Caliber Is Justice!

At the airfield north of Dawn City, a massive transport aircraft trailed a plume of blue exhaust as it made a slow, steady touchdown onto the wide runway. A crowd of players gathered along the edge of the airfield to watch, discussing with great envy when the Alliance would get their hands on a craft like that. Spotting Brother Mole emerging from the hatch, Mosquito happened to be nearby and bounded over in curiosity. "Where's Fang Chang? How come he didn't fly back with you?" Brother Mole shook his head with a grin. "Didn't come. That guy vanished the second we hit Ideal City. Who knows what sort of trouble he's getting into." Mosquito burst out laughing, spinning tales with a mischievous grin. "Say no more! Ten to one, that dude partied so hard at a nightclub he fell completely off the grid!" Duo Ming chimed in, "Has that guy forgotten all about the sweet wife waiting back at home?!" Zhui Hun said, "Despicable!!" Sha Shen shouted, "Spread the word! Fang Chang went wild partying and went missing!" Quan Jia called out, "Spreading it! It's already in motion!" Watching the rowdy bunch, Brother Mole chuckled inwardly. *Go ahead, spread it—the more outrageous, the better. It'll make me feel a lot better about things.* Yet before he could savor his private amusement for even two seconds, his good brothers from the Skeleton Corps swarmed around him. They didn't bother standing on ceremony or exchanging pleasantries, pouncing on him with urgent inquiries the moment they met. "Bro, where's the game?" "Has it launched?" "How are the sales looking?" "Why didn't you bring a console back for us to check out?!" Brother Mole's expression grew a little awkward. Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he let out a dry laugh. "It just launched, just launched... It only hit the shelves last night. What kind of numbers do you expect so soon?" As for bringing back a console, that was a non-starter. The thing required Endpoint Cloud's network services. While the shelter's server was supposedly a quantum computer as well, the Administrator certainly wouldn't spare precious computing power and nuclear energy just so they could play video games. Elaina grinned playfully at Brother Mole. "We had a deal, remember? If it flops, you're selling your ass to pay us back!" "Over a million, bro!" Elven King Fugui beamed ear to ear, clapping him hard on the shoulder. "Don't forget, that's over a million!" Beads of sweat the size of beans popped up on Brother Mole's forehead. Forcing a brave smile, he said, "Relax, relax! When have I ever screwed you over? This project is an absolute surefire hit! Solid as a rock!" Even as the words left his mouth, he was cursing violently in his head. *These ungrateful dogs!* *Here I am trying to make you all rich by harvesting our neighbors' pockets, and you're sweating the pocket change of your initial investment!* *Can't you show a little vision?!* The moment their game blew up in Ideal City, the brothers of the Skeleton Corps would become the wealthiest tycoons in the entire Alliance! Everything was going to be fine! Of course, the troublemakers egging him on didn't actually care about the money. They mainly wanted to see if the guy would really sell his ass if he went broke. On the forums, veteran backseat gamer Lightning King Professor Yang had already opened a betting pool, wagering an enormous sum of one whole silver coin that Brother Mole's game would undeniably flop. His reasoning was straightforward. In the game's setting, even setting aside the Prosperity Era, the locals had been using their "internet" for over two centuries. They'd been surfing the web far longer than Earth ever had! What kind of flying pig hadn't they seen before? The reason they lacked that specific genre of game wasn't that they couldn't make it—it was the natural result of market selection! Brother Ye Ao had also wagered half a silver coin of his New Year's pocket money. He hadn't overthought it; he simply didn't care about the spare change. To be fair, though games were virtual, the virtual still had to obey logic. Anything contradicting his logic was impossible, and even if it were possible, it remained illogical! A complete closed loop of logic—bulletproof! As everyone bantered, a set of azure power armor approached, carrying a massive Nitrogen Power Hammer and a Gauss rifle on its back. Out of respect—and favorability points—toward that esteemed figure, the players instantly cut off the banter. Brother Mole, in particular, looked as if he had just seen his savior. Seizing the chance to slip away from his pestering brothers, he stood at attention with solemn loyalty and thumped his right fist against his chest. "Honored Administrator, sir! May I ask what orders you have for recalling your most loyal warrior?" Chu Guang gave a faint smile. Rather than answering right away, he simply gestured with a hand. "Follow me." With that, he turned and walked toward the exit of the airfield. Staring at that broad back, Brother Mole froze for a second before a surge of excitement rushed through him, and he scrambled to follow. Not discussing it in public... This had to be some major operation! While Brother Mole basked