Chapter 83 Thoughts of Women

When the final trace of combat aura was thoroughly purified and absorbed, the myriad nodes densely scattered throughout his body abruptly surged with vibrant activity.

Richie felt as though every single pore across his skin had opened wide, greedily drawing in deep breaths. Crisp, invigorating air was pulled in, while murky, impure dross was exhaled. This sensation of sloughing off the stale and absorbing the new was extraordinarily sublime.

Yet pleasant though this initial sensation was, he knew all too well that suffering would soon follow.

Over recent days, whenever he cultivated the 'Vajra' art, he was forced to endure an entire spectrum of agonizing sensations. It would commence with this refreshing clarity, followed immediately by an unbearable itch spreading from the inside out. Then came the pain: initially throbbing within his muscles, then gradually creeping into his sinews and marrow, until finally every single bone and nerve throughout his entire body ached with excruciating torment.

Yet even that was not the most terrifying phase. Following the agony came a profound, bone-deep soreness—so debilitating that even lying motionless on his bed felt like torture.

Had it not been for the ancestral cultivation insights provided by Uncle, which explicitly stated that this was an unavoidable crucible of mastering 'Vajra', he would certainly have feared that his cultivation had gone awry.

According to those notes, this was the process of reconstructing sinew and tempering bone; once one persevered through this trial, the foundational mastery of the divine art was attained.

There were also subtle nuances omitted from those ancient records—for instance, fire-attributed combat aura was exceptionally suited for forging sinew and bone, whereas earth-attributed aura was ideal for nourishing flesh and hide.

Other martial masters who had attained the Vajra state had relied entirely on their own solitary strength, possessing only a single elemental attribute in their aura, which naturally left them no basis for comparison. How could any of them compare to Richie, who received a cornucopia of diverse combat auras with virtually no effort of his own?

And the ability to obtain distinct attributes of combat aura signified a singular, undeniable reality: the scale of his personal harem had expanded once more.

"May I come in?"

A familiar voice abruptly interrupted Richie's cultivation.

At first, Richie assumed his ears were playing tricks on him.

After a brief pause, the voice outside called out again, tinged with mock exasperation: "What's this? Now that your status has risen, you don't even acknowledge your master?"

With that, all doubt vanished. Richie leapt off his bed and dashed swiftly toward the front door.

Standing at the threshold was indeed his master, Miss Dana. Behind her, the other female knights of Squad 105 were bustling about, busily unloading their luggage and provisions.

"You're finally here!"

Richie was overjoyed. For him, Squad 105 was nothing less than his second home.

"I heard you assassinated Yarno," Dana sighed softly. "The higher-ups reassigned our squad here precisely because of that incident. Aside from us, it seems there is no one else capable of keeping you on a leash."

As she spoke, she reached out and pinched his nose, giving it an affectionate twist.

Had anyone else dared to do that, Richie would have flared with indignation, but coming from Dana, it felt completely natural and endearing.

To Richie's astonishment, another figure suddenly bounced out from behind Dana.

"Tidi?! What on earth are you doing here?" Richie was utterly shocked. Back when they had returned from the frontlines, it had made sense for this brazen girl to tag along with Squad 105 since they were traveling in the same direction, but why was she still here?

The girl offered no answer, instead retorting with an arch query: "And how have you been enjoying your days lately?"

"You haven't answered my question yet," Richie muttered sullenly, finding this wild lass a perpetual headache.

"No wonder everyone says you're petty and narrow-minded," Tidi scoffed, shooting him a sidelong glare.

Watching the two bicker like squabbling children, Dana shook her head with a rueful chuckle. "She has officially joined Squad 105 as well. We have gained another member."

Since Tidi refused to explain, Dana had to step in.

Richie turned up his nose and ignored Tidi, rolling up his sleeves as he turned to his master: "Let me give you a hand."

Missing a single day of cultivation wouldn't hurt; he would have ample opportunities to make it up later.

Dana didn't object, but Tidi abruptly caught the hem of Richie's tunic. "I have something to ask you."

"You two chat; I'll head over there," Dana said, already turning to attend to her own duties. Galli was occupied with administrative meetings. Of the two vice-captains in the squad, Meilin oversaw internal logistics, while Dana managed external coordination, leaving her with a mountain of tasks.

The moment Dana was well out of earshot, Tidi leaned close to Richie's ear and whispered in a conspiratorial tone: "Have you slept with my mom yet?"

