Chapter 4: The Price of a Full Stomach
Dawn broke over New Dragon's Rest, but the light brought little warmth. A thin, clinging mist rose from the stream, coiling around the sharpened logs of the new palisade like a ghostly serpent. Inside the walls, the air was thick with unspoken tension. The victory over the goblins had been swift and absolute, but the sight of the stringy, green-tinged meat from the slain skirmishers was a grim reminder of their predicament. No one had touched it.
Ben, his face pale but set with determination, stood before Leo and Sun Tzu. "The [Keen Eye] shows me the trails, my Emperor. There are rabbit-like creatures with too many eyes, and large, flightless birds in the thickets to the north. But… they're fast. My daggers won't be enough."
Leo looked at the five crude iron daggers looted from the goblins. They were better than nothing, but they were not hunting tools. His gaze then fell upon the Spartans. They were resting now, a third of their number maintaining a vigilant watch on the walls. Their primary spears were too long and heavy for hunting, but their short swords, the xiphos, were perfectly suited.
"Stentor," Leo called out.
The commander approached, his bronze helmet now tucked under his arm, revealing a face carved from weathered oak, with a trimmed black beard and a network of scars around his eyes. "My Lord."
"We need food. I am requisitioning five of your xiphos for a hunting party. Your men will be armed with their spears for defense in the meantime."
Stentor's expression did not change, but a flicker of something—disapproval?—crossed his eyes. A hoplite's xiphos was a part of his soul, a last-resort weapon for the brutal press of the phalanx when the spear shattered. Loaning it out for butchery was… unorthodox.
"These are tools of war, not for hunters," Stentor stated, his voice flat.
"And an army that does not eat cannot wage war," Leo countered, his tone leaving no room for debate. He was not asking. "The hunt is a military necessity. The weapons will be returned."
There was a tense silence. Leo could feel the eyes of the nearby Spartans on him. This was another test, one of resource allocation and command authority.
After a long moment, Stentor gave a curt nod. "It will be done." He turned and barked an order. Five Spartans reluctantly unbuckled their short swords and handed them over, their movements stiff.
Loyalty of Spartan Century: 65/100 -> 62/100.
The cost was small, but it was a cost. Leo accepted the blades, their weight solid and cold in his hands. He handed them to Ben. "Take Sarah and one other. Find us food."
As the hunting party slipped out through the palisade gate, a new, more pressing notification appeared, glowing with a soft, insistent light.
[Regional System Quest Available: The Goblin Menace]
The [Rustfang Tribe] has been identified as a hostile force in the region. Cull their numbers and dismantle their war camp.
Objective: Slay 50 Goblins. Destroy the [Rustfang Totem].
Reward: 500 EXP, 100 Gold, Uncommon-Grade Building Blueprint.
Bonus Objective: Slay the [Rustfang Chieftain]. Reward: Rare-Grade Equipment Chest.
Note: This is a contested quest. Other Lords in the region may participate.
A map fragment appeared in Leo's mind, revealing a rough terrain to the south-west, about a mile away, marked with a pulsing red skull—the location of the Rustfang war camp.
"Contested," Sun Tzu mused, his fingers steepled. "The System encourages conflict not only with the natives but between Lords. We must assume the Chosen Lords have received similar quests. They will have more resources, more soldiers. A direct assault on the camp would be suicide at our current strength."
"Then we don't assault," Leo said, his mind racing. "We cull. We ambush their hunting and foraging parties. We whittle down their numbers, gain experience for our people, and secure resources, all while staying under their notice and ahead of any rival Lords."
"A strategy of attrition. Wise," Sun Tzu approved. "It plays to our current strength—a small, elite defensive force—and avoids our weakness—a lack of numbers for a siege."
The morning passed with a grim, focused energy. Leo, using his [Imperial Eye], identified patches of edible, if bland, tubers and fungi near the stream, which the twins Chloe and Chris were set to gathering. It was stopgap nourishment, but it was something. The real hope lay with the hunters.
It was nearly noon when the gate opened and Ben's party returned. They were dirty, scratched, and wide-eyed, but they were triumphant. Slung over their shoulders were two of the large, flightless birds Ben had described, each the size of a turkey, with iridescent blue feathers and a single, sharp horn on its beak.
"We got them!" Ben panted, a grin splitting his grimy face. "Sarah used a [Frost Bolt] to slow one down, and I… I used the xiphos." He held up the bloody short sword with a mixture of revulsion and pride.
Resources Gained: 20x [Horned Grouse Meat], 10x [Tough Bird Hide].
Sarah has reached Level 2!
Ben has reached Level 2!
The morale shift was instantaneous and palpable. The sight of real, fresh, non-goblin meat lifted a weight from everyone's shoulders. A crude spit was constructed over the fire, and the rich, gamey smell of roasting fowl soon filled the encampment.
As they ate their first proper meal, Leo felt a slight restoration of his Willpower and a new alert chimed.
Basic Sustenance provided to your Population.
Domain Morale has improved! [Neutral] -> [Hopeful] (+5% to work speed and learning)
Loyalty of Spartan Century: 62/100 -> 64/100.
A full stomach was a powerful tool of statecraft.
