The sudden outbreak of war had shaken the entire Drum Kingdom to its core. Countless citizens, along with foreign powers kept their eyes fixed on the battlefield.
After a day and night of fierce combat, the tide of war finally turned.
The rebels had won.
The royal army and the rebel forces had clashed relentlessly, neither side gaining a clear advantage for hours. But when the rebels deployed a mysterious thousand-man death squad, the balance began to tip in their favor.
Rumor spread quickly that this elite unit was monstrously powerful, every member a towering brute of muscle and might, impervious to blades and bullets alike. Wielding massive war hammers, they charged into battle with bloodshot eyes, smashing through royal ranks like a storm tearing through autumn leaves.
The royal formations were shattered by their unstoppable assault.
Panic set in. Morale collapsed.
The once-proud royal army broke and fled in chaos.
Out of over twenty thousand royal soldiers, fewer than a thousand battered survivors limped back to Lod Port, their morale in ruins.
Yet victory had come at a terrible price.
The rebels, too, suffered devastating losses, over half their number. Of their twenty thousand troops, only around ten thousand remained.
Both sides had been bled dry. For the time being, neither the royal army nor the rebels had the strength to continue the fight.
But when the various factions observing the war assumed that a temporary ceasefire was inevitable, Gilbert made an unexpected move.
Just one day later, he rallied his high-spirited troops and led a surprise assault on Lod Port.
And in a shocking twist, Clemens, the city lord personally trusted by King Gresham, betrayed him.
Clemens and his private guards secretly opened the city gates under cover of night, allowing Gilbert's forces to pour into Lod Port unopposed.
Fierce fighting erupted once more.
However, General Norland, commander of the royal army, reacted swiftly. He organized the city's Third Army Corps, numbering over sixteen thousand men, to counterattack.
After a night of brutal urban warfare, the royal army, using their familiarity with the terrain and aided by local loyalist forces repelled the rebels, killing more than three thousand of them.
Still, the victory came at a heavy price.
Clemens' betrayal inspired many local nobles to defect as well, and the Third Army Corps suffered catastrophic losses, losing nearly half their troops before finally forcing the rebels to retreat.
By dawn, half of Lod Port lay in ruins.
"Damn it! That old fool Norland actually rejected my offer! It makes me sick! Doesn't he realize that bastard Gresham is on his deathbed?! And those worms in Lod Port, once I take the throne, I'll make them pay tenfold!"
In his fortress atop the Drum Mountains near Vilia Port, Gilbert slammed his fist against the table, seething as he read the latest battle reports.
It had been so close. With Clemens leading the way, victory had been within reach. But at the last moment, local neutral factions interfered, ruining the rebels' night raid and turning certain triumph into bitter failure.
"Please calm yourself, Lord Gilbert," said Watt, his personal guard with a reassuring smile. "Even so, Lod Port lies in ruins. The royal army's Third Corps has lost over half its strength and can't fight again anytime soon. Meanwhile, the nobles across the kingdom are already shifting their loyalties toward you. And we still hold Snowstorm City. It won't be long before you've fully recovered and can achieve your grand vision."
Gilbert's scowl eased slightly at Watt's words.
He knew Watt was right.
The royal army's repeated defeats had shaken the nobility's faith in Gresham. Even loyalists like Clemens, once the king's trusted minister had turned against him.
If the nobles abandoned Gresham entirely, the rebellion's burden would lighten dramatically.
Although Gilbert now commanded only around seven thousand elite soldiers, each one was a hardened veteran.
Given time to recruit and train new troops, he could soon rebuild a formidable army and crush the royal forces once and for all.
But there was one pressing problem, money.
War was a bottomless pit. Recruiting soldiers cost money. Training cost money. Paying wages, compensations, and feeding his troops all required enormous sums.
The long months of fighting had drained even the vast fortune Gilbert had accumulated over the past decade.
"We need to reopen the sea routes... Those damned royal navy fleets must be wiped out."
Gilbert's face darkened as he calculated his dwindling resources.
For months, the royal fleet had patrolled the waters near Vilia Port, choking off all foreign trade.
Only a few powerful merchant guilds, like the Shining Gold Chamber of Commerce still managed to sail freely, protected by their own private naval forces.
But that wasn't enough.
For Vilia Port's economy to recover, hundreds of smaller merchant ships needed to return. Only then could trade and wealth flow freely again.
Gilbert believed that once commerce revived, his fortune would too.
His pharmaceutical factories already overflowed with crates of healing medicine, if he could just get them to market, he would make a fortune overnight.
So far, his attention had been consumed by the royal army's massive land forces, and his lack of naval power had allowed the enemy fleet to run rampant.
Now that the royal army was weakened, it was time to deal with the navy.
"How should I proceed..."
Seated at his desk, Gilbert tapped his fingers in thought.
He had tried for years to build a naval force of his own, but secrecy, Gresham's surveillance, and the interference of that damn pirate Donquixote Doflamingo had all thwarted his plans.
Now, that long-standing weakness had become his greatest vulnerability.
"Heh heh heh... So, Gilbert actually wants to borrow our naval power to fight the royal fleet? The man's truly desperate."
A month later, at Aaron's headquarters, Aaron burst out laughing after hearing the news from Williams.
The room filled with laughter from everyone present.
"Yeah, looks like he's out of options. But the deal he's offering is... impressive. Ten years of tax exemption. Now that's quite the incentive."
Williams chuckled.
Taxes in Vilia Port were notoriously steep. ten percent on standard goods, and up to twenty percent on luxury items.
Even without lifting a finger, Gilbert's tax income alone was enough to make him one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom.
Now, in desperation to break the royal navy's blockade, he was offering a ten-year tax exemption to the Shining Gold Chamber of Commerce and several other powerful guilds with strong private fleets.
It was an extraordinary offer; one few could ignore.
After all, with the rebellion going in Gilbert's favor, betting on him could yield astronomical rewards.
But the major guilds weren't fools.
A decade of tax freedom sounded tempting, but compared to their current monopoly over maritime trade under the blockade, it wasn't enough.
Moreover, Gilbert's reputation was in ruins. His willingness to let his troops plunder the people's grain and wealth had made him infamous.
The guilds feared that even if he won, he would simply break his promises once in power.
Thus, Gilbert's proposal quietly fell apart.
"Even if Gilbert fails to win over the big guilds, we shouldn't let our guard down," Aaron said, his laughter fading. "This situation is exactly what we've been waiting for. We cannot allow him to revive Vilia Port's economy. I've played nursemaid to that man long enough, it's time to end this."
He rubbed his chin, his voice low and decisive.
"Williams, prepare a ship for me. And find me a skilled navigator."
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