Chapter 133
Chapter 133 — Wave
Volga was born and raised in Bamba Village. The land of central Astria was fertile, but the lord of Engalia had no mercy.
Land was taxed, and heads were counted for a poll tax. Crossing a bridge required a toll, and every household paid a residence tax. Even inheritance, marriage, and exemptions from military service cost money. It was the reason people died of starvation every year when the 'hungry spring' arrived.
But thanks to that, there were things he had seen and learned from.
-You're going to clear the lord's land?
-Have you lost your mind! It'll only be taken from you in the end!
While his father settled for the status quo, a man living on the outskirts of the village—Dortan—took a gamble. He broke new ground on abandoned land in exchange for a tax reduction.
The villagers mocked him, but before two years had passed, results emerged. Though burdened with debt, he did not starve to death like the others. He grew wealthier in proportion to the sweat he shed.
And at present, the Mountain Rabbits stood in that very same position.
"Bring everything to me."
"……You mean the promissory notes, sir?"
"That's right. Whether they belong to Marquis Ashapel, Count Lugar, or Duke Akron—it doesn't matter. Buy them at a premium."
He purchased everything that existed.
Where did the funds come from?
"I'll transfer the rights to the southern Astria territory. There's no better place to source grain."
"But that's far too distant……."
"Then just knock the price down accordingly. Don't like it?"
"……."
Volga sold off the rights to southern Astria and southeastern Niboria as though they were his own to sell.
'They say they'll send us supplies, but crossing the continent lengthwise—how much of it will actually arrive?'
In his mind, this was like a waterway. Something that simply existed—and yet the lord of Engalia had levied a watermill usage fee. Then the Mountain Rabbits could sell it too. He drew lines on a map and distributed the rights to distribute grain and supplies among the merchants.
'Problems may arise later…… But right now, restoring our supplies comes first. The rate of consumption is too fast—we have to keep filling it back up somehow.'
Volga faltered several times, but he never fully stopped.
What was even more astonishing, however, was that the other side accepted it. The majority of the merchants believed Volga's proposal and sold their notes.
'He is Ashapel. If not him, who else could claim that right?'
Because a single statement had explained far too much.
"He built the Alliance Forces with his own hands and stood in the way of Emperor Caracal's ambitions. Someone like that couldn't have moved simply to save the empire."
"Quite right, indeed. Even Count Bermak of the southeast bowed his head. There must be something to it."
"And the Silver Shield Legion has joined too!"
They called Calix a hero—but they did not call him a good person. Being merely good was not enough to rise to the top.
Above all, no more perfect reason existed than this.
"He has claimed the rightful authority over this land!"
"Calix Ashapel intends to repay the debts and grievances of the founding patriarch, Ashapel Raimund!"
Who would be the one to sit upon the throne?
No one dared say it aloud, but everyone shared the same thought.
"……So—is this actually possible?"
Actions came faster than answers. The empire's war merchants flocked to the Mountain Rabbits' camp, and Volga pressed his seal without rest.
Though he might not fully understand the weight of it all, he sensed instinctively that it was the right direction—and pressed forward without hesitation.
Commercial Instinct.
It was a gift that transcended intuition. The power to read the flow, and to conjure a great wave of one's own making.
This, above all else, was the ultimate talent that the man called Volga possessed.
* * *
It took Count Lugar less than a week to realize something had gone terribly wrong.
"Rationed supplies? We haven't even taken the field yet—what is the meaning of this!"
"The merchants are refusing to trade. Only a few small traders are willing; the major merchant guilds are using their contracts with the Mountain Rabbits as a pretext to—"
"You call that an excuse! Have that man executed!"
"M-My lord!"
The head of the supply officer flew, the price for provoking his fury.
And for good reason—logistics were everything in war. It was precisely why the Niboria Empire had never been able to deploy more than thirty thousand troops in its war against the Astria Kingdom.
Without armor, weapons, food and water, victory was a distant dream. If even the central army faced such constraints, then an army assembled from various nobles would have supply lines in utter disarray.
"Ha—the provisions are already running dry."
Tens of thousands of troops devoured enormous quantities of grain. To make matters worse, problems arose along the transport routes as well.
"Kill them all! That's all money right there!"
"Ahaha!"
Men implanted with Neural Accelerators were sent to the front lines. Inevitably, the rear was left hollow, and supply convoys became targets for bandit raids.
Some among them, of course, acted on someone else's orders.
"As promised, I killed all the soldiers."
"Mm, then let's just overturn a couple of the wagons. We need to leave traces."
Once the direction was set, the war merchants didn't hesitate to change their masks. They set out from the western empire and headed into the Mountain Rabbits' camp. They still had to keep up appearances with the nobles, so they used soldiers who had come bearing nothing but a single spear as their scapegoats.
"To think he'd resort to such lowly scheming……."
Count Lugar gnashed his teeth upon belatedly grasping the situation, but the real problem lay elsewhere.
"Calix Ashapel has claimed Niboria's rights? He's lost his mind playing the hero."
At first, it was merely an object of ridicule.
'This actually works out. He's overplayed his hand. Replacing the emperor doesn't end it. Is it because he's young? He's still inexperienced at handling power.'
And then, immediately after, Count Lugar's expression transformed upon hearing the courier's report.
"He's been buying up promissory notes? Are you certain?"
"We have confirmed it multiple times. It appears he is indiscriminately accumulating notes issued by the nobles."
"……."
He worked his fingers in silence. His gaze had hardened and fixed on a single point on the table, motionless. The Mountain Rabbits' intent was all too clear.
'This is not for the money. He intends to use the notes as a pretext to settle accounts with the nobles—and as a foothold to draw up a new board after the war. In other words, this is…….'
And so, in this moment, he felt fear.
