The automatic door of the headquarters building slid open, and the bustle in the second-floor dining hall paused for half a second.
Most of the refugees were crowded by the windows, their eyes glued to the distant city walls, their fingertips unconsciously twisting the corners of their clothes. The shouts of the siege were like a block of ice, chilling them so much that they were still hunched over — although no sound had been heard for several hours, no one dared to relax.
Hawk's hand, gripping the window frame, was still trembling. Barry pressed his ear against the wall, as if he could hear the enemy's footsteps crawling up the bricks.
It wasn't until Lord Chen Yan's figure appeared at the top of the stairs that the air in the dining hall suddenly came alive.
"Lord Chen Yan!" someone shouted first, and then, sobs, whimpers, and suppressed cheers spread like a tide. The children jumped down from the sofa, stumbling towards the stairs, only to be pulled back by their parents, but still craned their necks, their eyes shining like stars.
Chen Yan smiled and waved, his smile warmer than the sunlight on the city walls. He didn't mention the scorched earth and blood on the battlefield, only saying, "It's alright now, everyone is safe."
This light, floating sentence was more effective than any vow. The old people helped each other up, some covering their faces and crying, others collapsing into chairs, their backs soaked with sweat.
"I knew it, Lord Chen Yan would definitely succeed!" Aila's voice came from behind the cooking station, with a hint of pride. She was standing on tiptoe, reaching for the control panel of the food processor. Her blue skirt was stained with some sauce, and her cheeks were flushed red from the heat. A plate of grilled sausages popped out of the serving counter next to her, and she skillfully picked it up, shaking it at Chen Yan, "We're having this tonight, I learned it new!"
Chen Yan walked over and patted her head. Looking at the scrolling recipes on the food processor screen, he suddenly felt that the cold data from the city walls had been softened by this lively atmosphere. "Not bad, you've mastered it."
"That's right!" Aila puffed out her chest and turned back to her work. "Sister Lina said you'd be hungry after the battle, so she told me to make extra portions."
Lina happened to be bringing tea over. Hearing this, the tips of her ears turned red, and she said softly, "Lord Chen Yan, have some tea to relieve your fatigue."
"Wait." Posses suddenly stepped forward, her golden hair shimmering in the dining hall lights. She grabbed Chen Yan's wrist, her tone more urgent than when she drew her bow during the siege, "Sign the alliance first."
Chen Yan stumbled from being pulled, and said with a wry smile, "I'm not going anywhere, what's the rush?" He pointed to the refugees peeking around, "This kind of thing needs a formal occasion. We can't just ink it in the dining hall like signing a contract of servitude, can we? It needs a sense of ceremony."
Posses pursed her lips, her fingertips tightening on his wrist. She suddenly mumbled, "Sense of ceremony… is it that important?"
"Of course." Chen Yan raised an eyebrow, "This is an alliance, not a game for children."
She froze for a moment, then slowly released his hand, her lips still pouting like a puppy whose food had been snatched. "Okay… then tomorrow morning, we'll sign it at the chiến dịch chỉ huy trung tâm."
"It's a deal." Chen Yan heaved a sigh of relief, then suddenly remembered something and turned to look at the Yellow Rose Knights. They were standing at the entrance of the dining hall, their eyes vacant, as if they had lost their souls.
"Oh, right, there are a few things I need to trouble you all with." Chen Yan slapped his thigh, an idea for a brilliant 'revenge' flashing through his mind.
Posses immediately became vigilant, "What do you want to do?"
"Don't worry, it won't be for free." Chen Yan pointed down the corridor, "The dormitories on the second floor will be lent to you for rest tonight. But you'll have to trouble yourselves to take turns guarding the prisoners of war."
The knights exchanged glances. Posses frowned, "Guarding?"
"To be precise, 'managing'." Chen Yan added. "Argo will operate at full capacity to produce medical robots and trauma medicine, but the wounded soldiers will surely be afraid of these metal contraptions. It will probably be better with you around. Try to get this done before dawn." He paused, then looked out the window again, "And those scattered warhorses, I'll have to trouble the other half of you to round them up. Argo will build a few simple carts, and they'll be sent to Italica tomorrow."
His words were clear and logical, with an unquestionable familiarity, as if he were assigning tasks to his own subordinates. The Yellow Rose Knights were stunned. Even Posses forgot to retort — she had never seen anyone explain 'ordering people around' so naturally, yet find no fault with it.