in the envious and jealous glares of the crowd, trotting happily after the faction boss toward the military camp, a pale-faced woman was limping down the transport's hatch, steadying herself against the doorframe. The moment her feet touched the ground, she couldn't help dry-heaving. By all rights, an Orca transport relied on electric ducted fans, which flew far more steadily than old fuel-burning engines. Yet human constitutions varied, and some people were simply biologically unsuited for such modes of transit. Li Shuyue was one of them. She didn't know why it affected her this way; this was her first time leaving Ideal City, and her very first journey took her this far. She had never felt a hint of nausea riding maglev cars or high-speed elevators, yet she had succumbed to motion sickness shortly after leaving Ideal City. Li Changkong looked in surprise at the woman stepping off the aircraft and quickly hurried over to lend a hand. "Director Li? What brings you here?" Although Ruyue Group was merely a subsidiary under Ideal Group, no one dared look down on its CEO. As the manager of Ideal Group's construction department, Li Changkong was well acquainted with the family backgrounds of the major shareholders. Li Shuyue, for instance, had a father who was one of Ideal Group's major shareholders. That Ruyue Group had achieved a market value in the tens of billions was certainly thanks to the CEO's personal capability, but her background had played no small part in securing Ideal Group's financing and contracts. Such circumstances were hardly rare in Ideal City. Because Ideal City's decentralized management had originally taken root in the financial sector, there was no such thing as a central bank, nor were there retail banks servicing one. The asset management and venture capital arms of the major conglomerates fulfilled part of a bank's role. A typical startup seeking funds had to borrow from other corporations, launch a crowdfunding campaign on Endpoint Cloud, or conduct roadshows to court venture capital from other firms or prospective clients. As for why such a landscape had emerged, that traced back to the fundamental nature of the credit—Cr—as a currency. "...Is this Dawn City?" Li Shuyue glanced around, looking at the barren ground and the monotonous hangars in the distance, a trace of disappointment showing on her face. It felt like an ordinary survivor settlement. It might not even compare to some of the larger survivor city-states in Yunjian Province. When she had researched the records on Endpoint Cloud, she had harbored quite a few expectations. Particularly the scholars and experts of Ideal City, who bragged without batting an eye, practically praising the Alliance as the hope of human civilization, one of the few fruitful testbeds of sociological experimentation, kin tied by blood walking different paths, a paradise for idealists... In short, everyone who had visited raved about it, and everyone who hadn't raved about it too. And now that she saw it... *Just this?* Of course, that was merely her personal impression. Perhaps because the Alliance was simply too young, her initial reaction was one of disappointment, and she even began to worry about her investment. "Indeed, this is the airfield north of Dawn City. Head a little south and you'll reach the urban district. We built that highway stretching over a hundred kilometers over there!" Li Changkong spoke animatedly, showing off the fruits of his labor over the past month and more. Still dizzy from airsickness, Li Shuyue nodded, though she clearly looked uninterested. All she wanted right now was a place to freshen up and see to her personal hygiene. "Is there... a washroom here?" Her expression was somewhat awkward, her discomfort written all over her face. "A washroom?" Li Changkong blinked, and then gave an embarrassed chuckle as understanding dawned on him. "There are public latrines... but you might not be used to them." Li Shuyue looked baffled, unable to fathom what there was to get used to. Surely there were private bathrooms and washbasins, right? Seeing her bewildered expression, Li Changkong said apologetically, "Uh... they're still in the earliest stages of development. The conditions here are a bit rustic. You don't have experience traveling on assignment, and picking such a hardcore destination right out of the gate... honestly, I wouldn't recommend it. It would be better to come back once you're more thoroughly prepared." Li Shuyue glanced back at the aircraft. The instant her eyes fell upon it, her legs instinctively went weak. Taking the flight back right now was certainly an option. However— Her stubborn streak flared up. She had come all this way; she couldn't just turn around empty-handed. Gritting her teeth, Li Shuyue turned back with a chilly expression, narrowing her crescent eyes. "Are you looking down on me?" Li Changkong hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. "How could I?" Li Shuyue said evenly, "Please arrange a hotel room for me... the best hotel here." "Understood!" Nodding quickly, Li Changkong knew there was no time to construct a new building, so he could only brace himself and say, "I'll make the arrangements