The fortress no longer smelled of smoke and blood—it smelled of iron and purpose. Repairs had begun, banners stitched, walls shored, weapons reforged. But beneath the hum of labor was a hunger, not just of bellies but of ambition.
The Crescent could not remain locked behind stone. The Spears needed fields to till, mouths to feed, and victories to believe in. Eugene knew it. The system confirmed it.
[System Priority]:Resource acquisition.Territorial consolidation.Strategic expansion recommended.
The time had come to march east.
Preparing the Spears
On the courtyard's frost-bitten earth, Eugene inspected the Spears. Once, they were fifty. Then thousands. Now, scarred and battered, only two and a half thousand remained.
Yet their eyes burned brighter than before.
They had faced Ishida's wolves and lived. To them, Eugene was no longer simply a boy lord—he was proof that destiny could be bent by steel.
"Today," Eugene declared, voice cutting the cold air, "we march not to raid, but to build. Each village we reach, we do not burn—we shield. Each field we take, we do not waste—we sow. The Crescent does not spread like plague. It spreads like sunrise."
The Spears struck their spears to the ground, the sound echoing like thunder.
Hiroshi grinned, hefting his axe. "Sunrise, eh? Then let's wake the Hojo with fire in their eyes."
Lady Aiko, standing near, hid a faint smile. "If you can tame Hiroshi's metaphors as well as his blade, my lord, then perhaps ruling Japan will not be so difficult."
The Eastern Road
The march began with discipline. Banners of the silver Crescent fluttered, drums kept time, and villagers peered from huts as the column passed. Some bowed, others hid, and a few hurled curses—fearful of new masters.
But Eugene ordered strict discipline. No looting, no cruelty. Spears who disobeyed would be stripped of rank and flogged.
"Why so strict?" Hiroshi asked as they crossed a frozen river. "A bit of spoils keeps men happy."
"Happy today," Eugene replied. "But hated tomorrow. Armies who take become bandits. Armies who give become rulers."
Even Hiroshi could not argue.
First Contact
The first village on Hojo's border was little more than wooden huts clustered near a shrine. Its headman, a wrinkled man in ragged robes, approached with trembling hands.
"We have nothing to give," he croaked. "Last winter took half our fields. Hojo's tax men took the rest. If you come to burn, burn. If you come to kill, kill. We are already dead."
The Spears bristled at the words, but Eugene raised his hand. He stepped forward, pulling something from his pack.
A sack of rice.
The headman froze. Eugene dropped it before him. "We take nothing today. Instead, we give. In return, you will raise our banner and speak our name."
The old man's eyes filled with tears. Behind him, villagers whispered in disbelief.
"Why… why would a lord give instead of take?"
Eugene's gaze was steady. "Because a kingdom is not built on ashes. It is built on people."
When the Crescent banner was raised above the shrine, cheers spread. For the first time, the Spears saw peasants not cower—but bow with reverence.
Lady Aiko murmured, "You buy loyalty with rice. Clever."
Eugene shook his head. "Not buy. Plant."
Rumors on the Wind
Word spread faster than his army marched. Villages whispered of a young lord who fed instead of bled. Some dismissed it as trickery. Others prayed it was true.
But not all were convinced.
By the third village, resistance came—not from peasants, but from Hojo samurai. Thirty men, armored and mounted, blocked the road. Their leader sneered.
"Children playing at lords. Turn back, or we'll mount your heads on pikes."
The Spears tightened ranks. Hiroshi cracked his knuckles. Masanori murmured, "A test of our resolve."
Eugene stepped forward, calm as stone.
"You may kill us," he said. "But if you fight, your village burns, your peasants starve, and your master gains nothing. Join us instead—and Hojo's neglect will be his downfall, not yours."
The samurai laughed. But when Eugene raised his sword, two and a half thousand Spears leveled their weapons in unison, a wall of steel bristling behind him.
The laughter died.
The Hojo captain's eyes flickered to the villagers nearby, watching with hope. His jaw clenched. Finally, he sheathed his blade.
"Keep your rice, boy. We'll not die for Hojo's taxes."
They withdrew.
The villagers cheered. The Crescent spread.
A Lord's Doubt
That night, beneath the stars, Eugene sat by the fire, silent. The Spears celebrated, but he stared into the flames.
Aiko approached. "Why so grim, my lord? Today was a victory."
Eugene's voice was low. "Every step east strengthens us. But every step also paints a target on my back. Hojo will not ignore us forever. Ishida waits like a wolf. And the Spears… how long until hunger, fear, or ambition breeds more traitors?"
Aiko studied him. "Do you regret your path?"
He shook his head. "No. But I feel the weight of every life I lead. That's what it means to build, not just to fight."
Aiko's lips curved faintly. "Then perhaps you are already more lord than boy."
The Banner at Dawn
When dawn came, the Spears raised the Crescent over yet another village. Farmers gathered, children clutching their mothers, old men bowing deeply.
One boy, no older than ten, ran forward. His clothes were patched, his face smeared with dirt. Yet his eyes shone.
"Lord Crescent!" he cried. "Will you stay? Will you protect us forever?"
Eugene knelt, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I cannot stay," he said gently. "But my banner will. And one day, when you are grown, it will be yours to protect."
The boy's smile was brighter than the rising sun.
The Spears watched, and in their hearts, something shifted. They were no longer merely soldiers. They were builders of a future.
Hojo's Awakening
Far to the east, within Hojo's castle, news arrived like wildfire.
"Another village raises the Crescent," a retainer stammered. "And another. Even samurai bend knee. The people whisper that a new dawn rises."
The Hojo lord slammed his fist upon the tatami mat. "A child plays at king while we hesitate. Enough! Gather our banners. If the Crescent marches east, we will crush it beneath our heel!"
The drums of war began to beat.
But Eugene did not fear. He welcomed it. For every enemy who came was another step on the path he carved.
And in the cold dawn, with the Crescent rising above him, Eugene whispered to himself:
"This is only the beginning."