"…Alright." Posses finally nodded, tugged at her cape, and ordered the knights, "After dinner, split into two teams. One team goes with me to the dormitories, and the other goes to round up the horses. Rotate every 4 hours."
Chen Yan watched their neat departure and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Lina happened to hand him a cup of tea, the steam still puffing out. She asked softly, "Sir, what about us…"
"We can't go back to the camp for now." Chen Yan took the cup, his fingertips touching the warm porcelain. "We'll stay here for the time being, and we'll talk about it after things settle down."
In the dining hall, Aila was distributing grilled sausages onto the children's plates, her laughter as crisp as wind chimes. The refugees finally dared to speak loudly, some discussing how to divide the rooms, others wanting to go to the bathhouse. Chen Yan leaned against the cooking station, watching the lively scene, and suddenly felt that the smell of blood from the city walls wasn't so heavy anymore.
Night fell like lead-infused velvet, pressing down on the steel frame of the fortress. The automatic factory at the base was still brightly lit, working overtime to produce the goods Chen Yan requested. Although dozens of people lived in the headquarters building, it was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the noisy factory.
In the second-floor dormitory area, the Yellow Rose Knights, having shed their armor, collapsed onto the beds without even taking off their boots. The metal armor was discarded haphazardly like unwanted children. Sounds of breathing rose and fell — heavy, tired, and suppressed sobs. The youngest knight curled into a ball clutching a pillow, the sound of laser beams burning on the battlefield clinging to her like a persistent wound, repeatedly exploding in her dreams. They hadn't slept for nearly twenty-four hours, from the forced march to Italica to the mental shock of witnessing the battle from the city walls. Their nerves had been stretched taut like a bowstring about to snap. Now that they touched the soft mattress, they even discarded their maidenly reserve, sleeping deeply without washing their faces. Their breathing soon evened out, revealing the fragility of girls when their defenses were down.
But a different kind of heat permeated the bathhouse. The water purification plant was already in operation, and hot water poured down from the showerheads, washing away the dust and grime from the refugees' bodies. Lina, Aila, and a few other young women, wrapped in towels, were washing the children's hair. Water splashed onto the tiles, reflecting their harmonious shadows. The elderly soaked in the warm pools, their hunched backs straightening, a rare look of rahat in their cloudy eyes. Barry and Hawk rubbed each other's backs, then stared at themselves in the mirror — it seemed like a long time since they had looked so refreshed. The steam, carrying the faint scent of soap, wafted out of the bathhouse, filling even the corridor with a gentle warmth.
The command center was as dark as if it couldn't afford to pay the electricity bill. Chen Yan sank into his swivel chair, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of the holographic map, where streaks of battle red still lingered. The corpses scattered on the ground weighed on his heart like a giant boulder — armor melted by lasers, remnants shattered by plasma cannons, these things couldn't just rot in the wilderness. In the heat, epidemics would break out within two days, not to mention the scattered weapons and armor, all potential hazards.
"The medical robot production line has been activated, and it is expected to complete all production tasks in three hours." Argo's sub-unit hovered over his shoulder, its optical lens reflecting the red on the map. "What are you thinking about again?"
Chen Yan came back to himself, rubbing his dry eyes. "Additional production. It can be multi-legged walking robots, capable of carrying at least half a ton, with flexible mechanical arms."
"Purpose?"
"Moving corpses." Chen Yan's voice was very low. "Also, send your main body out to dig a pit in a low-lying area far from the refugee camp."
"To bury the bodies?" Argo's electronic voice showed a rare hesitation.
"No, it's an incineration pit." Chen Yan denied, his fingertip tapping heavily on the map. "Dig five meters deep and twenty meters in diameter."
The sub-unit's lens flickered. "Do you need such a large scale?"
"The wars in the future will only get bigger." Chen Yan looked at the night sky outside the window, the factory lights even illuminating the clouds. "This time it's fifteen thousand, next time it will be a hundred thousand. We need to be prepared in advance." He paused and added, "In this era, war casualties are buried on the spot, some are even left in the wilderness unattended, letting plagues spread. Relatives won't come to collect their family members' bodies. Burning them completely is the safest."
