Brother, what do you think?"
"I think your sister-in-law is right. You can shut up now."
"All right, all right, all right."
Lucie raised both hands in surrender and strode into the communal bathhouse.
Aisen comforted his wife, "The boy's affairs are his own to manage. As parents, we don't need to worry so much."
"Easy for you to say."
"Even if he starts a family later on and we're not comfortable living under the same roof, we can move out and live on our own. We won't have to pay them any mind—out of sight, out of mind, just like my parents did all these years."
"When it comes down to it, you're still bringing up how I took a transfer to leave Yorktown back then, aren't you?"
"Now you're being unreasonable. I was clearly trying to comfort you."
"Dear."
"Hmm?"
"I suddenly miss the way you were when you were sick."
***
At noon the next day, the two army clerks, Old White and Lister, arrived before Karen and presented a detailed casualty and damage report.
The reason it had been delayed until now was that compiling the figures had been exceptionally difficult. The legion had been broken apart for operations and then rapidly reconstituted after the battle; some degree of disarray among the various units and chains of command was inevitable.
Still, looking at the comprehensive report in his hands, Karen had to admit that former senior professors who had worked in the Temple Archives truly possessed peerless professional competence.
"Corps Commander, this is a resounding victory. Our losses are practically negligible, all thanks to your masterful command."
"Indeed, Corps Commander, you have left me thoroughly awed and filled with admiration."
Karen replied, "Gentlemen, if you don't know how to flatter someone, don't force it. If you were truly skilled at it, you wouldn't have spent the better half of your lives in the archives."
Lister and Old White exchanged glances, both breaking into self-deprecating smiles.
There were quite a few light injuries, but a couple of days of rest would mostly see them recovered. The medical contingent assigned to the legion was remarkably lavish. The severely wounded would depend on the circumstances; some would need to be transferred to the rear, or even sent back to the parish for further treatment.
As for the dead, there were very few. It truly was an extraordinarily cost-effective victory, yet looking at the list of the fallen, Karen's heart still felt heavy.
He knew he had to get used to it.
Neo had once told him: *Treat warfare as a gamble and the soldiers under your command as the chips in your hand. The more you treasure your chips, the more prone you are to hesitation, and in the end, you'll only lose more.*
"You have done well." Karen handed the report to Dena, who was standing beside him. "Transmit this report to the Whip of Order, the Knights Command, and the Army Group Command. Pay attention to the order—do not mix it up."
"Understood!"
Dena had been promoted; early that morning, Karen had personally appointed her deputy head of the communications squad.
Though she still couldn't go chop people down on the front lines, she had at least broken free of her role as Karen's attendant. She was very pleased with the shift in position.
Soon, she arrived at the communications tent located behind Karen's command tent and instructed the squad members to dispatch the report in the specified order.
***
"Secretary General, the latest military intelligence report from the legion."
"Very well, give it to me."
Miguel took it. After reading through it with lowered eyes, joy broke across his face. The oppressive, freezing aura radiating from the Whip-Wielder the previous evening had nearly turned him to ice.
"Karen really took his time. He could have sent this report much earlier."
Even though Karen had explained the reason for the delay at the beginning of the report, Miguel, steeped in the habits of office politicking, naturally assumed it was a deliberate tactic to lower expectations before delivering a triumph.
It was a mindset forged by his work environment; for now, at least, it was hard for Miguel to break out of it.
Opening the door to the Whip-Wielder's office, Miguel saw him engaged in a magical communication conference. He waited aside for a moment, stepping forward the instant the Whip-Wielder closed the link.
"Whip-Wielder, this is our legion's casualty and damage report from the Chia Grand Canyon operation. Our losses were minimal, while the results achieved were immense. Furthermore, across the entire Ninth Army Group, aside from us, every other legion remains bogged down in unfavorable stalemates."
Foden took the report, swept his eyes over it, and set it aside.
Augie slowly surfaced from the water, wondering if she should shoot up a celebratory jet of water to liven things up. But after what had happened last night, she decided to hold back. If the Whip-Wielder laughed, she would start spouting immediately.
Miguel had assumed the Whip-Wielder would be overjoyed upon seeing this report. He had believed the Whip-Wielder's cold demeanor the previous night was because, right after hearing Miguel describe the harsh battlefield conditions, he was told the position had fallen, leading him to think Karen had recklessly traded massive casualties for quick glory.
