Princess Angelina and her maid, Ya'er, were no ordinary travelers. They were elves—descendants of the ancient Elven Empire, a civilization whose glory had once stretched across half the continent. Born into an eastern tribe, Angelina had been raised as royalty. But unlike many of her kin who lived in the quiet beauty of forests, she yearned to see the world.
Her travels had brought her across kingdoms, through markets and cities, and past cultures strange and wondrous. Yet, the further she went, the more everything began to feel the same. The novelty dulled. What she longed for was something truly extraordinary.
And she found it in the Ross Kingdom.
The journey had taken her and Ya'er across the wide plains of the Orc Empire. By chance—or perhaps fate—they arrived just as the Ross army fought the Allied Forces of Nott. From a distance, Angelina had seen the battle unfold. A small mortal army of thousands had defeated an enemy one hundred times their size.
The victory had stunned her. There were no sorcerers chanting spells, no enchanted war-beasts, no sky mages tearing through the clouds. Only men of flesh and blood, clad in strange uniforms, wielding weapons she had never seen before. Yet they shattered the impossible.
In Angelina's heart, this was not merely a victory—it was a miracle. And she was determined to uncover its truth.
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The Question
Inside the reception hall, Gavin Ward studied the two elf girls seated before him. Their golden eyes sparkled with curiosity, their fair cheeks flushed with excitement.
"So," Gavin said evenly, "you wish to know how my army defeated the Nott Alliance on the Wall-E Plains?"
Angelina leaned forward, her hands clenched into small fists. "Yes! Please!"
Her voice quivered with eagerness. This was the mystery that had driven her across miles of land—the secret behind the miracle army. Even Ya'er, who usually played the voice of caution, looked on with anticipation.
Gavin let the silence hang for a moment. Then, calmly, he spoke.
"I refuse to answer."
The words fell like a hammer.
Angelina blinked, her smile fading. "W-what? Why?"
"Because," Gavin replied coolly, "that knowledge is a military secret. In the Ross Kingdom, anyone who tries to uncover such secrets is guilty of espionage. The penalty… is execution."
His lips curved into a faint smile as he watched the realization dawn on them.
Both girls stiffened, taking an instinctive step back. Their golden eyes widened, hands twitching as if ready to flee. For the first time since their arrival, they sensed the danger beneath the king's charming exterior.
But then Gavin's voice softened. "However…"
The pause stretched, filling their hearts with sudden hope.
"But what?" Angelina and Ya'er asked quickly, almost in unison.
"If you become citizens of Ross," Gavin said, "if you join the army, if you rise through its ranks… then, one day, you will learn the truth yourselves."
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The Stubborn Princess
Angelina's heart pounded. Without hesitation, she blurted: "Then I will join the Ross Kingdom!"
"Your Highness!" Ya'er gasped, horrified. "You can't—"
But Angelina stood firm. She was a princess of elves, and with that title came a stubborn streak that no one could bend. "Our tribe does not belong to any nation. We are free. If I choose to join Ross, then it harms no one. And it will bring me closer to the answer I seek!"
Her golden eyes shone with defiance.
Gavin chuckled softly. The girl's spirit amused him. "Very well," he said, turning to his steward. "Stephens."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Stephens hurried forward.
"Take them to register their names. Put them down as civilian households. Farmers."
Stephens's lips curled into a subtle smile. He understood immediately. Though Angelina might imagine herself a soldier, Gavin had no intention of handing military secrets to strangers—even if they were rare and beautiful elves. Civilian status meant she and Ya'er would begin at the very bottom of society, working the fields.
After all, weren't elves supposed to love plants? Let them grow crops before they dreamed of carrying rifles.
Gavin stepped forward, his tall frame casting a shadow over Angelina. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. Then, with a sly grin, he removed the black military cap from his head and placed it on hers.
"This hat is yours. Don't disappoint my expectations."
The cap was far too big for her, slipping over her golden hair, but his gesture made her flush.
As Gavin strode from the room, Angelina glared after him, her cheeks puffed. "Just you wait! Hmph!"
Ya'er, meanwhile, wrung her hands in despair. "Your Highness, we've boarded a pirate ship!" she whispered, almost in tears.
---
Gavin's Amusement
Outside, Gavin's composure relaxed into a grin. He had not expected to "abduct" two elven girls so easily. And truthfully, he was moved. Elves were not like the artificial beauties of his past life, dolled up with cosmetics and illusions. They were naturally radiant, untouched, and pure.
Still, caution lingered. He would watch them closely. Only time would reveal whether they were genuine or spies.
His thoughts were interrupted by the brisk arrival of an officer. The man saluted sharply.
"Your Majesty, the first prototypes of the bazooka and the PM-38 mortar are complete."
"So soon?" Gavin raised a brow. "It's only been two days."
The officer nodded. "Yes, sire. Thanks to the craftsmen you recruited. They seem to understand the designs instinctively and worked with incredible speed."
"Good," Gavin replied. "Take me to see them."
As he walked, he mused silently. The system's craftsmen were few—barely a hundred in number—but their skill was unmatched. Fortunately, many had already taken apprentices from among the loyal citizens. Slowly, expertise was spreading.
Gavin knew well: if there was a group he could trust beyond his soldiers, it was these craftsmen. He had given them purpose, security, and family ties to the army. In return, they gave him unwavering loyalty.
---
A New Machine
The officer cleared his throat again. "There is more, Your Majesty. Another success to report."
"Oh?"
"The internal combustion engine has been completed. The first agricultural machines are already being assembled."
For once, Gavin did not look surprised. He had guided his people toward this goal since the start. The development of agriculture had always been his highest priority. With hybrid rice already in the fields, the next step was mechanization.
He nodded firmly. "Excellent. Continue production. Agriculture is the root of everything."
Even as weapons were being born, so too was the promise of abundance. Gavin understood the balance. An army could only march on full stomachs. A kingdom could only thrive if its people ate well.
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