It was written on the first page, the first line of the manuscript of "The History of Titan's Defending War" that the battles to defend the country first took place in one of the small towns at the western border, one that went by the name of Kutzjeline.
Kutzjeline Town belonged to the Western Army Group of the Guards, which was also the defending border area of the Empire's Thirteenth Region. In Church's year 800, on the 29th day of the 4th month, the mayor's family finally left the former residence they had been living in for countless generations. They were the last inhabitants to evacuate the small town.
Earlier on, the joy of welcoming the new century was quickly replaced by the panic of the Great War. Despite over a hundred thousand Guards being concentrated at the border area, the inhabitants of the small town still followed the Empire's law for emergency situations and fled towards the inland.
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On the 30th day of the 4th month, the warm spring sun chanced upon Kutzjeline. The small town was completely empty, without a single soul in sight. The stray dogs that came from nearby strutted in the streets with their allies. The plants that that crept on walls and grew wildly had spread all the way to the shady and moist well without the maintenance of the gardener.
Two soldiers of the Guards were throwing poison into the well. The poison was the cheapest sort and could be purchased from an ordinary pharmacy. The younger soldier kept grumbling to the senior soldier saying that the seniors kept mistaking the amount of the poison. The senior soldier scoffed at the words of the new recruit and replied that even if they were to return soon, there was nothing wrong to let the enemies suffer a little more.
Thus, the debate continued from one well in the town to the next.
In the end, the new recruit and the senior soldier sat on the steps of the church at the heart of town. The young soldier rolled a cigarette for the senior soldier then said, "Father, why is it us?"
The father of the younger soldier was actually this senior soldier. He patted his son's helmet, "Young lad, I don't know either! We can only blame our respected Baron for having such ill luck!"
Many soldiers had assembled at the doors of the church. They all heard the words of the old soldier, "Yes, our army has more than ten commanders and getting into trouble depends on luck. Our Sir is really just too unlucky! Even leading us, he…"
"We should feel honored!" the Lieutenant Colonel of the Guards, Baron Devens, strode out of the church. He saw that his soldiers were lazing around their original spot. However, it was a wonder that Lieutenant Colonel Devens, who was known in the entire Field Army for his strict running of the armed forces, did not criticize the soldiers' disrespect. This was because the soldiers were not wrong. When he was drawing straws, he pulled out this death mission; the soldiers had the right to complain. Lieutenant Colonel Devens had just completed a letter for home that was written to his wife. In the letter, he wrote, "Even if my cavalry come across enemies a hundred times more than us, I will still complete the glorious mission that the Titan soldiers had built on the foundations of tradition and honor."
Surely everyone is a little curious about the glorious mission built on the foundations of tradition and honor, right?
"The History of Titan's Defending War", on the first page's second line, stated, "When our Empire encountered the threat of an invasion, the toughest and most tenacious soldiers would launch a fierce counterattack before the enemies crossed the border! Perhaps this was just a symbolic resistance, as our motherland had provided the Guards with a broad strategic depth. However, the resistance at the doors of our nation was necessary. It validated our nation's determination and spirit in resisting external shame! It was also the basis for this great historical mission in which thousands upon thousands of Titan soldiers had been involved in national defense."
Lieutenant Colonel pondered for a while, but he still could not recall the person who had previously accomplished this mission. According to his subordinate, the previous time was a general at Doncaster plains. However, that general was very lucky. He had an Infantry Division, which defeated one of the opponent's Cavalry Corps.
The Lieutenant Colonel of the Guards looked around the small town. History had changed the person that initiated the first battle of the defensive war to him, but he only had a second-rate Cavalry Corps. So… the person who should really complain should be him.
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Church's year 800, the 30th day of the 4th month, midday, the knights of the First Group of the Second Division under the Guards' Thirteenth Region's Third Corps had just had their lunch. Although the gourmet-like dishes were sumptuous, a majority of the soldiers ate without actually tasting the food. They held the last meal of their lives and gathered in twos and threes at the streets and beneath the eaves. They discussed each other's past in hushed voices. Some of the soldiers were talking about the crops at home, some described their first love of their younger days, some inspected the war equipment on them, some were staring blankly at the sky and at a corner.
Close to 1 pm, the sentinels on the church's spire finally sounded the alarm bell. The trumpeter of the Thirteenth Region's 301 Group immediately blew the horn to assemble. Lieutenant Colonel Devens was startled from his mediation. He pushed aside the soldiers in front and behind him and was the first to rush to the spire of the church.
The sentinels found the commander's praised shadow among the crowd. These young veterans gazed at the western horizon and then at the commander whose face was a mask of consternation. "65 phalanxes of a thousand men!" the sentinel's sign language faithfully conveyed everything that he saw.
"65 phalanxes of a thousand men?" Lieutenant Colonel Devens and the surrounding soldiers exchanged dismayed glances. Their fantasies and hopes had all been dashed.
"Ranks, assemble! Prepare to attack!" Devens put on his helmet.
In front of the church of Kutzjeline, all the members of group 301 assembled. These were the 1014 soldiers of the Guards who came from various regions of the motherland. The filthy commander of the Guards, Baron Devens, changed into a set of formal military attire and actually threw aside his armor. The Baron led the 4 soldiers of the Guards for the final prayer and then leaped onto his horse and took the lead to charge into the small town.
The soldiers of the Guards advanced quickly through the smoky fog and flanked out into an orderly formation. Their long lances bounced up and down on their horses just like the bobbing waves and lively forest. At last, group 301 came to a halt. They stopped close to the national border. Their commander reined in his horse at the boundary stone that symbolized the Empire's territory. Gently, he turned his horse around and was then met with a scene that he would never forget in his life.
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The formation of the invaders seemed to stretch on infinitely. These foreign soldiers that bore military flags of all colors cascaded down from the highland. Soon, they had coalesced to form a forest of steel composed of weapons and armor before the tiny attack formation of the Titan soldiers.
The Titan soldiers appeared solemn. They kept complaining, but only now did it dawn on them that they had, as it turned out, already accepted the great mission that was built upon tradition and a glorious foundation within their hearts.
A group of commissioned officers set out from the camp of the invaders. They charged towards the Titan Empire's national border.
They stopped before the commander of group 301. An elderly man with the rank of general gave an appropriate military salute to Lieutenant Colonel Devens who was in his early years.
"I am the commander of the Faran Kingdom's military front lines--"
"Faran is on the west side. Are you lost?" Devens broke off the old general's words. The soldiers of Titan immediately roared with laughter at the commander's reprimand.
General Bodia Gonvalri spat. The other was just a measly Lieutenant Colonel. Could it be that the Titan Guards did not teach him to distinguish between military ranks? Old Bodia was determined to bring forth a huge figure that was sufficient to intimidate the other.
"This..." the Faran General gestured towards a "gorgeously dressed" general. "This is the King of Hoilland..."
"Hahahaha!" Devens suddenly burst into laughter. He turned towards the flag bearer beside him, "Hey, this chap is even more outrageous. Hoilland is by the sea..."
Even more intense jeering broke out within the camp of the Titan soldiers.
The King of Hoilland, His Majesty Luth VII, waved his gold-threaded horsewhip. He did not wish to have any dealings with the Titans for he felt that they were all as impervious to reason as his naggy wife.
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Watching the enemies pull away, Devens withdrew his contemptuous gaze.
At this moment, the massive front line camp of the invaders had already arranged into a cavalry camp that was made up of three formations in a single line up. Devens turned to face his soldiers. As a commander, he had to say something to his adorable soldiers, but... at such an hour... what should be said?
"The History of Titan's Defending War", last row of the first page. The commander of the Kutzjeline forerunner war said to the 1014 soldiers of his, "Attention, soldiers of the Guards! We are not ordering you to resist, nor ordering you to enter your graves, but commanding you to charge to your death."
This was the statement that Baron Devens Serali said and this was the very thing that he and his soldiers carried out! When the people that came afterward flipped open the magnificent section in the History of the Defending War, they would always be deeply moved by the words and actions of this Lieutenant Colonel. The people of Titan believed that in the second and third page of this magnificent writing and all through to its last page, there was only one core idea of all these, which was, to generously die for the faith given by the mother of the motherland! Apart from this, there was nothing else.
The battlefield at the outskirts of Kutzjeline was covered with bodies. The invaders avoided this land of the dead. The formation that stretched on infinitely passed through the Titans' national border one after another. Intermittent sound of weeping continued to travel out from the heart of the battlefield. A muddy, blood-soaked little soldier embraced a corpse that was stained all over with blood. That should have been his father.
The invaders did not bother about this enemy who had fortunately survived. They would only cast a cold glance in the direction where the weeping came from.
The commander of the invaders threw the military flag of the Group 301 under the Thirteenth Region of the Guards onto the body of the little soldier. The King of Hoilland had even prepared a fast steed for him.
