Dena finished her tearful grievance and subsided into muffled sniffs and sobs.
The communications priests beside her wore exceedingly vivid expressions. Their newly appointed deputy chief had just delivered a performance worthy of the absolute highest praise. She had shifted effortlessly from berating the commander of the 12th Regular Regiment as a pighead to playing a fragile, aggrieved maiden who looked as though a sudden gust of wind might blow her over.
Of course, what stunned everyone the most was their deputy chief's identity—foster daughter to the High Priest.
A newly promoted young superior naturally invited suspicion among subordinates. Although the legion was busy at war, and the communications division carried vital responsibilities, they did not have to drill in the field or leave camp during operations. They remained steadfast at their posts. Consequently, long hours of sitting in one place naturally led to gossip over bowls of camp stew.
For instance, this new deputy chief had previously served right at the Corps Commander's side as an adjutant, only to be promoted here. She was clearly being treated like a pampered treasure. Gossip had whispered that she was likely the Corps Commander's willful little mistress.
Priests were only human, and humans were prone to certain ingrained habits, invariably reducing any male-female relationship of mutual benefit they couldn't fathom to what went on between the sheets.
Yet upon hearing Miss Dena state her pedigree, the priests' first reaction was not to dismiss the rumor of an affair with their commander. Instead, they took their assumptions to an even deeper level:
*Oh... so the Corps Commander is the High Priest's son-in-law.*
It was a sudden epiphany. Looking at it one way, it explained their commander's astonishingly rapid rise through the ranks. Looking at it the other, it made total sense: a man so young and promising would naturally catch the High Priest's eye to be wed to his foster daughter.
On the other side of the communications array, Daan wore a smile.
"All right, Dena. You're an adult now, and you're in the military. A soldier doesn't shed tears so lightly."
"Yes, Uncle. I understand."
Dena stopped weeping, though she maintained a measured rhythm of quiet sniffles.
Daan did not mention Pilger, and Dena did not press him on how Pilger would be disciplined to vent her spleen.
"Tell your Corps Commander that he did very well this time. We will reassess your legion's combat rating and priority."
"I'll let the commander know, Uncle Daan."
"Good. That will be all for now. Dena, stay safe."
"You too, Uncle Daan."
The transmission ended.
Dena pulled some tissues from a nearby table, wiped her face, and swept her gaze around the room. The priests immediately snapped to attention, lowering their heads and busying themselves with their work.
The moment Dena stepped out of the communications room, everyone snapped their heads right back up, a buzzing chorus of whispers erupting instantly.
Dena entered the commander's tent. Neo and Muri had already left, leaving Karen sitting in his chair with a glass of ice water in hand.
"You..."
Dena walked up to Karen and glared at him.
While yelling at Pilger, her head had been running hot. But the moment the connection was established with Uncle Daan, it had suddenly hit her why Karen had promoted her to this post!
Even with that sudden realization, she had kept up the act before Uncle Daan.
She hadn't directly brought up Pilger's insults toward herself; instead, she had highlighted his disrespect toward the fallen.
This was also her way of assuring Daan that the casualty numbers and combat results of the Whip of Order Legion were beyond reproach.
If Pilger believed the casualty figures were utter nonsense, wouldn't Daan suspect they were a bit exaggerated too?
Dena took deep breath after deep breath, her modest chest heaving.
She had been played like a fiddle by this man!
Yet here he was, leisurely sipping his water—even blowing on it! *There are ice cubes floating right in your cup; what the hell are you blowing on!*
She didn't dare say any of this to Karen's face, though. Even when she silently cursed him in the past, she always did so behind his back.
When it came to fearing Karen, she and Philomena had a great deal in common.
Karen set down the glass and picked up a document to read, acting as if the person standing before him were completely invisible.
Truth be told, he felt a little embarrassed inside. He couldn't brush this sort of scheme off with utter indifference the way Neo did.
