"You sound like outsiders. Am I right?"
The poor man's name was Richard Peters, and he told them everything about the local situation.
The country was called the Kingdom of Morden, and its current ruler was James III.
Morden's royal taxes had always been burdensome, but under James III, they had multiplied into countless categories. Hearths, mills, bridges, livestock—even firewood gathered from wastelands and peat dug up by villagers—were all subject to royal taxation. Eventually, even dried cow dung used as fuel was added to the tax rolls.
Gold and silver poured into the capital from every corner of the kingdom. James III used the money to expand his palace and build gardens, banquet halls, and new royal hunting grounds. Court life grew more extravagant by the day.
This style of rule had begun during the reign of James II. James III inherited his father's greed for wealth and power, but he was even more brutal.
He issued a new land decree. Anyone who fell behind on their taxes and lacked the means to repay them could have their land confiscated by the courts and transferred to the crown. Many free farmers thus lost the fields their families had tilled for generations. With nowhere else to go, they were forced to rent their former land from royal estates, while also shouldering rent and corvée labor. Over time, they became serfs bound to the crown's lands.
As for the kingdom's great nobles, they had already suffered a brutal purge under James II. Several ancient ducal and comital families were executed or stripped of their fiefs on charges of rebellion, while the survivors were forced to surrender most of their private troops.
Now, only newly risen nobles who had won land and titles by currying favor with the king remained, along with a number of minor lords who obeyed his every command.
James III was quite pleased with the situation. He called himself the "shepherd" of Morden, while the kingdom's subjects were nothing more than the flock under his care.
To prevent the nobles from threatening the throne, he had also established a standing army directly under the royal family. The officers received their titles, lands, and salaries from the king, while ordinary soldiers were treated far better than commoners. As a result, the army was fiercely loyal to the crown.
Under James III, the power of the old nobility declined, the number of free farmers steadily dwindled, and land, troops, and wealth gradually fell into the hands of the royal family.
There had been no shortage of peasant uprisings throughout Morden over the years, but every one of them was quickly crushed by the royal army.
How could a mob of starving peasants in rags, armed with nothing but pitchforks and sickles, possibly stand against knights riding tall warhorses, clad in full armor, and wielding sharp blades?
One charge from a knight could kill five or six peasants. That was how the so-called one-man armies and hundred-man slayers earned their reputations.
Richard Peters had lost his land long ago. But when his child fell seriously ill, he had no choice but to risk entering the deep mountains to find medicine. The safer areas had already been stripped bare by other impoverished adventurers.
EeDechi's expression turned cold and grim. "James III, was it? I'll be the one to bring his reign to an end!"
Richard stared at her blankly. "That's impossible! No matter how strong you are, can you really defeat an entire kingdom? Besides, the neighboring countries all support James III."
"That's not something you need to worry about." Barrett bandaged Richard's wounds, then slapped a lump of gold into his hand. "Don't tell anyone what happened here. Go down the mountain and get your son treated."
"Understood! Thank you!" Richard hurried away, afraid Barrett might change his mind.
…
The adventuring party known as "The Last Defender of the Way" emerged from the jungle and entered a town. After gathering information about the country, they found that the situation was almost exactly as Richard had described. They bought several detailed maps of the entire nation and began analyzing them.
Morden was a fairly small country, only one-sixth the size of Baharuth. It bordered the sea on one side and contained many mountains and hills, with relatively little flat land.
It had two neighboring countries: the Duchy of Caelchester and the Kingdom of Oakhaven. Both were larger than Morden.
"What do you think, Captain?" Barrett asked.
"Hang the king and liberate the entire country!"
EeDechi's face was dark as she delivered her answer without hesitation.
…
The preparations for war began in earnest.
EeDechi returned to the End of the World and raised a great many people from the dead on the ancient battlefield, assembling a team of skilled craftsmen.
Using the wreckage scattered across the ancient battlefield, the craftsmen successfully built two medium-sized skyships. One was used to transport troops, the other to carry supplies.
Whenever darkness covered the land, the skyships would take off and land under cover of night, shuttling back and forth between Morden and the End of the World. More and more supplies and soldiers were transported into the valleys of Morden.
The craftsmen set up smelting furnaces in the valleys and began repairing damaged armor and weapons.
