As the army at Ximira Castle neared full assembly, the tension in the Odoche region reached its peak. The very air seemed to freeze.
'I can't breathe!'
Count John had come in person. He stood on a high mountain ridge overlooking the valley exit from Ximira Castle, gazing at the ever-growing army in the distance and the overflowing Westwood Laine Castle. His eyes were filled with determination and ruthlessness.
'Damn it, this is my fucking territory! And now that little bastard has turned it into a bridgehead to attack me!'
'And that Hereditary Baron who used to be under me, that son of a bitch. I gave him such a good piece of land, and he didn't develop it at all. Just handed it over for nothing!'
'Then there's the Emperor, a guy who hasn't left Lukaron in over a decade. What right does he have to meddle with the eastern grasslands! He's far too indulgent with his academy-bred noble students!'
Anyway, it was all someone else's fault. It had nothing to do with him, Count John!