Argo was silent for a few seconds, its optical lens turning to him. "Command confirmed. Incineration pit construction begins, multi-legged robots added to the production sequence."
"Mm." Chen Yan responded and leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to the holographic map. Most of the green dots representing the Yellow Rose Knights were concentrated in the dormitory area, with only a few still lit at the temporary POW holding areas.
"Oh, right," he suddenly said, "If the Yellow Rose Knights can't hold on, pull them back. No need to force it."
"The guard of the prisoners of war…"
"As for the wounded soldiers," Chen Yan closed his eyes, his voice laced with fatigue, "let them fend for themselves."
"Understood."
The command center fell silent again, only his rapid heartbeat audible. Chen Yan pinched his brow, recalling Aila's smiling face holding the grilled sausages in the dining hall, Lina's red ear tips when offering tea, and Posses pouting and asking, "Is the sense of ceremony really that important?" These vivid images overlapped with the scorched corpses on the battlefield in his mind.
He had to hold on. At least, he had to let these people have a good night's sleep.
Chen Yan sat up straight and said, "Argo, add a task to the multi-legged robots — metal recovery. Armor, weapons, any iron products, melt them down if possible, don't waste."
"Your mental burden is too heavy. You should go rest."
"Of course, everything is arranged. I'll go now." He stood up, his swivel chair making a light sound on the floor. "I suggest you rest at least until dawn."
Chen Yan didn't look back, just waved his hand and walked towards the second-floor dormitory. All the lights in the command center went out, leaving only the holographic map illuminated, like a miniature starry sky, reflecting his tired but still straight figure.
***
Tonight, Italica was as silent as death. The soldiers guarding the city shivered by the braziers. It was early summer, and they shouldn't have been shivering like this, but facing the Empire's oppressive taxation, everyone was bound to be afraid.
Under the night sky, ten swift horses galloped towards the city. The soldiers shivered when they heard the hoofbeats, but since the number was small, they couldn't possibly be an attacking force. Only then did he poke his head out from the battlements to see who was coming.
"Quick, open the gate! We are the Yellow Rose team!" The leading knight displayed her armor, intricately engraved with the crest of the knight order. The soldier remembered that Posses had led twenty riders out of the city on a mission last night, so why were only ten returning?
"Why are only you back? Where is the lady?"
"The lady ordered us to return and report the military situation to the Count. Open the gate quickly, or you'll be held responsible for missing the crucial moment!" Routine questioning was the duty of the city guards, and no one could fault them for it. If they let spies in, they would lose their heads.
The city gate's drawbridge had just been lowered when ten swift horses charged in under the cover of night. Their horseshoe nails struck the stone pavement, making a rapid 'clatter' sound and startling the night birds perched on the eaves.
The Yellow Rose Knights headed straight for the Count's Castle. No one dared to stop them along the way. Even when they reached the castle gate, the guards quickly let them pass. They dismounted in front of the main entrance. The foremost knight removed her helmet, revealing hair soaked with sweat, her voice hoarse as if rubbed with sandpaper. "Notify His Lordship the Count! We have important military intelligence!"
The candlelight in the council hall crackled as the wind blew. Count Fomarth Oleks tapped the hilt of his sword at his waist, looking at the dust-covered knights. A map was still spread on the long table, with Casper and Lainas seated on either side. The faces of the retainers flickered in the dancing firelight.
"Speak, tell us everything in detail." Oleks's voice was low, with an unquestionable dignity. The knight took a deep breath, her hoarse voice seeming to pour out all the shock she had witnessed during the day. "We followed the lady and found the camp mentioned by the refugees at dawn, but there was no one there."
"Why is that?" Oleks frowned. "Did something happen to those people?"
"It wasn't something that happened, they moved to a new camp. That camp is protected by stone walls, and they live in iron houses with strict defenses. Ordinary thieves cannot get in."
"Oh? To build stone walls and iron houses in just two days, just as the refugees described." Oleks stroked his beard. If his own knights said so, it was likely true.
"It's not just the camp, a fortress has been built on the hill. The city walls are white. We saw the legendary Iron Giants, rows of windmills, and iron workshops that work by themselves without people, as if some invisible force is driving them."
"Nonsense!" the red-faced cavalry captain Bruno slammed the table. "What madness are you spouting! Where are iron workshops that can work without human labor?"