The soldiers were enthusiastic and their morale was high. They had once been corpses lying dead for five hundred years. After EeDechi revived them and rescued them from the End of the World, they had been given the chance to begin a new journey. How could they not be moved to tears of gratitude?
…
Two months later, an army had begun to take shape. The valley had become overcrowded, and the surrounding villages and small towns had effectively fallen under EeDechi's control.
Their forces were as follows:
A six-hundred-man battalion equipped with mana-powered bows and crossbows;
A two-thousand-man infantry regiment;
An artillery regiment equipped with twenty-two cannons and five heavy guns, providing long-range fire support and serving as the main force in sieges;
A cavalry brigade that currently had no horses and was therefore being counted as infantry;
A battalion of mages, providing long-range magical strikes, weather control, and magical shields;
And an elite mixed brigade composed of heavy infantry, sword-and-shield troops, spearmen, musketeers, archers, crossbowmen, and mages.
EeDechi established the Three Rules of Discipline and Eight Points for Attention for the army.
The Three Rules of Discipline were:
1. Obey orders in all actions.
2. Do not take a single thing from civilians.
3. Turn over all captured goods to the common treasury.
The Eight Points for Attention were:
1. Speak politely.
2. Be fair in buying and selling.
3. Return anything borrowed.
4. Pay for anything damaged.
5. Do not hit or insult people.
6. Do not damage crops.
7. Do not harass women.
8. Do not mistreat prisoners.
Barrett found the rules utterly unbelievable. In the world they lived in, any soldier capable of using violence already stood above ordinary civilians. If soldiers weren't allowed to act like lords and had to humble themselves before farmers, who would willingly join the army?
For an army operating on enemy soil, harassing locals, looting shops, seizing the livestock raised by civilians, reaping ordinary farmers' crops, forcing people to pay tribute, abducting women, and even massacring entire cities were all considered perfectly normal.
EeDechi seemed determined to create an almost puritanical army. She even promoted atheism. Yet the only thing keeping the soldiers committed to such upright conduct was their fanatical worship of EeDechi.
She had also wanted to select those with low Justice Value and subject them to political indoctrination. Barrett stopped her in time. They were in desperate need of manpower, and whether it was reeducation or a purge, there would be time for that later.
Barrett had no idea whether this approach could last. An army required enormous amounts of food and supplies. An army had to eat wherever it went, and looting the wealth of the local population was an important source of military provisions.
Their blades were sharpened, their armor barely repaired, and enough equipment had been assembled for the heavy infantry. With arrows in short supply, the archers and crossbowmen had no choice but to cut down trees and make bamboo arrows and bolts themselves.
Ammunition was also scarce. The musketeers could fire only two volleys, while the artillery had just sixty-two shells.
Barrett piloted a skyship to other countries, disguised himself as a grain merchant, and purchased a large amount of food. This barely solved the army's food shortage.
They could not afford to delay any longer. A hungry army could not win battles, and they urgently needed to expand their foothold.
Morden bordered the sea on one side and had a peninsula extending into it. A river flowed out of the Duchy of Caelchester and forked after entering Morden, dividing the country into three parts.
There were six relatively prosperous major cities: Lornhaven, Sorsen, Fort Harth, Esenna, Lakemere, and Crown Jameson.
Lornhaven stood on the peninsula and was the closest to EeDechi's base.
Sorsen and Fort Harth each guarded one of the borders with Morden's neighboring countries. EeDechi analyzed the situation and concluded that most of Morden's forces must be stationed in those two cities and the capital.
EeDechi still wanted to gather more intelligence. They did not even know how Morden's forces were distributed. But the war was already on the verge of breaking out, and they could no longer afford to wait.
The hunters and adventurers living nearby could easily let something slip. If Morden sensed that anything was wrong, it would mobilize a large army to crush them.
"Your Majesty, we've caught a scout!" someone reported.
EeDechi walked over and saw the soldiers restraining a man dressed as a hunter.
Knowing that he was unlikely to survive, the man snarled viciously, "You bunch of rebels! Not one of you will escape! General Walton and his cavalry will be here any moment, and they'll cut off every last one of your heads!"
…
As night fell, a luxurious auction hall in the City Alliance came alive.
The entire venue glittered beneath the glow of magic crystal lamps. The air was thick with the mingled scents of expensive incense and cigar smoke.
