Meanwhile, in the southern provinces of the Empire.
The rain had passed, leaving behind a sky vast and boundless. Beneath the azure heavens, the wind was cool and refreshing, brushing across golden clouds that shimmered softly under the sun.
Nourished by the rain, the green earth teemed with vitality once more. Such moderate rainstorms were a gift of nature to the farmers. Yet, for any large-scale military march, the muddy roads that followed were nothing short of a nightmare.
"Keep in formation! Don't fall behind!"
A sudden roar echoed across the plains like thunder, startling the small animals hiding in the grass.
Zooming in, one could see an Imperial army—or rather, two. The differences in uniforms and marching formations made it clear: these were two distinct legions under different commanders.
Yet both pressed onward through the mire, step by step.
At the head of each force rode two female generals clad in white officer uniforms—one with neat, white hair tied into a single braid, the other with long, icy-blue hair cascading to her hips.
They were none other than Esdeath and Najenda, returning from the pacification of the southwestern tribal rebellion and now en route to the Empire's southern border to suppress the next wave of insurgents.
"Ugh, how boring. Last time, the Great General practically broke the spines of those southwestern savages. This time's so-called war—no, this isn't even a war. It's more like a parade with weapons. I just hope these southern fools can bring me some real entertainment," Esdeath said idly, surrounded by her elite cavalry.
Turning to the woman beside her, she added with a teasing smile, "Najenda, you look troubled. Something on your mind?"
"..."
Though riding alongside Esdeath, Najenda's eyes were fixed ahead, brows furrowed, clearly preoccupied.
"Hmm, you could say that. About the southwestern tribes, I think—"
Just then—
"Report!"
Both women turned. A unit of Imperial messengers, each carrying small flags on their backs, galloped up to them. The leading messenger dismounted swiftly, saluted, and presented a sealed order.
"Generals, urgent orders from the Imperial Capital!"
Delivering the dispatch, the messenger saluted once more before mounting up and riding away.
Najenda unsealed the envelope while Esdeath leaned in. Together, they read:
"The Western Kingdom has invaded. General Esdeath's forces are to redeploy immediately to the western border. General Najenda's army is to continue advancing south as planned."
Esdeath's eyes lit up instantly. "Daidara! Nyau! Issue the command—front line becomes rear, rear becomes front! Turn the entire army around! Destination: the western frontier!"
"Yes, General!" Daidara and Nyau responded in unison.
Esdeath turned to Najenda, a grin spreading across her face. "Until next time, General Najenda. I look forward to our next campaign together."
"Until next time..." Najenda murmured softly, watching Esdeath's departing figure. Her expression was complicated, caught between admiration and unease.
Through years of relentless training and battle, Esdeath's army had become a razor-sharp force—disciplined, deadly, and fast. Within moments, they completed their reformation and began marching back the way they came.
Najenda, meanwhile, led her troops southward. As dusk fell, they reached a modest southern town.
Judging the hour, Najenda turned to her adjutant. "Set up camp here for the night. Keep the soldiers in check—no disturbing the locals. We'll continue at first light."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Najenda remained on horseback, silent. Her expression was distant, her emotions subdued.
Though she was an Imperial general and capable of decisive action when necessary, Najenda was far gentler than most—especially compared to Selene, Esdeath, Budo, or Liver. In fact, she was gentler than the majority of Imperial soldiers.
In an army of hardened killers, Najenda's compassion was a rarity.
Whether it was for the commoners who, driven to desperation, had taken up arms in rebellion—or even the foreign tribes resisting Imperial rule—Najenda still felt a degree of sympathy.
To draw a comparison: if the Empire's current state resembled the ruthless Warring States era, then Najenda embodied the romantic idealism of the Spring and Autumn period—a believer in war tempered by honor and virtue.
The thought of Esdeath's methods—her brutal massacres of rebellious tribes and her disturbing treatment of prisoners—sent a chill down Najenda's spine.
Whether it was the Imperial high command issuing such ruthless "kill one to warn a hundred" orders, or the soldiers carrying them out with gleeful efficiency, Najenda found herself deeply disgusted.