right away!" The most famous establishment in the Alliance was naturally Highway Hotel. Yet it was famous not for its luxury, but for its bustling atmosphere. Because traveling merchants from north and south frequently lodged there, information flowed fastest through its doors. At times, the bartender at the counter heard news before the Administrator himself did. Standing at the entrance and looking into the boisterous lobby, Li Changkong, who was visiting for the first time, felt awkward once more. He quickly spoke up. "How about... I apply for parent company liaison credentials for you? You could stay at the embassy as diplomatic personnel. The cement for that building was brought in directly from Ideal City." Li Shuyue shook her head, lifting her suitcase over the threshold. "That violates procedure. I'll stay here." Li Changkong's expression turned subtly complicated. If they were truly talking about procedure... They might as well examine how she had managed to get on the flight in the first place. Then again, the conglomerate and the council had never explicitly barred "unrelated individuals" from hitching a ride on military aid flights for commercial purposes. Noticing the commotion by the entrance, Lisa, dressed in a server's uniform, came forward. Looking hesitantly at the glamorous lady before her, she asked timidly, "Hello, ma'am. Are you... looking for someone?" Even though the woman was carrying luggage, Lisa couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't look like someone who would stay here. "I'm here for a room." Li Shuyue glanced at the old man behind the counter, then looked at Li Changkong beside her, furrowing her brow. "Why are they employing child labor here?" "I'm an adult!" Lisa rushed to clarify. Li Changkong quickly added, "I can vouch for that, Director Li. The Alliance's laws and enforcement are an absolute benchmark for the entire River Valley Province!" Li Shuyue cast a skeptical glance at Lisa, but didn't press the matter, speaking in a gentler tone. "Could you find me a quieter room?" Lisa gave an obedient nod. "Yes! Please hand your luggage to me." Li Shuyue shook her head. "No need, I'll carry it myself." *** At the military camp not far from the airfield, Brother Mole spent the entire walk trailing Chu Guang, wondering what sort of treasure the Administrator was taking him to see. When they finally reached their destination, a sprawling warehouse appeared before them. Stopping at the warehouse entrance, Chu Guang nodded to the guard on duty. The iron doors swung open shortly after. A pitch-black silhouette filled Brother Mole's vision, igniting a flash of wild excitement and longing across his face. It was a tank. Its towering profile and thick frontal armor were the absolute embodiment of "bigger is better." In particular, the muzzle—so wide one could almost shove half a face inside—and the 10mm coaxial machine gun mounted beside the barrel blended mechanical aesthetics and raw violent beauty into a single package. This wasn't an oversized infantry fighting vehicle like the No. 1 Tank, with five road wheels and a tiny gun mounted on a large chassis! This was a true tank in every sense of the word! Though that long, thick barrel did seem almost absurdly oversized. It went completely from one extreme to the other. Looking at the steel beast before them, a paternal smile appeared on Chu Guang's face. "The No. 2 Tank, manufactured by Factory 81. The chassis was widened based on the No. 1 Tank. Changge Group's aid engineers helped us refine the turret, while Silverwing Group helped improve the powertrain and transmission. It's armed with a 155mm smoothbore gun—" "One-fifty-five?!" Brother Mole's eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath laced with the scent of engine oil. Chu Guang nodded. "Indeed. Don't you agree that the bigger the caliber, the better?" "Yes! It's fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!" Brother Mole nodded vigorously like a pecking chick, his eyes sparkling. He couldn't agree more with that philosophy! As expected, the Administrator possessed the grandest vision, grandest strategy, grandest wisdom, and grandest foresight... He operated on a plane far beyond those fair-weather buddies of his! Chu Guang smiled warmly, gazing at the tank inside the workshop as he continued, "We've produced thirty No. 2 Tanks so far, which just finished unloading at the train station. On top of that, there are five Type B variants, equipped with imported No. 60 railguns from Ideal City." "Although the Alliance's First Corps also needs armored units, considering your outstanding performance in the last campaign, I intend to allocate these to you first!" As for armor thickness, durability, and auxiliary modules, Chu Guang didn't mention a word. Such things were redundant on the Alliance's tanks. AI fire-control systems? Auxiliary optical sights? Extra capacitor banks? What use was any of that junk! The loyal "primarchs" were the ultimate black technology, and the Singularity-level "morphogenetic field" was invincible under the heavens! If he didn't fully tap the potential of carbon-based lifeforms, how could he have scraped together thirty tanks? The entire