The satisfaction was short-lived. A Spartan on the western wall let out a sharp, guttural cry—a warning. Leo and Sun Tzu rushed to the parapet.
A party of a dozen goblins was emerging from the tree line, larger than the skirmishers and better armed. Among them was a hulking brute, almost as tall as a man, with a crude iron axe and wearing a necklace of what looked like rodent skulls.
[Goblin Ravagers] x10 - Lv. 3
[Goblin Brute] x1 - Lv. 5 - Elite
"They are testing the walls," Stentor growled, appearing at Leo's side, his xiphos now returned and at his hip. "The brute will try to break the gate."
"Let him try," Leo said, a plan forming. "Sun Tzu, the gate is our bait. Stentor, prepare your men. I want a killing field inside. Do not show yourselves on the walls. Make them think we are few and weak."
Sun Tzu's lips curled into a faint, approving smile. "Lure them in and slaughter them. The classic 'Empty Fort Stratagem.'"
The orders were relayed. The Spartans, who had been visibly present on the walls, melted away, hiding behind the inner base of the palisade and the rocky outcrop. Only two were left in clear view, acting as nervous sentries. The rest of the citizens were ordered to hide and stay silent.
The goblin party advanced, hooting and jeering. The Brute, encouraged by the seemingly sparse defense, let out a roar and charged the wooden gate, its iron axe held high.
THUMP. The gate shuddered.
THUMP.A hinge splintered.
THUMP.With a final, sickening crack, the gate burst inwards.
The Brute roared in triumph and surged through the breach, its ravagers scrambling behind it. They poured into the open courtyard, their eyes wild with bloodlust.
They found it empty.
Confusion replaced fury on their ugly faces. For a single, frozen second, they stood exposed.
Leo, from his vantage point on the rock, gave the signal.
"Spartans!" Stentor's voice was like the crack of a whip.
From the shadows on either side of the gate, the full century of Spartans emerged. They did not charge. They advanced, their shields locking into an impenetrable wall, their long spears leveling into a deadly forest of bronze. They had effectively trapped the goblins inside their own walls.
The Brute, realizing the trap, bellowed and swung its axe at the shield wall. The blow was deflected with a ringing clang. Three Spartan spears shot out from between the shields in perfect unison, piercing the Brute's chest, neck, and thigh. It staggered, gurgling, and collapsed.
The ravagers, leaderless and terrified, were cut down with merciless efficiency. The Spartans advanced in a slow, crushing press. There was no escape. The goblins were pushed back against the broken gate, their crude weapons useless against the disciplined phalanx. It was less a fight and more of a systematic extermination.
In under a minute, it was over. The courtyard was littered with green corpses. Not a single Spartan had fallen.
Your forces have slain [Goblin Ravager] x10, [Goblin Brute] x1.
Progress on [Regional Quest: The Goblin Menace]: 11/50 Goblins Slain.
Loot Gained: 1x [Crude Iron Axe], 15x [Gold Coins].
New Blueprint Unlocked: [Reinforced Gate] - Cost: 30 Wood, 10 Iron.
But the most significant reward was the shift in loyalty.
Spartan Century has participated in a flawless defensive victory.
Demonstrated: Superior Strategy, Absolute Control of the Battlefield.
Loyalty of Spartan Century has increased! 64/100 -> 80/100.
As the Spartans began calmly clearing the bodies, Stentor approached Leo. He stopped, and for the first time, he performed a full, formal salute—fist over heart, then extended outward.
"The trap was well-laid, my Lord," Stentor said, his voice carrying a new, deep-seated respect. "The earth here is unyielding. It is a good place for Spartans to die. A better place for our enemies to die."
It was the highest praise Leo could have received from him.
That evening, as a new, stronger gate was being fitted, a different kind of notification appeared. It was not from the System, but a direct, regional communication, flashing with the emblem of a stylized eagle.
Open Channel Transmission from [Alexander Vance - Eagle Commander - Liberty's Stand]:
"To the independent Lord to the north. I see you've been busy with the greenskin nuisance. That's commendable. But this is your only warning. The territory around the Rustfang camp is under the protection of the Eagle Federation. Cease your culling operations and withdraw. Interfere, and we will consider it an act of aggression. Vance out."
The message hung in the air, its arrogance a tangible thing. Alexander Vance wasn't asking. He was dictating.
Leo looked out at his domain. The palisade was secure. His people were fed. His legendary soldiers now looked upon him not as a questionable leader, but as a worthy commander. They had survived, they had thrived, and they had drawn the attention of a giant.
Sun Tzu stood beside him, his expression unreadable. "The first move in the great game has been made. He seeks to claim the quest rewards for himself without a fight, using his reputation as a threat."
Leo's eyes hardened. The [Cosmic Emperor] class stirred within him, not with fury, but with a cold, calculating ambition. He had studied history. He knew what happened to those who bowed to ultimatums from distant powers.
He turned to Sun Tzu, his voice quiet but absolute. "Draft a reply."
A moment later, a new, global communication flashed, bearing the simple, stark icon of a cosmic throne.
Open Channel Transmission from [Leo Lin - Cosmic Emperor - New Dragon's Rest]:
"The hunt continues. Interfere, and you will learn the price of threatening an Emperor."