Commander Kisa found himself in a precarious position with few choices to make. Returning to the capital city of Wilberforce, where the headquarters of the King’s Legion resided, seemed like the logical course of action to report what had occurred. However, he had already ensured that such a move would result in his demise before he even reached the city. His predicament stemmed from uncertainty about what to disclose upon his return. Tasked with protecting Prince Armad, he understood implicitly that divulging the truth was not an option. Those assigned to such a mission were bound to sacrifice themselves rather than allow harm to befall the prince. Thus, he lacked a viable explanation for returning alone and reporting the prince’s demise. Should he fabricate a tale of an attack resulting in the prince’s death while he survived, he risked severe consequences if his deception were uncovered. Given these dire circumstances, Commander Kisa chose to delay his decision, recognizing that venturing toward the capital held no compelling reason at present.
The second option, to seek refuge at one of the King's Legion's external offices, was equally fraught with danger. These outposts, strategically placed in towns near significant tribes, served as the first line of defense against potential threats to the Empire of Wilberforce. The King's Legion was a mammoth organization, and within its ranks, Kisa was just another face - his identity and the delicate nature of his mission were not common knowledge among the rank and file. Even the high-ranking officers might only vaguely be aware that he was assigned to protect Prince Armad, and that was not something known to all. How could he possibly approach these leaders for help when he couldn't even explain the calamity that had befallen him without risking his neck? Furthermore, what kind of assistance could he ask for? It was out of the question to garner support for a retaliation mission against the son of Emperor Ayrion.
Additionally, Kisa harbored a deep-seated fear that his appearance without the prince would rapidly become gossip that would snake its way back to the capital, alerting the emperor to the situation. Should such news reach Emperor Ayrion, Kisa was certain that an arrest warrant would be the least of his worries. The emperor's wrath would be swift and merciless, and it was customary and expected that Kisa would choose to end his own life rather than face the dishonor of capture and the inevitable punishment that would follow. The gravity of his failure weighed heavily upon him, and he understood that neither returning to Wilberforce nor seeking help from the Legion's outposts were tenable choices.
The third strategic option available to the commander is to reconvene with his dispersed forces. He has deliberately trained his troops to retreat in a scattered manner to reduce the likelihood of mass capture. The effectiveness of this tactic, however, raises an important concern: while it maximizes the safety of individual soldiers, it also complicates the task of reassembling the units post-battle. The commander must consider the number of his troops that will manage to evade capture and, once safe, how he might reunite with them given their widespread locations.
Traditionally, the most effective method for a military retreat involves a decentralized scatter. The principle is simple: if there are only two soldiers, they should flee in opposite directions, one to the east and another to the west. If the group consists of four, they should each head toward a different cardinal direction — east, north, west, and south. This tactic ensures that any pursuing enemy must make a choice, potentially allowing at least some of the retreating soldiers to find safety. The King’s Legion is knowledgeable about such strategies. The dispersal of his troops means that reuniting will be a time-consuming and arduous process, and currently, time is a resource in critical shortage.
The urgency of the situation is exacerbated by the commander’s perilous state. The aftermath of the battle has left him wounded and vulnerable, and with Prince Armad likely to send his soldiers — or even to come after him — the commander’s apprehension grows. Every moment spent searching for his scattered forces is a moment that brings his adversaries closer to his trail. Additionally, he is forced to confront a sobering reality: what substantial aid can his forces provide at this juncture? If he were to find his troops, would their collective strength be sufficient to counter Prince Armad’s forces, given their current disadvantage?
Previously, the commander would have scoffed at the mere suggestion that he could find himself in such a desperate plight at the hands of Prince Armad. He would have rejected such a prophecy outright, even under the threat of death. His confidence was such that he would have dismissed any who dared to predict his downfall in the hands of Armad, regardless of how they tried to convince him. Now, however, that hypothetical scenario has become his reality. The once theoretical debate over the possibility of such an event has been rendered moot by the harshness of his current circumstances.