Richie nearly spat blood. He had always known Tidi was a brazen tomboy, but he had never imagined she could be shameless to such a jaw-dropping extreme.

Setting aside whether anything had actually transpired, what kind of daughter would pose such a question to a man about her own mother?!

"What? Too embarrassed to admit it? To tell you the truth, I don't really care that much if you put a green hat on my old man. The only issue is that if you did, the relationship between you and me would become a bit awkward..."

Tidi rambled on with complete nonchalance.

"Who even is your mother?!" Richie blurted out, frantically cutting off her absurd tirade.

Tidi scrutinized Richie from top to bottom. After a lengthy stare, she confirmed that he was genuinely not lying. "My mom is Velia."

Richie stared at Tidi with wide eyes. Only now did he realize why Velia's name had sounded so vaguely familiar when he first heard it—Lina and the others had mentioned it in passing.

Rubbing his nose, Richie protested defensively, "Stop talking nonsense! Nothing has ever happened between your mother and me!"

In truth, he wouldn't mind if something *had* happened; he genuinely held a favorable impression of Velia. While she wasn't a woman of extraordinary, intoxicating beauty, being around her was always remarkably comfortable and relaxing.

"Really?" Tidi squinted, staring straight into Richie's eyes.

"I'm busy; stop hovering around getting in the way!" Richie could hardly stomach this wild girl's relentless grilling and promptly chased her off.

Stepping back inside, he slammed the door shut and slid the bolt home, resuming his interrupted cultivation. Had it not been for Tidi's irritating intrusion, he had originally planned to take the day off. After being separated for so long, catching up with Lina and the others was naturally on his agenda, but that plan was thoroughly ruined now.

In the span of that brief conversation, a tenth of the combat aura coursing through his meridians had already dissipated. Richie hastily focused his mind, guiding the circulation of aura back onto its track.

Left standing outside the barred door, Tidi scratched her head. During her time with Squad 105, she had learned a great deal about Richie. Furthermore, because Lina had only established contact with her mother through her introduction, she was somewhat privy to the clandestine transactions between them.

What her mother was doing could be politely described as playing matchmaker, or bluntly described as procurement.

She had simply wanted to know whether her mother, in the process of procuring women for him, had ended up jumping into the water herself. She harbored no malicious intent, merely seeking to satisfy her curiosity, never expecting to receive a flat rebuff from Richie.

"Who cares anyway! It's not like you're the only person I can ask!"

Tidi kicked the wooden door viciously, then spun on her heel and strode toward the distant military encampments.

***

By now, Stein had quietly evolved into a heavily fortified military redoubt. The refugee settlement was under strict martial law; residential zones were partitioned by earthen ramparts into discrete sectors. Further out, an entirely cordoned-off perimeter boasted deep trenches and reinforced ramparts—compact in footprint, yet guarded with impenetrable vigilance. This was the soon-to-be-completed battle armor manufacturing facility.

Calling it a full-scale manufacturing plant was somewhat of a stretch. The facility was designed primarily to assemble prefabricated parts into complete battle armor, as well as handle field maintenance and structural repairs; designating it an assembly plant would be far more precise.

The hallmark of the 'Dragon' battle armor was its large number of modular components and intricate assembly process, while requiring relatively modest heavy machinery. It was precisely for this reason that the plant could be constructed so rapidly.

Yet compared to ordinary assembly lines, this facility incorporated something exceptional. After all, Richie would be stationed here indefinitely; who could predict when a spark of genius might strike him to embark on novel experiments? Thus, the complex housed a specialized machining workshop capable of fabricating virtually anything imaginable.

The strategic value of this workshop vastly outstripped the rest of the plant. And it was precisely because of its presence that two elite knight legions were stationed immediately to its left and right flanks.

Tidi was heading toward the knight encampment on the left, yet as she walked past, her gaze remained fixed longing on the camp to the right.

At the entrance of that right-hand compound, a banner emblazoned with a silver unicorn head fluttered gallantly in the mountain breeze. Beneath the standard stood a suit of battle armor.

The armor was pristine white and remarkably slender. Its unified breastplate and cuirass gave it an extraordinarily crisp, clean silhouette. Upon its helm rested a classical crest, with a razor-sharp, spiraling horn projecting from the brow, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the legendary unicorn. The lower chassis utilized an armored war-skirt—an archaic configuration rarely adopted in modern designs, yet rendering the suit exceptionally striking and noble.

