"Lysandro…" Governor Lysandro pushed himself up weakly from the bed, silk robe draped over his shoulders. His face was solemn as he looked at the young man before him.
"Come to think of it, I don't think I've properly thanked you and Jules yet."
"My lord, there's no need for thanks," Jules said quickly. "The Lightning Company's success today is thanks to you as well!"
"Besides, it was your son Lysandro who was the true soul of this battle! It was his filial piety and courage that made the fake-surrender plan work!"
"Ha, Jules, stop flattering my son," Governor Lysandro waved his hand.
"I know he played a big part and showed far more bravery than I ever expected. But it was your nephew Tiberius who came up with the fake-surrender idea, who personally walked into Mohahta's camp at great personal risk, who rallied the soldiers to fight together. And now…" Lysandro's voice filled with immense pride.
"…we've captured a Volantene noble and crushed fifteen hundred men! This is a rare victory!"
He spoke the truth. The Three Daughters had been losing battle after battle.
Between the bloodbath at Perfume Bay, the slaughter at Swordbreak Fort, and the disaster at the delta, morale had been shattered. After the Volantenes crossed the river, news of Watchfort's fall spread like wildfire. The ongoing siege at Three-Tax Gate was another slap to the face. Rhaesh had become a graveyard for the Three Daughters' hopes.
In that sea of despair, the decisive victory at Stone Crow Town was a blazing beacon.
True, they had defeated an overconfident noble's private force of only a thousand men, and the defenders had enjoyed good positioning and clever tactics. But for a realm starving for any win, it was heaven-sent.
Never mind that the enemy had been careless and not elite—the fact remained: they had won cleanly. It was the only bright spot on the entire front, and the news had electrified the whole Three Daughters.
Meanwhile, Lys's First Governor Bambaro was under heavy fire from plantation owners, slave masters, and merchants who had invested heavily in Rhaesh or lived there.
Weren't things going well? How did it collapse so fast?
Why were our people slaughtered at Swordbreak and defeated in the delta? Where were our allies? Why did they perform so poorly?
Why did Watchfort fall? Weren't we told it was impregnable?
Why are the Volantenes rampaging through Rhaesh while our mercenaries do nothing? Weren't they hired to protect our estates and mines?
Bambaro trying to blame "General Mitridas's mistakes" wasn't working. His political enemies and the ruined nobles hit back simply: Why does a Myr general get to command Lys-hired mercenaries? Governor Bambaro, why aren't Lysene men commanding the mercenaries Lys paid for with city treasury gold?
That's our taxpayers' money! And now Rhaesh is burning!
You are not fit for the governorship.
When news arrived that Marcus had Three-Tax Gate completely surrounded, some nobles were already whispering about removing Bambaro—or more drastically, having him "take responsibility" for the command failures.
"Taking responsibility" usually meant drinking poison and dying with dignity to shoulder all the blame. Otherwise things would get much uglier.
For Governor Bambaro, this victory wasn't just political salvation—it was literal life-saving.
That was why he was so deeply grateful to Lysandro Rogare, young Lysandro, and Jules.
Tiberius had once again shrewdly given most of the credit to Governor Lysandro (who had been recovering in his room), young Lysandro (who had gone out to fake the surrender), and Vito (who arrived with reinforcements), while quietly stepping aside himself.
His age was still an issue. Gaining such massive credit at twelve wasn't necessarily good for Tiberius.
Besides, giving the glory to Lysandro was far more useful. The governor genuinely needed it.
For an old political fox like Lysandro, who had spent years swimming in Lys's treacherous currents, Tiberius's gift had instantly made him the governor with the greatest political prestige in Lys.
Some were now seriously calling for Lysandro Rogare to become Lys's chief administrator, sharing military and political power with Governor Bambaro, claiming only he could save Lys.
Tiberius had even heard people shouting in the streets of Lys: "Lord Lysandro, where are you?!"
So Lysandro was profoundly grateful to Tiberius and the others.
Without them he would have died at Stone Crow Town instead of lying here in bed, preparing to return to Lys and ride this wave of victory to elevate the Rogare family's power and reputation to new heights.
When Tiberius and Jules stepped out of Governor Lysandro's room, both men looked slightly dazed.
The uncle and nephew exchanged a glance, still not fully recovered from the "gift" they had just received.
"So, Uncle…" Tiberius almost whispered.
"Three hundred thousand gold coins, three land grants each the size of a count's domain, and in the future a 'Mord' general will marry into a Lysene family and take a seat on the Governor's Council… Seven gods, did I hear that right? Has Governor Lysandro lost his mind from fever?"
To Tiberius it felt like the governor had just handed them an entire fortune that could anchor a family in Lys for generations.
It meant they had gone from blood-soaked mercenaries to holders of a golden ticket into the highest circles of Lysene society.
Jules was calmer, but still visibly shaken.
"Tiberius…" He took several deep breaths, trying to steady himself.
"Lysandro wasn't joking. His and his son's lives, plus the gift we gave him, are worth every coin! From today onward, your Lightning Company and my White Company are no longer just another mercenary outfit. We've jumped straight to becoming the most powerful mercenary company in all of Lys—perhaps in the entire Disputed Lands!"
---
Outside Three-Tax Gate, inside the Volantene command tent.
"Lord Marcus, this is Watchfort's banner!" An officer knelt and respectfully presented a blood-red triangular flag stained with mud and blood.
"Excellent!" Marcus clapped his hands and laughed.
"Next—Three-Tax Gate!" His face twisted with savage glee as he stared at the distant fortress and the Myr-Tyroshi relief force trapped between the two armies.
"Once we wipe them all out, perhaps this time we can truly restore the glory of ancient Volantis—extend the empire's borders from Slaver's Bay to the Stepstones! Make Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys kneel at our feet once more!"