As evening fell and the Tara army fully entered County Hillock, cheers and celebrations erupted throughout the Tara communities. The streets came alive as Tara civilians poured out in spontaneous celebration, welcoming the Tara nobles who had finally granted them freedom. Laughter, singing, and relief filled the air, turning long-suppressed resentment into cathartic joy.
In stark contrast, the Victorian district was gripped by despair.
The last remnants of the Victorian noble army were gathered at the final defensive passage, led by Colonel Hamilton. He was covered in dust, his arm broken and crudely bound to his chest. His most trusted adjutant, Hill, was nowhere to be found, almost certainly lost in the chaos of the battlefield.
Hamilton now commanded barely two hundred men. When the nobles began abandoning the front lines one after another, he had led his troops in a desperate breakout through the Tara army. Nearly a thousand loyal Victorian soldiers had followed him at the start. Fewer than one-fifth remained.
And even those survivors were wounded, exhausted, and barely able to stand, let alone fight.
"Colonel, which way should we go?"
With Hill gone, Hamilton no longer had anyone he could rely on. The ranks were in disarray. Seeing the confusion and fear in his soldiers' eyes, he turned his gaze toward another city gate.
"The nobles have suffered a crushing defeat," Hamilton said slowly. "As the garrison of County Hillock, we've done everything we could. We'll withdraw through the North Gate and return to Londi…"
His voice trailed off.
Return to where, exactly?
Londinium would not welcome a defeated colonel leading a shattered force. His superiors had no shortage of loyal officers, nor any need for a broken man with a ruined army. If he returned like this, who would respect him? Who would protect him? Who would even care whether he lived or died?
In this world, those who sought to climb higher valued dignity and self-respect above all else.
And he had lost both.
Even if he returned to Londinium, what awaited him? To stand against the Sarkaz of the Military Commission, draw attention to himself, and die a meaningless, brutal death?
"Colonel?"
Hamilton snapped back to reality. At the very least, he would not die here. There was no better option left. Surrendering to the Tara nobles might seem reasonable, but he had already offended the Tara community of County Hillock beyond repair. Even if surrender brought temporary mercy, retribution would surely follow once the dust settled.
For the sake of public sentiment, his head would likely be offered to appease the anger of the Tara people.
Thinking of this, Hamilton could only conclude that Baron Bolton's choice was foolish. A noble who had long suppressed the Tara people and kept them mired in suffering would never be forgiven so easily.
"Evacuate through the North Gate," Hamilton ordered coldly. "Leave County Hillock immediately."
"Yes, Colonel. What about the civilians in the Victoria district?"
"Do we have time to worry about them now?" Hamilton swallowed his guilt and continued, his voice hard. "County Hillock has already fallen. Our only task is to preserve our lives and report the occupation to the nobles in Londinium."
He paused, then added, "That is our duty. We are messengers now."
The remaining Victorian garrison rushed toward the North Gate, where Baron Bolton's noble soldiers were already stationed. The two sides clashed almost instantly, but the gate guards were no match for trained regular troops. After only a few exchanges, they were disarmed and forced to their knees, begging for mercy.
Colonel Hamilton did not even spare them a glance. These men had switched sides the moment their master hesitated. They were not worth a single word.
Soon after, nearly a hundred figures vanished beyond the North Gate.
With their departure, all organized resistance in County Hillock collapsed.
The Tara army advanced from the Tara districts, crushed the remaining pockets of resistance from the Victoria Mounted Police, swept through the Victorian quarter, and finally secured complete control over County Hillock.
The day before, the Victorian aristocracy had confidently assured their people that County Hillock would never fall. Many Victorians believed them and waited anxiously in their homes for good news.
What arrived instead were not messengers in noble livery, but sharpened blades and cold steel.
Dozens of well-dressed Victorians were dragged screaming into the streets, their cries growing hoarse as they were hauled toward the border between the Victorian and Tara districts. There, Tara residents stood watching with burning hatred in their eyes, waiting for the next target of their fury.
"These are the Victorian merchants who planned the bombings!" a Tara soldier shouted. "They hoarded our food, drove prices beyond our reach, and left our children starving at home. And even that wasn't enough for them!"
"They stuffed bombs into food bags and handed them out to us during the chaos," he continued, his voice shaking with rage. "What do you think their intentions were?"
"This is retribution for what you did to us Tara people!"
The shout detonated like a spark in dry tinder. Righteous fury swept through the Tara residents as they bent down, grabbed stones, and hurled them at the dozens of figures slumped on the ground.
"I…I didn't make the bombs!"
"I never resold grain!"
"Waaah, I'm innocent!"
Their cries barely lasted a moment. Tara soldiers cracked their whips, the sharp sounds cutting through the air as the victims scattered in terror, their pleas dissolving into hoarse screams.
"Fellow villagers," a Tara soldier declared loudly, "these criminals are now in your hands. From this moment on, there will be no Victoria Community in County Hillock. Only the Tara Community remains!"
"Oh oh oh oh oh!"
The Tara people surged forward in a frenzy. Fists, feet, and bodies crashed down mercilessly. Eyes reddened with rage, they grew more savage at the sight of blood. Some even lunged forward to bite, abandoning all restraint.
After finishing the public execution at the border of the Victoria District, the Tara soldiers exchanged glances and turned away, marching deeper into the district.
"Here."
"Lord Warwick specifically mentioned this place. If I remember correctly, Tomorrow's Developments have a branch here."
"What were Lord Warwick's orders?"
"Check whether anyone is still stationed here," the soldier replied. "If anyone is present, invite the branch manager to speak with Earl Warwick in his tent. If no one's here, report back directly."
As they spoke, the group arrived at the branch. A soldier knocked on the door. There was no response. He tried the handle and found it locked. Peering through the window, he saw only empty rooms.