Tidi stared with wide-eyed reverence. This was none other than the illustrious Unicorn Legion.

While the Republic had existed for seven centuries, the history of this legendary legion stretched back even further—it had endured for over a millennium.

The very first authentic battle armor had been crafted by the Parkington Holy Kingdom, and the earliest knight legions had likewise been born within its borders, named after five mythical beasts: Titans, Dragons, Phoenixes, Medusas, and Unicorns.

As the primordial knight legions, their prestige was supreme.

Tidi could recite from memory the names of every single commander across their history. To become a commander of one of those five legions required at least the attainment of the Celestial Knight realm; among their past commanders, eleven had been revered Sword Saints.

Glorious Knights, hailed as apex legends within the Republic, were merely ordinary officers within the ranks of these five legions.

Gazing at the sentinel standing motionless on guard, Tidi wondered what caliber of warrior was encased within. An Ace Knight? Or an Honor Knight?

In any case, it could not be an ordinary knight; within those five legions, there was simply no room for ordinary knights.

Craning her neck in admiration, the girl reluctantly pulled herself away and entered the encampment where her mother was stationed.

Identical tents, identical barracks—yet for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental was missing here.

Tidi encountered no hindrance, as everyone in the camp recognized her. The knight on sentry duty even reached out to pat her head, remarking with a grin, "The little girl has grown up after all."

In front of outsiders, Tidi instantly transformed into a well-mannered darling, her tongue sweet as honey. Back during her academy days, she had reaped countless benefits through this innocent act.

Velia's quarters were situated at the outer perimeter. When Tidi walked in, her mother was frowning deeply over a strategic proposal.

"Being neighbors with the Unicorn Legion must put immense pressure on you, doesn't it?"

Tidi bounded behind her mother and chimed in.

Velia was startled, but the moment she recognized her daughter's voice, she leapt from her chair, abandoning the proposal entirely.

"Darling, you're finally here! Was the frontline fun?"

Velia exhibited none of the stern solemnity expected of a mother, behaving far more like an elder sister with Tidi.

"Just so-so. Even though I was at the front, Dad was terrified for my safety and never let me onto the actual battlefield. For over a year, I spent most of my time cooped up in shelters, and the rest of the time running away with the retreating columns. It was utterly boring," Tidi complained with an aggrieved pout.

Velia shot her daughter a stern look, lecturing, "He did that out of love, terrified that you'd lose your life out there. You think war is a game? Do you know how many people have died so far?"

"Alright, alright—"

Tidi clamped her hands over her ears; she certainly hadn't come here to endure a motherly lecture. The two women, one mature and one young, stared each other down until both burst into giggles simultaneously.

"By the way, you mentioned earlier that you had something important to tell me. What is it?" Velia asked after their laughter subsided.

"I joined Squad 105," Tidi replied offhandedly.

In stark contrast to her daughter's casual tone, Velia nearly leapt out of her boots, shrieking in dismay: "No! Absolutely not! For a woman, that place is the most perilous trap in existence!"

She scrutinized her daughter from head to toe, her eyes ultimately drilling toward the junction of the girl's thighs.

What brought Velia a modicum of relief was that Tidi kept her legs pressed tightly together, without the slightest suggestive gap.

"You're... still a virgin, right?" Velia asked with lingering skepticism.

Tidi was long accustomed to her mother's blunt frankness, but instead of answering, she countered with her own burning question: "I wanted to ask you the same thing! Have you slept with Richie yet?"

"You wicked girl, what nonsense are you spouting!"

Velia raised her hand to strike, though naturally she wouldn't genuinely hit her daughter, merely brushing her palm against Tidi's shoulder like swatting away dust.

Observing her mother's reaction, Tidi was somewhat inclined to believe that nothing had transpired between them, yet she felt compelled to verify further.

The brazen girl suddenly darted her hand forward, brushing against her mother's crotch.

Velia was startled by her daughter's brazen touch, her first instinct being that Tidi had been thoroughly corrupted—Squad 105 was notorious as an irredeemable melting pot. But what her daughter blurted out next shocked her even more.

"Mom, you're lying! You've already been bedded!"

Tidi leaned in with a mischievous smirk. "I seem to see a vivid green tint gleaming on top of Dad's head."

"What absolute drivel are you talking about?!" Velia was genuinely flustered.

