In my dream.

I was surrounded by a bevy of beautiful maidens.

So happy, so warm~

"Mmm~ Come kiss me~"

"Wake up, Sas! Wake up!"

Alto tried slapping my unconscious face.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Mmm~ Hehehe, slap-slap-slap~ Haha..."

"Strategist is being utterly disgusting right now," Chining remarked, watching my bed antics with an expressionless face.

"Well... kinda gross, yeah. But Sas is only eighteen. Understandable."

"Let me wake the Strategist properly."

"Please do."

A killing intent suddenly pierced my blissful dream.

"Oh crap! Someone’s trying to kill me!!!!"

I leapt straight out of bed.

"Awake at last, Sas."

"Good morning, Strategist."

Huh... Weird. Where did that killing intent come from?

Ah, whatever. I’m still alive.

"Why did you collapse at the city gates, Sas? What happened?"

"Eh, got overexcited thinking things through."

"Your health matters more."

"Never mind that. Alto—I have a way to pull Barbaham out of this mess!"

"Huh? Really?"

Alto sounded doubtful. He knew exactly how dire Barbaham’s situation was.

"If done right, I can even drag every independent territory into my grand scheme!"

A sharp glint flashed in my eyes.

"Tell me what to do."

Alto’s breathing grew urgent.

"Can I... borrow five thousand gold coins from the territory’s treasury?"

"Granted. But what for?"

He didn’t question my plan first—just agreed outright.

*Trust your people, doubt no one?*

"I’ll trade every coin for grain with Leahdon."

"Leahdon? Impossible..."

We’d just crushed them in battle, wiping out twenty thousand troops—including their elite forces.

Barbaham and Leahdon were sworn enemies.

"Enough profit makes anything negotiable. And we’ll return Baron Bruno’s remains."

"Hmm..."

We’d preserved Bruno’s body well. As Chining said, he was a man worthy of respect.

Hearing about him changed my view of nobles—not all were trash like Tren. Some truly deserved honor.

That’s why we kept his body intact.

Returning it to Leahdon was always the plan.

We’d use it to broker a grain deal. On moral grounds, Leahdon’s lord couldn’t refuse without losing face.

If he attacked us? His own men would question his judgment. In these unstable times, that’d be disastrous.

Leahdon was simply the closest option. I wouldn’t risk this otherwise.

I patiently explained my plan to Alto.

"I... understand the gist. But without funds, how will the territory function?"

His real worry: unpaid soldiers, workers, debts...

"Don’t worry. I’ll make it work. Though one misstep..." I smiled lightly, "and Barbaham collapses in minutes."

Alto’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably.

"No funds, huh... Then do it. I trust you."

"Hah! Since you believe in me, I won’t let you down."

*I’ll give you a mighty Barbaham.*

I kept that last thought to myself.

Solve the grain crisis, and everything else falls into place.

Barbaham’s rise would mean walking a tightrope.

That danger... made my heart race with excitement.

"Alto, can you recruit more hands? We’re severely understaffed."

Only Chining as a general. Only me as a strategist.

"I’ll try..."

Alto knew how hopeless it sounded. Who’d join a backwater territory? He could only force a bitter smile.

"Then issue a public notice."

"A notice?"

"Yes. Seeking talented individuals—regardless of status."

"*Regardless of status*..."

Generals needed innate talent, training, and strong bodies fed well. Wild talents were rare.

As for strategists? Knowledge belonged to nobles. A literate commoner was near-impossible—books were scarce treasures.

But not *impossible*. Small odds, huge population.

Yet few lords ever looked to commoners for talent.

And bypassing nobles? That’d insult them. To aristocrats, "regardless of status" meant spitting on their bloodline.

This notice would take guts. It might scare off noble-born talents forever.

"Fine. I’ll have it done."

But Alto chose to trust Sas. The boy who’d already saved Barbaham once.

He *believed*.

His immediate agreement lifted a weight off my shoulders.

All those arguments I’d prepared? Unnecessary.

*Hah... Once recruits arrive, I can dump the paperwork on them.*

I quietly schemed ahead.

Ah—right. Business first.

"Alto, I leave for Leahdon tomorrow."

"Chining. Guard Sas well."

"Yes, my lord."

I’d considered it carefully. Leahdon was risky. If their lord snapped, I’d be dead.

But no one would attack Barbaham soon. The Windward Fortress battle had made our name.

We were a hard, meatless bone—no one would gnaw on us yet.

...Thinking of the steps ahead, my heart danced with anticipation.