A few days later, news arrived: The Western Empire and Swadia had signed a ceasefire agreement, recognizing the change of ownership over Lota Castle. The exhaustion of war hung heavy over every soldier, but it also made one thing clear to me—this victory had spread my reputation far and wide, and the lords of Swadia had begun to regard me with newfound favor.
Yet, even as Swadia stood at the peak of its power, its steel-clad cavalry sweeping across the west, a new plan took shape in my mind. The glory of Swadia was not my destiny. The war-torn south, torn apart by the empire's fracture, was the stage I truly sought.
I gathered my men and announced a decision: to terminate our mercenary contract with Swadia and pledge our services to the Southern Empire instead.
"Boss, are you really heading south? That place is a tangled mess," my lieutenant frowned, his voice thick with doubt.
"Precisely because it's a mess, there's opportunity," I replied, my gaze fixed on the southern horizon, unwavering. "The Southern Empire needs a capable fighting force, and I need a place where ambition can take root."
The lands of the Southern Empire were nothing like the west. Beyond the mountains south of Poros, sprawling plains and ruined villages stretched before us. The castles here bore the scars of recent fires, and the scorched earth served as a grim reminder—the Southern Empire was fighting for its very survival.
The Southern Empire's situation was nothing short of desperate. To the southeast, the Aserai had overrun vast stretches of border territory. To the northwest, the swift riders of the Khuzaits raided towns like a storm, even capturing key strongholds like Onira and Danustica. The nobles of the Southern Empire were locked in petty infighting, imperial soldiers were demoralized, and the front lines teetered on the brink of collapse.
When I arrived at Lycaron, one of the Southern Empire's military and political centers, the imperial officials and generals regarded me—an "outsider mercenary"—with suspicion and hostility.
"Who are you? A Swadian spy? Or a traitor working for our enemies?" An elderly nobleman eyed me coldly, his voice dripping with disdain.
I stepped forward and slammed a captured Western Empire banner onto the ground, sweeping my gaze across the room. "Who am I? I'm the one who took Lota Castle. My name is one you'll soon remember. I'm not here for gold or silver—I'm here to see the Southern Empire's banners fly over these occupied castles once more!"
Silence followed my words. Finally, a young commander's eyes flickered with interest. "What do you want?"
"Command. And an army that will follow my orders."
The Southern Empire's forces were in shambles. Many border soldiers didn't even have proper armor. I took charge of a battered unit of fewer than three hundred men and merged them with my own mercenaries. Discipline came first—I drilled the soldiers myself, imparting the lessons I'd learned on the Western Empire's battlefields.
Time was short. The Aserai and Khuzaits pressed their attacks relentlessly, and the Southern Empire's border castles fell one after another. I decided to start by retaking a lost fortress from the Khuzaits.
The enemy was the Khuzaits' light cavalry—masters of hit-and-run tactics and encirclement. But after capturing the castle, they had grown complacent. Leading my men in a night assault, I personally spearheaded the breach with elite infantry, wiping out the Khuzait garrison in a single strike. The castle's walls once again bore the Southern Empire's banner, and when the news reached Lycaron, the nobles who had doubted me finally fell silent.
"Boss, we've taken back our first castle. What's next?" my lieutenant asked, excitement written across his face.
I studied the map, my finger tracing the towns occupied by the Aserai. A cold smile tugged at my lips. "The Khuzaits love mobility? Then we'll take their cities and force them to scramble. The Aserai like to raid? Then we'll draw their main forces into battle and crush them outright."
Over the following weeks, I seized several Aserai supply towns in quick succession, stripping them of provisions before withdrawing, forcing the enemy to concentrate their forces for a counterattack. I had already laid an ambush—using the rugged terrain of mountains and forests to pick off the Aserai armies one by one.
In a pivotal battle, I led the Fianna Champions in ambushing a thousand-strong Aserai supply convoy. Lured into a narrow valley, the enemy was met with a deadly rain of arrows from both sides before my cavalry charged headlong into their ranks, annihilating them completely.
"The Southern Empire's banner still stands! This battle is ours!" I shouted from atop a mound of corpses.
A month later, the Southern Empire's borders finally knew a fragile peace. The Aserai had been pushed back to the edge of the desert, the Khuzaits had retreated deep into the steppes, and the empire's castles and villages slowly regained order.
The empire's generals began to see me as a hero of the south, while the common folk spread tales of me and my company in every alleyway—the "mercenary captain who doesn't sack cities," the "outsider who led the Southern Empire's counterattack."
But I knew this was only the beginning. As the evening breeze swept through the camp, I stared at the map of the Southern Empire, my eyes burning with resolve.
"Boss, what's the next move?" Yohn asked.
"The Southern Empire shouldn't just be defending," I said coldly. "Next, we retake Onira and Danustica."
"But we barely have a thousand men. They have entire armies."
"Their armies are just rabble. We—we are the blade."
The fires of war in the south had been lit. My conquest had only just begun.