"Still acting stubborn?" Tidi scoffed. "If you haven't been bedded, why are you wearing leather undergarments? With thick cotton padding lined inside, no less!"

She eyed her mother out of the corners of her eyes, wearing the triumphant smirk of someone catching a thief red-handed.

Velia let out a soft huff. Such intimate matters were intensely embarrassing, and she had originally desired to offer no explanation. Yet faced with her daughter's gloating insolence, keeping silent was no longer an option.

"You spent time with Squad 105. Did you ever watch him do that sort of thing?" Velia asked pointedly.

Tidi blushed slightly. "I had nothing to do with him; who would watch something like that?"

"Did you ever eavesdrop?" Velia pressed with an amused smile. Just as Tidi was curious about her, she was equally keen to pry into what her daughter had experienced during that period.

Tidi's blush deepened, and she sheepishly raised three fingers.

The curve of Velia's lips widened significantly. "When you listened, did you feel a strange itching sensation down below? Did your heart flutter uncontrollably?"

Tidi's blush faded, replaced by skepticism as she realized her mother seemed exceptionally animated, discussing these matters with an unmistakable glint of relish.

Women were universally like this: regarding matters between the sexes, they felt an equal measure of bashfulness and intense longing. In private company without outside eyes, their discourse was often vastly more explicit than men's.

"There was a little bit of that sensation, but it was mild. Once I got back to my room, drinking two gulps of cold water suppressed it completely," Tidi answered candidly.

"You've never been married, nor have you ever tasted a man; of course you wouldn't be deeply affected. But I have a husband, and I've given birth to you; naturally my reaction is entirely different! The first time I overheard him doing that, my state was utterly humiliating. Later I wised up and procured a pair of these padded leather undergarments."

Velia shared these intimate womanly secrets with her daughter without reserve.

Such private confidences were things Tidi had never encountered before. She suddenly found that staying with her mother was vastly more amusing than being around her father. With that realization, her boldness flared, growing even more uninhibited.

Wrapping an arm around Velia's waist, Tidi chuckled softly: "What? Are you tempted? If you're genuinely interested, I can be your go-between!"

She placed a hand solemnly over her heart and pledged, "I swear, I won't breathe a single word of this to Dad!"

Velia was provoked—not with genuine fury, but out of sheer embarrassment turning to mock anger. She thrust both hands onto her daughter's waist, tickling her mercilessly!

Tidi had been deathly ticklish since childhood; instantly overwhelmed, she squealed and pleaded desperately for mercy.

Right as mother and daughter were tumbling in mock combat, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Velia had no choice but to spare the unruly wildcat, smoothing her uniform as she walked over to open the door.

Standing outside was the sentry knight, wearing an expression of helpless exasperation: "That man is here again."

Velia scratched her temple. Looking past the sentry, she spotted a balding, middle-aged man lingering near the camp gates. "Bring him over."

She was equally resigned.

"Who is that?" Tidi craned her neck, peering into the distance. She had half-expected it to be Richie, but seeing a balding middle-aged man left her thoroughly disappointed.

"A self-righteous idiot who thought he could use politicians for his own ends, only to discover he was the one being thoroughly used, while completely incapable of influencing those politicians in return," Velia scoffed with undisguised contempt.

What gave her a headache was not that the man was difficult to dismiss. Under the current strict martial law, agitators were no longer treated as they had been in Penece, where they were merely held in detention for a week. Any serious disruption now carried the charge of willful sedition, punishable by hanging.

The true dilemma was that this situation was a deliberate trap laid by Malone, designed to show the public what fate awaited those who blindly followed politicians.

The balding man was not an evil person; he was merely an ivory-tower pedant blinded by bookish idealism, unable to perceive brutal reality. Perhaps because of his past academic renown, he had stepped forward as the figurehead, walking straight into Malone's crosshairs.

Velia felt considerable pity for him and his followers, who were genuinely miserable, yet her hands were tied.

Given her current alliance with Malone, not assisting him was already stretching the limits of political loyalty; if she actively undercut him, even the remaining goodwill between them would evaporate.

The balding man was escorted over. Velia did not invite him inside, receiving him directly at the doorway.

Confronted with Velia, the middle-aged scholar behaved with extreme humility, his face plastered with obsequious smiles, completely stripped of his former righteous indignation.

