Chapter 545: Evacuation

Under the cover of the night, a small group of people move stealthly in the shadows.

These people were Van Vernau, his family and his handful of retainers he trusted without reservation.

Their number is less than twenty. For a man of his status, it was almost laughable.

However, this is the best Van could do.

Too many people, and their movement would attract the eyes of guards, informants, or worse, Ryntum’s advance scouts.

Someone like him was undoubtedly a key figure for close observation.

Too few, and he would arrive in a foreign land stripped of influence, reduced to a beggar with a famous name, and unable to establish himself.

This number was the balance between survival and dignity.

Although the Cerdeauxia extends its invitation, generous, polite, and carefully worded, Van trusted none of it.

To place his fate entirely in another nation’s hands, even one hostile to Ryntum, would make him no different from a captive dressed in courtesy.

Hospitality could turn into chains the moment it became inconvenient.

If he were to survive, it would be on his own terms.

As soon as they arrive at the port, Van notices it is packed with people.

He had expected this much. His idea of moving at night is not that ingenious. Other people also shared the same thought process.

Fortunately, everyone is sensible enough not pry on others’ information. They tacitly pretend they didn’t see anything.

Truly a top-notch survival wisdom.

These people aren’t surviving for nothing.

Van Vernau led his group to the far end of the pier, where their ship was supposedly waiting.

This was a place he chose, away from the hustle and bustle of people.

The ship’s outline is barely visible against the dark water. No lanterns burned aboard. No flags marked its allegiance.

A merchant vessel in name, but one paid well to ask no questions and sail quickly.

Van stepped onto the gangplank. One by one, his family and retainers followed. Their figures were swallowed by the darkness of the ship’s deck.

When the last foot left the pier, the ropes were loosened in silence.

The vessel began to drift free like a shadow cast loose from land.

As the ship slipped into the black waters, Van Vernau stood at the stern, watching the lights of Eppen grow smaller.

’Goodbye, Blande,’ said Van in silence.

....

"Good. Capture all the prisoners. Make sure no one crosses the border."

Sarika’s voice effortlessly carried the command throughout the army.

She was currently at Kempten, the westernmost city of Blande. Just like Van previously predicted, this city falls so easily.

The only thing she needs to be careful about when in this region is not to allow the soldiers accidentally cross the border.

Because beyond that hill was a strong neighbour even for Ryntum.

She can’t afford to cause even a slight misunderstanding with the massive empire called Sidgean.

"Kempten’s secure," an officer reported. "No resistance of note. Prisoners are being processed."

"Good! Follow the usual routine. After we finish our business here, let’s rush to Eppen."

Her officers exchanged glances, then nodded in unison. They began to discuss the final strategy for this war.

One city left.

Her eyes swept over the situation map laid across the table. Colored markers showed that the Blande had nowhere left to retreat. North, east, west; everything had fallen.

Only the southern coast remained, a corner backed by the sea.

"Once Eppen falls, the war is over," Sarika said.

She straightened up, rolling her shoulders as if loosening the tension that had built over weeks of campaigning.

"I’m tired of this place. Finish Kempten today. Secure supplies, and rest the men just enough so they don’t collapse on the road. At first light, we move south."

Sarika’s wish spread through the ranks, and Kempten was wrapped up before dusk.

Sleep was short. Bodies dropped wherever there was ground enough to lie on. Everyone makes do with the little comfort.

No one is complaining about it, for they are nearing the end of the war.

Right before dawn, horns sounded softly.

The army moved.

Columns flowed out of Kempten in silence. Supply wagons creaked behind the infantry, artillery carefully spaced, and cavalry riding wide to secure the flanks.

No more enthusiastic shouts or singing like at the beginning of the war.

The novelty has worn off. They just want to finish the campaign and go home.

The road south stretched long and bleak.

Villages along the way offered no resistance. They just want to farm their fields.

Regardless of the winner of this war, these villagers’ lives won’t change much. They still have to eat.

Some opened their gates preemptively, hanging white cloth from poles or windows, afraid that the army might misunderstand them and attack.

While some outright abandoned their village entirely, leaving doors swinging in the wind and livestock roaming free.

As for where they went? No one cares.

Sarika rode near the front. She did not slow the march, as for every mile south tightened the noose around Eppen.

Scouts returned with predictable reports.

Refugees clogging the coastal roads, ports overflowing and no organised defensive line.

Sarika nodded. Her confidence skyrocketed as she believed capturing Eppen would be very easy.

By the second day, the air carried the smell of salt.

Eppen was close now.

From a low ridge, Sarika finally saw the white sails crowding the harbour and smoke rising from within the city.

"Everyone, get ready. We will use speed to storm the city."

Sarika intended to strike before Eppen could even realise the war had arrived at its gates.

She didn’t want to waste time sieging anymore since scouts already confirmed that Eppen was in chaos.

The army obeyed.

The pace increased.

A steady march became a rapid advance. Cavalry moved ahead, leading the way.

As they drew closer, the sounds of the city, like shouting, arguing, and the crash of something breaking, drifted toward them.

Seeing the city’s gate, Sarika smiled widely.

"Perfect!"