As the troops prepared to head towards the Bering Mountains, the logistics of traversing the deep forests and rugged terrain became increasingly challenging. The supply convoy had no choice but to remain behind—after all, they couldn't exactly trade with the demonic creatures and beasts lurking in those mountains.
Left with no alternative, Caesar once again approached Henry, the logistics merchant, for assistance. Chassie and the others also needed Henry's help to secure a safe place to stay.
Henry, the stout merchant, pounded his chest in assurance before Caesar, promising the safety of the women. As a manager of the supply convoy, Henry had several ruthless men working under him. Caesar had seen them before—most possessed the strength equivalent to third-class soldiers, which put his mind at ease. A few days earlier, Henry had gifted Caesar a black round shield with the diameter of an arm. It was crafted by a blacksmith from Peters' territory, someone Henry was acquainted with. Though made from ordinary materials, the craftsmanship was exceptional. Caesar tested it and found it twice as sturdy as his half-body armor, yet light enough for his left arm to handle with ease.
Caesar owed Henry many favors by now. Most of the silver coins Caesar had recently acquired—a little over a thousand—were spent through Henry. The standard military exchange rate was 2:1, but Henry offered Caesar a more favorable rate of 3:2, leaving Caesar with 800 silver buc in hand. Caesar hadn't bothered with Uncle York's share, trusting the older man had his own channels, possibly even better ones. Everyone had their own connections, and Caesar knew he couldn't rely on York for everything—it would make him seem incompetent.
Caesar treated this recent windfall as a one-time deal, something Uncle York had warned him not to repeat. To settle his debts with Henry, Caesar also provided detailed information about the black market in Worel City. Henry had long been aware of the Shiloh black market but lacked an opportunity to exploit it. Caesar's information came at the perfect time. Due to Worel City's unique location, the Garrel military wouldn't be sweeping through the area anytime soon. The black market was likely to grow and thrive for a considerable time.
Unlike Caesar, who could only deal in currency, Henry had access to the goods the Shiloh people desperately needed. As for whether this constituted aiding the enemy—no one dared suggest such a thing. Worel City lay deep within Garrel-occupied territory. The city was only ignored due to the immediate warfront demands. Once the fighting died down, Garrel forces could seize the small city at any time. After all, Worel City was merely a haphazard settlement of refugees and impoverished civilians—hardly a threat.
Henry was deeply impressed by Caesar's boldness and intelligence in daring to venture into the Shiloh black market. "This is a young man with courage and wit," Henry thought to himself.
Night fell, marking the beginning of an unforgettable evening. There would be no rest for the military camp tonight. The baron had just returned and immediately ordered the troops to march westward at full speed towards the Bering Mountains, aiming to arrive before dawn.
Night marches were nothing new to the soldiers. With no major battles in recent days, morale and stamina were high. Caesar had just said his farewells to Chassie and the others. Under Henry's arrangements, they would head towards the nearest Garrel-occupied territory. Once the convoy regrouped, they would travel directly to the military headquarters in the Arse Mountains. However, by then, the headquarters might have already moved to Bimor City.
Raffi, the young maid, had gradually let down her guard around Caesar. Perhaps it was because they were of similar age, or maybe it was because she had spent so long without meaningful conversations. Whenever Caesar initiated a topic, Raffi would chatter endlessly—so much so that Grace's face would often darken with irritation.
Christine remained the closest to Caesar. The mischievous girl had recently adopted a tactic of bear-hugging Caesar whenever he was alone with Chassie, leaping onto him at the most inconvenient moments. Surprisingly, Chassie wasn't annoyed by this and instead seemed to develop a maternal fondness for Christine. Despite their age gap of over ten years, the two women formed an unlikely bond.
Grace, on the other hand, maintained her usual aloof demeanor. Initially, she might have entertained thoughts of escape or finding an alternate path, but now she had settled into quiet acceptance. Caesar sometimes found it odd—he could have easily forced his will on her, yet instead, he felt a protective instinct toward this composed woman. Her demeanor often reminded him of Baron Kyle, someone who played the game of minds. "Perhaps people like Grace are simply born to outwit straightforward men like me," Caesar mused.
Chassie was naturally reluctant to see Caesar leave, but military duties called. As they parted, her warm embrace and tender gaze lingered in Caesar's mind. Before leaving, Caesar entrusted most of his silver buc to Chassie, confident in her ability to manage the funds. Chassie had not been idle during her time with Henry's convoy—she had actively observed and learned the intricacies of trade. Henry, seeing her eagerness, had not withheld any knowledge. When Caesar informed her that he had taken control of the thugs who had bullied her in Giza Town, Chassie's eyes sparkled with entrepreneurial ideas.
Christine was the most unwilling to part with Caesar. She feared he might vanish forever, just like her grandfather and other loved ones. With no other way to stop him, she could only cry. Her tears deeply moved Caesar, reaffirming that his care for Christine had not been in vain.
Grace, ever composed, gave Caesar a scrutinizing look and said, "You won't die, will you?"
The question nearly made Caesar fall off his horse. Without answering, he spurred his mount forward. Behind Grace, little Raffi stuck out her tongue and made a playful face at Caesar.
The battalion of over 500 men was now reduced to a pure combat force of around 400. The soldiers marched with determination, spurred on by the baron's orders to rest for two hours upon reaching the Bering Mountains' outskirts.
The somber, towering palace complex sat nestled among the mountains. The city walls stood tall, the battlements unbroken, and the pale marble pillars by the gates still bore witness to Odis City's former glory. Yet within the city, an oppressive silence reigned, broken only by the faint glow of scattered oil lamps.
This was Odis City, the royal capital of Shiloh—a once-proud fortress now on the brink of ruin.
Inside the royal palace, soldiers, messengers, generals, servants, and nobles bustled about in stark contrast to the stillness of the city outside. Shiloh might have already lost the war, but the ruling elite had not yet surrendered.
In the central hall, the elderly King of Shiloh, a man in his fifties, sat listening to reports. His gray hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his heavy crown seemed to weigh him down even further.
"Are you saying Princess Angelina of Garrel has entered our territory?" the king asked.
"Yes," replied an official in dark robes.
"Send out the Blood Red units," the king commanded.
The Blood Red units were Shiloh's most feared secret force, loyal only to the royal family. Their deployment signaled the kingdom's desperate resolve.
"Dispatch the first and third squads," the king ordered.
The ministers exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. Everyone understood—this was an all-or-nothing gamble.