"Go home, lad! Tell your Division Commander, tell your Corps Commander, tell your Region Commander that your comrade has completed the combat mission through a heroic sacrifice!"
"Who are you?" the little soldier wiped away muddy tears.
"Luth VII, King of Hoilland!"
The little soldier stood up, "I am Chris, Corporal of the Titan Guards!"
"I will remember you!" Luth VII nodded. He evaded the eyes of this lowly soldier and then led his defending group to leave the battlefield that was covered with corpses.
Corporal Chris stowed away the military flag of Group 301. He had already etched the faces of his enemies deep into his mind. He was firmly convinced that the day he would cross paths with these enemies once more was not that distant.
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The feeling that Justania gave the Titans was that it was far. Setting out from the Empire's capital, after going over the mountains, plains, hills, and valleys, one still had to pass through the magnificent strait. Moreover… once one started on this journey, it would take half a month!
On the evening of the 30th of the 4th month, O'Neil Andrew Morisette met with the communications official who came from Dulin's army. The communications official brought two letters. One letter was a private letter written by Marshal Robin to the Empire's prince while the other one was the temporary mobilization order sent from the Imperial Army to all the employed military officers.
Oscar picked up Marshal Robin's private letter. Just as he anticipated, Marshal Robin and Marshal Alan had reached a consensus. The final battlefield was arranged to be from Valencia at the south towards Jeblin's traditional defensive line.
Marshal Robin also mentioned that the condition of the Empire's Crown Princess did not look too promising. Alanis' health was in a terrible state. The people of Dulin were all worried that Her Imperial Highness Princess would have to live out the rest of her days in a wheelchair.
When Oscar wrinkled his eyebrows, his Persian wife wrapped herself around him. Arayna was only dressed in a flimsy muslin dress. She positioned a thigh at her husband's back and buried her husband's' head into her breasts.
"Now won't do…" Oscar groaned, but he still flung the letter aside.
"Why won't it do?" Arayna used all the softness of her body to stir the man's senses.
Oscar pushed away his eager wife gently. He knew his wife's cheap tricks. This Persian Princess only wished to quickly conceive, then break away from his shadow.
The young Titan Prince, Marshal of the Guards draped his military uniform over his wife's body. He then rose from the couch that was piled with soft pillows and rugs. Through the porthole, the great ocean carried the sweet, fishy smell of the ocean breeze into the room. The candles flickered in the wind. The smell of incense in the heater gradually wafted out. All of these helped to clear Oscar's mind.
The ocean breeze also lifted a corner of his wife's flimsy muslin and Oscar caught sight of the woman's breast. He had to admit that his wife's breasts were extraordinarily beautiful. Just how many nights had he been unable to part with it and had been fondling it ceaselessly? However, now he was aware of the unspoken and indistinct intention. He suddenly developed suspicions about everything of that moment. He was not clear about what the lights in Justania and the happenings in the foreign tribe's territory implied, and he only knew that the signs of his destiny were gradually getting indistinct. When he left the hold of the ship and walked onto the deck, the remaining light of the sunset lit up the vast ocean. His understanding of the end point of life became even more muddled, just like the huge sailboat that the Mogadishu royal gave him, not knowing when it would reach the shore.
O'Neil Andrew Morisette named his huge sailboat with a lovely name, "Dragonscale Warrior". This was in relation to the golden finish to its suspension parts. When his wedding dagger revealed the Warrior of God in legends, the ethnic group of his natural enemies finally abandoned hostility and doubt. They felt that since the omnipotent True God of the universe had handed over the Great Ottoman Khalifa's glory to the Andrews, the message within it was obvious.
A massive sail hung on the Dragonscale Warrior. It was berthed below the mountain wall that was close to the Great Wall of the channel. This huge boat had just entered the water. Its keel had already been completed a few years back, it was just that the craftsmen of the Mogadishu royals had busied themselves for the past five years with the decoration work on the ship.
The sailors on the boat were of the younger generation of Persians. Aside from that, there was also a group of Ottoman warriors. The leader of the warriors was that Black Belt Swordsman of little words. Oscar had struck up a conversation with him when he was overcome with boredom. He really could not understand the Black Belt Warrior's actions, but the warrior explained that he was not protecting the head of the Andrews, but the Great Ottoman Khalifa's glory and keepsake bestowed by the True God.
Oscar placed the Anti Dragon Scale before the warrior, "Since you put it that way… Come on, put it on!"
The Black Belt Warrior immediately knelt down. He had never taken the Warrior of God in legends; merely chant it continuously. Oscar then shrugged, "Such a stubborn fellow!" and no longer paid any attention to the "stubborn" Black Belt Warrior, though his personal followers were added to with another silent chap under the foundation of Pail and Black Devil. This matter… was tentatively not too bad.
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Once again returning to a familiar domain of life was a spiritual release for the Titan prince's driver. Oscar admitted that his tutor appeared to have transformed into a different person at Justania. Who was Wozakad Elladan? This was the question that the Mogadishu nobles who did not understand the inside story kept inquiring about.
In the end, the coachman of the great royal verified that Wozakad Elladan had once been a Black Belt Warrior of the Liluther True God faction that had been powerful for a period of time. He was the supreme commander that ruled over the fate of the battlefield at the eastern lines of the Empire. On a side note… all these were old news of many years ago. Wozakad had lost to the eastern dynasty's frontier army and had later been drawn into the civil strife of the palace. Those in power had discarded him and the Liluther True God faction's splendor became a part of the dust of history following the collapse of the armed forces.
"Forgive me True God! Remember… it was me who sent you out of the country!" the Great Mogadishu Emperor was like a child who had committed a wrongdoing when he brought up this matter.
Wozakad gazed at the great royal's broken little finger, "Was it from that time?"
"Yes, after I received news of your demise!" the great royal nodded.
"Then you have already received my understanding!" Wozakad grasped the other's hand and then carried out the traditional etiquette that symbolized eternal friendship and kissed the bridge of the other's nose.
The Great Mogadishu Emperor rubbed his hands in excitement, "The Andrews are considering rebuilding my main Cavalry Corps!"
Wozakad Elladan grinned, "You can't hope for anything from me. At that time I lost so badly that I was left with nothing!"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor shook his head repeatedly, "You lost to the easterners. By the True God! If the opponents are the easterners, then the outcome will naturally be another cup of tea!"
Wozakad also shook his head. The thing he was concerned about was not this matter. "Why will the Andrews allow your tribe to rebuild your main Cavalry Corps?"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor only then assumed a grieved and indignant expression. "That is because… Marshal Figg Andrew Tibotty wants to use all my castles at the Black Sea's coastal area and maritime navy vessels in exchange.
"You hand over the navy to the Andrews… then the Andrews will help you maintain your armed forces on land?"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor nodded, "This way… the Andrews can within a short time, blend into one of the navies that are taking shape. Then, they can, as a matter of fact, control the entire Black Sea Region."
Wozakad was unclear as to what this signified. He only knew that this agreement was still quite fair.
The Great Mogadishu Emperor fell silent after having said that. The navy was the latest to take form in the history of the Persian Ottoman Empire, but until today, it was still looked down upon by the aristocratic class who were used to horse riding. However, the Great Mogadishu Emperor did not believe it to be so. His territory included the east and west trading waters that had the most strategic significance. No one was clear as him about the type of changes that a formidable navy could bring for this area.
But… in front of the conquerors, he had already lost all grounds to bargain. A navy that did not have a land force to protect it was useless! Moreover… he had even handed over his palace and previous daughter to the commander of the conquerors. What was there to say about a few vessels?
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"It's five hundred and nineteen navy vessels of different sizes!" Figg Andrew Tobotty squinted his eyes like a devious Italia merchant. His subordinates sized up their commander, who was indescribably excited, in exasperation. They were all a little conflicted about the business deal that had just gone down. Exchanging the unfamiliar navy for the other's main Cavalry Corps was basically taking a risk.
"We can learn slowly from the occupation of sailors! From this aspect, the Persians are our teachers! This is the fundamental reason I retained those crew members!" Figg was still immersed in a beautiful fantasy.
"What do you want to use the navy for?" Finally, a Narcissus military officer could not help it anymore.
Figg shot a look of disdain towards him, "What do we use the navy for? We can use the navy to transport the cavalry and reach those places that are difficult to approach from land!" the Narcissus knight cringed as the commander used a huge hand to press on the Persian Gulf. The blue bodies of water on the map were only two hundred over kilometers away from the Holy City of Baghdad West.
"Our knights are not used to a sea-going ship!"
Figg snorted coldly, "That is why I want all of them to live on a ship for some time. Otherwise, how will we know whether they can adapt?"
