"But these panicked bastards weren't listening to Tiberius at all. They ignored his orders, lowered their heads, and charged straight for the river like terrified sheep."
"Loose!" Tiberius gave the cold command.
A heavy crossbow bolt hissed through the air and punched straight through one unlucky man's neck, pinning him to the riverbank like a bug on a board.
"Take one more step and you die!" Tiberius shouted. "Get back to your positions and hold the line—I'll let you live! Otherwise…" He raised his own crossbow threateningly. "Before the Volantenes turn you into red paste, I'll put a bolt through your skull right here in the mud!"
The ragtag mercenaries on the far bank had no choice. Grumbling and cursing, they shuffled back to their original positions.
Thank the gods they didn't mutiny… at least they went back to their posts, Tiberius thought, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.
But when he raised the spyglass again and looked at the Volantene formation, his brow furrowed.
"What the hell are they doing?" He lowered the glass, pointing at the enemy lines. "Look at those banners—the mixed rabble in front and the purple Crownless Princes flags in the center."
"Why did they pull their cavalry back?" Tiberius muttered. "They were about to trample our cannon-fodder into meat paste!"
Still, it was a small mercy.
Under covering fire from the rear and the oppressive weight of Tiberius's Ruthless aura, the Crownless Princes' main assault achieved almost nothing. In fact, they nearly got swept away by their own retreating rabble and embarrassed themselves in front of everyone.
For the Volantene captain, that was humiliating. So he blamed the entire failure on the conscripts and mercenaries, calling them "disobedient," and personally executed a few "examples" with his sword.
But when he saw the enemy's fodder retreating across the river, the captain suddenly felt unstoppable again.
"This is our moment!" he declared confidently. "The enemy is already broken and terrified! One more strong push and we'll shatter them completely. They're like a crumbling tower—one good kick and the whole thing collapses!"
"Vito, tell the crossbowmen to stop trading shots with the enemy archers," Tiberius ordered, lowering his spyglass. "Focus fire on the front ranks chasing our fodder."
"But kid, if we don't suppress their archers, they'll keep more strength for the next wave. That could hurt us later…"
"I know." Tiberius nodded. "But war isn't arithmetic, Vito. If the enemy smashes through our front-line trash in one go, their morale will skyrocket. And the trash that makes it back to our side—if they don't cause chaos I'll already be thanking the gods. Later I might even need them as meat shields to slow down the super-heavy cavalry charge!"
"Old Tom! Demetrius!"
"Here!"
"Tell the front-line troops: when our fodder comes running back, shout at them to split to the wings—do not let them charge straight through the center! If anyone ignores the warning and keeps coming, Demetrius—"
"Present!" Demetrius snapped to attention and saluted.
"Run them through. That's a direct order. Better a few dead cowards than a broken battle line!" Tiberius warned.
"Habro! Your job is simple. Take your best-equipped veterans and wait. Even if I'm about to be trampled into paste by Volantene super-heavy cavalry, you do not move without my command. Understood?"
After issuing the orders, Tiberius raised the spyglass again.
"I'm going to make the Volantenes choke on this one!"
---
"My lord, forgive me, but I believe we should pause the infantry assault," a cautious Crownless Princes soldier advised his captain.
"Our infantry don't have overwhelming superiority in numbers or quality. Rather than wasting them on pointless meat-grinding, perhaps we should…"
"Hmm, you make a fair point. Pull the infantry back for now," the captain agreed.
But the suggestion had its own selfish motive.
Most of the Crownless Princes' troops were infantry. The ones currently dying in the front line were mostly their own household warriors and private retinues.
If those men took heavy losses, the empire wouldn't reimburse them—those soldiers weren't on the official rolls.
"Very well—have the super-heavy cavalry and elephant troops prepare!" the captain ordered.
"Aren't they hungry for glory? Perfect! Let them claim the final honor! And tell those ambitious young nobles in our legion to armor up with their retainers and ride out. We'll crush these mercenaries once and for all!"
The Volantene super-heavy cavalry unfurled their banners and advanced with the command "Forward!"
During the advance, a few infantrymen who hadn't cleared the path fast enough were trampled, but most managed to dodge aside. Under the captain's orders, the cavalry surged forward, hoping to deny Tiberius any reaction time.
They would soon learn exactly what Tiberius had prepared for them.
First came the streams and mud. The cavalry struggled immediately. Many horses stumbled and threw their riders. Sturdy warhorses sank into the pre-dug pits and sticky marsh. Several knights had their mounts' legs snapped by the "treacherous" traps; some were hurled from the saddle and broke their own necks.
They were forced to advance on foot through the sucking mud, some on their knees. By the time they reached Tiberius's position, both men and horses were already exhausted.