"Professor, what is your business this time? Please don't tell me you've come begging for supplies again. I told you last time that all materials under my command are strictly allocated to constructing the battle armor facility. Refugee rations are distributed per capita by the municipal authorities, which is thoroughly documented, supplemented only by private charitable donations. Don't you have a host of illustrious dignitaries backing your cause? Why not request aid from them?"

Velia had no choice but to adopt an official, bureaucratic tone.

"Commander Velia, I implore you, for the sake of all those women and innocent children, please grant us even a modicum of relief! Provide us with just a fraction of food and medicine! Furthermore, we desperately beg you to dispatch knights to help restore public order!"

The balding scholar nearly fell to his knees in desperate pleading.

"I am terribly sorry, but I cannot grant a single one of your requests. Your encampment is not without rations; as for where those provisions went, I trust you know far better than I. As for maintaining order, was it not because you vehemently opposed military governance that you withdrew from our perimeter to establish your own camp in the first place?"

Velia hardened her heart and delivered a flat refusal.

"Protecting civilians is supposed to be the sacred duty of a knight!" the balding scholar blurted out, unable to restrain himself. Having bowed his head in humiliation only to meet a brick wall, his despair curdled into bitter resentment.

"My apologies, but that duty comes with a prerequisite: only civilians who actively submit to protection enjoy that right, and conversely, they bear the obligation to obey martial orders. That is precisely what is inscribed in the Knight's Code. Would you care to review it?"

Velia asserted this with solemn confidence. In truth, she was fabricating it on the spot; the Knight's Code possessed no such intricate clauses, consisting only of a dozen broad, noble principles.

The balding scholar was naturally unaware of the fabrication, believing he had finally grasped a lifesaving rope.

"I admit I was wrong! Now, both I and my people formally request your protection!"

He lowered his bald head in total submission. Before coming, he had prepared two contingencies: the optimal outcome was securing knights to maintain law and order within his camp.

If that failed, he would disband his unmanageable refugee settlement and return beneath the umbrella of martial law. Though it meant surrendering their freedom, it was infinitely superior to their current nightmare—the settlement he oversaw had descended into nothing short of an earthly hell.

Originally, to build political momentum, he had recruited indiscriminately. Consequently, nine out of ten people who joined his faction were unruly, disruptive elements who engaged in rampant misconduct once settled. Having learned from past crackdowns, they refrained from overt murder and arson, but brawling, theft, and extortion had become daily occurrences, rapidly escalating into open robbery.

What pained him most was that after aligning with that faction of politicians, those rogue elements had grown even more brazen. Believing they had powerful patrons, they no longer feared the gallows and became utterly lawless. Within the past week alone, more than a dozen sexual assaults had taken place, and two men had been murdered.

The balding scholar gazed at Velia with a mournful expression, awaiting her decree.

"This matter does not fall under my jurisdiction. My sole duty is to defend this manufacturing facility while preventing hostile sabotage and infiltration. This is a direct directive from the Coalition Supreme Command. As you can see, the Parkington Holy Kingdom has dispatched their elite Unicorn Guard Legion for this purpose, and their mandate even includes surveilling our own forces."

Velia deflected the responsibility with absolute detachment.

She turned into her quarters and retrieved a formal parchment from her desk drawer.

It was an official military order, stamped with the wax seal of the Dante Coalition Combined Headquarters.

Pushing the document before the scholar, Velia breathed a quiet sigh of relief, thanking her foresight for keeping such paperwork handy. The directive wasn't counterfeit, though in truth it was utterly worthless; the so-called Combined Headquarters existed purely in name, commanding genuine respect from no one. And Monstoke's internal situation was even more chaotic—with the government effectively collapsed, the General Staff held titular authority over the High Command, yet knights in the field ignored their orders completely.

Her drawers were crammed with a colorful assortment of directives that Velia had zero intention of executing; they served a purpose only in circumstances like this, acting as the ultimate bureaucratic shield.

If this scholar dared challenge her, she would tell him to take his grievances directly to the Coalition Combined Headquarters.

To Velia's mild surprise, the balding scholar fell silent after reading the order. After a protracted pause, he offered a deep, dejected bow and shuffled away, his silhouette radiating profound desolation and helplessness.

"That man is quite pitiful," Tidi sighed from the side once the door closed.

"Save your sympathy. In wartime, who isn't pitiful? A person must first strive to save themselves before others can save them. For troublemakers like them, the effort required to rescue one could save ten ordinary people."