The soldiers no longer spoke. To the people of Narcissus who lived in the inner land, the ocean… was indeed more distant. However, the steps of the conquerors had led them to the region where the water and sky met. If they knew history well, these soldiers who bore a heavy responsibility would realize that it was not easy for a turnaround to happen in the tide of history. A development would always take place, and this type of development that took place would embrace the rigid rules and lie between the historical source of it being incidental and inevitable.
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O'Neil Andrew Morisette's Dragonscale Warrior ship only arrived at the dock by the coast when the curtain of darkness had completely descended. The captain did not choose the vast and grand port of the Royal Household but instead chose a ferry crossing that civilians used. The "Dragonscale Warrior's" massive silhouette completely obscured the brightly lit docks. The little sailboats and all sorts of vessels that berthed in the docks had fled to the nearby body of water. A few city residents with lowly status even voluntarily lit up the lights on the boats to illuminate the sailing route for the "Dragonscale Warrior".
Oscar bid farewell to his Persian wife on the deck, but it was only temporary. He still had to return to the ship to spend the night later in the evening. The young Titan Prince, under layer upon layer of protection from the Ottoman temple warriors, visited the port. After he mounted the horse, the nearby sailors and crowds on the docks knelt down until the ranks beneath the Fierce Tiger Flag of Narcissus left the docks, only then did everything returned to normal.
Under the curtain of night, Fort Istantine's gentle temperament could be described as romantic, soothing and so on. The wind and rain that the dry, ancient city weathered through received ample verification from the mottled stonewalls and towering historical wreckage. The residents here were the Persian Ottomans who had migrated from the east.
One should say that… this nationality possessed a fitting awareness of the passion to arts and respect of the strong.
The arrival of the Narcissus knights did not bring despair or a decadent emotional flavor. The city residents here still prayed as they did for the past few hundred years and still multiplied in their lives that appeared as if nothing had happened.
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The lights brought brightness to the evening night market. The smell of barbecue and smoked fish seemed to have melded into the essence of the entire city. The True God gave this city of the Romans a mosque and all the prints that indicated a conquest. The multi-colored windows of Saint Sofia Church were proof. However, the servants of the God of Light that came and went from the city did not pay much attention to the centers of belief that the pagans occupied. The thing that these clergies had come all the way from the distant Roman Vatican to Anatolia for was the future of this land.
When O'Neil Andrew Morisette and his entourage arrived at the last national palace of Byzantine, his brother did not come out to greet him like before. He found Figg in one of the dazzling Persian bathrooms.
Figg's body was concealed by the steam and only his head was exposed above the water surface. He was humming an ancient Narcissus ballad. When he saw his younger brother, he placed the wine glass on the pan that was floating on the surface of the water.
"Have the honeymoon ended?"
Oscar gave a light laugh. A group of Persian maids was undressing him. An impudent young lady accidentally touched his sensitive part.
"I thought you wouldn't go back to shore anymore," Figg Andrew Tibotty sighed contentedly. The steam in the bathroom and the maids' massage had allowed him to completely loosen up.
Oscar stepped into the pool. The water temperature caused him to frown. The steam quickly caused him to redden similar to a huge, bright red cooked prawn that appeared extremely appetizing.
"Come, let me look at you!" Figg called to his younger brother. However, he did not scrutinize his brother's face but turned him around.
"Ola, ola!" the Second Brother imitated his younger brother's tone and shouted. He poked lightly at the "claw marks" on his brother's back. "It seems that your married life is extremely blissful!"
Oscar laughed and slapped his brother's arm away, "Don't be such a fool, alright?"
Figg also broke into a laugh and said to his brother under his breath, "How is your new wife?"
Oscar gave a mischievous laugh. "If my wife is considered from the Persian women's point of view, then… she's of the best quality!"
"Hahahahaha…" Figg burst into raucous laughter, but his amusement was quickly replaced with loneliness. "Are you leaving us?"
Oscar pondered a while before replying, "Guarding our home and defending our country is a soldier's responsibility. The officers of the Guards have to take action and undertake this mission that history and our great motherland has given unto us soldiers and establish a new resistance merit over the mountain of the enemy's corpses and the sea of blood."
Lastly, Oscar spread his hands towards his brother, "that is what was said in the military's combat mobilization order."
Figg shrugged; he was not interested at all in the pretext of the Guards. "Have you thought about it? How the arrangements for Sasha and that wife of yours will be?"
Oscar heaved a sigh, "Our people will regard Arayna as a freak; I will not bring her back to Titan. As for Sasha… I haven't made up my mind!"
"Won't it be settled if you just go ask Sasha?" Figg sized up his younger brother unpleasantly. "It's not that I like telling you off, it's just that you give me a feeling of indecisiveness when it comes to women."
"Really?" Oscar sat up from the pool, "that terrible?"
Figg nodded, "Yes, absolutely terrible!"
Oscar could only give a bitter laugh, "I feel uneasy; how do I say this? I fear that something bad may happen to Sasha. Oh gosh! Her mental age will forever be stopped at the time when I first got to know her!"
Figg grabbed his brother's arm, "However it's said, Sasha is already your wife. Regardless of the situation you're facing, you can't let her be harmed. This is your responsibility and also the mission that the family has entrusted to you!"
"I know…" Oscar nodded continuously. However, he suddenly fixed his gaze on the water surface, lost in thought. Alanis' face emerged on the surface of the water.
"I've decided…" the head of Andrew suddenly snapped his head away. His wife that was about to become an empress immediately vanished without a trace from the surface of the water.
"Decided on what?" Figg eyed his younger brother worriedly.
"I've decided to… lay out my cards to the Vatican! And it must be as soon as possible!"
"Why? This has to be taken slowly, we've talked about this!" Figg also sat up. Since the matter had touched on this, it had to be addressed seriously.
Oscar dismissed the maids in the bathroom and deliberated about the feasibility of the entire matter.
In the end, he had finally straightened out the overall reasoning.
"Figg, we should have all seen it! Although the string of victories on the Great Plains of Anatolia stemmed from the knights' selfless fighting, but think about it, just how many people have donated money and goods, how many western volunteers have joined our ranks? If we start to calculate from during the punitive expedition to the east in year 799, the knights that pledged their loyalty to the family have increased from the initial four hundred thousand to the five hundred and sixty of today! Think about it… what is the reason for such a situation today?"
Figg contemplated. He had no choice but to admit… "It's the Vatican that stirred up the entire religious world!"
"That's right!" O'Neil Andrew Morisette patted his brother's shoulder, "the Vatican had invested a huge amount of physical and financial resources for the punitive expedition to the east! Moreover, His Grand Eminence Radriere VI is not a fool. He would not freely send us these war resources and strongly spread propaganda."
"Just what are you thinking?" Figg narrowed his eyes. He knew that His Grand Eminence Radriere VI was not a fool and that was the reason he had put off interpreting the last sentence until now.
Oscar pointed towards the west, "There... the Westland Kingdom Alliance is launching a massive offensive against Titan and Dulin's Crown Princess, which won't ever receive any response from the Holy See."
"You're saying that... it's the Holy See that facilitated all these?" Figg's eyes widened.
Oscar nodded, "No matter the kind of role the Holy See plays for the Westland Kingdom Alliance, its isolation of the Imperial Morisette Household is a fact. It is exerting pressure on my wife."
"What does this have to do with us?" Figg snorted and turned his head away. He had no control over the matters of Dulin.
Oscar glanced at the ceiling of the bathroom. It had a fine sculpture and ceramic tiles inlaid with golden decorations.
"I believe that... if we don't reach an agreement with the Holy See that pleases Radriere VI, he will keep delaying the coronation ceremony of Titan's new Empress indefinitely, just as what we did to him," Oscar averted his gaze and once again turned back to his brother.
"But the main issue now is that only if Alanis is able to obtain the Royal Crown conferred by the gods will she then be able to become the Titan Empress in the truest sense. And before this, the Westland Kingdom Alliance indeed has the right to challenge and question her identity. After all, they have two former Titan princesses. The husbands of both these princesses are within the selection scope of Titan's Imperial Household."
"I understand what you mean now!" Figg's mind was cleared. "You want to make Alanis' crown a condition in the agreement."
"That's right!" Oscar nodded. "As long as Alanis ascends the throne and together with the success of the military affairs--"
"Hold it, hold it!" Figg immediately silenced him. He did not wish to know about the things that would take place in Dulin. He only wanted to know what would become of his Anatolia in the agreement between his family and the Holy See. "Tell me about the concessions you are able to make. I want to know whether it's still within the limit that I can put up with."
Oscar scratched his head, "I think... I will tell the emissary of the Holy See that the heir of that Persian Princess and I will present the glory of ancient Byzantine once more!"
"Just what kind of joke are you pulling?" Figg exclaimed loudly and pinched his brother's face.