"It's true!" another knight raised his voice in agitation, his face flushed with excitement. "We saw it with our own eyes! There wasn't a single soldier visible at that fortress. That man named Chen Yan even gave us a tour. There really wasn't anyone to be seen."
"Is this true?" the old retainer stroked his beard, a flicker of suspicion in his cloudy eyes.
"Absolutely true! I can guarantee it with my life."
The council hall instantly erupted in an uproar.
"It's divine intervention!" A young retainer clenched his fist, his eyes shining. "The Imperial Army massacred Karelia, and the gods have sent him to save Valentia!"
"Save? I think it's another trouble!" Centurion Heinrich sneered, his hand on his sword hilt. "A fortress of unknown origin, moving Iron Giants, and that man who appeared out of nowhere… Who knows if he's an Imperial spy, using sorcery to deceive Miss Posses?"
The two factions argued endlessly, the candlelight casting flickering shadows on their faces, like a pack of wild, clawing specters. Oleks listened silently, his knuckles tapping rhythmically on the edge of the map.
He remembered the ring his daughter had given him before she left — it was the Fomarth family's token, representing the authority of a Regent Lord. Posses was not a reckless child. The strength that made her choose to stay could not be as simple as 'sorcery'.
"Enough." Oleks suddenly spoke, and the uproar in the council hall instantly fell silent, like a snapped string. He looked up at everyone, the beast patterns on his pauldrons seeming to writhe in the firelight. "Whether he is a divine soldier or a threat, if he can withstand the Empire's vanguard, it proves he is stronger than all our current forces."
The retainers exchanged glances; no one spoke against him. The shadow of Karelia's fall still hung over everyone's hearts, and the Empire's iron fist was drawing closer to Italica. They desperately needed a straw of salvation.
Oleks asked again, "Is that all you have to say?"
"Replying to His Lordship, the man named Chen Yan discovered Imperial scouts. He ordered Miss to have us return first. Miss refused, intending to witness the fortress's strength with her own eyes. Therefore, she sent us back to report. They should be fighting by now."
The hall buzzed with renewed commotion. Oleks's heart tightened, but he didn't show it on his face. "Is that so? You've worked hard. You may go and rest."
"Thank you, Your Lordship." The Yellow Rose Knights withdrew from the council hall. Oleks's gaze swept around, then fell on his eldest son, Casper. The nineteen-year-old young man was frowning, clearly still processing the astonishing news. "Father," Casper suddenly spoke, his voice steady, "should I go? Firstly, to inquire about how the battle is going, and secondly, to investigate that man's background, to see who he really is, and what his character is like…"
"Character?" Oleks's fingertip paused at the location of Mount Olympus on the map. He suddenly remembered something, and a complex light flashed in his eyes — perhaps there was a more solid way to 'ally' than a 'treaty under the city walls'.
Marriage alliance.
This thought ignited in his heart like a spark. Posses was the most outstanding daughter of the Fomarth family, skilled in military strategy and with noble status. If she could marry Chen Yan, this mysterious power could be firmly bound to Italica's war chariot.
But he couldn't go personally. As the lord, he was the backbone of Italica. As long as the flag on the city gate still fluttered, the people would have confidence. If he left, the morale of the army and the people would inevitably waver, even collapse, and the entire city would fall into chaos.
"Good!" Oleks made the decision, his eyes as sharp as an eagle's. "Go under the guise of visiting your sister. Remember, watch more, listen more, speak less. Find out what he needs, what he cares about, and…" He paused, lowering his voice even further, "See his attitude towards Posses."
Casper blinked, then understood his father's hidden meaning. He bowed solemnly, "Your son understands."
The wind outside the council hall rustled the grass leaves, making a moaning sound. Oleks looked at the dark night sky outside the window, knowing clearly how risky this move was. Chen Yan was like an unsheathed sword, capable of cleaving through the Empire's iron torrent, but also capable of harming himself. But at this moment, reinforcements were delayed, and Italica's walls couldn't withstand the Empire's battering ram. He had no choice.
"Depart tomorrow morning." Oleks waved his hand, leaning back in his chair wearily. "Take your personal guards and the remaining Yellow Rose Knights. They might be useful."
Casper took his orders and retreated. The candlelight in the council hall still flickered, illuminating the anxious and expectant faces of the retainers.