10：According to Plan
The Silvermoon Kingdom, Royal Capital.
Inside the tactical conference room of the Central Military Command. A velvet cloth draped over a long mahogany table, the air thick with the scent of expensive incense.
The Kingdom's two main factions—the Conservatives and the Militants—were locked in a heated standoff over the latest battle report from Storm Rift.
Smack.
A palm adorned with a ruby ring slammed heavily onto the table.
"Execute her! She must be arrested immediately!" roared the Minister of Military Affairs, Duke Fernando.
He pointed a trembling finger at the urgent dispatch on the table."What kind of behavior is this from Leona? Defying the highest orders to hold the fort, mobilizing troops out of the city without authorization! If she had lost, the Empire's borders would have been blown wide open!"
Sitting across from him, Rodman, a retired veteran general from the front lines, gave a cold snort.
"But she didn't lose."
Rodman picked up the spoils of war manifest, shaking it until the parchment rattled loudly."Two thousand orc heads. A warlord from the Blackstone Warband severely crippled. She even brought back their war banner!"
"Fernando, your regular legions consume nearly half of this nation's tax revenue, yet they haven't achieved this kind of victory in a decade."
Duke Fernando's face turned the color of bruised liver."Rodman! This isn't about the results! It's about the rules!"
"A commander who crawled up from the absolute bottom, completely ignoring the orders of the Noble Council and the Military Command! If everyone follows her example—thinking their wings are fully grown just because of a little merit—who will ever listen to us?"
Fernando swept his gaze over the silent nobles, delivering his most venomous argument:"Today, she defies a royal decree to kill orcs. Tomorrow, for the sake of military pay and territory, who's to say she won't turn that very army around and march on the Capital?"
The conference room fell dead silent.
The VIP sitting at the head of the table finally raised his head. He was the Regent of the Kingdom, the man who held the ultimate authority at this long table.
The Regent picked up Leona's personnel file.
[Slum Orphan]. [No Surname]. [Regularly distributes her own pay to subordinates]. [Repeatedly clashes with quartermasters over death benefits].
And most notably, the final remark from the Intelligence Department:[Deeply beloved by her soldiers, her current popularity is extremely high].
The Regent closed the file.
"A warlord amassing private power, " he concluded, setting the official narrative. He had no need for a disobedient, commoner god of war.
The old general, Rodman, opened his mouth, trying to salvage the situation."But such talent is rare—"
The Regent raised a hand to stop him."Rodman, military orders cannot be trampled upon, or the nation ceases to be a nation."
"Executing Leona would cause a mutiny among the border army and tarnish the Royal Family's reputation. General Rodman's proposal is approved, rewarding her is the proper course of action."
The Regent signed his name on a dismissal document, his tone completely flat."Not only will we reward her, but we will do it with great fanfare."
"Bestow upon her honors and elevate her peerage by one rank."
"Issue the decree: Leona's body is fatigued, and she is no longer suited for that bitter, cold frontier. She is to be transferred to the Capital. Effective immediately, she will serve as the Captain-General of the Royal Ceremonial Guard."
From a frontier warlord holding real power to a ceremonial gatekeeper for the King.
Duke Fernando revealed a sinister smile. This was killing with a soft blade.
Furthermore, Leona's beauty was absolutely breathtaking. The only reason no one dared lay a finger on her was her military might. But once she was transferred to the Royal Capital, it would be much easier to make a move.
Meanwhile, at the Storm Rift Fortress.
Inside the Commander's office, a red communication array buzzed and vibrated. A purple magical light screen floated into the air.
On the other side of the projection was a Military Command envoy with a handlebar mustache, standing against the backdrop of a warm, bright fireplace.
Leona and Soren stood side by side in front of the command console.
The envoy noted the reek of alcohol on Leona, frowned slightly, and pulled out a perfumed handkerchief to cover his nose.
"Commander Leona, congratulations."
The envoy's voice was full of pretentious hypocrisy."You are the pride of the Kingdom. This was an incredible, decisive victory. His Highness the Regent personally inquired about this matter, and the entire Council is praising your bravery."
Leona gripped the edge of the table tightly, her voice cold."Has the Military Command agreed to issue my men their pay and supplies? We need double the death benefits. I had eight hundred brothers die for this country. . ."
The envoy interrupted her, a professional smile plastered on his face."Those are trivial matters. The Logistics Department will slowly calculate them according to regulations."
For an uncontrollable knight order, their only fate was to be continuously sent out as cannon fodder. Therefore, death benefits were delayed as long as possible. Once everyone was dead, there would be no need to pay them at all.
The envoy unrolled a gilded parchment."Here is a much better reward, aimed at you personally."
"In light of your outstanding contributions and hard work, the Kingdom cannot bear to see a beautiful lady continue to suffer on the frontier."
"Effective immediately, Leona is transferred to serve as the Captain-General of the Royal Ceremonial Guard in the Capital. Please return to the capital within three days to report for duty and receive your reward."
Crack.
It was the sound of the wooden table corner being crushed in her grip.
Leona's head snapped up, glaring at the smiling envoy in the light screen. Her blood ran cold.
She subconsciously turned her head. Two meters behind her, the new recruit, Soren, was pouring a cup of wine.
There was zero surprise on Soren's face. Every single word the envoy had just spoken matched Soren's prediction from ten minutes ago, word for word. Down to the exact title of the Ceremonial Guard.
The last shred of illusion in Leona's heart crumbled into dust.
The envoy on the screen paid no attention to Soren. He saw Leona's expression, smiled disdainfully, and prepared to cut the connection."Now, now, Lady Leona, don't get too excited. Pack your bags. The balls in the Capital eagerly await you. . ."
The light flickered, the connection was about to sever.