"My young Oscar, look around us! The current Anatolia is the territory of the Persian Ottomans. It is their True God who is ruling over this vast land. We cannot sow the belief in the God of Light forcefully nor force the pagans to leave this place. That would be a disaster to the Andrews that are here!"
Oscar suddenly burst into laughter, "My brother, don't panic! I know that that is an expectation that is impossible to achieve."
"Then are you joking around about these kinds of matters with the Holy See?"
Oscar shrugged, "Anyway, in the agreement with the Holy See, the one with the E signature will try to pressure you. I will not acknowledge it!"
"You're saying…"
"That's right! It's just as you imagined!" O'Neil Andrew Morisette seized his brother's shoulder, "Deceit, extortion, contradiction. In short, no matter how the Holy See slanders, I am okay with it! Now I only wish to for His Grand Eminence Radriere VI to place his crown blessed by the gods onto my wife, Alanis' head."
"Oh no…" Figg Andrew Tibotty massaged his forehead, "If this happens… when the Holy See discovers the actual facts, everything that he stood for will become your enemy!"
Oscar shrugged. "Whatever! There isn't the slightest movement in my Persian wife's belly. The heir to the agreement is still something we are still clueless about…"
Figg stared at his younger brother with distrust, "I think the situation isn't as optimistic as you make it appear! I hear that you rarely leave the bedroom these days. Your wife is already giving it her all…"
Oscar scratched his head again. Speaking about this made him a little worried. His wife's ferocity during lovemaking was not faked. She used the ancient Persian love medicine to rub her eagerness and hope onto her body's most sensitive regions.
"Should I… return to Dulin earlier?" Oscar consulted for his brother's opinions.
"I think so…" in the end, Figg covered his brother's head with the bath towel.
***************
The last noises of the night only sank into the ultimate peacefulness once the moon had reached its zenith in the sky. The heavens were twinkling with brilliant stars. The god that the people worshipped was controlling the shooting stars. They flitted past, bringing blessings and loss. It seemed that no one could capture that spectacular instance.
The nights of Dulin were eerie and frightening. Many literary scholars had discussed this issue. Why was the great city only left with sinister shadows once its magnificent daytime had faded?
The streets of Dulin rarely had streetlights. The candles and kerosene oil in the streetlamps was frequently the target of thieves. In the darkness, sleek flagstones stood out on the pavement. These flagstones reflected the dim moonlight. This faint light could be seen everywhere in the heart of the city, including the church, the splendid palace and the narrow, desolate allies of the destitute.
What did war bring to ancient Titan? The south of the Empire had struggled out from the swamp of rebellion. One would know the answer by looking for explanations there! However, the well-off and thriving capital nobles had never experienced such suffering! To be more precise, it had been two hundred over years since they had truly experienced the turmoil of war. They boasted that they were true nobles. The true nobles would discuss the Empire's governmental affairs in an office with a soothing environment and portray the state of the Empire using quill pens that have been meticulously sorted out. However, when all of these had become a custom of the palace bureaucrat's ideology, what the warning signal of war from the Tower of Heroes brought about was not the great boldness of joining hands against the enemies, but the panic-stricken trembling of a soul gripped with terror.
"Where have the enemies hit?"
"How many cities have they looted?"
"How long until the Guards retreat?"
"What is the Empire's Supreme Governor doing? Still tending to her health?"
Most of the time, these were the questions that Count Philip Goolean heard. He had lost in the running for the Imperial Household's Palace Chief and was also relieved from his duties as Confidential Secretary by the young Princess Alanis. So, Count Goolean was at the lowest point of his life.
Overall Cabinet Coordinator? Philip gave a laugh. This post sounded nice and all but compared to his previous post, this Overall Cabinet Coordinator was merely a non-essential little role. The script of this small role only included the contents from two aspects. First was to listen to the rantings of the cabinet members; the second was to pass on this worthless prattle to the Imperial Household. It was evident that this was a strenuous and unrewarding role. These changes made Philip start to suspect that if he had not treated Prince O'Neil with such warmth, he would have been met with a different circumstance by now.
***************
"Your Highness, the huge figures have arrived!" Philip gave a deep bow to the Empire's Crown Princess on the wheelchair. In exchange, he only received a snort from Princess Alanis.
Philip withdrew from the palace tactfully. He knew that him at this moment was only slightly better off than a pitiful creature. Many who were more unfortunate than him did not even have a place they could set foot in at Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Alanis' palace. Every day, changes were seen in the court. Those who gained power conversed arrogantly with high voices while those who fell from power turned tail and acted pitifully! Moreover, the situation was always like this.
The former Imperial Confidential Secretary spat quietly. He had a clear understanding and knew that there was not a need to waste efforts on such things.
The Chief of the Imperial Palace Bodyguards, Colonel Basil Kenny pushed the Empire's Crown Princess into the affairs hall of Hamilton Palace. Within the hall, the cabinet members and the ministers of each governmental sector had gathered in their respective little circles. When they saw the palace doors open, they hurriedly crowded forwards. They used false concern and hypocritical flattery to try and please their new master.
Alanis Alfa Morisette still had the countenance of having "returned from the grave". Only the lipstick and eye shadow on her face were emitting radiance on her face while the other parts were a mask of dusky blankness.
"Marshal Robin, make an introduction to everyone!" the Empire's Crown Princess turned her head slightly and looked towards the group of military men.
The Chief of Staff of the Imperial Guards, Marshal Robin Sparse stepped out from among the sea of gleaming army rank badges. He used the most standard military etiquette to greet the Supreme Governor of the Empire.
"Your Highness, the battle situation is actually very simple. The south and north have yet to discover the enemies' trail. We can confirm that the Anti-Titan Alliance intends to attack the traditional defensive line."
Alanis hung her head. Her father's crown had been passed into her hands. Another day of not being able to be crowned and she would have to look at it for another day. She really yearned to know how she would look wearing the crown. Although in private she could absolutely do so in the mirror, she did not dare to try it on just like that. She feared that she would be a cause for gossip for the people with ill intent in the palace and was even more afraid that the crown did not suit her figure.
"How is the defensive line?" the frail Crown Princess averted her gaze from the crown.
Marshal Robin bowed slightly. To address this issue, he could only use a voice that the princess alone could make out.
"Still adding on defense troops from the Region at the rear. We plan to wait until the supplies--"
"Oh come on!" a cabinet minister with sharp hearing cut off the mutterings of the Guard's Chief of Staff. "The front lines are retreating and the rear is readjusting their soldiers. We just want to know when will we be able to chase the invading enemies out from the doors of our country!"
"Yes, yes!" another cabinet minister cried piercingly. "Kutzjeline has already started off the forerunner war this noon! Don't tell me that the Guards can only invest a group?"
The capital nobles' chatter instantly became noisy waves. These mindless figures pointed to the silent military men one after another. They continued to interrogate and point their fingers at them as if the military men owed them a few golden Tis.
"Everyone shut up!" Alanis' bellow suddenly erupted and reverberated throughout the entire palace. She gauged the surrounding cabinet ministers with a mocking gaze.
"You all keep asking what this Empire is doing. But I want to ask, what have you all done for the Empire?"
The cabinet ministers stopped their debate. It seemed that… everything that they had done for the Empire could only be summarized as continuously producing saliva.
Alanis moved the wheelchair with difficulty, "Those who do not have a right to speak, stand to the left!"
These capital nobles who were fond of dressing up in all palace attires of various designs crowded to the left of the Empire's Supreme Governor dejectedly while the solemn-looking commissioned officers of the Guards stood straight in their original positions in an orderly fashion.
Alanis faced her military personnel, "I know what you all are worried about! You're worried that the troops and supplies transported by the Region at the rear can't keep up with the pace of the war. You all are worried that the enemy will add on even more armies to the battlefield. You all are also worried whether the young princess can stand up from her wheelchair and ascend the throne smoothly to continue the reign of this dynasty!"
The princess swept her gaze to and fro among the soldiers. She suddenly got off her bottom and used cold, intense eyes to bore into her soldiers.
"Today… I wish to tell you all, no matter how unreasonable the enemy's forces are, I still have full confidence in you all and everything by your side!"
Alanis' forehead was beaded with sweat, but she still kept at it. She supported her whole weight with great effort and also her heavy, tingling legs.
At last, under the startled shouts of the crowd, Titan Empire's young Crown Princess stood up!
The ground was trembling and she was swaying, but the soldiers of the Empire had already drawn their swords and chanted Long Live to their new ruler!
Hamilton Palace shook slightly under the cries of Long live! Count Philip Goolean was taking in everything that unfolded indifferently. From how he saw it… or perhaps one could say, he could not help but admit that Alanis Alfa Morisette was indeed equipped with all the qualifications to ascend the throne, especially the tyrannical authority coalesced from her dauntless courage and ever-strong self-confidence.