Back then, that old dog Neo had personally cooked up rumors about his own squad member and the Princess of Dark Moon Island just to make a name for the squad and land better missions, going so far as to claim Her Highness had boarded the ship home with a bun in the oven.
Even so, Karen had no alternative. In any workplace, openly airing grievances and feuds before one's superiors was taboo—let alone in the military. When you reported a peer to a superior, then in that superior's eyes... you were rarely seen in a good light either.
Yet Pilger was the commander of the Ninth Army. Strictly speaking, he held command authority over Karen's legion. Karen could not simply let the matter slide. The issue with Pilger had to be dealt with; dragging it out would only breed greater disaster.
Having Dena expose the problem up the chain was the optimal choice and the most suitable method of engagement.
"Commander Daan said he would reassess our legion's combat rating," Dena said.
Hearing this, Karen set down the document and gave a nod.
This meant they would re-evaluate the chain of command between his legion and the Ninth Army.
Daan wouldn't fire or transfer Pilger just because two commanders had a quarrel or because his foster daughter made a petty complaint. Military command was no child's play.
Reassessing the combat rating was groundwork. It signaled that they might subsequently strip the Ninth Army of direct leadership over the Whip of Order Legion, granting Karen greater autonomy.
For Karen, that was plenty.
Karen spoke up: "A simple, complete report delivered in a calmer tone would actually have sufficed."
"You..."
"Of course, you've made much more progress than before. In the past, you would have thrown a screaming fit before even stepping into the tent, wouldn't you?"
"I..."
"This progress deserves encouragement. Your uncles probably don't care much for you baring your heart to them as a naive junior anyway. What they need is a decorative vase—a sensible vase."
"A vase..."
"Remember this feeling and learn this sort of disguise. Only by doing so can you gain more freedom and avoid being tossed into a miniature world to build a matriarchal society."
"Is... is that so..."
"Take your time. There's no rush. You're already improving very quickly."
"Oh... okay, I understand."
"Keep a firm grip on the communications division. It is the eyes and ears of our legion; you must treat it with utmost importance."
"Yes, understood!"
"Good. Go on with your duties."
"Right!"
Dena walked out of the tent, then abruptly froze in her tracks, bewildered.
*Wait... how did I just walk out like that?*
...
"Ah, that poor girl, meow. You knead and roll her like dough."
Purr crept out from under the map and leaped onto Karen's lap.
Karen stroked its back, rolling and kneading its tail.
"I had no choice. If it were just me, I'd have cursed Pilger right back, or challenged him to a military duel if it came to that. But right now, I'm responsible for an entire legion."
"That's why Diss preferred being an Inquisitor all on his own. He hated dealing with this kind of nonsense; he found it troublesome. Oh, of course, if Diss hadn't minded the trouble, your road would be much smoother right now. Even Theisen, that four-eyed bookworm, managed to sit at the round table of the Holy See of Order.
"Had Diss pursued a career within the Church, hehe, you'd be among the very top tier of the third generation in the Church of Order. You could be like Dena, calling the High Priest and the Whip-Wielder your uncles.
"And they'd certainly give you far warmer smiles than they ever give Dena."
Karen said, "If Diss had chosen a career in the Church, he would have placed the Church above everything else. He wouldn't have performed an over-standard divine descent ritual, and there would be no me."
"True enough, meow."
Theisen had sent his own grandson Mavaglio to become a Child of God. That was a sacrifice of flesh and blood for the faith; as a grandfather, he could only address his grandson as "my Lord."
Purr doubted Diss would ever accept such a thing. Diss had rather enjoyed hearing Karen call him "Grandfather."
Karen kept stroking Purr's head and closed his eyes. There weren't that many 'what-ifs' in this world, nor room for so many hypothetical scenarios. It was precisely because Diss had chosen family and maintained his skepticism toward the God of Order that Karen existed at all.
"Woof, woof, woof!"
A simple bark sounded outside, signaling its arrival and nothing more.
Without an announcement, Kevin came in, followed by Dalivenro and three young shaven-headed men.