Velia murmured lazily. She knew she was rationalizing her own harshness, yet she was truly powerless: "In truth, I'm quite pitiful myself..." she muttered under her breath.

Tidi had never seen her mother voice such melancholic sentiments. Both mother and daughter belonged to the thick-skinned, resilient archetype—or bluntly put, the carefree and indifferent sort. If anyone claimed all women were sentimental creatures, the two of them would be the first to scoff. Yet her mother's current demeanor proved only one thing: she was genuinely exhausted, both mentally and emotionally.

"Where is Victoria? Didn't you usually dump this sort of chore on her in the past?" Tidi suddenly realized an absence.

"Her..."

Velia sighed once more, the sound laden with heavy bitterness: "Her husband died. While there wasn't much passionate romance between them, they were husband and wife for so many years; affection naturally existed. And her husband treated her quite well..."

Velia's tone grew increasingly somber. As she spoke, she couldn't help but think of her own husband. Her words applied equally to her own marriage: back then, she had agreed to marry Mosalai simply because she had reached the customary age, and having grown sick of being courted, she had picked someone who wasn't overly clingy and seemed decent enough.

Velia stared into space, lost in thought. Tidi was equally dazed. After a long silence, the daughter finally broke the quiet: "I heard your legion is going to merge with Squad 105. Is that true?"

"It is," Velia replied. "The higher-ups had planned long ago to expand around your squad into a battalion, but because of subsequent disruptions, the plan was shelved. Now the matter has been brought up again. But given that fellow's skyrocketing value, simply reviving the old battalion plan wouldn't carry enough weight. So the expansion was upgraded directly from a battalion to a full legion."

Velia left several details unsaid: this was not merely the command from above, but also their own calculated maneuver.

When Lina had approached her for help, it had not been an impulsive decision, nor merely because Tidi happened to be in Squad 105.

The original architect behind this plan was General Haigart, and the man quietly brokering the ties behind the scenes was her own husband, Mosalai.

As for whether even higher-ranking figures were secretly steering the initiative, Velia had no way of knowing, though she suspected it was exceedingly likely.

"How do you plan to handle Lina and Victoria? Those two are bitter rivals; putting them together is bound to produce fireworks," Tidi noted with mischievous amusement, showing zero concern and reveling in the impending drama.

"And what about you and Margaret? Aren't you two rivals as well? I heard you two brawl in the squad practically every single day," Velia retorted with a stern glare.

"She's the one picking fights! She claims she's sparring with me, but in reality, I don't even want to cross blades with her," Tidi explained hastily, lodging a grievance.

"That's only because you can't beat her," her mother replied, knowing her daughter's temperament inside and out. "Back at the academy, you picked plenty of fights with others. You were mighty and haughty then; now that she has advanced to an Ace Knight, it's only natural she seeks payback."

"It's not like I just stand there taking beatings! Even if I can't beat her, holding out for thirty or fifty exchanges is no problem at all!" Tidi countered defensively, exaggerating her prowess to save face. In truth, surviving ten moves against Margaret was already her absolute limit, and that had been back when Margaret's newly advanced realm hadn't yet consolidated.

Lately, Margaret rarely bothered challenging her, because in a serious bout, Margaret could easily dismantle her within three moves.

Velia, who had been lounging lazily against her chair, suddenly straightened her back, her eyes narrowing sharply as she fixed them upon her daughter.

She might be carefree, but she was by no means stupid. Knowing her daughter, this girl was the last person to willingly subject herself to pointless abuse. For her to stubbornly linger in Squad 105 could only mean one thing.

"And you had the nerve to tease me earlier!"

Velia scolded with a smirk. "Without realizing it, you've already turned seventeen. Marrying now wouldn't be considered premature."

Suddenly, her hand shot forward, grabbing her daughter and swatting her on the crotch in direct retaliation for Tidi's earlier insolence: "If you chose anyone else, it might be fine. But if you set your sights on that boy, you had better prepare yourself for plenty of suffering."

"Is his thing really that huge and terrifying?"

Tidi didn't mind the swat in the slightest. She was bold by nature, and with the doors closed and only her mother present, her audacity expanded further: "Did you peek at it?"

Velia spat in mock disgust, blushing with mild irritation: "Who on earth would peek at that thing?! I only heard the others talking about it... when that thing of his gets erect..."