It was written on the first page, the first line of the manuscript of "The History of Titan's Defending War" that the battles to defend the country first took place in one of the small towns at the western border, one that went by the name of Kutzjeline.
Kutzjeline Town belonged to the Western Army Group of the Guards, which was also the defending border area of the Empire's Thirteenth Region. In Church's year 800, on the 29th day of the 4th month, the mayor's family finally left the former residence they had been living in for countless generations. They were the last inhabitants to evacuate the small town.
Earlier on, the joy of welcoming the new century was quickly replaced by the panic of the Great War. Despite over a hundred thousand Guards being concentrated at the border area, the inhabitants of the small town still followed the Empire's law for emergency situations and fled towards the inland.
***************
On the 30th day of the 4th month, the warm spring sun chanced upon Kutzjeline. The small town was completely empty, without a single soul in sight. The stray dogs that came from nearby strutted in the streets with their allies. The plants that that crept on walls and grew wildly had spread all the way to the shady and moist well without the maintenance of the gardener.
Two soldiers of the Guards were throwing poison into the well. The poison was the cheapest sort and could be purchased from an ordinary pharmacy. The younger soldier kept grumbling to the senior soldier saying that the seniors kept mistaking the amount of the poison. The senior soldier scoffed at the words of the new recruit and replied that even if they were to return soon, there was nothing wrong to let the enemies suffer a little more.
Thus, the debate continued from one well in the town to the next.
In the end, the new recruit and the senior soldier sat on the steps of the church at the heart of town. The young soldier rolled a cigarette for the senior soldier then said, "Father, why is it us?"
The father of the younger soldier was actually this senior soldier. He patted his son's helmet, "Young lad, I don't know either! We can only blame our respected Baron for having such ill luck!"
Many soldiers had assembled at the doors of the church. They all heard the words of the old soldier, "Yes, our army has more than ten commanders and getting into trouble depends on luck. Our Sir is really just too unlucky! Even leading us, he…"
"We should feel honored!" the Lieutenant Colonel of the Guards, Baron Devens, strode out of the church. He saw that his soldiers were lazing around their original spot. However, it was a wonder that Lieutenant Colonel Devens, who was known in the entire Field Army for his strict running of the armed forces, did not criticize the soldiers' disrespect. This was because the soldiers were not wrong. When he was drawing straws, he pulled out this death mission; the soldiers had the right to complain. Lieutenant Colonel Devens had just completed a letter for home that was written to his wife. In the letter, he wrote, "Even if my cavalry come across enemies a hundred times more than us, I will still complete the glorious mission that the Titan soldiers had built on the foundations of tradition and honor."
Surely everyone is a little curious about the glorious mission built on the foundations of tradition and honor, right?
"The History of Titan's Defending War", on the first page's second line, stated, "When our Empire encountered the threat of an invasion, the toughest and most tenacious soldiers would launch a fierce counterattack before the enemies crossed the border! Perhaps this was just a symbolic resistance, as our motherland had provided the Guards with a broad strategic depth. However, the resistance at the doors of our nation was necessary. It validated our nation's determination and spirit in resisting external shame! It was also the basis for this great historical mission in which thousands upon thousands of Titan soldiers had been involved in national defense."
Lieutenant Colonel pondered for a while, but he still could not recall the person who had previously accomplished this mission. According to his subordinate, the previous time was a general at Doncaster plains. However, that general was very lucky. He had an Infantry Division, which defeated one of the opponent's Cavalry Corps.
The Lieutenant Colonel of the Guards looked around the small town. History had changed the person that initiated the first battle of the defensive war to him, but he only had a second-rate Cavalry Corps. So… the person who should really complain should be him.
***************
Church's year 800, the 30th day of the 4th month, midday, the knights of the First Group of the Second Division under the Guards' Thirteenth Region's Third Corps had just had their lunch. Although the gourmet-like dishes were sumptuous, a majority of the soldiers ate without actually tasting the food. They held the last meal of their lives and gathered in twos and threes at the streets and beneath the eaves. They discussed each other's past in hushed voices. Some of the soldiers were talking about the crops at home, some described their first love of their younger days, some inspected the war equipment on them, some were staring blankly at the sky and at a corner.
Close to 1 pm, the sentinels on the church's spire finally sounded the alarm bell. The trumpeter of the Thirteenth Region's 301 Group immediately blew the horn to assemble. Lieutenant Colonel Devens was startled from his mediation. He pushed aside the soldiers in front and behind him and was the first to rush to the spire of the church.
The sentinels found the commander's praised shadow among the crowd. These young veterans gazed at the western horizon and then at the commander whose face was a mask of consternation. "65 phalanxes of a thousand men!" the sentinel's sign language faithfully conveyed everything that he saw.
"65 phalanxes of a thousand men?" Lieutenant Colonel Devens and the surrounding soldiers exchanged dismayed glances. Their fantasies and hopes had all been dashed.
"Ranks, assemble! Prepare to attack!" Devens put on his helmet.
In front of the church of Kutzjeline, all the members of group 301 assembled. These were the 1014 soldiers of the Guards who came from various regions of the motherland. The filthy commander of the Guards, Baron Devens, changed into a set of formal military attire and actually threw aside his armor. The Baron led the 4 soldiers of the Guards for the final prayer and then leaped onto his horse and took the lead to charge into the small town.
The soldiers of the Guards advanced quickly through the smoky fog and flanked out into an orderly formation. Their long lances bounced up and down on their horses just like the bobbing waves and lively forest. At last, group 301 came to a halt. They stopped close to the national border. Their commander reined in his horse at the boundary stone that symbolized the Empire's territory. Gently, he turned his horse around and was then met with a scene that he would never forget in his life.
***************
The formation of the invaders seemed to stretch on infinitely. These foreign soldiers that bore military flags of all colors cascaded down from the highland. Soon, they had coalesced to form a forest of steel composed of weapons and armor before the tiny attack formation of the Titan soldiers.
The Titan soldiers appeared solemn. They kept complaining, but only now did it dawn on them that they had, as it turned out, already accepted the great mission that was built upon tradition and a glorious foundation within their hearts.
A group of commissioned officers set out from the camp of the invaders. They charged towards the Titan Empire's national border.
They stopped before the commander of group 301. An elderly man with the rank of general gave an appropriate military salute to Lieutenant Colonel Devens who was in his early years.
"I am the commander of the Faran Kingdom's military front lines--"
"Faran is on the west side. Are you lost?" Devens broke off the old general's words. The soldiers of Titan immediately roared with laughter at the commander's reprimand.
General Bodia Gonvalri spat. The other was just a measly Lieutenant Colonel. Could it be that the Titan Guards did not teach him to distinguish between military ranks? Old Bodia was determined to bring forth a huge figure that was sufficient to intimidate the other.
"This..." the Faran General gestured towards a "gorgeously dressed" general. "This is the King of Hoilland..."
"Hahahaha!" Devens suddenly burst into laughter. He turned towards the flag bearer beside him, "Hey, this chap is even more outrageous. Hoilland is by the sea..."
Even more intense jeering broke out within the camp of the Titan soldiers.
The King of Hoilland, His Majesty Luth VII, waved his gold-threaded horsewhip. He did not wish to have any dealings with the Titans for he felt that they were all as impervious to reason as his naggy wife.
***************
Watching the enemies pull away, Devens withdrew his contemptuous gaze.
At this moment, the massive front line camp of the invaders had already arranged into a cavalry camp that was made up of three formations in a single line up. Devens turned to face his soldiers. As a commander, he had to say something to his adorable soldiers, but... at such an hour... what should be said?
"The History of Titan's Defending War", last row of the first page. The commander of the Kutzjeline forerunner war said to the 1014 soldiers of his, "Attention, soldiers of the Guards! We are not ordering you to resist, nor ordering you to enter your graves, but commanding you to charge to your death."
This was the statement that Baron Devens Serali said and this was the very thing that he and his soldiers carried out! When the people that came afterward flipped open the magnificent section in the History of the Defending War, they would always be deeply moved by the words and actions of this Lieutenant Colonel. The people of Titan believed that in the second and third page of this magnificent writing and all through to its last page, there was only one core idea of all these, which was, to generously die for the faith given by the mother of the motherland! Apart from this, there was nothing else.
The battlefield at the outskirts of Kutzjeline was covered with bodies. The invaders avoided this land of the dead. The formation that stretched on infinitely passed through the Titans' national border one after another. Intermittent sound of weeping continued to travel out from the heart of the battlefield. A muddy, blood-soaked little soldier embraced a corpse that was stained all over with blood. That should have been his father.
The invaders did not bother about this enemy who had fortunately survived. They would only cast a cold glance in the direction where the weeping came from.
The commander of the invaders threw the military flag of the Group 301 under the Thirteenth Region of the Guards onto the body of the little soldier. The King of Hoilland had even prepared a fast steed for him.