"All crossbowmen—switch to armor-piercing bolts!" Tiberius crouched behind a large upright shield, cocked his crossbow, and slotted a thick armor-piercing quarrel.
"Free fire! Free fire! Light infantry and shield-bearers—throw every javelin and spear you have!"
At the same time, because the large shields protected them, Tiberius's crossbowmen and light infantry suffered far less from enemy archery. So when the Volantene knights were bogged down in the mud, arrows, javelins, and throwing spears rained down on them like hail.
To protect themselves as much as possible from the missiles, the Volantenes had to lower their heads and hunch over, avoiding strikes to the face.
The narrow eye and breathing slits in their helmets were the weakest points of the armor. This hunched posture restricted their breathing and vision. Then they had to slog forward in heavy plate through glue-like mud toward the Lightning Company's line.
"Damn this mud!"
"Where's my squire? Get me out of this filth!"
"My sword fell! Damn it!"
Watching the knights floundering, Tiberius slyly added his lightning effect to every spear he threw.
The results were spectacular. Every armored Volantene struck by a "lightning" spear got a twenty-four-hour immersive nap.
"Damn it! Abandon the horses—we advance on foot!" The Crownless Princes captain was furious. Crossbow bolts and javelins couldn't pierce his triple-layered plate, but the humiliation burned.
With reckless bravery he dismounted from his trapped horse, tossed aside his broken lance, drew his sword, and charged straight at the Lightning Company line.
But next they would face what Tiberius had prepared for them:
The cheval-de-frise and sharpened stakes planted overnight… and…
Note (and the Absurd Little Essay)
Tiberius stared at the sheepskin parchment covered in neat handwriting, let out a cold snort, and tossed it onto the desk in front of him. He rubbed his temples, then slowly shook his head.
He almost threw it straight into the trash, but his hand stopped halfway. The expression on his face went from pure disbelief to something far more complicated—half pity, half exhaustion.
"Fuck me…" he muttered under his breath. "Which ivory-tower little young master transmigrated over here? Never got his ass kicked in real life, huh?"
Finally he couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
"Boys, buckle up—today Vito dragged in this masterpiece. He says it's full of criticism about my behavior, and the guy who wrote it is apparently a fucking saint!"
"I took one look and—oh man—the handwriting, the tone, the self-righteous wisdom dripping off every line… this is 100% a fellow transmigrator's work."
"Seriously, I don't know if this brother's brain is waterlogged or if I've just been too damn convincing, but he's having a full meltdown! This shit is peak energy!"
"Come on, let me read you the opening gem!"
Tiberius picked up the parchment with a grin and started reading aloud in an exaggerated voice:
"Today I heard about the deeds of that so-called 'colleague' Tiberius, and my heart has been unable to calm down for a long time. As a fellow transmigrator from modern civilization, I thought he would become a beam of light illuminating this dark era. Instead, he has fallen so quickly into becoming darkness itself. We transmigrators should follow the 'righteous protagonist' path…"
Tiberius shook his head. "First paragraph and I'm already dead. Bro's out here mourning spring and lamenting autumn, saying my methods are too dirty, my moral too flexible, not 'righteous protagonist' enough—too dark?"
"I nearly laughed myself sick."
"Brother, you think this is Genshin Impact? 7+ rating? 'Righteous path'? You really believe playing the saint in A Song of Ice and Fire won't get your pants stolen and turned into a rag by day two?"
He kept reading, voice dripping with mockery.
"What disgusts me most is his attitude toward women. That Rogare lady seems to be nothing more than a political bargaining chip in his eyes. And Zella? Just a tool he can dispose of at will. This is a complete trampling of the universal value that 'all people are born equal'!"
"I believe that with our superior knowledge and charm, we can have real, equal, pure romantic relationships based on intellectual resonance and soul attraction with the outstanding women of this barbaric world—Lady Sera, Lady Johanna, even that Haen family second daughter who only appeared once, and any other noble ladies we might meet in the future. This is respect for them and a defense of our own civilized standards."
Tiberius took several deep breaths.
"Alright, boys, feel free to laugh now."
"Bro, I just want to ask one thing: you know you transmigrated into A Song of Ice and Fire—a barbaric world—but you're planning to play a goddamn GalGame here?"
"This fellow actually dreams of having a passionate romance with Lysandro's precious daughter? And Johanna Swann, Zella, even that Haen girl who showed up once?!"
"Bro, who the fuck do you think you are? I'm here working as the top enforcer and future unicorn CEO for the richest man in Lys. I'm here to pull sponsorship and secure seed capital. You want me to go hit on the boss's daughter?"
"'Intellectual collision'? 'Soul companions'? 'Enlightening the natives with modern thought'? You really think Lysandro's going to let you anywhere near his daughter without serving you a nice cup of Tears of Lys the next morning?"