"Looks like this place has been abandoned for quite some time. Not surprising."
The soldiers shrugged and headed back toward the Tara district to report. A few peeled off toward other streets, clearly intending to hunt down more Victorian scapegoats to vent the residents' anger and further cement their authority.
___
County Hillock Sewers, Safe House.
Hellagur calmly counted heads. The operators scheduled for deployment had split into smaller groups and dispersed throughout the underground waterways. Discovery was only a matter of time, but for now, they still had a narrow window to evacuate before being driven out by the Tara army.
The fall of County Hillock had been far too swift. Clever had predicted this outcome, but only under the assumption that a traitor existed among the Victorian nobility. It seemed that prediction had been accurate after all, though Hellagur had never seriously considered it.
That also meant the transport aircraft meant to extract them was still en route and would not arrive anytime soon.
With all members of the Tempest Platoon still gathered within Tomorrow's Developments, Hellagur made the decisive call to abandon the base and evacuate immediately.
Through the monitoring feeds, he watched the city descend into horror. Tara residents rioted through the streets. Victorians were dragged from their homes, beaten, humiliated, and killed. This was no disciplined army, no orderly occupation. It was pure vengeance.
The Tara soldiers merely poured oil onto an already raging fire, stoking it higher.
"…The call has connected."
When Felix's image appeared, Hellagur realized he had unconsciously let out a breath of relief. Just seeing the man before him made it feel as though the chaos ahead might still be resolved.
"Your Highness," Hellagur reported, bowing slightly. "County Hillock has fallen. The Victorians are now the targets of mass reprisals by the Tara people. The city is in complete chaos. Fortunately, all operators scheduled for deployment are safe."
He stepped aside, revealing Horn and Bagpipe behind him. This was their first time meeting the leader of Tomorrow's Development, the King of Liberation, and a Sarkaz King of Kazdel.
Horn's eyes gleamed. Bagpipe raised an eyebrow, an unconscious smile tugging at her lips. On the luminous blue screen before them sat a young man crowned by a faint golden halo. His posture was relaxed rather than rigid, yet every movement conveyed attentiveness, as if nothing spoken before him could escape his notice.
Horn felt a powerful urge rise in her chest. Before her sat a king. Every instinct screamed for her to kneel and swear loyalty. Bagpipe felt it too, though her thoughts wandered differently. She wanted to talk to him, to share her past, and then… maybe farm together.
"Horn, Bagpipe," the King said calmly, "Hellagur has told me about you. As members of the Victoria Tempest Platoon, you've endured repeated setbacks. Being a soldier is never an easy path."
He paused briefly.
"Until the Tempest Platoon recovers and the situation in Victoria becomes clear, Tomorrow's Development will offer you its protection."
"Thank you for your generosity… Your Majesty."
Horn placed a hand over her chest. The words felt unfamiliar on her tongue, something she had not spoken in a long time. Though she was the captain of the Tempest Platoon, she had never once found a king she believed truly worthy of her loyalty.
After Horn and Bagpipe fell silent, Talulah stepped forward.
Her eyes were clouded with confusion. "Your Highness, who is Eblana?"
"You've met her?"
"Yes. We've already fought."
"What do you think of her abilities?"
Talulah glanced at the composed Hellagur beside her, then at Horn and Bagpipe, who seemed uncertain whether they should remain.
"Horn and Bagpipe are the captain and members of the Victoria Tempest Platoon," Felix said. "This information is enough to influence Victoria's future. Under these circumstances, I think it's necessary to share it."
Hearing this, Horn and Bagpipe bowed once more.
Talulah fell silent. It seemed she had misunderstood. Felix had intended for them to stay and listen from the start. Otherwise, he would have dismissed them already. In fact, guided by a commander's intuition, Talulah suspected that Felix intended to draw them to his side.
"Eblana… she isn't weak, but she isn't overwhelmingly strong either," Talulah said after a moment of thought. "Her primal flames are quite unusual. She can manipulate the dead and make them fight for her. Aside from that, her control over Art surpasses mine."
"In other words," Felix said calmly, "in terms of direct combat, you are capable of defeating her, Talulah."
"Yes."
Talulah admitted it without hesitation, then frowned. "But I've never heard of a Draco existing in Victoria."
"What? Draco?"
The one who cried out was not Talulah, but Bagpipe. Her round eyes widened in shock. "You mean… a Draco?"
Talulah glanced at her in confusion. "Dracos are just a rare race. I'm a Draco as well. It's not that big of a deal, is it?"
"You're a Draco too?" Bagpipe exclaimed again.
Hellagur smiled helplessly. Talulah clearly knew very little about Victoria's history.
"Only Draco and Aslan are eligible to become kings of Victoria. This is the law of the land," Felix said evenly. "In other words, Talulah, you are now qualified to compete for the throne."
Talulah pressed her lips together. "The King of Victoria… Londinium has already fallen to the Military Commission. Victoria and Tara are in chaos. Even the infighting among the Victorian nobles is exhausting to watch. How could I possibly take on such a thankless and arduous role?"
Horn's expression grew complicated, words failing her. The king's death back then was still shrouded in mystery. Not to mention that a few years ago, the Victoria Steam Knight vanished after entering Londinium, almost certainly slain by the Military Commission.
"What else did Eblana say to you?" Felix asked.
"She invited me to participate for the throne of Victoria."
"Whether or not you wish to be king, responsibility will still find you. You cannot escape it," Felix replied calmly. "After you return, I will convene a strategic meeting concerning Victoria's future. Talulah, you will attend."
"…Alright. I'll take part."
A headache began to form behind Talulah's eyes. She had already concluded that she was better suited to be a general than a queen. So why had things turned out like this? Did she really have to become a queen now? What kind of logic was that?