"Go home, lad! Tell your Division Commander, tell your Corps Commander, tell your Region Commander that your comrade has completed the combat mission through a heroic sacrifice!"
"Who are you?" the little soldier wiped away muddy tears.
"Luth VII, King of Hoilland!"
The little soldier stood up, "I am Chris, Corporal of the Titan Guards!"
"I will remember you!" Luth VII nodded. He evaded the eyes of this lowly soldier and then led his defending group to leave the battlefield that was covered with corpses.
Corporal Chris stowed away the military flag of Group 301. He had already etched the faces of his enemies deep into his mind. He was firmly convinced that the day he would cross paths with these enemies once more was not that distant.
***************
The feeling that Justania gave the Titans was that it was far. Setting out from the Empire's capital, after going over the mountains, plains, hills, and valleys, one still had to pass through the magnificent strait. Moreover… once one started on this journey, it would take half a month!
On the evening of the 30th of the 4th month, O'Neil Andrew Morisette met with the communications official who came from Dulin's army. The communications official brought two letters. One letter was a private letter written by Marshal Robin to the Empire's prince while the other one was the temporary mobilization order sent from the Imperial Army to all the employed military officers.
Oscar picked up Marshal Robin's private letter. Just as he anticipated, Marshal Robin and Marshal Alan had reached a consensus. The final battlefield was arranged to be from Valencia at the south towards Jeblin's traditional defensive line.
Marshal Robin also mentioned that the condition of the Empire's Crown Princess did not look too promising. Alanis' health was in a terrible state. The people of Dulin were all worried that Her Imperial Highness Princess would have to live out the rest of her days in a wheelchair.
When Oscar wrinkled his eyebrows, his Persian wife wrapped herself around him. Arayna was only dressed in a flimsy muslin dress. She positioned a thigh at her husband's back and buried her husband's' head into her breasts.
"Now won't do…" Oscar groaned, but he still flung the letter aside.
"Why won't it do?" Arayna used all the softness of her body to stir the man's senses.
Oscar pushed away his eager wife gently. He knew his wife's cheap tricks. This Persian Princess only wished to quickly conceive, then break away from his shadow.
The young Titan Prince, Marshal of the Guards draped his military uniform over his wife's body. He then rose from the couch that was piled with soft pillows and rugs. Through the porthole, the great ocean carried the sweet, fishy smell of the ocean breeze into the room. The candles flickered in the wind. The smell of incense in the heater gradually wafted out. All of these helped to clear Oscar's mind.
The ocean breeze also lifted a corner of his wife's flimsy muslin and Oscar caught sight of the woman's breast. He had to admit that his wife's breasts were extraordinarily beautiful. Just how many nights had he been unable to part with it and had been fondling it ceaselessly? However, now he was aware of the unspoken and indistinct intention. He suddenly developed suspicions about everything of that moment. He was not clear about what the lights in Justania and the happenings in the foreign tribe's territory implied, and he only knew that the signs of his destiny were gradually getting indistinct. When he left the hold of the ship and walked onto the deck, the remaining light of the sunset lit up the vast ocean. His understanding of the end point of life became even more muddled, just like the huge sailboat that the Mogadishu royal gave him, not knowing when it would reach the shore.
O'Neil Andrew Morisette named his huge sailboat with a lovely name, "Dragonscale Warrior". This was in relation to the golden finish to its suspension parts. When his wedding dagger revealed the Warrior of God in legends, the ethnic group of his natural enemies finally abandoned hostility and doubt. They felt that since the omnipotent True God of the universe had handed over the Great Ottoman Khalifa's glory to the Andrews, the message within it was obvious.
A massive sail hung on the Dragonscale Warrior. It was berthed below the mountain wall that was close to the Great Wall of the channel. This huge boat had just entered the water. Its keel had already been completed a few years back, it was just that the craftsmen of the Mogadishu royals had busied themselves for the past five years with the decoration work on the ship.
The sailors on the boat were of the younger generation of Persians. Aside from that, there was also a group of Ottoman warriors. The leader of the warriors was that Black Belt Swordsman of little words. Oscar had struck up a conversation with him when he was overcome with boredom. He really could not understand the Black Belt Warrior's actions, but the warrior explained that he was not protecting the head of the Andrews, but the Great Ottoman Khalifa's glory and keepsake bestowed by the True God.
Oscar placed the Anti Dragon Scale before the warrior, "Since you put it that way… Come on, put it on!"
The Black Belt Warrior immediately knelt down. He had never taken the Warrior of God in legends; merely chant it continuously. Oscar then shrugged, "Such a stubborn fellow!" and no longer paid any attention to the "stubborn" Black Belt Warrior, though his personal followers were added to with another silent chap under the foundation of Pail and Black Devil. This matter… was tentatively not too bad.
***************
Once again returning to a familiar domain of life was a spiritual release for the Titan prince's driver. Oscar admitted that his tutor appeared to have transformed into a different person at Justania. Who was Wozakad Elladan? This was the question that the Mogadishu nobles who did not understand the inside story kept inquiring about.
In the end, the coachman of the great royal verified that Wozakad Elladan had once been a Black Belt Warrior of the Liluther True God faction that had been powerful for a period of time. He was the supreme commander that ruled over the fate of the battlefield at the eastern lines of the Empire. On a side note… all these were old news of many years ago. Wozakad had lost to the eastern dynasty's frontier army and had later been drawn into the civil strife of the palace. Those in power had discarded him and the Liluther True God faction's splendor became a part of the dust of history following the collapse of the armed forces.
"Forgive me True God! Remember… it was me who sent you out of the country!" the Great Mogadishu Emperor was like a child who had committed a wrongdoing when he brought up this matter.
Wozakad gazed at the great royal's broken little finger, "Was it from that time?"
"Yes, after I received news of your demise!" the great royal nodded.
"Then you have already received my understanding!" Wozakad grasped the other's hand and then carried out the traditional etiquette that symbolized eternal friendship and kissed the bridge of the other's nose.
The Great Mogadishu Emperor rubbed his hands in excitement, "The Andrews are considering rebuilding my main Cavalry Corps!"
Wozakad Elladan grinned, "You can't hope for anything from me. At that time I lost so badly that I was left with nothing!"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor shook his head repeatedly, "You lost to the easterners. By the True God! If the opponents are the easterners, then the outcome will naturally be another cup of tea!"
Wozakad also shook his head. The thing he was concerned about was not this matter. "Why will the Andrews allow your tribe to rebuild your main Cavalry Corps?"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor only then assumed a grieved and indignant expression. "That is because… Marshal Figg Andrew Tibotty wants to use all my castles at the Black Sea's coastal area and maritime navy vessels in exchange.
"You hand over the navy to the Andrews… then the Andrews will help you maintain your armed forces on land?"
The Great Mogadishu Emperor nodded, "This way… the Andrews can within a short time, blend into one of the navies that are taking shape. Then, they can, as a matter of fact, control the entire Black Sea Region."
Wozakad was unclear as to what this signified. He only knew that this agreement was still quite fair.
The Great Mogadishu Emperor fell silent after having said that. The navy was the latest to take form in the history of the Persian Ottoman Empire, but until today, it was still looked down upon by the aristocratic class who were used to horse riding. However, the Great Mogadishu Emperor did not believe it to be so. His territory included the east and west trading waters that had the most strategic significance. No one was clear as him about the type of changes that a formidable navy could bring for this area.
But… in front of the conquerors, he had already lost all grounds to bargain. A navy that did not have a land force to protect it was useless! Moreover… he had even handed over his palace and previous daughter to the commander of the conquerors. What was there to say about a few vessels?
***************
"It's five hundred and nineteen navy vessels of different sizes!" Figg Andrew Tobotty squinted his eyes like a devious Italia merchant. His subordinates sized up their commander, who was indescribably excited, in exasperation. They were all a little conflicted about the business deal that had just gone down. Exchanging the unfamiliar navy for the other's main Cavalry Corps was basically taking a risk.
"We can learn slowly from the occupation of sailors! From this aspect, the Persians are our teachers! This is the fundamental reason I retained those crew members!" Figg was still immersed in a beautiful fantasy.
"What do you want to use the navy for?" Finally, a Narcissus military officer could not help it anymore.
Figg shot a look of disdain towards him, "What do we use the navy for? We can use the navy to transport the cavalry and reach those places that are difficult to approach from land!" the Narcissus knight cringed as the commander used a huge hand to press on the Persian Gulf. The blue bodies of water on the map were only two hundred over kilometers away from the Holy City of Baghdad West.
"Our knights are not used to a sea-going ship!"
Figg snorted coldly, "That is why I want all of them to live on a ship for some time. Otherwise, how will we know whether they can adapt?"