Madame Gandiluo, with her luscious head of hair, stood among the bald heads looking almost sacred by comparison.
Dalivenro raised a hand to Aik and the other two behind him. The three bowed to Karen and withdrew from the tent.
Karen asked, "What is it?"
Purr answered, "The Bald Faction has come to stage a palace coup, meow!"
Dalivenro immediately beamed and gestured toward Madame Gandiluo beside him.
Madame Gandiluo drew three clay figurines from her pocket and placed them on Karen's desk, saying:
"Young Master, this is a unique method of communication exclusive to the Earth Religion, seized from their command post. This transmission method ignores the effects of shielding arts; it is very stable and secure.
"Last night, Saman helped repair these figurines, and Lord Raniedal provided guidance so the array master could complete a simplified pattern. Then I personally attempted to operate it..."
Karen recalled that during his visit to the underground tomb, he had seen a crowd of "spectators" in the performance hall playing along with Madame Gandiluo's show.
Madame Gandiluo was extraordinarily skilled in puppetry arts—not the craftsmanship of the Lemar family, but operational mastery.
Karen asked, "Did it work?"
Madame Gandiluo replied, "In answer to the Young Master, it worked. Furthermore, we successfully received a transmission suspected to originate from the enemy's logistical base, and I sensed their coordinates."
Hearing this report, Karen instinctively sat up straight.
In warfare, the importance of logistical supplies went without saying. In a war between religions, a logistical supply base meant the certain existence of a high-grade, at least semi-permanent teleportation array.
Much like the base his own legion had passed through on their way here: that base could be relocated, but the cost of moving and rebuilding was steep. It was also exceedingly fragile and vulnerable to disruption;
even without a direct assault, dispatching a giant monster bird to unleash aerial interference could compromise its normal operation. Once operation fell out of sync, supplies or personnel being teleported could easily be cast straight into the countercurrent void.
Consequently, logistical bases were typically located far from front lines and heavily protected. They preferred transporting men and materiel over a lengthy supply route to the front rather than packing the base up to trail along with the army.
Just as when their legion had assaulted the Grand Canyon: even if the enemy had placed their logistical base inside the canyon, Karen's side would only need to lob a magic crystal cannon shell every few hours, and the resulting shockwaves and tremors would render the teleportation array unusable.
If they could pinpoint the coordinates of the enemy's logistical base along this front and destroy it, the enemy along this entire line would be thrown onto the back foot.
However, Karen did not lapse into euphoria. Instead, he asked:
"Did you send a transmission first, or did they reply first?"
Dalivenro replied, "They sent a message first. The enemy doesn't seem to realize that Chia Grand Canyon has fallen to us and that their garrison was nearly wiped out. In particular, their command post was dismantled by us in the very first moments. They definitely had no time to send an external transmission then, because they had activated an Earth Shift technique; in that environment, our assault squad couldn't even trigger the scrolls on our bodies."
Kevin fell into thought.
Madame Gandiluo nodded in agreement with Dalivenro's words.
Karen shook his head, however, and said, "The communications division is right behind my tent. You can go see how they work. They don't just transmit when something comes up; every half-hour—no, every fifteen minutes—they synchronize communications.
"From the moment you dismantled the command post to when it was repaired, nearly an entire night passed. Communication between the logistical base and Chia Grand Canyon was completely cut off. How could the enemy not know something happened to the canyon?"
"Woof, woof, woof!"
Purr translated, "The dumb dog says that the moment we finished repairing the figurine, the other side must have felt the resonance. So theoretically, we still sent the signal first, and they merely responded."
"How long was the interval?" Karen asked. "What was the time between the repair's completion and receiving their transmission?"
Madame Gandiluo answered, "One hour."
"One hour..." Karen nodded. "One hour is a very long time. Long enough for them to hold a short meeting, discuss a plan, and then reply."
Dalivenro rubbed his bald head and asked, "So, Young Master, you mean this transmission, the coordinates to this logistical base, is actually..."