Despite these grim reflections, the commander clings to a sliver of hope that his forces might still be instrumental in facilitating an escape. He anticipates that Prince Armad’s strategy will extend beyond a mere pursuit of him; Armad is likely to target the scattered remnants of his army as well. Yet, even if Armad were to abstain from such actions, the commander knows that the very act of his troops fleeing in different directions serves to divide the focus and resources of the enemy. This realization strikes the commander with a twofold epiphany: first, that the task of finding his forces amidst the chaos might be an insurmountable one, and second, that even if such a reunion were possible, it might not yield a significant strategic advantage.
Faced with these insights, the commander acknowledges that his initial plan to regroup with his forces may be both impractical and potentially fruitless.
The commander's anger surged within him, a fiery tempest fueled by the fact that he could not locate his troops. This was no minor inconvenience; it was a catastrophic failure that could signify their end. He understood all too well that without his leadership, his forces would not be able to flee to safety. And yet, despite the grave danger they faced, the commander realized that his survival was paramount to him. It was a harsh truth, but in the end, his life was of utmost importance, not the lives of his soldiers.
The personal stakes were high for the commander. He was a family man with two wives, the younger of whom he had married just before the onset of Armad's mission. The thought of how they would receive the news of his death was a torment to him. His heart was heavy when he considered his two children, both of whom were currently pursuing their education at a prestigious cultivation academy in the capital city of Wilberforce. They were just beginning their journey through life, vibrant with potential and promise. His greatest fear, however, was not merely for their emotional well-being but for their safety. If word of his betrayal against Armad—whatever that dark deed may have been—were to spread to the capital, even the innocence of his children wouldn't shield them from the repercussions. The empire's retribution was thorough and merciless, and the sins of the father could very well be visited upon the children.
If there were the slightest possibility that his death could absolve his children from bearing the punishment for his transgressions, the commander might have considered the grim option of taking his own life. But he was under no illusions; his death would not stop the whispers and the news of his misdeeds from reaching the capital's ears. His demise would not erase his actions, nor would it shield his children from the empire's wrath. He was acutely aware that if he were not there to face the consequences, the empire would simply cast about for another to bear the burden of his guilt, and his children would be the most obvious and vulnerable targets.
As the weight of his predicament settled upon him, a sheen of sweat coated his brow. He realized that his calculations, his plans, and contingencies, had all been misguided. The outcomes he had arrived at were now proving to be as flawed as the reasoning that led to them. He began to entertain the idea that he might have anticipated this outcome, that he could have planned better, but he cut off the thought almost as soon as it formed. He understood with a hollow finality that regretting now was pointless. All of the paths he had believed would lead him to safety were now exposed as dead ends.
In a state of desperation, another option began to crystallize in his mind—an option that felt as drastic as it was daring. He could continue flying until he could make his escape from the continent. Once free, he would sever all ties to his past life: he would change his name, alter his appearance, and diminish his cultivation powers significantly. He envisioned himself seeking refuge among a small tribe, offering his services as a deva albeit a stranger to them. In this era, any small tribe would consider themselves fortunate to host a deva, particularly one who had surpassed the first stage of deva. Even if he were to reduce his cultivation by as much as 40%, he would still rank above the second stage of deva, making him an invaluable asset to any tribe. However, this radical course of action came at a staggering cost. It meant relinquishing his identity, his esteemed position in the King's Legion, his family ties, and every earthly possession he had accumulated. It meant that the legacy he had built over 200 years—a legacy of achievements, of victories, of honor—would evaporate as if it had never been.
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As this thought came to his mind, he clenched his teeth with such ferocity that had there been anyone nearby, they would have unmistakably heard the harsh sound of enamel on enamel. It was a testament to the remarkable resilience of a cultivator’s body that his teeth, subjected to such extreme tension, did not fracture on the spot. His reputation was not merely a part of his identity; it was the essence of his being. The loss of his esteemed name would be akin to a death sentence. And yet, the specter of disgrace that haunted him was not solely his to bear; his family too would suffer the consequences of his actions, their punishment unmitigated by any loss of his status.