"A threat. He's placed a noose around my neck and is pressing me to kneel."
The opponent he had dismissed had, in turn, cast a net over him. He was being reminded that time was running short—and being pressured politically.
By any measure, it was difficult to believe this was the work of a young man barely past twenty.
"My lord, we must join forces with other factions and make our voices heard. Monopolizing resources like this—it is simply unacceptable."
His subordinate commanders offered their opinions, but it was meaningless.
"And who exactly would we join hands with?"
"Why, that would be Duke Akron, or……."
"Fools, the lot of you—do you think the Mountain Rabbits will sit still in the meantime? Duke Akron will be satisfied with a guarantee of rights in the north. He'd sooner bow and submit than antagonize them."
The board had already shifted.
The only option remaining was Marquis Ashapel.
But—
"He is quicker than a fox and as greedy as a viper. The Mountain Rabbits raised the Ashapel name, did they not? That alone is reason enough to fall into step for a time."
All at once, a chill ran down Count Lugar's spine. Once the soldiers began suffering from hunger, it was only a matter of time before those blades turned on him.
In contrast, the Mountain Rabbits had become the ones giving out supplies.
'Calix—that young bastard is trying to grip the entire empire in his hand and shake it. The problem is that he may actually be able to do it.'
Completely and thoroughly outmaneuvered. Now the only thing left for him was to struggle within the confines of the cage he'd been placed in.
* * *
At that same hour, inside the Mountain Rabbits' camp.
The dwarf Basim watched the procession of wagons and delivered a short verdict.
"Just die. Go ahead and drop dead."
"……."
Regrettably, the disciple had no energy to respond to his master. Volga was face-down on the ground, retracing where he had gone wrong.
"M-Master."
"So you've finally got the strength to speak. Right then—what on earth possessed you to cause all this commotion?"
"I honestly don't know. Didn't it turn out well in the end?"
"……Who exactly made a vow with this little shit? Might as well kill them both while we're at it."
Basim reached for the handle of his axe, and Zahira stepped forward to calmly talk him down. It looked like a scene of someone being held accountable for their mistakes—but in truth, everyone already knew. If Volga had made any error, it was only that he had acted without consulting his comrades.
And that, in turn, was also a shortcoming of Royce himself.
"That's enough. This is not Volga's fault. I simply failed to pay attention at the right time."
The Captain intervened, and Basim read the mood around him and stepped back. Volga murmured apologies endlessly, but Royce assessed the situation practically.
'It's because the Mountain Rabbits have grown too large.'
In the past, when they traveled through the Elvra Holy Empire, it had never been an issue. With barely a hundred combatants, any misstep could be corrected on the spot.
But now, the circumstances had changed.
"What in the world—wagons just keep pouring in one after another."
"The other side is an absolute mess too. It's deafeningly loud over here."
A few words had set off a storm. Couriers came and went in ceaseless succession from the three noble factions, and roughly half of them had been dispatched to the Mountain Rabbits.
The messages were complex, but in short, they were pleas of 'please, negotiate with us'.
'I'd rather draw a sword than deal with political calculations—this is giving me a headache.'
Royce quietly reflected, pressing his fingers to his temple. And yet, there was also someone whose eyes were sparkling with life.
It was Adrian Deconti.
"Not bad, is it?"
"……If you're here to mock me, get lost."
"No, I mean it sincerely. I heard you even sold off the land rights in the center of Niboria's capital? No wonder the merchants' eyes went wide. It's almost as if you extracted a promise from the next emperor himself."
Volga stared back with an uncertain expression, but the Prince of Latia admired it wholeheartedly.
"Good lord, I had no idea you had this kind of ability. How on earth did you come up with such an insane idea?"
"Well, they said anything can be sold if you try……."
"So you laid out a map of the entire empire, and sold off even the parts that weren't visible on it?"
"……It's still not more than we can manage."
"Aah, this fellow—I'm not criticizing you, you know."
Adrian patted his shoulder and flashed a bright smile. To think that 'Fortune' had pointed to Volga. He never could have imagined it.
In any case, thanks to him, the lock had been broken.
At that, Calix too offered a faint smile and touched on the same point.
"That's right, Volga. The fact that your actions led to a good outcome is true."
"……Calix, I'm sorry. I got all worked up like an idiot and—"
"Let's not revisit what's already passed. What matters is what comes next."
He gazed beyond the ridge, toward the encampments of the three factions, and continued.
"The plan hasn't fallen apart. We've simply lost some of the waiting time."
The justification lay with the Mountain Rabbits. The high nobles would not dare raise their blades, and even if they did try to stab them in the back, it wouldn't matter.
'The moment they choose to attack, I will crush them without mercy.'
The rules had been set. The choice now belonged to the other side.
* * *
"Calix!"
A few days later, Hadiya returned from scouting and delivered news from outside. Her warhorse let out ragged breaths, for she had ridden without rest.
"The capital's defensive line has completely collapsed. Commander Dakar Raihe was killed in action—the remaining troops have withdrawn inside the walls and are preparing for a last stand."
In other words, the safety of Niboria's capital, Cardium, was now hanging by a thread. It had already been eight days since the Mountain Rabbits had set up their encampment at a nearby fortress and held their ground.
Calix met his comrades' eyes one by one, and then fixed his gaze far off—toward a single direction—before opening his mouth.
"We should start preparing to move."
A familiar presence came into view.
One was violet—Marik's energy, having reached the rank of Upper-Rank Swordsman, seeped through the gaps in the sunlight. Clustered around him were several others of comparable standing.
But a white radiance—brilliant threads of light—swallowed them all whole.
Royce could not see it with his eyes, but he felt its distinctive aura.
"Yes—he has come."
At last, the Empire's Master—Imran Akran—had arrived.