"Bro, let me put it bluntly: I'll even give you my two-thousand-girlfriend visual novel install package. Go listen to a couple of 'Ciallo～(∠・ω<)⌒★' lines and calm the fuck down. Please stop treating reality like a dating sim!"
"And this part—peak典 energy! Brother, your double standards are smoother than Uncle Jules's swordwork!"
"Let me translate for you, don't get mad: you're out here clutching your pearls about me 'objectifying women,' while in your own power fantasy you're planning to collect Zella, the Rogare lady, the Haen girl, and every beauty in the future into your harem?"
"…Bro, are you running the 'Beautiful Girl Collection Plan'? Your version of 'equality' is 'equally objectifying every woman,' huh?"
"'We must liberate the oppressed! Break the chains!'—then immediately slap your custom 'love shackles' on them and shout 'Harem forever!' So equality only goes as far as your bed, right? Daytime marching with equality badges, nighttime… well, you get it."
Tiberius was practically on his knees laughing at this point. "The best part? You still have the balls to call me 'morally flexible'?"
"Looks to me like your moral底线 is made of fucking rubber—stretchy enough to lasso every girl straight into your arms!"
"Real talk, maybe you should just rename the book 'I Built a Harem in Another World But Pretended I Was Doing Equality Work.' That would be more honest. Or keep the grand title—you're way more shameless than me. At least I admit I'm using them: as tools, ladders, bargaining chips. You? Mouth full of ideology, heart full of business, and your pants full of… never mind."
"You really think Lysandro is some friendly NPC who'll just hand you his sister? Wake up! There's no F9 quicksave, no save-scumming. Pick the wrong option and you die for real! That young lady is strategic marriage material for the Rogare family to lock down alliances with other governors. She's not for you to daydream about!"
"I've bled for that family, saved his sister, trained his troops, earned him glory, babysat this spoiled second-generation heir—and that's the only reason I even get a seat at their table! And I still have to self-punish with three cups before I'm allowed to sit!"
"You think you can just talk 'equality and democracy' and he'll abandon his status as Lys's top rich kid to become your little fanboy? Bro, who do you think you are? Your transmigrator halo must come with an idiot debuff!"
"And this bit… ah, 'science and technology will change the world.' You think this is Civilization 6? Click one button, build an academy, boom—golden age?"
"This is the funniest part. You want to start a technological revolution—flintlocks, cement, soap—to transform the world of Ice and Fire. Bro, let me ask you two simple questions."
Tiberius held up two fingers.
"First: where's the startup capital? You think R&D is free?"
"Second: how the fuck are you going to protect your inventions? The second your soap and perfume start making money, some local gang—or hell, Lysandro himself—will kidnap you, force the recipe out of you, and dump your body in the Summer Sea."
"Here, 'possessing a treasure invites disaster' is iron law! Wealth and knowledge without military power to back them are just death warrants! You can carry the entire Encyclopedia Britannica a in your head, but a poisoned dagger at your waist will keep you alive longer!"
"Last piece of real talk from the heart: in A Song of Ice and Fire, being a villain isn't shameful. Being a good person isn't shameful. Being both at the same time while double-standarding like a hypocrite? That's shameful. I, Tiberius Mord, cheat, lie, act cold-blooded, play the petty villain, bow and scrape when I have to—but at the end of the day I'm earning myself a future!"
"And the most brain-dead part—building an army, the transmigrator's top priority!"
"Come on, bro, were you even reading the story?"
"I used to think like you. I thought I could recite 'freedom, democracy, equality' and those slaves and mercenaries would cry tears of gratitude and become my loyal 'Free Legion,' ready to die for me."
"Reality slapped me so hard I spun like a fucking top! They'd rather go back to hauling shit and selling candy than follow me. That invisible hand of reality bitch-slapped me good."
"How did I finally build my force? By holding their slave contracts, controlling their families' food rations, chopping the heads off a few troublemakers, and feeding them real silver and meat until they were full. That's how I scraped together a fighting unit!"
"Kindness? Equality? Belief?"
"I spit on that shit!"
"Here, a whip, a soft spot, and a sweet reward work way better than pretty words. I'd rather they fear me than disrespect me!"
"And the part that kills me most—'military court,' 'procedural justice'? Bro, you really think that works? I set up fair trials and the next day my own men will butcher prisoners in front of me because they smell weakness and lost control!"
Tiberius kept reading, voice cracking with laughter.
"Tiberius has been completely assimilated by this era. He chose the easiest and most depraved path. But I will never abandon my principles . No matter how difficult the road ahead, I will prove that the light of modern civilization can—and should—illuminate this ignorant world in a more decent and humane way…"
"Alright, the brother stopped writing here. I already sent Old Tom and Vito to find him… hope he didn't get beaten to death as a madman." Tiberius spread his hands, folded the parchment, and walked out.
---