As he grappled with his options, the thought of assuming a new identity presented itself, only to be swiftly cast aside. The realization had dawned upon him with chilling clarity: the King’s Legion, those formidable guardians of the capital city of Wilberforce, would relentlessly seek him out. No subterfuge would be sufficient, no sanctuary enduring. Even the inky depths of the ocean or a complete metamorphosis of his spiritual sense would offer no permanent reprieve. It was an inescapable truth that they would find him; it was merely a question of when. Temporary measures might grant him a reprieve, a few precious weeks or fleeting months of life, but the endgame was inevitable—their pursuit would end in his capture.
Furthermore, the dire consequences of his actions extended beyond his immediate predicament. The King’s Legion, ever vigilant, would seek to silence him before he could expose their clandestine operations. Emperor Ayrion, the sovereign whose word was law, would undoubtedly seek to make an example of him, a stark warning to any who might contemplate similar treachery. But perhaps most perilously, there was the Prince—the very person he had betrayed. Given time, the Prince would hone his mastery over the ‘pol strings’ he had recently awakened, significantly enhancing his stature within the Wilberforce Empire. His burgeoning power might not rival that of the esteemed Crown Prince Ikenga, yet it would undeniably attract the loyalty of certain influential council members. Given such an ascent, the likelihood of a battalion being dispatched to apprehend him, especially if the populace of the capital became aware of his duplicity, was all but certain.
In the grand scheme of things, had not the Emperor, with foresight and a measure of paternal expectation, entrusted Armad with the development of the town of Tiriba? This mission, now with less than three years remaining, was intended to be a test of Armad’s capabilities and dedication. Upon its completion, the Emperor would personally visit to assess the progress made by his progeny. It would be during this time that Armad would have the opportunity to speak privately with his father, to unburden himself of the weighty secrets concerning the misdeeds of Commander Kisa and the King’s Legion’s complicity.
The Emperor’s authority was undisputed, his reach far. While he might find himself constrained in acting directly against the Legion, Commander Kisa stood exposed, lacking the same protections. The Emperor, wielding the formidable powers bestowed upon him by the first earth, could effortlessly dispatch Kisa and his ancestors with but a thought. The Commander’s end, should the Emperor so decree, would be swift and certain—reduced to nothing more than a footnote in history, as inconsequential as an ant beneath an elephant’s foot.
No matter how diligently the commander racked his brain for a solution to the dire situation he found himself in, each idea seemed as futile as the next. He likened his predicament to being trapped at the bottom of a well, one with a staggering depth of 1,000 kilometers, without a lifeline to cling to for an escape. After a prolonged period of contemplation, during which he weighed his limited options, his mind coalesced around a singular, desperate resolution — to enact his last resort, the fifth and final choice. The preceding options now paled in comparison, for this last choice, though fraught with peril, held the only promise of salvation.
This choice, stark in its gravity, was to bring an end to the uncertainty by leveraging a secret he possessed — a secret of such value that it could compel Prince Ikenga to part with his treasures for mere knowledge of it. The King’s Legion, whose esteem and influence far exceeded that of the prince, would find it even more irresistible. It was with this realization that the commander decided to extend an olive branch to the Legion. His proposition was simple yet profound: in return for the safety of his family and the assurance that he would retain his honor and position, he would divulge the full account of his encounter with Armad on the battlefield.
But his revelations would extend beyond the mere skirmish and strategies employed. His observant eyes had also caught a glimpse of pol strings, as well as mysterious herbs scattered across the battlefield — herbs that, as he witnessed, had the potential to awaken latent cultivation abilities in those not predisposed to such powers. His cultivation prowess was not in question; his spiritual sense had unfurled across the battlefield like a vast net, capturing every detail of the ongoing conflict. While he could not assert the full potential of these herbs with unshakeable confidence, he estimated his certainty of their capabilities to be around 60 percent — a significant probability that could not be dismissed lightly.
The Seal Makers Association would go to great lengths — perhaps even to the brink of their vast resources — to gain access to this knowledge. However, the commander understood that revealing this information to them could be the most treacherous move of all. It was a gamble that might cost him more than he was willing to risk. Therefore, he resolved to confide in the King’s Legion instead, trusting that this act of revelation would not only ensure his and his family’s safety but would also potentially elevate his stature within their esteemed ranks.