If she didn't speak now, Leona's fate would be sealed—like a fish dragged ashore and served on a platter.
Soren raised his wine glass and gave a single nod.
He was signaling her. Act.
Bang!
Leona kicked the heavy oak table aside.
In the final second before the communication array cut off, she lunged forward, grabbing the base of the array. Her eyes were bloodshot with murderous intent.
"Don't you dare close it! I didn't agree to this transfer!"
"Let those marshals and generals listen to me!"
This sudden outburst caused the light screen to violently shudder. Over in the Capital's conference room, the Regent and the dukes were startled by the woman's roar echoing from the communicator. All eyes snapped toward the projection.
The Military envoy's face turned livid on the screen."Refusing a transfer order? Are you planning to rebel, Leona? Do you want to end your life on the gallows?"
"Listen closely! I do not accept this transfer!"
Leona yanked out a map. Right in front of the Regent and the Council, she drew a dagger.
Thwack!
She viciously stabbed the blade into the northern region of the Silvermoon Kingdom—into a forgotten, dangerous forbidden zone: the Misty Swamps.
"This is land the Kingdom lost a century ago! The shame of past generations of kings! The Crimson Moon Knights request immediate deployment to the Misty Swamps!"
A wave of whispering, mocking laughter immediately erupted from the other side of the communication array. This was nothing short of a fool's dream.
But every subsequent word from Leona slammed right into the faces of the stingy military brass.
"All I ask is to retain the official designation of the Crimson Moon Knights!"
"I, Leona, along with the two thousand six hundred and thirty-six lives of the Crimson Moon Knights—will not take a single grain of food from the state! Not a single weapon! Not a single copper coin! And we will ask for no reinforcements!"
"I will go there and seize back all of that land and its resources!"
"This is my martial pledge!"
"Give me one year. Either I die in that swamp, or I will reclaim that territory and carve it back onto Silvermoon's map!"
The entire room fell completely silent for five seconds.
The envoy and the bureaucratic officers turned to look at the Regent seated behind them. The VIPs exchanged shrewd, rapid glances. Their eyes were calculating the cost.
Crimson Moon was a dangerous, mad dog that might bite its master. That was why they wanted to chain her up in the Capital. Now, she was volunteering to jump into the man-eating Misty Swamps? And demanding zero resources?
The woman was an absolute lunatic. Without state supplies, could she even survive this blizzard-filled winter? Not to mention the magical beasts and orc soldiers entrenched there.
If she died there, the disobedient Crimson Moon Knights would be entirely wiped out. They wouldn't have to spend a single cent on resettlement fees. Them all dying off would be perfect.
And if, by some one-in-a-ten-thousand chance, she survived and reclaimed the territory? That land would belong to the Kingdom.
The Regent had never encountered such a fantastic business deal in his entire life.
He finally stood up, bypassing the low-ranking bureaucrats, and appeared in the light screen. The old man was expressionless as he looked at the furious Leona.
"Since you wish to dedicate yourself to the nation and act as a true pioneer. . . Commander Leona, I will not stand in the way of your ambition."
The Regent nodded.
The transfer document was rendered void. A supplementary condition immediately followed:"Remember your promise. Before you reclaim that land, any unauthorized crossing of the southern border will be deemed desertion and treason. You will be executed on the spot."
A deal was struck.
Right before the light screen extinguished completely, the Regent's cloudy yet oppressively heavy eyes stared at Leona. He asked one final question, carrying the condescending tone of a superior:
"There is one lingering doubt. How exactly did you defeat the Blackstone Warband in a head-on clash? With that ragged equipment of yours, it should have been impossible for you to win."
Leona's fists clenched.
It was Soren. It was this new recruit's archery, his tactical acumen, and his genius for command.
She instinctively opened her mouth. The two syllables of Soren's name reached the edge of her lips. If she revealed his name, with today's heaven-shaking military merit, Soren might skyrocket through the ranks. . .
She glanced at Soren.
Soren looked back coldly. His eyes carried a warning, and his left hand gave a subtle shake.
Soren had absolutely no intention of claiming credit, his gaze held only a frigid calculation. Becoming famous now would turn him into a prime target for the nobles' concentrated fire. If the truth were exposed now, the fear those VIPs held toward Leona would instantly transfer to Soren, and assassins would likely be dispatched tonight.
Leona read the message in his eyes.
Do not speak.
Leona bit her lip and took a deep breath. Under the oppressive gaze of authority, she lowered her head, forcing her voice to sound as humble as possible.
"Luck."
"Because the blizzard struck suddenly, and my heavy cavalry fought with no regard for their lives. And their Warchief was standing on a damned high vantage point striking a pose, lost his footing, and was accidentally struck by one of our archers."
She was spouting total nonsense.
Yet, the more foolish, coincidence-filled, and dumb-luck-driven the explanation was, the more the Regent and the lords of the Council believed it.
A wave of relaxed laughter echoed from the projection. That made sense. These lowly brutes who didn't understand tactics relied on nothing but sheer dumb luck. So-called "decisive victories" won by commoners truly possessed no high-level finesse.
"Give your thanks to the God of Storms." The Regent lost his last shred of interest."I hope you die a slow death in the swamps, Leona."
The light screen vanished. The connection was cut.
Zap.
The light in the room instantly dimmed.
Cold sweat slid down Leona's spine. Her legs gave out, and she slumped backward. A hand from beside her caught her arm with firm precision, helping her into a chair.
It was Soren. His hand was remarkably steady, his breathing rhythm hadn't changed at all.
Soren picked up the wine glass that had fallen to the floor and placed it gently on the tabletop.
"The performance is over. You did exceptionally well, you've saved your command!"
The young recruit offered his commander a faint smile.