Alliance barely had a population of just over a hundred thousand, with an industrial workforce under thirty percent, while the defense budget as a share of total output was already soaring through the roof. Thirty tanks a month—that was the production rate of a certain mustachioed dictator after taking Czechoslovakia. Yet the Alliance's fusion reactor had been ignited for less than two months, and industrial subsidies and quantitative easing had been underway for less than a year. To ensure more players could wield reliable hardware while still juggling the Alliance's broader development, Chu Guang felt he had pushed himself to the absolute limit. Brother Mole, however, clearly didn't care about armor thickness or technical specs; his attention was entirely captured by the railgun. In the real world, such weapons were reserved for coastal defense and naval ships; he had never heard of one being mounted onto a tank. Waiting for the Administrator to finish, he hurried to ask the question he cared about most: "What does 'No. 60' mean?" Was it the caliber? Wouldn't 60mm be a bit on the small side? Seeing his clueless expression, Chu Guang immediately knew what he was thinking and smiled faintly. "Sixty refers, naturally, to a muzzle energy of sixty megajoules!" Sixty megajoules! Brother Mole was dumbfounded by the number. If he remembered correctly, the American Mk 45 127mm naval gun only had a muzzle energy of ten megajoules... Sixty megajoules! Six times the muzzle energy of a naval gun?! Was this thing trying to blast a hole through the sky?! Seeing that the player was struck speechless, Chu Guang continued, "...The Alliance Army Command has designated the Type B as a tank destroyer." "Due to their steep cost, we only produced five. They are intended primarily to counter the heavy spaced armor of the Conqueror 10 tank and the rumored No. 11 tank mentioned in our intelligence. At the same time, to prevent them from being penetrated by 100mm guns, we reinforced the frontal armor and turret, which slightly compromises mobility." Tests using captured tank wrecks demonstrated that the No. 60 railgun didn't merely breach defenses; a hit on a weak point in the armor could punch clean through to the other side. Actual combat performance would certainly vary, but Chu Guang was confident that his ally's technology and the players' fighting spirit would not disappoint him! Suppressing the excitement in his chest, Brother Mole looked at Chu Guang and made a solemn oath of loyalty. "Honored Administrator, sir! I am ready to march! You need only tell me where the Alliance's enemies are, and I will drive this machine out to annihilate them all!" Splendid. High spirits indeed! Chu Guang gave an approving nod and smiled. "No rush. The Alliance Army Command will have an assignment for you shortly." With that, he set aside his smile, drew the holographic computer pen gifted to him by Pai, and pressed it gently, projecting a map of Sunset Province into the air. A red circle was marked in the southern reaches of Sunset Province, a hundred and fifty kilometers from Twin Peaks in the Zhuobar Mountains. A red arrow spanned nine hundred kilometers, pointing from Dawn City straight toward that mark. "...The Legion has stationed troops east of Oasis No. 4 in southern Sunset Province, numbering at least one legion of ten thousand men. They appear to be constructing an airfield. If they succeed, our homeland will fall within range of strategic bombing runs by the Legion." "Furthermore, reliable intelligence indicates that a nuclear warhead with a yield of one megaton is being transported eastward into Sunset Province, and we assess that it is very likely bound for that airfield." Watching Brother Mole's expression grow increasingly grave, Chu Guang paused briefly before continuing. "You have only five days to prepare. Over these five days, you will train under our technicians to learn equipment operation and maintenance." "From Dawn City to Lost Valley is nearly nine hundred kilometers, with nearly seven hundred kilometers of off-road terrain. You have only one objective." "Maintain strict secrecy, proceed with caution, and advance rapidly. Before the Legion can react, strike with a lightning offensive to shatter the defensive line of the garrison stationed there—" "Stop them at all costs!" "Take that airfield!" *** While the Alliance was secretly drawing up plans for its second military operation, another event shook Petra Fortress, nearly a thousand kilometers away. A trading firm from River Valley Province called the White Bear Knights had leased a warehouse and hung up a sign establishing the White Bear Knights Bank. The bank president was a talking polar bear. Guided by a kind nature, she could not bear to witness the suffering in the slums. Thus, she and her companions decided to aid the displaced refugees fleeing from the north, exchanging gold camel coins for the worthless scrap in their pockets—gold lion coins. The moment word spread that someone was willing to buy gold lion coins, the slums outside the fortress erupted. The overwhelming majority of them had fled from Oasis No. 9, and the money in their pockets was entirely rejected here. Practically