Early morning in Sedona City was thick with tension. Soldiers stood guard at key strategic locations, their presence making it clear to every citizen that something momentous was about to happen.
"Paper! Paper! Read all about it! Great events unfolding! Backed by the testimony of Princess Lucy, the traitorous Fourth Prince Liam has decided to plunder the wealth and grain of the Western Lands to fuel his rebellion! Lord Lucas, answering the call of righteous cause for the peace of the West, is launching a counter-attack against the rebel Liam!"
Ale followed the instructions given the night before, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Paper! Paper! Newspaper! Read all about it!"
The people on the streets were stunned. This news was world-shaking. The Fourth Prince was rebelling?
"Quick, give me a copy! No, give me three!"
"I need one here, hurry!"
"Heavens, the First Prince actually murdered the King for the throne? That's..."
"So the King was driven to illness by his three sons?"
"Poor Princess Lucy—she brought back the life-saving medicine only to find the King dead."
"To murder one's own father... he's nothing but a beast!"
"I support Princess Lucy and Lord Lucas! Take down that rebel Liam before he steals our food for his war!"
The commoners were furious. While the struggle for the throne usually felt distant, it became personal the moment it threatened their livelihood. War meant conscripting commoners for logistics or using them as cannonballs at the front. How could they not be anxious? This was the power of the newspaper: it seized control of the narrative among the masses.
Far-sighted nobles saw something different. To them, the struggle for the throne was inevitable; it was the accusation of patricide that was truly scandalous. Most importantly, the fact that Lucy officially supported Lucas's strike forced many nobles to rethink their positions.
"This is truly unbelievable. A Baron actively intercepting a Prince... even with Princess Lucy's backing, it's like an ant striking a stone," Gini said, putting down his paper and taking a bite of a steamed bun.
"It seems our cooperation with Lucas has ended before it even began," Isaac agreed. He wasn't naive enough to think a Baron could outmatch a Prince. No matter how capable this Baron was, he lacked the deep heritage and foundations of a Prince.
"So, do we head back?" Gini asked, his voice muffled by the bun. "Staying here might get dangerous."
"Agreed," Isaac replied, folding his paper.
Tramp, tramp, tramp...
The sound of many hooves echoed through the streets.
"It's Lord Lucas's carriage!" Someone shouted.
"Follow them! We're going to the rallying ceremony!" People immediately hailed rental carriages to follow the procession.
"Shall we take a look?" Gini asked, intrigued.
"Might as well. Let's see what kind of confidence Lucas is leaning on," Isaac nodded.
*
When Lucas arrived at the military training grounds outside the city, the army was already fully assembled. They stood in perfectly straight ranks, their polished steel armor gleaming majestically under the morning sun. The sharp, disciplined gaze of the soldiers was enough to make onlookers look away.
Surrounding the grounds was a sea of nobles, merchants, and commoners. Some commoners looked on with worry; among those ranks were their sons, fathers, brothers, and friends. What parent wouldn't worry? War always claimed lives.
Lucas stood on a temporary wooden platform, looking out over the army of over a thousand men. He felt a surge of pride. This was his foundation, his voice in the world, the sword that allowed him to write the rules. With this army, he could upend interests and no one would dare mutter a word.
"We have worked hard to finally taste a good life! But there are those who cannot stand to see us thrive. They envy that we have wheat to eat, meat on our tables, clothes on our backs, and roofs over our heads. The enemy wants to snatch it all away!"
"They want to steal everything we painstakingly created to satisfy their own lazy indulgence. Do you agree with this?" Lucas raised his arm and shouted.
"NO!!!" The roar was perfectly synchronized, filled with a chilling killing intent.
"Then what shall we do?" Lucas cried out.
"KILL! KILL! KILL!!!"
The bloodlust in that shout silenced the chattering crowd. This scene caused the pupils of Gini and the other nobles to contract. Their vision was more refined than the commoners'; they immediately recognized the extraordinary quality of these troops.
Gini: "..."
Isaac: "..."
What in the world? A Baron maintaining a force of knights this large? This is on the level of a Grand Duke!
"The equipment on these men is far too elite," Gini whispered, scanning the ranks.
"I take back what I said earlier," Isaac murmured. "Lucas might not necessarily lose this one."
He suddenly didn't want to leave. If Lucas actually won, he would be the undisputed master of the Western Lands. Since Isaac's roots were here, he couldn't afford to offend the man. Other nobles with hidden agendas also felt a chill of fear; the display of force before them was not something they could cross.
This was exactly the effect Lucas wanted: a display of raw muscle for the sake of deterrence. The newspaper provided the righteous cause, ensuring he wouldn't be branded a simple rebel, effectively silencing most critics.
Lucas smirked and stepped toward his carriage. Standing atop it, he swept his hand forward and commanded coldly:
"MARCH!"
Stomp!
The entire army stomped in unison, turned, and began to move. The rhythmic sound of their marching, their indifferent faces, their sharp eyes, and their cold, gleaming weapons created the image of an elite, unstoppable force.
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