The invited guests were all wealthy and powerful. Merchant magnates sat with their round bellies protruding, every finger covered in rings set with enormous enchanted gems. The noblewomen wore shawls made from the fur of snow beasts from the Far North, while the jewel necklaces around their necks scattered dazzling halos of light.
Amid the crowd, which seemed almost to boil under the heat of greed and wealth, two figures sat in the shadows.
Sebas Tian wore a dark uniform of flawless tailoring. His back was straight, his silver-gray hair neatly combed, and his short beard carefully trimmed. He possessed the bearing of a classical aristocrat.
Beside him, Solution lounged lazily in a thick velvet armchair. Her brilliant golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face of exquisite beauty. Yet there was not the slightest trace of joy in her eyes—only pure contempt, as if she were looking at vermin crawling through a sewer.
They had disguised themselves as mysterious merchant lords from a distant land in order to gather information about the City Alliance's military defenses, local customs, and any possible traces of EeDechi. After displaying their immense wealth, they had made the acquaintance of quite a few rich men and were invited to this auction, supposedly a once-in-a-century event.
But to them, this auction—one open only to the wealthiest of the wealthy—was nothing more than a crude monkey show.
The so-called rare treasures brought onto the stage included an ancient king's scepter, the core of a magical beast that dwelled in a volcano, and a lost magic scroll. The wealthy guests below fought over them until their faces flushed red with excitement.
In their eyes, however, these treasures were less valuable than the scraps used to pave the floors of the Great Tomb.
"Yaaawn…"
Solution made no attempt to hide her yawn. She turned her head slightly and lowered her eyes, sneering.
"A bunch of insects gathered around a garbage heap, fighting over moldy scraps until their faces turn red… How disgusting. Lord Sebas, how much longer do we have to sit in this stinking pigsty?"
Sebas replied calmly, "Please be patient, Solution. Even a gathering of vermin can reveal how rotten this land has become. For the sake of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown's grand plans, endure it a little longer."
"Yes, Lord Sebas."
Bored, Solution toyed with the folds of her dress. Her gaze grew colder by the second.
After a long and tedious wait, the auction finally reached its conclusion.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Esteemed lords and ladies who command the wealth of the entire continent!"
At the center of the stage, the host—a man with a pair of drooping mustaches—suddenly threw both arms into the air. He shrieked in an exaggerated voice that nearly tore his throat apart, his face flushed a grotesque liver-red from excitement.
"Tonight's revelry has reached its final climax! Now, open your eyes wide and welcome the ultimate treasure of the evening!"
The bidders, who had been growing somewhat tired, immediately perked up. Greedy whispers buzzed through the hall like a swarm of bees.
From the left side of the stage, a heavily muscled man strode forward with a massive adamantite tower shield slung over his shoulder. At the same time, an elegant elf entered from the right, carrying a slender longsword.
The elf drew the sword.
For an instant, the entire hall seemed to brighten. Silver light shimmered along the blade, which was as thin as a cicada's wing. Intricate, sacred elven runes flowed across its surface, lending it an air of nobility while its edge radiated a bone-chilling sharpness capable of slicing through the air itself.
The burly man slammed the tower shield onto the granite floor and shouted toward the audience, "This is a genuine tower shield made entirely of adamantite! It can withstand bombardment from a siege cannon!"
The elf casually swung the sword downward.
There was no ear-splitting clang of metal striking metal. The blade met no resistance whatsoever. Like a hot knife through butter, the silver sword cleaved straight through the shield.
The adamantite tower shield split cleanly in two, its cut surface smooth as a mirror.
The audience fell instantly silent, then erupted into frenzied gasps and applause.
Adamantite! It was the finest metal that human nations could refine. Yet before this sword, it was as fragile as paper.
"Did you see that?" The host bounced excitedly in place, spittle flying from his mouth. "This divine weapon was forged by an elven master swordsmith over the course of two hundred years! It is the sharpest sword in the world! It can even cut through a dragon's head with ease!"
The bidders' eyes turned red with desire, but the host's fervor had yet to reach its peak.
"But don't empty your purses just yet!" He abruptly waved one hand. "Please, turn your attention this way!"
A dwarven craftsman strode onto the stage, carrying a heavy round shield. The shield was dark and covered in runes. Though it was not especially large, it possessed a weight like a mountain rising from the earth. Mysterious magic pulsed across its surface like a heartbeat.
At the same time, a high-level magic caster floated into the air and began chanting a deep, obscure spell.