every refugee swarmed forward, terrified that the funds would run out if they were too late. Aside from refugees, quite a few locals also gathered. They hadn't come to exchange currency, but to watch the spectacle. Oddities were plenty across the wasteland. Yet a talking bear was a first for many. "How does a bear have so much money?" "Who the hell knows!" "By the way, what use do they have for gold lion coins? Those things are basically scrap iron now, aren't they?" "Probably just drowning in overflowing sympathy and nowhere else to spend it." A few merchants in long robes stood by, their faces smeared with mockery. Instead of converting gold camel coins into dinars, these people were trading them for gold lion coins. Did they think their wealth wasn't depreciating fast enough? Inside the bank's entrance, ragged refugees brandished their coin pouches, the clinking of metal nearly drowning out their shouts. Old Buma stood behind the counter with a massive headache, frantically keeping accounts and helping these poor souls trade their scrap for gold camel coins that could actually buy bread. Even if the president was a bear, one couldn't expect a bear to keep the books. Physical labor like acting as teller fell naturally to him, the "counter manager." "Please, good sir, have mercy and let me exchange a little more!" A disheveled man finally shoved his way to the front, slamming a bag of coins onto the desk with a heavy thud. Though his clothes were pitiful enough, the bag of coins in his hand was anything but. The few people trailing behind him were likely his servants, each carrying a pouch of coins as well. "No. Our employer has ruled that each person may only exchange up to two hundred gold camel coins." Shaking his head, Old Buma instructed an assistant beside him to count out twelve hundred gold lion coins and take them away. Coins only—no paper certificates. Once the tally was complete, he brought out a coin pouch one-sixth the size, placed it beside the heavy bag, and looked at the disheveled man. "You must swear an oath to the Spirit of the Desert that you will not queue up here again today." Glaring at the old man who held tight to the pouch, the customer reluctantly raised his hand to swear on his faith, while muttering to himself, *I'll just come back tomorrow, then.* The four servants behind him stepped forward in turn, exchanging coins on their master's behalf. A few burly mercenaries stood by the doorway with folded arms, tracking the group with their eyes until they had gone far before returning their attention to their bank security duties. As for whether that man would make a loop and come back, that was not their concern. Their employer had made it clear that expecting one hundred percent enforcement of the rules was impossible. Their goal was not to eradicate line-cutting entirely, but to raise the barrier to cheating, ensuring that more people could obtain enough money to survive. Food in the Camel Hump Kingdom was very cheap; two hundred gold camel coins would last a long time if budgeted carefully. For the first three days of the bank's operation, the exchange rate was set at six to one. After three days, it would rise to ten to one, and individual caps would be removed, allowing wealthy nobles to exchange large sums. The purpose behind this wasn't purely out of mercy. It was primarily a matter of security. Knowing how to make money didn't make someone clever; making money and walking away in one piece was true wit... Watching the surging crowd outside the doors, Rou Rou felt her social anxiety flaring up again. Shrinking back, she looked toward Tail beside her and whispered timidly, "Th-there are so many people... Maybe we should go keep watch outside?" "Oh! It's okay, Rou Rou, Tail will stay right beside you!" Patting Rou Rou's broad shoulder, Tail gave a grinning thumbs-up. "Just hang on a little longer, and we can switch shifts with Sisi and the others! Think of it as courage training!" Rou Rou nodded, mustering her resolve to push through. The bank called the White Bear Knights remained packed from dawn until dusk before finally closing its doors. Shutting the heavy bank doors, Old Buma approached Sisi with the ledger in hand, speaking respectfully. "Today we disbursed a total of 2.1 million gold camel coins, taking in 12.6 million gold lion coins in return." "Not bad, not bad at all." A delighted smile spread across Sisi's face. It seemed the refugees fleeing from Oasis No. 9 were extraordinarily wealthy; even with a purchase cap, they had managed to burn through over two million gold camel coins. Three days from now, people would probably arrive with covered wagons full of cash to trade with her. This was infinitely more lucrative than trading cattle! Come to think of it, that was precisely how the Knights Templar had made their fortune back in the day. The meager earnings from fighting wars weren't even enough to cover losses, but they grew fabulously rich through loans and promissory notes. At the moment, however, the White Bear Knights hadn't opened a lending business. Sisi couldn't help musing that once the fighting ceased and Oasis No. 9 began reconstruction, she might very well roll out