Now, however, the facts proved otherwise. The battle had been won with breathtaking elegance. The defenders had consisted of two full regiments from the Church of Life and the Earth Religion, yet Karen's forces had not only captured the position, but wiped out the enemy almost to the last man.
Yet Foden did not smile. His expression did not shift in the slightest.
"I see."
Foden gave a wave of his hand, signaling that Miguel was dismissed.
This caught Miguel entirely off guard, having hoped to linger and put in a few more good words for Karen while the Whip-Wielder was in high spirits. Still, he promptly turned and left the office.
Seeing this, Augie quietly sank back beneath the surface of the pool.
Foden leaned back, Karen's silhouette rising in his mind.
Last night, his coldness had not stemmed from any belief that Karen had squandered lives in a bid for glory. It was because he had sensed something else entirely.
At that moment, beneath the drawer by the Whip-Wielder's left hand lay Karen's personnel dossier.
Foden had read through it thoroughly the previous night.
If Miguel had discovered that dossier, it would likely have sent a cold sweat down his spine, for he had never been ordered to prepare it—meaning the Whip-Wielder had deliberately bypassed him to obtain information on Karen.
When Foden directed his scrutiny downward, if he still failed to notice that his new secretary had been completely "won over" by Karen...
Then he was utterly unfit to be the Whip-Wielder.
Not only that, Foden had realized that even he himself had essentially been "played."
Karen was a young man—a well-mannered, highly capable young man. His promotions had come swiftly, yet every single step was sure-footed, meticulously detailed, and calculated.
In the past, Foden hadn't paid it much mind. But now, especially after hearing the victory dispatch last night, he suddenly tasted the true flavor of it.
Within his own system, right under his very nose, this youth named Karen Silva was putting on a theatrical display of a meteoric rise.
And behind such a performance lay countless rehearsals.
What kind of youth was this? He was clearly an old, cunning fox wrapped in a young man's skin.
Recalling their past interactions—including the moment when, sitting in his carriage, he looked through the window to see Karen standing there holding the little bone dragon's hand...
Every single detail was drenched in calculation, and he, Foden, had been the targeted mark.
*"I believe the candidate for Corps Commander ought to be someone with no personal ambitions at all."*
That remark Karen had made during the interview was an answer tailor-made in advance, designed with full knowledge of Foden's temperament and mindset.
As the spymaster of the world's greatest religion, Foden possessed an instinctive revulsion toward being figured out by outsiders. It meant an outsider could chart his behavioral patterns and decipher his train of thought. That was far too dangerous—no, worse, it was an insult to his professional competence!
He had always believed he was the one pulling the strings, only to turn around and find that he had been manipulated as well.
Fortunately, there was one entry in the dossier that neutralized the instinctive disgust and wariness rising within him: Karen had taken the initiative to lead his own core subordinates into the contaminated cave.
All of his previous accomplishments could be attributed to sufficient ability and calculated maneuvers, but that single deed... was utterly pure.
On that point, it demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt that Karen was a devout follower of Order, willing to lay down his life for its doctrines.
"Motherfucker!"
Foden suddenly spat out a curse.
At the bottom of the pool, Augie shivered, secretly gloating: *I don't know why, but the Whip-Wielder seems to have taken a disliking to you, Karen. Hehehe, you're in for it now!*
Yet immediately after, Augie began to hesitate: *Should I find a chance to warn Karen?*
The frost dragon beneath the water could never have dreamed that the reason the Whip-Wielder had cursed was that, in that singular moment, Karen's image had begun to overlap with the person he had followed all his life in the depths of his heart.
He didn't resemble Foden himself; he resembled... the High Priest.
A moment later, Foden snapped back to reality:
*Damn it all, what wild nonsense am I dreaming up!*
***
Whip of Order Legion, Communications Squad.
After the report was dispatched, the first incoming communication request came from Commander Pilger of the 12th Regular Regiment.
Dena went at once to inform Karen. Upon entering the command tent, she found Karen, Muri, and Neo gathered around a map of the Chia Grand Canyon, gesturing and discussing their defensive layout.
"Corps Commander, Commander Pilger of the 12th Regular Regiment has sent a communication request."