After issuing her own commands and feeling her frustration boil over, she decided to walk through the town to clear her mind.
But the sights along the way only made her heart heavier—and her resentment toward the Empire even stronger.
Passing through the city gates, she saw the streets lined with destitute commoners in tattered clothing. They sat slumped against walls and fences, their expressions hollow and faces gaunt.
Nearby, several better-dressed individuals—likely wealthy merchants or the stewards of noble houses—were engaged in quiet discussions with them. The poor parents beside them each held a frail child by the hand. The children's wide, innocent eyes looked up at their would-be buyers, uncertain of what fate awaited them.
The exchange concluded. The parents, their faces twisted between sorrow and a fragile sense of relief, accepted small pouches of coin, offered a few words of gratitude, and walked away—leaving their children behind.
Najenda watched it all, her expression darkening. She needed no explanation to understand what was happening.
This damned world...
She cursed under her breath. For most of these parents, this wasn't greed—it was desperation. If the world weren't so cruel, if survival weren't so impossible, what mother or father would sell their own flesh and blood?
When she saw the wealthy buyers laughing and chatting cheerfully after the transaction, her hands clenched into fists, veins bulging under her skin.
Since Honest had risen to power, corruption had spread through the Empire like a plague. Positions were bought and sold, taxes crushed the weak, and the common folk starved in misery—reduced to selling their children just to survive.
Can such an Empire even be saved anymore?
Rage flared within Najenda. She could barely restrain herself from drawing her weapon when—
"Who's there?!"
Sensing a presence rapidly approaching, Najenda snapped to full alert.
A calm, aged voice spoke softly near her ear. "Don't be alarmed. You wish to save these children, don't you? Then come with me."
A chill ran down Najenda's spine. For someone to get this close to her unnoticed—especially to a trained sniper like herself—was no small feat.
The cloaked figure's appearance seemed faintly familiar, though.
Weighing her options for only a moment, Najenda shot the stranger a sidelong glance, then silently followed.
They didn't go far before arriving at a small inn. The stranger led her inside to a modest room—nothing fancy, just a standard lodging. Clearly, this was only a temporary base.
Najenda closed the door behind her. "Let's skip the pleasantries. Members of the Oarburgh assassination syndicate—what business do you have with me?"
"No need to rush." The stranger lowered her hood, revealing a sturdy elderly woman wrapped in a headscarf. Najenda recognized her instantly—the assassin matriarch, Babara Oarburgh, leader of the southern rebel network's assassination cell.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Babara Oarburgh. Within my syndicate, I hold... a certain level of authority," she said, pouring Najenda a cup of water with practiced grace. "It's an honor to finally meet one of the Empire's youngest and most promising generals."
Najenda gave a wry smile. "Is that so? Then I suppose I should return the sentiment. It's not every day I meet one of the most infamous figures of the southern resistance."
She leaned back slightly, her tone sharpening. "Aren't you afraid I'll have you arrested? You do realize the Great General's bounty on your organization still stands."
Babara chuckled quietly. "If you truly intended to capture me, you wouldn't have followed me here. The very fact that you did tells me your loyalty to the Empire is... wavering."
Najenda's eyes narrowed. "I didn't come here to trade accusations. I'm only interested in what you said earlier—about saving those children. How do you intend to do that?"
"Patience, my dear General." Babara smiled knowingly, turning toward the door. Raising her voice, she called out, "Daniel! You can stop eavesdropping now—come in."
Moments later, a girl with her long hair tied neatly into a ponytail entered the room. Her expression was calm but cautious. "Master, are you sure she can be trusted?"
"Taeko, mind your manners," Babara scolded gently. "General Najenda is one of the few within the Empire who still has a conscience. She can be trusted."
The door opened again, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped in—Daniel, one of Oarburgh's senior operatives. His tone was grave. "Indeed. Najenda is not like the others. Among the Empire's generals, she alone still remembers what it means to be human."
