Beneath the Red Dragon

Dorabi City, the bridgehead of the Marino Defense Line.

In the latter half of the night, the dense overcast clouds began to disperse somewhat, revealing the starlight and moonlight that were about to descend.

The starlight spilling down from the firmament fell into the spacious bedchamber, shining upon the white, swan’s-down quilt light as a feather.

Perhaps the light of stars and moon was unusually heavy tonight, for it unexpectedly startled Marino Duke Lorne awake from his wandering nightmares.

When Marino Duke Lorne sat up from his warm bed, panting heavily, the undergarments clinging to his whole body had long been soaked through with cold sweat.

“Master, what’s wrong?” The female Attendant, likewise awakened by Lorne, rubbed her drowsy eyes at the foot of the bed and crawled over; when her hand touched the Duke’s ice-cold undergarments, she started in alarm.

She could not even be bothered to cover her own two large, snowy “rabbits” bared to the chill air, but shuffled out of bed, lit the lamps in the room, and began helping Duke Lorne change into fresh, soft undergarments.

The recent continuous rainfall had made the climate of Dorabi City, which had still been warm, seem as though it had entered the winter season ahead of time.

The damp, frigid weather not only greatly diminished the desire to fight and morale of the troops garrisoned in Dorabi City and along the entire Marino Defense Line, it also brought serious disruption to the transport of logistical supplies for the Southern Noble Alliance’s first and most crucial line of defense.

For this was not ordinary, natural plum-rain weather, but an unnatural, man-made calamity.

The Northern Golden Empire and the allied forces of the other Seven Kings were not yet in sight, but their methods were already crashing down headlong upon the Southern Noble Alliance.

In matters of war, logistics come first.

Even if you command the strongest army in the world, without ample supplies of provisions and grain, morale will flag and the army’s heart will no longer be fit to fight.

In Karon Gogomola’s understanding, and among the countless memories and records he possessed, there was only one army that could maintain a high resolve and will to fight under conditions of extreme scarcity of supplies—and that was something very hard to reproduce.

Even for the Legion Warriors of the Golden Empire, with the excuse of justice and the banner of righteousness on their side, Karon could not guarantee that all Legions would overcome such hardships, much less the Legion Warriors of those Southern Nobles.

The Eight Kings’ Alliance Army had dispatched large formations of the Aerial Knight Order and the Flying Alchemy Corps, using the mobility and flexibility of the Aerial Knights to wreak havoc along the entire Marino Defense Line and its rear areas.

Although the Breath attacks and Magic attacks of the Flying Dragons, Demon Dragons, and even Giant Dragons could not extend beyond the range of the Marino Defense Line’s anti-air defenses—for once they descended even slightly, they would invite anti-air strikes—

the union of strength and cunning, of power and idea, is the correct way to employ force.

What seemed like a spell of weather manipulation, a Magic with no obvious direct lethality in battle, could in tactics inflict severe setbacks upon the enemy; and such Magic did not even need to approach the enemy’s lines. The rain falling from the high skies had become a crucial weapon in this war.

Whenever Marino Duke Lorne thought of the difficulties currently before them, his heart grew vexed and chaotic. He let the maid finish dressing him, then subconsciously tried to rise, only to feel as though his whole body had no strength at all.

“You may go. Have Laro come.”

Lorne waved his hand to dismiss the bed-warming maid, watching the silhouettes of patrolling Guards outside the window twist into demonic shadows in the lamplight; even the occasional footfalls made him especially irritable.

Only when the heavy, rhythmic footsteps sounded did Lorne finally expel a deep breath, stand up from the bedside, and move to the armor rack, arranging himself into a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back.

Though Laro, as Marino Duke Lorne’s Personal Guard Captain, was his absolute confidant and closest subordinate, Lorne still would not reveal his weak side.

This had nothing to do with the nature of their relationship, but with the mask that those of the Nobility in high position were born needing to wear. The mystery of the unknown was one of the firm reins by which these nobles held power.

“My Duke!” A middle-aged Warrior wearing a splendid suit of Light Armor shifted his Longsword to his back, then, after kneeling on one knee in salute and rising again, finally spoke.

“Laro, has any news come from yesterday?” Lorne asked softly as he indicated for his Personal Guard Captain to help him don his Armor.

The transmission of information carried delays; even though the Twenty-one Countries of the Southern Noble Alliance were closely bound together, there would inevitably be lag in their communication systems.

Being able to know news as recent as yesterday was already an effect achieved only because the Nobility spared no cost in using Magical Power.

“My Duke, yesterday, the combined Giant Eagle Guard and Griffin Knight Order each lost two hundred men. The heads of those Griffin Knights and Giant Eagle Guard Warriors were also cut off and carried away by the Eight Kings’ Aerial Knights.”

Laro’s words, like carrying a damp, icy breath, made the Duke feel a chill. “Three main transport routes leading to Dorabi and the entire Marino Defense Line were destroyed by those Giant Dragons. The supplies and grain being shipped by the various countries along those routes were likewise burned to ashes by those Giant Dragons.”

“Though the logistics Legions are driving conscripted laborers to repair the roads as quickly as possible, it is difficult to guarantee the timely arrival of supplies. After all, those Flying Dragons and Giant Dragons are very hard to restrain!”

“My Duke, those nobles are also unwilling to overextend themselves in providing grain and military matériel. After all, the losses along the way are simply too great.”

“We still cannot fully guarantee that transported supplies will safely arrive, yet if we cannot obtain timely replenishment, we will have no choice but to cut back on logistical allocations. In that case, the joint relief Legions sent by those nobles may soon start making a fuss.”