Mother and daughter gestured and whispered, diving into forbidden topics with unabashed curiosity.

***

Arriving in a new location and getting settled always required an enormous amount of work, and the female knights of Squad 105 spent their entire day bustling about.

Because formal deployment orders had not yet been finalized, they did not reside within Velia's military encampment. Instead, they found an open clearing immediately adjacent to the dwelling occupied by Richie's family.

Finding an open plot in this refugee settlement was extraordinarily difficult; buildings were crammed together so tightly that the pathways between them accommodated only a single person at a time, requiring pedestrians walking in opposite directions to squeeze past sideways. Only the perimeter surrounding Richie's residence offered any semblance of open breathing room.

The members of Squad 105 naturally wouldn't contest rooms with Richie's family. Throughout the entire daylight hours, they worked diligently erecting their own barracks.

The new barracks occupied the footprint of a former earthen rampart. They dismantled a stretch of wall and constructed an elongated timber structure along the slope, keeping the exterior-facing wall completely windowless for security.

More than half of this peculiar building was claimed by Landi, functioning as an equipment depot and medical clinic. The communal living quarters for the squad members were relatively cramped, so they built a wide communal sleeping platform from timber planks. At the far end of the building was a solitary cubicle designated as the sentry duty room. During their journey, they had already agreed on the watch schedule: the squad members would rotate watches during the first half of the night, while the second half would be entrusted entirely to Robin and Tidi.

No one found this arrangement unfair; within Squad 105, only Robin and Tidi remained ordinary knights, while everyone else had attained the rank of Ace. For Ace Knights to enjoy minor privileges was entirely customary.

Toward dusk, Galli returned, her usually aloof and impassive face bearing a faint, unmistakable smile.

"I have two pieces of news—one good, one bad. Which would you like to hear first?"

In an exceptionally bright mood, Galli actually indulged in teasing their curiosity.

"Give us the bad news first," Lina replied immediately. From Galli's relaxed expression, anyone could deduce that even the 'bad' news couldn't be terribly dire.

"We will be exceedingly busy over the coming days, and within half a month, we will be departing," Galli announced the bad news.

The squad members exchanged bewildered glances, thoroughly perplexed.

"Weren't we supposed to merge with Velia's legion? Has that changed again?"

The eldest of the three sisters spoke up first with typical impatience. She cared the most about the merger, as it represented the swiftest springboard for promotion.

Merely attaining the rank of Ace Knight did not guarantee rapid advancement. Aside from Ace Knights, even most Honor Knights were typically assigned command over a modest independent squad of their own. Such honor squads carried prestigious titles and reported directly to High Command—immune even to the interference of theater generals—yet in practical terms, their bureaucratic status and administrative power remained limited.

This was true not only in the Republic, but across all sovereign nations. Raw martial prowess did not equate to strategic acumen; command capability was half innate talent and half accumulated operational experience. Consequently, high-ranking knight commanders also had to start as squad leaders and ascend step by arduous step.

If they merged with Velia's legion, she would instantly leap to the tier of company commander, followed swiftly by battalion commander and eventually legion commander. Others, no matter how fortunate, had to serve transitional stints as deputy commanders first.

She was not the only one harboring anxious expectations. Aside from Lina and Robin, whose aristocratic backgrounds made them indifferent to bureaucratic rank; Nora, who never cared about worldly ambition; and Landi, who was a psychic rather than a knight, the rest of the women felt a distinct pang of apprehension.

"Now for the good news: High Command has resolved to establish an entirely new legion organized around Squad 105 as its core. However, this legion will fall under the direct operational command of the Coalition Combined Headquarters. We have one month to complete the reorganization, after which we will march to Nakar-Amosdock."

As Galli delivered this announcement, her gaze remained anchored squarely on Richie.

The others immediately understood: the Coalition leadership had orchestrated this maneuver precisely because they did not wish to see Richie remain in Stein.

Reassigning Squad 105 here was intended to bring Richie back into the fold—both to place a bridle back onto this untamed stallion, and to serve as an unequivocal political declaration: the Coalition leadership validated Richie's actions; Yarno's death had been entirely deserved.

No matter how much theoretical value Yarno might have possessed, he was now merely a corpse—and a corpse bearing an utterly foul reputation. Not only did he offer zero value, associating with him brought only political toxicity. Richie's value, on the other hand, was self-evident. The leaders of the allied nations were thorough pragmatists who understood perfectly how to weigh their choices.

