Being promoted to Rear Admiral had once been Colin’s greatest wish, and he had worked himself to the bone for the last four years to achieve it.

The youngest non-royal commodore in Hetnia’s naval history, he had looked primed for the jump to the upper ranks of the Navy. Unfortunately, his status as the son of a minor noble who had lost his lands during the Incursion made the last step almost impossible.

Colin hadn’t given up. He had even volunteered himself to brief Count Luster-Treon, a much-dreaded duty considered the worst punishment for overly ambitious officers. He had done it to show Admiral Strymiel Dunster that he was dedicated to the Navy in soul and flesh.

He was the only officer to brave the Great Slitherer even while Leonard Weiss marched on Treon and all others trembled in their barracks. He deserved to be promoted.

And yet. And yet, watching the new medal glinting off his chest tasted bitter.

He hadn’t achieved this through his merits. No, the reason he was finally being elevated to his rightful place was that the previous Rear Admiral, whose name Colin wouldn’t even repeat in his mind because the wave of disgust it caused still threatened to overwhelm him, had taken a sloop alongside his household and fled into the night, having deliberately created an opening in the bay's patrolling schedule to allow his escape.

Since there couldn't be confusion among the ranks during an ongoing siege, and any other replacement the Admiral could find within the city wouldn’t be received well by the men, Colin had become the newest Rear Admiral.

And with that, I also got the responsibility of pulling us out of this damn mess. We should have evacuated Treon immediately after Locke lost, as I said. Instead, I got a reprimand, and now we don’t even have the Air Force.

Just thinking of how much higher his chances would have been had the city still had its airship and Griffin Knights made Colin clench his jaw in anger.

Instead, the idiot Count ordered them to fight for their honor and they died a miserable death, cementing Weiss’ fame as an invincible Hero forevermore.

Admittedly, Colin hadn’t thought it possible for a single man to face a Corp of Griffin Knights, much less a King Vasily Class Airship. Those were meant to be army destroyers.

He wouldn't have believed the reports if he hadn’t observed its fall with his own eyes from atop the Magic Tower alongside Archmage Laurentis and Guildmistress Manita.

But the two people who had the power to change his current woes had confirmed the loss. Thus, he now found himself in the enviable position of planning an evacuation without looking like he was planning one, lest his superior rip his new medal off and give the rank to someone sufficiently suicidal.

At least the mages and the adventurers were more reasonable than the admiral.

They had no intention of abandoning the city, not seeing themselves as direct combatants. They had also received assurances from the revolutionaries, through mysterious means, that they would be allowed to continue their business as long as they didn’t oppose the takeover and freed the few slaves they had.

Hearing that a rebel officer of high enough rank had infiltrated the city had been more of a shock than it should have been. Colin already knew they operated with surprising competence. That they would predict the Count would order the war wards to be cast once the Air Force lost shouldn’t have been shocking.

By all rights, he should have arrested the two then and there, but he was an Expert, and they were Masters. He would have died before he could even call upon his mana.

Colin kept thinking about his situation as he left his new home, a delightful townhouse on the edge of Treon’s noble district, where it faded into the trade neighborhoods. Once, he would have loved to live in such a place, but now it felt like a noose tightening around his neck. Remaining in the city was tantamount to suicide, and every new benefit heaped on his head made taking the right decision heavier; the emergency supplies weren't sufficient for the entire population, and the Revolutionaries outside were unlikely to wait long enough for Count Pollus to cross Hetnia and relieve the siege.

The streets of Treon bore an understandably tense atmosphere. People walked by furtively, their expressions tight with worry, only lingering long enough to complete the most necessary tasks. Mothers pulled their children along with hurried steps, eyes darting nervously. Dark looks were cast skyward where the glowing wards blotted out the sun, casting unnatural light. The normally bustling streets of the merchant district were quieter, filled with the anxious murmurs of a population on edge.

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Colin couldn’t shake the weight of Guildmistress Merida’s words from his mind. "For once, it won't be the lowest to suffer." The formidable woman had said, and the statement stuck with him. He should have rightly taken offense to it, being a noble himself, though barely one according to many of his old colleagues, and being tasked with protecting the King’s order. But Colin knew better than to reprimand a Master for speaking their minds, especially when he depended on their goodwill and cooperation to come out of a difficult situation.

His feet took him through a longer route than usual, and he ended up detouring through the slums, concealing his presence with a spell.

The contrast between the last time he had been here on an escapade with his friends and now was stark. Crumbling buildings and poorly maintained infrastructure still remained, but the heavy air of oppression he had found last time was surprisingly missing. The poorest citizens and slaves went about their day with some worry—which was perfectly understandable, given the tight constraints on food the castle had imposed— and a strange undercurrent of hope.

They seemed less burdened by the siege than the wealthier inhabitants. Merida’s words kept ringing in his ears, and Colin realized they saw the coming revolution as a chance to better their lives, a prospect that had eluded them for so long under the current regime.

