In the early afternoon, beneath the harsh light of the midday sun, I, Baron Victor of Vindia, strode through the entrance of Frosthearted Mansion with a body that felt far heavier than it should. The sleepless night in my carriage on the road back from Ursunia had left my bones aching and my thoughts sluggish.
The moment I stepped inside, the familiar scent of pinewood greeted me.
"I'm back!" I called out.
A pair of maids and one of the butlers hurried forward to greet me. Daisy followed close behind them, her expression tight with concern.
"Sir!" she began quickly, "Marquise Isabelle has come to see you while you were away."
She gestured upward toward the upper floors.
"She has been waiting for you in the council room for quite some time now, seems rather angry, I don't know why." she continued.
I drew in a slow breath and let it out through my nose, It seemed my foggy mind would have to endure at least one more conversation before I could collapse onto my bed.
"Lead the way!" I said to Daisy, forcing a faint smile to mask the obvious exhaustion in my eyes.
And with that, I followed her into the mansion.
-----
Isabelle's piercing, blood-red eyes locked onto me the moment I stepped into the council room.
I walked straight to the head of the round table and dropped into my seat a little bit too quickly, the fatigue in my limbs making the motion less dignified than I would have preferred.
"Took you long enough, boy." she greeted, her voice laced with sass, though there was something off about it.
"Sorry for being… late?" I replied automatically, while at the same time, my mind asked a question.
She did not send me a letter beforehand, how exactly was I supposed to know she was coming?
"Let us get to the point," she said briskly. "I came here to renegotiate in Duke Wulfgang's stead."
Her foot tapped lightly beneath the table as her fingers trembled where they rested against the wood.
"About the 'Be ready for war in three weeks' thing?" I asked, my sentence came out short and blunt for my mind was too exhausted to be elegance.
"Yes, Her Highness was informed of your distress and has decided to extend it to four weeks instead of three, that's the longest she can allow." she replied.
She lifted a hand and scratched lightly at her own neck.
I blinked, that single additional week felt like an unexpected breath of air, even though It wasn't enough time at all.
"Oh! Please thank Her Highness for me!" I response with an awkward but genuine smile.
"And, she will provide you with an ample amount of funds, in exchange for the effectiveness of your army." she continued.
"Oh great!" I answered enthusiastically, unable to hide the relief in my voice.
"But, in exchange, you must conduct a demonstration for me." she added.
"Huh?" I narrowed my brows.
"To show your so-called 'Grand Army' to me, so that I may confidently report back to Her Highness that you are progressing well and that our investment was the correct decision." she clarified.
Her hands were trembling now, lightly knocking against the table in an irregular rhythm.
"That may take a couple of days if you wish to see my army at its full potential." I answered carefully.
"Just show-off a few of your weapons will suffice." she explained.
"Then tomorrow, I will have a demonstration team prepared." I said with a smile.
"Good." she replied quickly and hastily.
She then stood abruptly, her chair scraping slightly against the floor. The shaking in her posture was even more obvious, it was subtle, but persistent. Like someone trying very hard to remain composed.
"I will return to my room now, thanks you for allowing me to stay." she said.
"No problem, Lady Isabelle." I replied, offering another polite smile.
But my mind was suspicious of her odd behaviors, trembling hands, shaky feet. It's like she was withdrawing from a drug
As she reached the doorway, she paused and turned her head back toward me.
"Does your city have a brothel?" she asked plainly, wearing an awkward smile.
I stared at her for a full second, my brain process the question in bewilderment.
"I doesn't know." I admitted honestly.
Before the silence could grow heavier, John, who had been standing in the corner of the room the entire time with half-lidded and exhausted eyes, suddenly came alive, expression brightened instantly.
He stepped forward with surprising enthusiasm and began explaining in great detail to her.
Isabelle listened with careful attention.
"Thank you." she said softly when he finished.
She then left the room.
I remained seated for a moment longer, staring at the doorway she had just passed through.
Something just felt off.
But the sheer weight of exhaustion won against my curiosity, as I rose slowly, dismissed John with a nod, and headed toward my own chambers, unaware of what would happen that night.
That night, beneath the same twin moons that watched over Vindia, a few prostitutes vanished, never to be seen again.
-----
The next day, under a pale stretch of afternoon sun, we gathered at the same empty field near Farville Village.
Once upon the time, it had been a battlefield and an execution ground for the Snow Leopard beastmen raiders. The earth here had an intense memory of non-stop combat.
And now it served it purpose once more.