The soldiers no longer spoke. To the people of Narcissus who lived in the inner land, the ocean… was indeed more distant. However, the steps of the conquerors had led them to the region where the water and sky met. If they knew history well, these soldiers who bore a heavy responsibility would realize that it was not easy for a turnaround to happen in the tide of history. A development would always take place, and this type of development that took place would embrace the rigid rules and lie between the historical source of it being incidental and inevitable.
***************
O'Neil Andrew Morisette's Dragonscale Warrior ship only arrived at the dock by the coast when the curtain of darkness had completely descended. The captain did not choose the vast and grand port of the Royal Household but instead chose a ferry crossing that civilians used. The "Dragonscale Warrior's" massive silhouette completely obscured the brightly lit docks. The little sailboats and all sorts of vessels that berthed in the docks had fled to the nearby body of water. A few city residents with lowly status even voluntarily lit up the lights on the boats to illuminate the sailing route for the "Dragonscale Warrior".
Oscar bid farewell to his Persian wife on the deck, but it was only temporary. He still had to return to the ship to spend the night later in the evening. The young Titan Prince, under layer upon layer of protection from the Ottoman temple warriors, visited the port. After he mounted the horse, the nearby sailors and crowds on the docks knelt down until the ranks beneath the Fierce Tiger Flag of Narcissus left the docks, only then did everything returned to normal.
Under the curtain of night, Fort Istantine's gentle temperament could be described as romantic, soothing and so on. The wind and rain that the dry, ancient city weathered through received ample verification from the mottled stonewalls and towering historical wreckage. The residents here were the Persian Ottomans who had migrated from the east.
One should say that… this nationality possessed a fitting awareness of the passion to arts and respect of the strong.
The arrival of the Narcissus knights did not bring despair or a decadent emotional flavor. The city residents here still prayed as they did for the past few hundred years and still multiplied in their lives that appeared as if nothing had happened.
***************
The lights brought brightness to the evening night market. The smell of barbecue and smoked fish seemed to have melded into the essence of the entire city. The True God gave this city of the Romans a mosque and all the prints that indicated a conquest. The multi-colored windows of Saint Sofia Church were proof. However, the servants of the God of Light that came and went from the city did not pay much attention to the centers of belief that the pagans occupied. The thing that these clergies had come all the way from the distant Roman Vatican to Anatolia for was the future of this land.
When O'Neil Andrew Morisette and his entourage arrived at the last national palace of Byzantine, his brother did not come out to greet him like before. He found Figg in one of the dazzling Persian bathrooms.
Figg's body was concealed by the steam and only his head was exposed above the water surface. He was humming an ancient Narcissus ballad. When he saw his younger brother, he placed the wine glass on the pan that was floating on the surface of the water.
"Have the honeymoon ended?"
Oscar gave a light laugh. A group of Persian maids was undressing him. An impudent young lady accidentally touched his sensitive part.
"I thought you wouldn't go back to shore anymore," Figg Andrew Tibotty sighed contentedly. The steam in the bathroom and the maids' massage had allowed him to completely loosen up.
Oscar stepped into the pool. The water temperature caused him to frown. The steam quickly caused him to redden similar to a huge, bright red cooked prawn that appeared extremely appetizing.
"Come, let me look at you!" Figg called to his younger brother. However, he did not scrutinize his brother's face but turned him around.
"Ola, ola!" the Second Brother imitated his younger brother's tone and shouted. He poked lightly at the "claw marks" on his brother's back. "It seems that your married life is extremely blissful!"
Oscar laughed and slapped his brother's arm away, "Don't be such a fool, alright?"
Figg also broke into a laugh and said to his brother under his breath, "How is your new wife?"
Oscar gave a mischievous laugh. "If my wife is considered from the Persian women's point of view, then… she's of the best quality!"
"Hahahahaha…" Figg burst into raucous laughter, but his amusement was quickly replaced with loneliness. "Are you leaving us?"
Oscar pondered a while before replying, "Guarding our home and defending our country is a soldier's responsibility. The officers of the Guards have to take action and undertake this mission that history and our great motherland has given unto us soldiers and establish a new resistance merit over the mountain of the enemy's corpses and the sea of blood."
Lastly, Oscar spread his hands towards his brother, "that is what was said in the military's combat mobilization order."
Figg shrugged; he was not interested at all in the pretext of the Guards. "Have you thought about it? How the arrangements for Sasha and that wife of yours will be?"
Oscar heaved a sigh, "Our people will regard Arayna as a freak; I will not bring her back to Titan. As for Sasha… I haven't made up my mind!"
"Won't it be settled if you just go ask Sasha?" Figg sized up his younger brother unpleasantly. "It's not that I like telling you off, it's just that you give me a feeling of indecisiveness when it comes to women."
"Really?" Oscar sat up from the pool, "that terrible?"
Figg nodded, "Yes, absolutely terrible!"
Oscar could only give a bitter laugh, "I feel uneasy; how do I say this? I fear that something bad may happen to Sasha. Oh gosh! Her mental age will forever be stopped at the time when I first got to know her!"
Figg grabbed his brother's arm, "However it's said, Sasha is already your wife. Regardless of the situation you're facing, you can't let her be harmed. This is your responsibility and also the mission that the family has entrusted to you!"
"I know…" Oscar nodded continuously. However, he suddenly fixed his gaze on the water surface, lost in thought. Alanis' face emerged on the surface of the water.
"I've decided…" the head of Andrew suddenly snapped his head away. His wife that was about to become an empress immediately vanished without a trace from the surface of the water.
"Decided on what?" Figg eyed his younger brother worriedly.
"I've decided to… lay out my cards to the Vatican! And it must be as soon as possible!"
"Why? This has to be taken slowly, we've talked about this!" Figg also sat up. Since the matter had touched on this, it had to be addressed seriously.
Oscar dismissed the maids in the bathroom and deliberated about the feasibility of the entire matter.
In the end, he had finally straightened out the overall reasoning.
"Figg, we should have all seen it! Although the string of victories on the Great Plains of Anatolia stemmed from the knights' selfless fighting, but think about it, just how many people have donated money and goods, how many western volunteers have joined our ranks? If we start to calculate from during the punitive expedition to the east in year 799, the knights that pledged their loyalty to the family have increased from the initial four hundred thousand to the five hundred and sixty of today! Think about it… what is the reason for such a situation today?"
Figg contemplated. He had no choice but to admit… "It's the Vatican that stirred up the entire religious world!"
"That's right!" O'Neil Andrew Morisette patted his brother's shoulder, "the Vatican had invested a huge amount of physical and financial resources for the punitive expedition to the east! Moreover, His Grand Eminence Radriere VI is not a fool. He would not freely send us these war resources and strongly spread propaganda."
"Just what are you thinking?" Figg narrowed his eyes. He knew that His Grand Eminence Radriere VI was not a fool and that was the reason he had put off interpreting the last sentence until now.
Oscar pointed towards the west, "There... the Westland Kingdom Alliance is launching a massive offensive against Titan and Dulin's Crown Princess, which won't ever receive any response from the Holy See."
"You're saying that... it's the Holy See that facilitated all these?" Figg's eyes widened.
Oscar nodded, "No matter the kind of role the Holy See plays for the Westland Kingdom Alliance, its isolation of the Imperial Morisette Household is a fact. It is exerting pressure on my wife."
"What does this have to do with us?" Figg snorted and turned his head away. He had no control over the matters of Dulin.
Oscar glanced at the ceiling of the bathroom. It had a fine sculpture and ceramic tiles inlaid with golden decorations.
"I believe that... if we don't reach an agreement with the Holy See that pleases Radriere VI, he will keep delaying the coronation ceremony of Titan's new Empress indefinitely, just as what we did to him," Oscar averted his gaze and once again turned back to his brother.
"But the main issue now is that only if Alanis is able to obtain the Royal Crown conferred by the gods will she then be able to become the Titan Empress in the truest sense. And before this, the Westland Kingdom Alliance indeed has the right to challenge and question her identity. After all, they have two former Titan princesses. The husbands of both these princesses are within the selection scope of Titan's Imperial Household."
"I understand what you mean now!" Figg's mind was cleared. "You want to make Alanis' crown a condition in the agreement."
"That's right!" Oscar nodded. "As long as Alanis ascends the throne and together with the success of the military affairs--"
"Hold it, hold it!" Figg immediately silenced him. He did not wish to know about the things that would take place in Dulin. He only wanted to know what would become of his Anatolia in the agreement between his family and the Holy See. "Tell me about the concessions you are able to make. I want to know whether it's still within the limit that I can put up with."
Oscar scratched his head, "I think... I will tell the emissary of the Holy See that the heir of that Persian Princess and I will present the glory of ancient Byzantine once more!"
"Just what kind of joke are you pulling?" Figg exclaimed loudly and pinched his brother's face.