Throughout his endeavors to aid Prince Ikenga in the struggle against his brother Armad, his actions fell short of earning him a direct audience with the prince. Hence, his status is also not significant enough to grant him an encounter with a prestigious member of the association renowned for their seal-making prowess. Now, armed with potentially groundbreaking information, he finds himself on the cusp of a rare opportunity to meet either Prince Ikenga or one of the revered elders of the association. This intelligence, if well-received, could catapult his status to unprecedented heights. However, should it fail to impress, his fate would be more dismal than that of the dead.
His plan, while meticulously crafted, is fraught with dangers. One of the most pressing issues is the uncertainty of his conditions being accepted by his superiors. He is acutely aware of the delicate power dynamics at play; the influential cultivators are unlikely to look kindly upon an individual of inferior status dictating terms to them. Yet, the peril of not setting conditions is equally grave. Without such safeguards, they might decide to silence him permanently after learning the sensitive news, fearing its potential leak to outsiders. His dilemma is underscored by the harsh reality of their world: in the hierarchy of cultivation, power is synonymous with relevance. Those lacking in might find no favor in the eyes of the elite.
Further complicating the matter is the delicate situation involving the King’s Legion. The Legion is constrained, unable to mobilize their full strength or even a significant portion thereof to take action against Armad without contravening the decrees of Emperor Ayrion. Prince Ikenga himself is not exempt from these limitations; all his assaults against Armad have been orchestrated clandestinely, without public knowledge. This secrecy necessitates that none among the ranks can openly endorse Commander Kisa’s recent undertakings. They are left with a singular, albeit grim, recourse: to eliminate Commander Kisa quietly, thereby ensuring the veil of secrecy over their actions remains intact. By erasing him, they safeguard their positions, as without tangible proof of their involvement, they evade punishment.
On another note, once Prince Ikenga and the King’s Legion become aware that the Seal Makers’ Association harbors intentions to assassinate Prince Armad, they will strategically retract their murderous designs. Their cunning plan is to stand aside and watch as Armad and the association lock horns, effectively neutralizing each other. This non-interference ensures that they remain beyond the reach of the Emperor’s ire, which would inevitably be directed towards the association. By orchestrating events to unfold in this manner, they stand to gain twofold: the association would take care of Prince Armad, their troublesome adversary, and simultaneously, they would sidestep the peril of provoking the Emperor’s anger.
In this complex web of intrigue, Commander Kisa finds himself in a precarious position. It might be in his best interest to divulge the secrets of the herbs, which are likely to ignite a fierce conflict between Armad and the association. By doing so, he could prove his worth to the King’s Legion as their unwitting pawn, for they require a deft hand to execute their covert plan to eliminate Armad without implicating themselves directly.
Commander Kisa let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his predicament reflected in his troubled gaze. After a period of deep thought, he concluded that he had no alternative but to align himself with the King’s Legion. Kisa’s knowledge of the Seal Makers’ Association’s operational tactics was limited, and there was a tangible risk that they would expose his identity along with any intelligence he shared. Such a revelation could lead to dire consequences for him. His long-standing affiliation with the King’s Legion, however, provided a semblance of protection; it would be implausible for the association to suggest that he acted independently, without the knowledge or backing of his fellow legionnaires. Hence, he felt a comparative sense of security in relaying the sensitive information to the Legion rather than to the unpredictable association.
Resolved in his course of action, Kisa commenced his journey towards the bustling capital, Wilberforce, with a sense of urgency propelling him forward. Despite the considerable distance separating him from his destination, his determination to reach the capital without any pauses for rest meant that he could potentially complete the arduous trek in five months.
Kisa was now traversing a forest, soaring above the treetops. The forest was not enveloped in darkness, allowing him to see the terrain below as he flew. His mission left no room for leisure or rest, and the thought of stopping for the night to sleep was dismissed without a second thought. Restlessness gripped him, and the urgency of his task fueled his relentless flight.
It wasn’t long before he spotted traces of human presence on the forest floor below. His brow creased in a frown as he focused intently on identifying the person below.