"No need to flatter me," Najenda said, pulling a cigarette from her coat pocket. She lit it and took a deep drag, exhaling slowly. Once, she hadn't smoked at all—but years of tension had turned it into a habit.
"General Najenda, you don't seriously believe that saving a few children will solve anything, do you?" Daniel said with a smirk as he shut the door behind him. "Even if you save them, you'll only save the children of this town. There are countless others suffering the same fate throughout the Empire."
He stepped closer, his tone sharpening. "You might save them for a day, maybe a week. But once you leave, the trade will continue. Or is it that you only want to ease your conscience—helping a few in front of you so you can pretend you've done enough?"
"..." Najenda opened her mouth to retort, but no words came.
He was right. Deep down, she knew it. What she was doing wasn't true salvation—it was self-deception. She couldn't save everyone. Not the children, not the Empire.
After a moment of silence, Najenda straightened her back, her expression hardening. "Fine. Tell me your plan, then. You didn't come here just to talk. You've been following me for some time, and you chose to appear only after Esdeath left. What are you after?"
Seeing her willingness to listen, Daniel smiled faintly. "Like you, we want to save the suffering people of this land. We want those children to have a future worth living for."
He paused, his voice gaining weight. "But the root of all this misery lies with the Empire itself. That's why we joined the Revolutionary Army—to overthrow this decaying system."
At first glance, it all sounded noble and righteous.
But Najenda was no naive fool. She snorted lightly. "Don't make me laugh. You lot—assassins crawling through the sewers, drenched in blood—dare to talk about saving anyone?"
"You—!" Taeko started to protest, but Babara raised a hand, silencing her.
"Enough, Daniel," Babara said with a dry chuckle. "We killers are not fit to preach virtue. Leave that to the people in headquarters who still like to dream."
Najenda caught on immediately. "Headquarters? I thought your so-called revolutionary leaders were wiped out by the Great General."
Daniel shrugged. "They were. But a new one can always be built. Funny thing, really—we owe our rebirth to none other than Minister Honest. If not for his corruption, we wouldn't have recovered so quickly."
Najenda said nothing. That, at least, hit too close to home. The Empire she once believed in was now rotting from within. The old generals who had supported her sense of justice were imprisoned or executed on fabricated charges—stripped of honor, dignity, and peace.
Just then, a deep, gravelly voice spoke from the corner of the room. "General Najenda... it's been a long time."
Najenda froze. The voice was old—familiar. Trembling slightly, she turned toward it. "General Marcus?! Why... why do you look like this..."
Daniel smirked, adding fuel to the fire. "Several of the Empire's old generals have been imprisoned lately—framed by ridiculous accusations. The Revolutionary Army values people like them, while the Empire simply discards them. Quite amusing, don't you think?"
...
Imperial Capital — Upper City, Habsburg Duchess' Mansion.
While Najenda struggled with her turmoil—and Honest grumbled to himself in the palace—Selene was in excellent spirits. It was, after all, that time of year again—her annual leave.
Since returning to her fiefdom in Imperial Year 1019 for her first rest, Selene had made it a habit to retreat there each year for a time.
Under the leadership of Sebas—the self-proclaimed architectural genius—the northern province had developed rapidly. Selene wasn't sure how the Empire's industrial sector ranked overall, but she was certain of one thing: construction was thriving. The majority of workers were builders now.
"Milady... regarding Minister Honest, I have already carried out your orders and refused his request," Liver reported calmly. He no longer held even a shred of respect for the Empire's top bureaucrat.
"Good. And how did he react?" Selene asked as she signed a stack of documents.
"Here, milady. These are all of Honest's recorded communications over the past two days." A faint smile played at the corner of Liver's lips as he handed her a folder.
"Excellent. Set it aside for now—there's something more important to handle," Selene said, capping her pen and gesturing to the empty space beside the desk.
"Liver, do you remember the embryo I had you protect some time ago?"
Liver's eyes widened slightly. "Milady... do you mean—?"
Selene smiled faintly, her crimson eyes glinting. "That's right, Liver. Our new companion is about to be born."