"My young Oscar, look around us! The current Anatolia is the territory of the Persian Ottomans. It is their True God who is ruling over this vast land. We cannot sow the belief in the God of Light forcefully nor force the pagans to leave this place. That would be a disaster to the Andrews that are here!"
Oscar suddenly burst into laughter, "My brother, don't panic! I know that that is an expectation that is impossible to achieve."
"Then are you joking around about these kinds of matters with the Holy See?"
Oscar shrugged, "Anyway, in the agreement with the Holy See, the one with the E signature will try to pressure you. I will not acknowledge it!"
"You're saying…"
"That's right! It's just as you imagined!" O'Neil Andrew Morisette seized his brother's shoulder, "Deceit, extortion, contradiction. In short, no matter how the Holy See slanders, I am okay with it! Now I only wish to for His Grand Eminence Radriere VI to place his crown blessed by the gods onto my wife, Alanis' head."
"Oh no…" Figg Andrew Tibotty massaged his forehead, "If this happens… when the Holy See discovers the actual facts, everything that he stood for will become your enemy!"
Oscar shrugged. "Whatever! There isn't the slightest movement in my Persian wife's belly. The heir to the agreement is still something we are still clueless about…"
Figg stared at his younger brother with distrust, "I think the situation isn't as optimistic as you make it appear! I hear that you rarely leave the bedroom these days. Your wife is already giving it her all…"
Oscar scratched his head again. Speaking about this made him a little worried. His wife's ferocity during lovemaking was not faked. She used the ancient Persian love medicine to rub her eagerness and hope onto her body's most sensitive regions.
"Should I… return to Dulin earlier?" Oscar consulted for his brother's opinions.
"I think so…" in the end, Figg covered his brother's head with the bath towel.
***************
The last noises of the night only sank into the ultimate peacefulness once the moon had reached its zenith in the sky. The heavens were twinkling with brilliant stars. The god that the people worshipped was controlling the shooting stars. They flitted past, bringing blessings and loss. It seemed that no one could capture that spectacular instance.
The nights of Dulin were eerie and frightening. Many literary scholars had discussed this issue. Why was the great city only left with sinister shadows once its magnificent daytime had faded?
The streets of Dulin rarely had streetlights. The candles and kerosene oil in the streetlamps was frequently the target of thieves. In the darkness, sleek flagstones stood out on the pavement. These flagstones reflected the dim moonlight. This faint light could be seen everywhere in the heart of the city, including the church, the splendid palace and the narrow, desolate allies of the destitute.
What did war bring to ancient Titan? The south of the Empire had struggled out from the swamp of rebellion. One would know the answer by looking for explanations there! However, the well-off and thriving capital nobles had never experienced such suffering! To be more precise, it had been two hundred over years since they had truly experienced the turmoil of war. They boasted that they were true nobles. The true nobles would discuss the Empire's governmental affairs in an office with a soothing environment and portray the state of the Empire using quill pens that have been meticulously sorted out. However, when all of these had become a custom of the palace bureaucrat's ideology, what the warning signal of war from the Tower of Heroes brought about was not the great boldness of joining hands against the enemies, but the panic-stricken trembling of a soul gripped with terror.
"Where have the enemies hit?"
"How many cities have they looted?"
"How long until the Guards retreat?"
"What is the Empire's Supreme Governor doing? Still tending to her health?"
Most of the time, these were the questions that Count Philip Goolean heard. He had lost in the running for the Imperial Household's Palace Chief and was also relieved from his duties as Confidential Secretary by the young Princess Alanis. So, Count Goolean was at the lowest point of his life.
Overall Cabinet Coordinator? Philip gave a laugh. This post sounded nice and all but compared to his previous post, this Overall Cabinet Coordinator was merely a non-essential little role. The script of this small role only included the contents from two aspects. First was to listen to the rantings of the cabinet members; the second was to pass on this worthless prattle to the Imperial Household. It was evident that this was a strenuous and unrewarding role. These changes made Philip start to suspect that if he had not treated Prince O'Neil with such warmth, he would have been met with a different circumstance by now.
***************
"Your Highness, the huge figures have arrived!" Philip gave a deep bow to the Empire's Crown Princess on the wheelchair. In exchange, he only received a snort from Princess Alanis.
Philip withdrew from the palace tactfully. He knew that him at this moment was only slightly better off than a pitiful creature. Many who were more unfortunate than him did not even have a place they could set foot in at Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Alanis' palace. Every day, changes were seen in the court. Those who gained power conversed arrogantly with high voices while those who fell from power turned tail and acted pitifully! Moreover, the situation was always like this.
The former Imperial Confidential Secretary spat quietly. He had a clear understanding and knew that there was not a need to waste efforts on such things.
The Chief of the Imperial Palace Bodyguards, Colonel Basil Kenny pushed the Empire's Crown Princess into the affairs hall of Hamilton Palace. Within the hall, the cabinet members and the ministers of each governmental sector had gathered in their respective little circles. When they saw the palace doors open, they hurriedly crowded forwards. They used false concern and hypocritical flattery to try and please their new master.
Alanis Alfa Morisette still had the countenance of having "returned from the grave". Only the lipstick and eye shadow on her face were emitting radiance on her face while the other parts were a mask of dusky blankness.
"Marshal Robin, make an introduction to everyone!" the Empire's Crown Princess turned her head slightly and looked towards the group of military men.
The Chief of Staff of the Imperial Guards, Marshal Robin Sparse stepped out from among the sea of gleaming army rank badges. He used the most standard military etiquette to greet the Supreme Governor of the Empire.
"Your Highness, the battle situation is actually very simple. The south and north have yet to discover the enemies' trail. We can confirm that the Anti-Titan Alliance intends to attack the traditional defensive line."
Alanis hung her head. Her father's crown had been passed into her hands. Another day of not being able to be crowned and she would have to look at it for another day. She really yearned to know how she would look wearing the crown. Although in private she could absolutely do so in the mirror, she did not dare to try it on just like that. She feared that she would be a cause for gossip for the people with ill intent in the palace and was even more afraid that the crown did not suit her figure.
"How is the defensive line?" the frail Crown Princess averted her gaze from the crown.
Marshal Robin bowed slightly. To address this issue, he could only use a voice that the princess alone could make out.
"Still adding on defense troops from the Region at the rear. We plan to wait until the supplies--"
"Oh come on!" a cabinet minister with sharp hearing cut off the mutterings of the Guard's Chief of Staff. "The front lines are retreating and the rear is readjusting their soldiers. We just want to know when will we be able to chase the invading enemies out from the doors of our country!"
"Yes, yes!" another cabinet minister cried piercingly. "Kutzjeline has already started off the forerunner war this noon! Don't tell me that the Guards can only invest a group?"
The capital nobles' chatter instantly became noisy waves. These mindless figures pointed to the silent military men one after another. They continued to interrogate and point their fingers at them as if the military men owed them a few golden Tis.
"Everyone shut up!" Alanis' bellow suddenly erupted and reverberated throughout the entire palace. She gauged the surrounding cabinet ministers with a mocking gaze.
"You all keep asking what this Empire is doing. But I want to ask, what have you all done for the Empire?"
The cabinet ministers stopped their debate. It seemed that… everything that they had done for the Empire could only be summarized as continuously producing saliva.
Alanis moved the wheelchair with difficulty, "Those who do not have a right to speak, stand to the left!"
These capital nobles who were fond of dressing up in all palace attires of various designs crowded to the left of the Empire's Supreme Governor dejectedly while the solemn-looking commissioned officers of the Guards stood straight in their original positions in an orderly fashion.
Alanis faced her military personnel, "I know what you all are worried about! You're worried that the troops and supplies transported by the Region at the rear can't keep up with the pace of the war. You all are worried that the enemy will add on even more armies to the battlefield. You all are also worried whether the young princess can stand up from her wheelchair and ascend the throne smoothly to continue the reign of this dynasty!"
The princess swept her gaze to and fro among the soldiers. She suddenly got off her bottom and used cold, intense eyes to bore into her soldiers.
"Today… I wish to tell you all, no matter how unreasonable the enemy's forces are, I still have full confidence in you all and everything by your side!"
Alanis' forehead was beaded with sweat, but she still kept at it. She supported her whole weight with great effort and also her heavy, tingling legs.
At last, under the startled shouts of the crowd, Titan Empire's young Crown Princess stood up!
The ground was trembling and she was swaying, but the soldiers of the Empire had already drawn their swords and chanted Long Live to their new ruler!
Hamilton Palace shook slightly under the cries of Long live! Count Philip Goolean was taking in everything that unfolded indifferently. From how he saw it… or perhaps one could say, he could not help but admit that Alanis Alfa Morisette was indeed equipped with all the qualifications to ascend the throne, especially the tyrannical authority coalesced from her dauntless courage and ever-strong self-confidence.
