"I'll arrange for additional food shipnts. We'll bring in supplies that can last a few months at the very least. You and your people won't need to share beyond your ans."
Kyle said.
The chief looked visibly relieved but still uncertain.
"That's a great kindness, but…"
"But you'll still need to expand your fields. Start preparing new plots. We're not planning for survival—we're planning for growth. If we want a future here, we'll need it to be self-sustaining."
Kyle finished for him.
The chieftain gave a deep, respectful nod.
"Then we'll begin preparations right away."
Kyle placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder.
"Good. I'll make sure you have the ti you need to get it done."
With that, Kyle turned back toward the bustling camp, already thinking several moves ahead.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sprawling valley, Kyle sat in his makeshift study, penning two letters with swift, practiced strokes.
One was addressed to his father, the Duke, and the other to Margrave Ricca.
Both letters requested urgent shipnts of food to support the growing population under his command.
The villagers had grown, and the food supplies, though carefully managed, wouldn't last more than a few weeks without reinforcent.
'It was good of to ask Margrave Ricca for such a reward. As for the Duke…I would not have asked him for help had he not offered it as a part of the reward. With this, my reward will be officially handed to and I won't be able to ask for more help.'
Not that Kyle wanted to ask for more help from the Duke.
He was going to gain his power on his own…but sotis, external influence was needed to cultivate one's power.
"I trust the two of them will act swiftly. It won't be long before we have our base thriving."
Kyle murmured to himself, sealing both letters.
That evening, Kyle summoned the leaders of the two communities—the chieftain of the mana farrs and the militia leader of the newer arrivals—into a small, cleared hall.
Bruce and lissa stood guard outside, Queen perched silently in a corner, now fully recovered.
"Thank you both for coming. We need to take the next step in organizing this settlent."
Kyle began as the two n bowed respectfully.
The chieftain nodded.
"You have our ears, my lord."
"I want to split responsibilities clearly between farming and security. We need food, and we need protection. If our base is to grow and survive the coming seasons, these two must be our pillars."
Kyle said.
The younger leader agreed instantly, but the chieftain seed slightly hesitant. His people had always been farrs and were uncomfortable around weapons.
A brief tension settled over the room as the two factions quietly began debating—each reluctant to give up their roles or be seen as lesser.
Kyle raised a hand, silencing both.
"I understand your concerns. But rember, this is just the beginning. More people will co. More settlers, refugees, warriors. Once we have a foundation, everyone will have a role. For now, we need unity and clarity of purpose."
With his words, the tension eased. Kyle's calm, commanding tone left no room for doubt, and both leaders agreed to his proposal.
A day later, the village was alive with activity—fields being expanded, patrol routes mapped, and small defense posts built.
But Kyle wasn't finished. As the leaders carried out their tasks, he turned to his personal notes.
He needed seasoned fighters—people ready to go to war. And he needed to know more about the upcoming battles.
Far from the budding village, in a lavish manor drowned in perfus and gossip, Lady Rose Adam was throwing yet another fit.
"I can't even attend a ball without whispers following . They mock for losing my fiancé to that Duchess!"
She hissed, slamming her hand on the velvet-lined table.
Her father, Lord Adam, barely glanced up from the reports on his desk.
War was brewing on the borders, and logistics, not his daughter's bruised pride, occupied his mind.
"Father! Are you even listening?!"
"Enough, Rose, If you keep making scenes, you'll lose more than your reputation—you'll lose your title."
He snapped, finally slamming the papers down.
Rose flinched, a sour scowl replacing her pout.
"I hate your temper."
"Then do sothing useful. We need a commander for the first offensive. If you want to help, find soone capable of leading troops."
He growled.
Rose rolled her eyes dramatically and opened her mouth to retort—but then stopped. An idea blood, devious and perfect.
A slow smile crept onto her lips.
"Very well, Father. I believe I know exactly who to send."
Lord Adam blinked.
"You do?"
"Oh yes. Soone young, talented, and… expendable."
She said sweetly.
She turned away, already forming her next plan.
Kyle Armstrong.
He'd been nothing but a thorn in her side since the engagent fiasco.
If she could make him the army's commander for the first battle, he'd either fail miserably and be discredited—or die.
"Either way, I'll be rid of him."
She whispered to herself with a cruel smile before turning to look at her father once more.
"I've been thinking. What if we appoint Kyle Armstrong as the commander of your army?"
She began, drawing her father's attention with a deliberately sweet tone.
Lord Adam looked up slowly, skepticism already brewing in his eyes.
"Temporarily, of course. We'll keep a second, more competent commander in reserve—just in case. When Kyle fails, as he undoubtedly will, we'll swap him out and salvage the army."
Rose added, waving her hand airily.
Her father said nothing, and Rose leaned in, eyes gleaming with cunning.
"Think about it. Everyone says Duke Armstrong is starting to care about that boy again. So if we give Kyle the position, it'll earn us the Duke's favor. And when Kyle's inexperience causes everything to fall apart, we'll have every reason to demand compensation—supplies, support, soldiers. The Duke will owe us."
She sipped her wine, clearly proud of her plan.
"It's a win-win."
Lord Adam stared at his daughter, unamused.
"So your brilliant strategy is to send a boy you resent into battle just to fail, and then pick the scraps for political gain?"
Rose tilted her head.
"Not exactly…."
"You're still a shallow child. This is war, not a ballroom spat. I don't have ti to humor your petty sches.
He snapped, finally standing.
His words hit like a slap, and Rose's expression twisted.
"You'll see. You always think you're right. But I'll make this happen, Father. With or without your permission."
She hissed, slamming her glass down.
He walked away without a reply, leaving Rose fuming alone.
"I'll prove it. Kyle Armstrong will be in command… and when he fails, I'll be the one laughing."
She whispered, gripping the table's edge.
Back at the valley, Kyle stood atop a hill, overlooking the busy village.
Farrs were working in tandem with warriors, constructing new irrigation routes and protective fences. The two factions, once awkward, were starting to blend into one.
Bruce approached, handing Kyle a fresh scroll.
"The scouts have reported so movents along the southern path. Bandits maybe."
Kyle nodded.
"Send a small patrol to observe only. Don't engage."
As Bruce left, Kyle looked to the skies where Queen soared high, a silent sentinel.
Beneath the surface of prosperity, he could feel it—tension. A storm was coming....and with that, an opportunity as well.
Reviews
All reviews (0)