In an instant, flames exploded, ice storms raged, and lightning crashed down. Wave after wave of devastating high-level offensive magic slammed into the shield like a violent storm.
The thunderous explosions shook the hall, and clouds of dust billowed into the air.
When the raging elemental turbulence finally dispersed, the shield still stood firmly in the dwarf's hands. There was not even a scorch mark on its surface.
"This is the strongest shield in the world! A gift from the Dwarven God of Smithing, and the embodiment of absolute defense!" the host screamed at the top of his lungs. "And now, the question is this, ladies and gentlemen! If the sharpest sword in the world strikes the strongest shield in the world, which one will prevail? Only the victor will deserve to be tonight's undisputed star attraction!"
Nearly everyone in the hall rose from their seats at the same time. Greed and fanaticism had completely seized their minds as they nervously rubbed the spatial rings on their fingers, preparing to spend a fortune.
Among the feverish crowd, Sebas lifted his lukewarm black tea and took a small sip.
"Utterly boring."
He set down the white porcelain cup, his tone cold.
"Both of them are garbage." Solution sneered, her eyes filled with disdain. "Even the equipment of a low-level skeleton soldier in Nazarick is more valuable than these pieces of scrap metal."
"I couldn't agree more." Sebas gave a slight nod.
While they watched with cold indifference, the atmosphere onstage had reached its climax.
"Witness history being made—begin!"
The elf gripped the sword proclaimed to be the sharpest in the world with both hands and brought it down upon the shield proclaimed to be the strongest in the world.
Crack!
The ear-piercing sound of shattering metal rang out.
The sword had cleaved deep into the supposedly indestructible dwarven shield, sinking more than half a foot into it. It had not cut all the way through, but the defensive runes covering the shield had completely shattered and gone dark.
The outcome was clear.
The elf arrogantly pulled the sword free and raised it high for everyone to see. The blade remained as pristine as ever, its edge cold and razor-sharp. There was not a single chip or bend in it.
"The sword wins!" the host roared, throwing his head back.
"Ten million gold coins! I bid ten million!"
"Twenty million!"
The audience instantly transformed into a raging sea of voices. The wealthy guests desperately waved their spatial rings and numbered bidding plaques.
"So one piece of garbage turned out to be better than the other," Solution said listlessly.
"Let us go." Sebas remained as calm and dignified as ever. "Although we expected as much, sitting here really has been a waste of an entire evening."
The two of them turned around and prepared to leave through the rear exit.
But at that very moment, something unexpected happened.
In the center of the stage, the elf who had been displaying the sword suddenly lowered his wrist. The blade flashed with a razor-sharp streak of silver as it swept upward and struck precisely between the host's legs.
It was an unmistakable upward slash straight at the crotch.
"Hiss—!"
The wealthy guests stared in shock. The entire hall fell silent.
Even Sebas and Solution, who had been preparing to leave, stopped and turned back toward the stage, their attention caught by the absurd scene.
What shocked everyone was not merely the sudden assault. Even more astonishing was the fact that the host had not been split in two by the "sharpest sword in the world."
The host did not fall. Instead, he smoothly stepped backward, letting the blade slip out from his trousers.
He stood there perfectly unharmed, still wearing the same exaggerated, dazzling smile.
The elf, on the other hand, was staring at the sword in his hand.
Its blade had curled outward, with several enormous chips knocked out of its edge.
The entire hall erupted in another wave of incredulous cries.
At that moment, the dwarf suddenly rushed forward, grabbed the host by the waistband, and yanked it down.
Riiip!
The host's trousers dropped to his ankles.
Under the dazzling stage lights, his pale legs—thickly covered in curly black hair—were exposed to the entire audience. Wrapped around those rough, hairy legs was a luxurious pair of underwear radiating blinding light.
At the same time, more than a dozen streams of golden fireworks shot up from both sides of the stage, while countless colorful flower petals drifted down from above.
The host, standing there in his underwear beneath the brilliant lights, showed no shame whatsoever. Instead, he thrust his hips back and forth several times, proudly presenting the underwear to the audience.
He spread his arms wide and shouted:
"This! This is the true grand finale of tonight's auction! The miraculous underwear that even a mythical sword cannot harm in the slightest!"
Among the audience, Sebas had maintained his elegant composure from beginning to end.
Now, however, the calm dignity on his face shattered completely. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
Wasn't that his underwear?!