He watched a group of children playing in the dirt, their laughter incongruous with the tension in the city. Nearby, a mother patched her son’s tattered clothes while humming softly.

If he hadn’t seen an army of at least ten thousand men, and likely many more, camping outside, he wouldn’t have been able to understand the way the people here behaved.

Moving through the winding alleys, Colin observed the makeshift market stalls where vendors traded goods with what he recognized as quiet resilience. They were used to hardship, accustomed to scraping by with whatever they could find. The Revolution promised change, and it was a beacon of possibility for them. Whether that was true or not had no bearing on their hope. They knew how ugly life could be now and yearned for a change.

He had never spent much time thinking about it. His life had been a never-ending struggle to come out on top, and now that he had made it, he looked around and wasn’t sure it had been worth it.

No, I can’t think like that. I swore myself to the King’s service and will see it through. I must preserve as much of our fighting force as possible and evacuate the most important people. Then, I can start working on improving conditions. One problem at a time.

He walked through the people unnoticed, occasionally stopping to watch them go about their day. He saw a group of men huddled together, whispering plans for the future. Their eyes held a determination that was absent in the noble district.

Colin’s thoughts turned to the nobles he had left behind in their lavish homes, clinging to the old ways, blind to the world crumbling around them. They saw the Revolution as a threat, an end to their way of life. They couldn’t understand the desperate hope driving the people they had oppressed for so long.

He himself was guilty of this. He couldn’t understand the driving force behind this rebellion. He firmly believed that the Hero had to know that even with his personal might, he wouldn’t be able to stand up against the entirety of Haylich, much less of the nearby countries that held slavery as a major institution.

And yet, something had to be done. Some change was better than none for these people. The walk through the slums brought painful clarity to Colin’s mind. The Revolution was inevitable—it might have been delayed for longer without Weiss crushing the initial resistance, but it would have happened anyway.

The poorest wanted change, and they were willing to fight for it. Treon’s noble district might be filled with fear and denial, but there was a burning desire for a new beginning in the heart of the city's poverty.

That still doesn’t make what they are doing right. Killing innocent nobles, stealing their wealth, and taking untrained young men and women to the battlefield. Their cause might be just, but their methods are unacceptable.

Colin knew he had to act. Time was ticking, and the wards above wouldn’t hold forever. The Revolutionaries would breach the city’s defenses sooner or later, and when they did, it would be a massacre if they were still here. He had to find a way to convince the Admiral and the other officers to force an evacuation while there was still time.

He left, having learned what he needed, and hurried to the riverside, where the Navy barracks sat.

When Colin entered, the sailors greeted him warmly. They saw him as a more down-to-earth commander than the other officers. Many saluted him with genuine respect, offering words of encouragement he gratefully accepted. These people were his responsibility, and their trust in him fueled his determination to navigate the crisis ahead.

Walking through the white stone corridors, Colin finally entered his new office, which he still had trouble seeing as his. It was bare and utilitarian at the moment, and he would have loved to take his time to personalize it but put that aside for much more urgent matters.

His assistant awaited him, expression grim even as he saluted. "Rear Admiral," the young man began, "we've received several messages from merchants confirming the low supplies. We're running out of food and essential goods faster than anticipated.”

Colin nodded, already aware of the dire situation but knowing the importance of receiving confirmation for every piece of information. "Anything else?”

"The Admiral has requested your presence for a meeting," the assistant continued hesitantly. "It seems urgent.”

Colin suppressed a sigh. He had barely had time to settle into his role, and the demands were already piling up. "Very well. Let’s not keep the Admiral waiting.”

He left his office and made his way to the Admiral's quarters. The corridors buzzed with activity, sailors, and officers moving with purpose and urgency as they prepared for a possible confrontation.

Colin spent the short walk preparing himself for the blustering reception he knew awaited. Admiral Strymiel Dunster was a figure of excess in every sense. Arrogant and red-faced, the old man had layers of fat pushing from his uniform, and the overpowering scent of perfume barely masked the underlying odor of sweat. He was also an Expert, the lowest ranking Admiral in the Royal Fleet, and his equal in power.

The man’s office was much more opulent than Colin’s. Golden nautical equipment adorned the shelves, and rich tapestries depicting past naval battles hung on the walls.

"Rear Admiral," Dunster greeted him with a curt nod, barely looking up from his desk piled high with documents. “This afternoon after luncheon, we’ll meet with the Archmage and Guildmistress. We need to discuss their role in the city’s defense. Try not to embarrass yourself and prepare the information we’ll need.”

Colin nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Understood, Admiral. I’ll be ready.”

Colin had already privately spoken with both Masters. They had made their positions clear and even hinted at contacts with the Revolution. The mages and adventurers were unlikely to risk their lives for a cause they didn’t believe in when they didn’t need to, and the Revolution’s promises of leniency had swayed many.

But the two also represented a way for Colin to acquire the authority he needed to do what was necessary.

He saluted and left, ready to fulfill his duty.