"A trap."
...
"Your judgment is correct. It really is a trap."
Neo drew a circle on the map over the location indicated by the coordinates.
"This is a desert basin. Its distance makes it very suitable for a logistical base, ensuring both secrecy and safety while maintaining supply capacity."
Karen asked, "Isn't this trap set a bit too crudely?"
"You're just being overly cautious. Very few commanders can truly remain calm and discerning at all times. Even the most level-headed general starts getting cocky right after a major victory.
"Besides, I suspect the enemy has gathered more intelligence—for instance, intelligence on you, Corps Commander Karen Silva."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think this bait was specifically cast to hook a big fish like you—young, hot-blooded, freshly distinguished, and eager to rack up more achievements?"
"You suspect there's a traitor at headquarters."
"It would be stranger if there wasn't. News travels fast. It could be the Knights' command, the 12th Regular Regiment's command, or even within the rear Whip of Order network.
"On our side, we have even more moles inside the coalition. In fact, many of the small and medium churches that joined the coalition might have done so at Order's behest.
"That's why the coalition's command structure is so decentralized. They only have a nominal coalition supreme command, while each theater maintains substantial autonomy. That's because even they know their ranks are riddled like sieves."
"Since it's a trap, we simply won't go."
"Don't say that! Why shouldn't we go? If someone ties a noose, we can just tie another knot on top of it."
"We just took Chia Grand Canyon. We should be establishing defensive fortifications right now."
"No, that's pointless. I just reviewed the battle reports from the other regiments in our army. Even the 12th Regular Regiment is locked in a stalemate, with their objective nowhere in sight. As for the three militia regiments, the attackers have been forced onto the defensive by enemy counteroffensives.
"Once the second round of adjustments begins, headquarters will likely decide this line is too tough a nut to crack. If they don't commit additional regiments to reinforce our Ninth Army, the front line assigned to our army will basically be locked in place.
"Then we, having taken Chia Grand Canyon, will stick out like a sore thumb. If the coalition wants to launch a counteroffensive along this line, they'll target us first."
"Then the pressure on us later will be immense."
"Not just immense. High command might choose to push along other fronts instead. To keep this front secure, they might even order our legion to pull out of the canyon and withdraw alongside the rest of the army to establish a fresh defensive line."
"Is that your guess?"
"You saw the latest intelligence too. The three elite armies containing the Knights have already achieved rapid breakthroughs in other zones. Any fronts that haven't produced results will inevitably consolidate into defensive postures.
"That might satisfy the Whip-Wielder, but does it satisfy you? For the rest of the war, are you really content to sit in rear defensive trenches, shoveling dirt and watching the show every day?
"My dear Corps Commander, can't we muster a shred of youthful arrogance and vigor?
"Can we tolerate this? We cannot!"
"Setting that aside, do you have a plan? If you do, I'd like to hear it first."
"Of course I do. If they want to go fishing, we'll let them hook a decoy."
"A decoy?"
"What does the enemy rely on to confirm our legion's location? What do other regiments, high command, and the rear rely on to pinpoint where we are? The communications division, of course.
"Have Madame Gandiluo take the figurines capable of signaling them, and have the communications division follow along, sending scheduled reports every day. Let them report our operational plan and daily coordinates to high command, the rear, and our allies in the army.
"That way, in the enemy's eyes, Madame Gandiluo and the communications division will be our legion's main force, while our true main force trails behind her unit.
"Once the 'main force' enters their perimeter and the enemy springs their trap, they'll be the ones hooked on our line.
"The enemy's rear reserves and mobilizable forces can't be large, because troop commitments along each front are currently fixed for both sides. We hold an overwhelming advantage in equipment, and we're riding the momentum of a massive victory, so..."
With his pen, Neo drew a square over an area of the map. Then, with a sharp *clack*, he tossed the pen aside and clapped his hands.
"Right here, we'll fight an encounter battle with the enemy and shatter this entire front!"
Chapter 788