A thin line of riflemen lay prone behind sandbags, boots dug into the dirt, shoulders squared. Near them, a nest of machine gun squad crouched in formation. Ahead of them stretched the open field, where armored mannequins dressed like knights stood in neat rows with wooden placards marked with pre-measured distances.
The men were still as statues, eyes sharp with a finely-drilled trigger disciplined waiting for an order to unleash hell.
Behind the infantry line stood myself, John, several officers, and most importantly, Lady Isabelle.
She was dressed entirely in jet black, wrapped head to toe in a full-body burqa looking clothes, even her hands were gloved. Above her head she held a black parasol, angling it carefully to block the sunlight.
She had informed me that her skin was extremely sensitive to sunlight due to a hereditary illness.
I told her that I understood her condition and won't press her for questions any further, yet I still secretly thought her as suspicious person anyway.
"Steady!" I shouted, raising my hand upward like a sword.
The riflemen inhaled and held their breath, rifle stocks pressed tight against their shoulders, their cheeks rested against wood, while their eyes stared down iron sights, each man fixed on his assigned target.
"Ready!" I called.
The machine gun crew prepared in silence, the gunner adjusted the bipod, the assistant braced himself, awhile the ammunition carrier positioned the belt carefully, ready to feed the infernal weapon the moment it roared to life.
Even the wind itself paused in anticipation, as I drew in a breath and brought my hand down in one clean motion.
"Fire!" I barked.
And thus, triggers were pulled.
A savage, ripping sound tore across the field as the industrial-grade weapons unleashed their storm of bullets that's streaked forward like a torrent of sheer violence, punching through steel plating and wood as though it were paper. The armored mannequins jerked and splintered as metal rang and wood shattered into an uncountable splinter.
Within seconds, the targets were riddled so thoroughly they resembled a Swiss cheese more than knights. Some collapsed outright, reduced to fragments under the concentrated fire of a metallic storm. The sound was overwhelming even for those who anticipated it, as the sound of thunderous rhythm march onward to the total destruction.
Then, just as abruptly, it stopped.
Silence returned to the field, broken only by faint echoes of whispering solider, the men had been instructed to conserve ammunition. This was just demonstration, not a real battlefield.
I then turned to Isabelle.
"How was it?" I asked.
She stood very still, then slowly, she turned her veiled face toward me. It's thick black fabric revealed nothing of her expression.
For a moment, she said nothing, then, incredibly slowly, she open her mouth.
"H… how did you do that?" she finally asked, her voice unsteady.
"Do what?" I frowned.
"That thing that goes *BRRRT!*" she burst out suddenly, "Holy hell, that was amazing!!!".
Her excitement spilled through the veil, her tone so vividly that even through layers of fabric, I could feel it.
I could not help but grin in returns.
"I'm glad you like it." I said then lifted my hand up again, this time signaling to the artillery crews positioned further back.
"Field guns and howitzers ready, sir!" one of the officers shouted.
Three 7.5 cm light field guns and another three 7.5 cm infantry support howitzers were already in position. Their crews moved with disciplined efficiency as metallic wheels were braced, trails dug in, awhile the guns elevation were adjusted to pre-calculated angles. They were ready in less than a minute.
Isabelle tilted her head slightly. "What are thes—
Her sentence never finished.
The six artillery pieces fired almost simultaneously.
The sound was a deep, concussive boom that struck the chest as much as the ears, as shells screamed through the midday sky.
Seconds later, they descended upon a distant cluster of armored mannequins. The explosions tore the itself earth open, as fire and dirt erupted upward in violent blossoms and shockwaves rolled across the field.
When the smoke and dust began to clear, the targets were gone, obliterated to oblivion awhile the ground itself had been reshaped.
The destruction was horrifying, and yet undeniably beautiful.
"Impressive, isn't it?" I said, unable to keep the pride away from my voice.
Isabelle did not answer immediately, as she spent sometimes stared at the distant impact zone.
Then slowly, she turned toward me.
"Hey!" she said, her tone suddenly sharp with intensity.
"If given enough time? Could you create something even more destructive than these!?!" she asked in an excitement crazed that's bordered on feverish, she sounded less like a noble and more like someone discovering a new addiction.
"Yes," I replied without hesitation, "Of course!"
She then stepped closer, too close for my liking.
And before I realized it, she had moved to my side, her parasol tilted slightly, casting both of us into shadow, then she leaned in, placing her chin lightly over my shoulder.
Even through the layers of cloth, I felt the unnatural chill radiating from her presence.
"How about," she whispered softly into my ear, her voice cold as midnight frost, "I align myself with you instead of those boring old blood?"
"Huh?" I exclaims, as I turned slightly toward her, confusion knitting my brows together.
What was she saying?