that service. Lending the money gathered today right back to the people who had exchanged it. A proper cycle of taking from the people and returning it to the people. "We should hire more mercenaries," Sisi murmured, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Someone might start eyeing our operation." Hearing that, Old Buma hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. Who on earth would covet piles of scrap metal? Rumors were spreading across the entire city that a band of filthy-rich fools from River Valley Province had more money than sense, trading the hard-earned profits from their merchant runs for heaps of scrap, so much so that they'd likely lose their shirts on the trip home. Clearing his throat, Old Buma said respectfully, "The mercenaries we've hired are already sufficient. If you truly feel uneasy, we can slip a little coin to the captain of the city watch and have him set up a patrol post nearby... Guards loyal to the city lord are far more effective than hiring dozens more mercenaries, and it won't cost much." Patrolling was their job anyway. As for where they patrolled, that fell under discretionary authority. Those displaced refugees from abroad feared trouble above all else, especially getting on the wrong side of local guards. So long as the patrol squad strolled past every now and then, even the toughest rabble-rousers would keep their heads down. A smile lit up Sisi's face. "That's a great idea. Thanks!" "You're welcome... You saved my life and returned the goods that were stolen by the bandits. Doing this for you is the least I can do," Old Buma replied deferentially. His intuition told him that the young lady before him was someone destined for great things. At his age, traveling as an itinerant merchant was no longer suitable anyway; securing a post at this bank was a far better arrangement. After finalizing tomorrow's schedule, Sisi walked over to the mercenary leader standing guard by the entrance. The brawny man with corded muscles had his arms crossed, chatting and laughing with several comrades about where to drink later. Once the sun sank below the horizon, their shift would end, and the bustling crowds would shift from the bazaar to the commercial district, where entertainment never ceased. "Interested in some overtime?" Hearing the employer's voice, the mercenary leader whistled. "At your service, miss. Serving a beauty is my honor." The mercenaries beside him chimed in playfully. "As long as you're paying, I'll do whatever you ask!" "I give great shoulder rubs!" "I can give back massages!" Sisi smiled faintly. "Have you heard that Legion troops are stationed in Lost Valley?" The mercenaries exchanged glances, puzzled as to why their patron was bringing this up. The mercenary leader scratched the stubble on his chin, recalling after a moment, "Over the past couple of days... there do seem to be rumors floating around the taverns. Preposterous ones, too. They say an entire legion of ten thousand men is camped out there, shooting on sight anyone who comes near. Nobody knows what they're up to." "Not wild enough," Sisi said, tossing him a bulging pouch of coin. "The people here lack imagination. The rumors need to be far more outrageous. For instance, the troops stationed there are the elite vanguard that spearheaded the assault on Oasis No. 9, and they're fortifying a forward base to welcome the main army..." Meeting the mercenary leader's astonished stare, she pointed to the pouch in his hands. "There are a thousand gold camel coins in there. By this time tomorrow, I want all of Petra Fortress talking about when the Legion plans to storm the city, discussing how those big-nosed bastards torture their captives..." "I want to see helplessness and terror on people's faces wherever I walk." Lost Valley covered a massive area, with a radius of a full ten kilometers; standing on the west side, one couldn't even see the east. Even so, given the intensity of the Legion's patrols, sneaking close remained exceedingly difficult. And once spotted, there wouldn't even be a chance to flee. Thus, clearing that ruin through brute force was out of the question; stocking up on more weapons and ammunition wouldn't help. She needed someone to pin down the Legion. Or at least draw the Legion's attention. Only then could an opportunity open up for them to slip into the valley. The mercenary leader stared in amazement at his employer, completely baffled by what she was aiming for, never expecting such a pretty girl to harbor such a cunning mind. Yet upon feeling the weight of the coin pouch, he asked no further questions. Grinning, he tucked the bag into his tunic and even bowed awkwardly, mimicking the ostentatious nobles. "It is my honor to serve you!" He had been heading to the tavern for drinks anyway; this job couldn't be any easier. He would simply plant a few comrades who loved drama straight into the crowd, form a circle, and shout a few lines. Within minutes, every gossip hound around would come swarming. One would tell ten, ten would tell a hundred... With idle drifters like them actively fanning the flames, it wouldn't be long before every soul in Petra Fortress knew the Legion had arrived.