"Oh, I'm tied up right now. Take the call for me first and see what he wants. I trust your abilities—you can handle it."
"Yes, Corps Commander!"
Deeply moved, Dena turned and walked out.
Once she was gone, Neo and Muri burst into laughter.
Karen set down his pen, glanced at them, and frowned. "Be serious. What kind of behavior is this?"
With that, he couldn't help smiling himself.
***
With a tense, solemn heart, Dena connected the communication from Commander Pilger.
Soon, the projection of an array formed, revealing a middle-aged man whose armor bore scorch marks. Pilger had just returned from inspecting the front line, where an enemy long-range spell had nearly grazed him. Had that spell landed an inch truer, notices of his death as regiment commander would already be circulating.
This alone made clear just how deadlocked and brutal the fighting was for the 12th Regular Regiment.
Upon returning to his command post, he had seen the casualty report sent over by the neighboring Whip of Order Legion. He was furious, and that fury shattered his last shred of restraint when he saw a young girl on the other end of the array instead of Karen. He roared directly:
"Do you people in the Whip of Order take everyone else for fools? Who on earth do you expect to hoodwink with a report like this!"
Dena was momentarily stunned by the blast of roaring rage, but knowing the true situation at the front, she immediately shot back:
"Commander Pilger, the report we transmitted is absolutely genuine and precise."
"Bullshit! You bastards in the Whip of Order have cast away all shame just to stage a show and snatch credit! Even if I believe you took the position, I'd never believe you lost so few men—unless I had the brains of a pig!"
Dena took a deep breath and fired back sharply:
"You *do* have the brains of a pig! Even a militia regiment managed to take the position, yet you're leading a regular regiment and haven't made an inch of progress, and you still have the nerve to ask us for backup? If I were you, I would have hanged myself long ago!"
"Y-you... Do you have any idea who you're talking to?! Where is your Commander Karen? Insolent, insubordinate, undisciplined, ill-bred!"
"You useless piece of trash, what right do you have to call me ill-bred? Who are you to speak of my upbringing? Bastard, brute, insubordinate, insolent!"
"You... you...! In my name as regiment commander, I'll have you punished! Even Karen won't be able to protect you!"
"Fine, I'll wait for you to punish me! I'll go kneel before the High Priest myself and tell him I disgraced him by letting an outsider call me ill-bred!"
"Who are you threatening? You... er..."
Pilger froze.
He was arrogant, jealous, and headstrong, but as the commander of a regular regiment, he was certainly no fool. In that instant, he suddenly believed the girl's identity—for that was the only explanation for why Karen had sent her alone to take his call.
*Damn it, I was set up!*
"I—I was talking about Karen, I wasn't targeting you. Have your commander come speak to me. You—you step aside."
"Our commander has no time to waste on an arrogant, self-important pig like you!"
With that, Dena cut the communication array herself.
Every priest in the communications squad stared dumbfounded at their newly appointed deputy head.
Dena dabbed at the corners of her eyes and said calmly, "This has nothing to do with any of you. I'm going to report to the Corps Commander and accept my punishment."
She was in the wrong; she had lost her temper. She had cursed to her heart's content, but now she had to go take the blame.
Still, it wasn't a total loss—at least she felt vindicated inside. It was just a pity that she had let down Karen's trust in her.
Before she could walk out, another communication request came through. A priest reported:
"Report! It's a communication request from the Knights Command!"
Dena hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Put it through."
"Yes, ma'am."
Soon, the link was established, and the projection revealed the imposing figure of Daan, Head of the Knights.
"You did splendidly this time... Hm? Dena, why is it you?"
As the first militia regiment along the entire front—aside from the army group where the knights themselves were stationed—to achieve its operational objective, commendation was only proper. Moreover, having seen the casualty report, Daan had decided to offer his personal encouragement.
Who would have guessed that the moment the connection opened, right after his opening line, he would see a familiar face? This girl had grown up by his side; the High Priest was only her adoptive father in name, while Daan was her true foster father.
Dena vigorously rubbed the corners of her eyes, which she had already wiped dry, deliberately making them red, and sobbed:
"Uncle Daan, the commander of the 12th Regular Regiment didn't believe our report and just came to insult us! I really couldn't take it... I feel so wronged on behalf of our fallen comrades... *sob, sob, sob...*"
Chapter 787