The snowmelt turned red. For three days after the great clash, the streams that wound through the valley ran with blood, carrying fragments of ash and burned banners down to the rivers below.
The battlefield was quiet now, but it was the silence of exhaustion, not peace. Crows feasted where men had fallen. The fortress walls bore black scars, and the air still smelled of powder and smoke.
Eugene walked the ramparts slowly, his cloak dragging through soot. His sword remained sheathed, but his shoulders were heavy as if still braced for the strike of a thousand arrows. Below him, villagers dragged corpses into piles, separating their own from the enemy. Weeping carried on the wind.
Victory had come—but it was not clean.
The Price of Defiance
Lady Aiko's report was merciless.
"Of the four thousand Spears and auxiliaries, nearly one in three lie dead or crippled. We have enough rice for perhaps three weeks if rationed. The villages surrounding the fortress are ashes. And…" She hesitated. "Whispers spread among the people. Some say Ishida will return with twice the men. That we cannot endure again."
Hiroshi slammed his fist against the table. "Cowards' talk! We've slain thousands of wolves. Let them come—our Spears will carve them again!"
Masanori frowned. "And who will fight, Hiroshi? Your pride, when bellies are empty? Your anger, when Spears cannot lift their arms from hunger?"
The council fell into bitter silence.
Eugene listened, eyes half-closed. He had heard these voices before—on battlefields of another world, in meetings where generals bickered while maps bled. But here, it was not abstract. It was his people who starved, his Spears who lay maimed.
[System assessment]:Morale: strained.Supplies: critical.Loyalty: fragmenting.Recommendation: swift demonstration of leadership, immediate search for external support, political consolidation before next assault.
Eugene raised his head. His voice cut through the despair like cold steel.
"We bled, but we still stand. The Wolf's fangs broke against our walls. That is no small thing. And if Ishida returns, he will not face the same foe—he will face one stronger, one tempered by fire."
The Spears who heard him straightened, weary but inspired. Aiko's eyes flickered with reluctant hope.
But not all in the fortress shared that faith.
The Whisperers
That night, Eugene walked through the lower wards in plain clothes, accompanied by only a single guard. He listened.
He heard a woman crying over her burned home, whispering that perhaps Ishida's rule would at least spare her children. He heard two wounded ashigaru mutter that Hojo might protect them better than their Crescent Lord. He even overheard a merchant grumble that Eugene's war had ruined trade, that the valley would be richer if the boy had never risen.
The words stung—not because they surprised him, but because they rang with bitter truth.
Every lord in history faced the same shadow: victory wins glory, but hunger wins rebellion.
Eugene clenched his fists. He could not silence every whisper. But he could drown them in something louder: action.
A Risky Gamble
By dawn, Eugene called his council again.
"We cannot survive on rice alone," he said. "Nor can we wait for Ishida to return. We must seize the initiative. There is food beyond these walls—grain, fish, herds. Hojo to the east, Imagawa to the south. They hesitate, waiting to see if we endure. We must show them not endurance, but dominance."
Masanori frowned. "You speak of raiding? Our Spears are exhausted."
"Not raids," Eugene corrected. "Campaigns. If Hojo and Imagawa see us expand despite the Wolf, they will choose alliance rather than enmity. And our people will see strength, not weakness."
Hiroshi's eyes gleamed. "A strike into Hojo's border villages could fill our granaries twice over."
Lady Aiko's voice was sharp. "And paint us as aggressors. Do not think Hojo blind. They send envoys because they see Ishida weakened. If we raid recklessly, they may unite against us instead of with us."
Eugene met her gaze steadily. "Then we will not raid recklessly. We will move with purpose—first to feed, then to forge alliances. This is not banditry. This is the birth of a kingdom."
The room fell silent. Even Aiko, though frowning, could not deny the weight in his words.
The Oath of the Spears
Before they marched, Eugene gathered the surviving Spears in the fortress courtyard.
The men stood ragged, bandaged, hollow-eyed. But when their lord stepped before them, the battered Crescent banner at his back, a hush fell.
Eugene unsheathed his sword. Its blade gleamed with the memory of fire.
"We are not many," he said, his voice carrying across the square. "But we are enough. Enough to hold against the Wolf. Enough to survive fire and frost. Enough to carve a kingdom from the ashes of war.
Look around you. Each man here has bled. Each man here has watched comrades fall. But each man here still stands. You are the Fifty Spears grown to four thousand—and though we are less today, what remains is sharper than any blade."
He raised the sword high.
"I swear to you: I will not waste your blood. Every step we take, every strike we make, will be for the kingdom we build. Not for me alone—for all who live under the Crescent."
The Spears roared, striking spear butts against the earth. "Crescent! Crescent!"
The sound rolled through the fortress like thunder. The whispers of doubt did not vanish, but they were drowned, at least for now.
A Shadow at the Edge
That night, as the fortress prepared for the campaign, a shadow moved through the camps.
A figure cloaked in wolf pelts slipped among the outer tents, unseen by guards. He listened to the chants of the Spears, the cheers of villagers. He saw the Crescent Lord upon the walls, speaking to his captains with fire in his eyes.
The figure smiled thinly beneath his hood.
"Eugene," he whispered. "You have teeth sharper than I thought. But every flame burns twice as bright before it dies."
He vanished into the night, a spy returning to his master.
And far across the ridges, in the heart of the Takeda camp, Ishida's fury burned hotter than ever.
The Wolf had bled, yes—but he was not finished.
And now, the Crescent Lord would face not just hunger or whispers, but betrayal waiting in the shadows.