Furthermore, several of Yarno's past maneuvers had already provoked their deep displeasure.

The greatest blunder Yarno had committed had not been issuing the bounty warrant itself, but failing to rescind it after the Coalition made its protective stance clear. Merely to preserve his petty pride, he had only subtly hinted to his subordinates to ease their inspections, while General Herschel's loyalists had continued scouring the land for Richie—and Yarno had treated the entire matter with careless indifference. Right up to the day of his death, the bounty warrant targeting Richie had remained actively posted.

That willful stubbornness had revealed to Coalition leadership that Yarno was neither obedient nor capable of prioritizing the broader picture.

To defy instructions and disregard the grand strategy right when one's homeland was falling and exile was imminent showed a profound lack of wisdom. And for a man lacking such wisdom to be discarded was hardly surprising.

Richie felt somewhat overwhelmed beneath Galli's piercing gaze. Shrugging his shoulders, he remarked, "I certainly have no objections on my end."

For him, there was truly nothing left to worry about.

His father's political standing had solidified.

Monstoke had never lacked astute minds or politically sensitive figures. The moment news of Yarno's assassination spread, many instantly deduced Richie's underlying intent, and factional allegiances swiftly shifted in his father's direction.

While top-tier ministers had yet to formally pledge fealty, a substantial cohort of mid-level and junior bureaucrats had already flocked to his banner. Each of these officials represented an established network of influence. Moreover, bureaucrats at this tier were the most fiercely ambitious, hungry for advancement, and exceptionally eager when executing tasks or tearing down political rivals.

Richie had initially harbored slight concern that an ambitious figure might seek to usurp his father's position. Now, that concern appeared entirely superfluous: those defecting officials recognized that his father was an honest, accommodating man who was easy to deal with, whereas the clique surrounding him was composed of intensely shrewd, ruthless operators. Rather than placing a cunning mastermind in that seat, having an honest, easily pacified figurehead presiding over the council suited their interests far better.

"How long will we remain in Nakar-Amosdock?" Lina raised her hand to ask.

"I cannot say for certain. It could be half a year, or it could be considerably longer. Going forward, our opportunities to be deployed to active frontlines may be few and far between," Galli replied, uncertain whether to view this prospect with relief or regret.

"Understood. Stationed there, we effectively serve as Monstoke's official diplomatic delegation, proving that Monstoke remains firmly aligned with the Coalition, and that the puppet government that surrendered is completely illegitimate."

Lina was by far the most politically astute member of the squad, and the rationale was hardly difficult to fathom.

"You are likely correct. I only know one thing: heading to the City of Heaven, Nakar-Amosdock, is undeniably a tremendous opportunity for us. Her Majesty Empress Annielia has pledged that while stationed there, we will enjoy identical privileges and logistical support as native Parkington knights, and the Royal Knight Academy will even open its doors to us."

Galli paused, awaiting the squad's reaction.

Just as she anticipated, aside from Lina, Robin, and Nora, everyone's faces lit up with visible excitement.

Lina's reaction was peculiar—a flicker of hesitation mingled with faint nostalgia.

Galli was not surprised. Lina carried the bloodline of the Parkington imperial house. That prestigious Parkington Royal Knight Academy, which ordinary folk could only look up to with awe, was merely an institution endowed by her family. Throughout her childhood, Lina had spent six months of each year in Monstoke and six months within that very academy.

In Monstoke, she was an untouchable princess of heaven; within the royal academy of Parkington, however, she had been treated like an unsophisticated country girl from the provinces. Even if she wasn't overtly ostracized, cold sneers and biting sarcasm had been daily fare.

"Cherish this opportunity! Becoming an Ace Knight is merely the beginning," Galli said, temporarily leaving Lina to her thoughts and directing her words to the others. For the rest of the squad, studying within the Parkington Royal Knight Academy was nothing short of a dream come true.

"Now that both pieces of news are delivered, I'm starving. Meilin, is dinner ready?"

Galli was uncharacteristically affable. Dinner was naturally prepared; Meilin had specially secured premium steaks. In a time when most refugees could barely fill their bellies and knights beneath non-commissioned officer rank were placed on strict rationing, obtaining fresh steak was the ultimate symbol of elite privilege.

Yet for the female knights of Squad 105, their thoughts were not on dinner at all.