A platoon of soldiers surrounded a horse pulling a worn-down carriage.

“Your excellency, General Moon of the 3rd Army has requested your presence.”

The scout who’d been tracking the carriage the entire time waited for a response, but even after waiting a full minute, there was no response.

“Your excellency?” The scout shouted toward the carriage.

Again, no response.

With a wave from the scout, several soldiers approached the carriage and lifted the front curtain to peer inside.

“Sir, he’s sleeping.”

“Ah?” The scout wasn’t quite sure what to do.

After some deliberation, he jumped onto the wagon and grabbed the horse’s reins. “We’re returning to camp!”

In such a fashion, their guest had been cordially invited. Some time later, they rolled up to the commander’s tent.

Seeing the wagon approaching, the commander stood by the opening to his tent, tapping the ground with his foot.

The officers behind him couldn’t help me feel apprehensive - what kind of person could make their commander, who led armies of tens of thousands without a second thought, impatient to such a degree?

After a brief wait, the wagon pulled up in front of the commander, who walked forward to greet his guest.

“Rojan, how have you been?”

The scout cleared his throat and apologetically addressed the commander.

“Sir, the guest is sleeping.”

“...”

The commander reached for the carriage’s front curtain, lifted it up, then shouted into the carriage.

“Rojan!”

With a sudden jerk, the man inside woke up, fists raised. Then, he saw the commander’s face.

“Oh, it’s you. Can’t you knock? After all this time, still no manners.”

“...” The officers behind the commander tried their hardest to not shout expletives at this newcomer - who was he to lecture their commander?

“Shut up and get out, I have a job for you.”

“Oh?”

Rojan smiled and quickly clambered out of the carriage and draped his arm over the commander’s shoulders.

“Osen, come on, tell me what’s going on. You’re not going to rip me off, are you?”

“Address me as ‘commander’. We are on the edge of a battlefield, in a time of war.”

“Alright, commander, whatever. What’s the job, and what’s my pay?”

Osen led Rojan to the edge of the hill and pointed. “You see that city?”

“I’m not blind.”

“As of now, my calculations show it will take at least two weeks for my soldiers to take over the city. Your job is to make it three days.”

“...” Rojan stared at the commander before slowly speaking. “That serious, huh?”

The commander ignored the question. “Tell me, what do you need.”

“Alright. Send me all the information you have regarding the city and give me a quiet place for reading. I will give you my verdict tonight.”

“Done.” The commander turned to one of his officers. “Tony, make it happen.”

“Yes, sir!”

A while later, Rojan sat alone in a tent, the entrance guarded by several tens of soldiers. Poring through the documents regarding the city, he muttered under his breath.

“Benevolent leader... small standing army, most of the fighters are normal people holding weapons without substantial training… and time is of utmost importance…”

Leaning back in his chair, he threw the rest of the documents onto a makeshift table, and took a nap.

A few hours later, the commander, flanked by a foot soldier carrying a tray of food, approached Rojan’s tent.

Seeing him approach, the guards straightened up and saluted. “Commander!”

“How has he been?”

“Very quiet, sir. He hasn’t stepped out or complained to us or anything at all, sir.”

“Good, good.” Satisfied with their answer, the commander walked into the tent.

The two guards stared at the soldier carrying the tray of food, who stared back. After a few seconds, they heard yelling from inside the tent.

“What the- wake up!”

“Ahhh! I’m under attack!!”

Muffled sounds of punching could be heard from within the tent, but neither the guards, not the food-carrying soldier moved.

“Ow, why are you hitting me?! Jeez, ow! Murder! MURDER!!!!”

After a few moments, the commotion in the tent quieted down.

The commander glared at Rojan. “How do you have the nerve to sleep? You have but three days to take over the city.”

Nursing his bruises, Rojan sniffed twice before responding. “Speaking of taking over the city, what’s my pay?”

“... What is it you want.”

“I want a few things. For one, I want a new, healthy horse, and a new carriage. Or at least, I need my current carriage fixed up, enough food to last me a month, and…”

“And what?” Osen, the commander, couldn’t help but feel a chill on the back of his neck.

“I want an official pardon from the King himself.”

“Impossible.” Osen didn’t even give the matter a second thought.

Rojan smiled. “Then, offer me something of equal value.”

“We can take the city without you, you know.”

Rojan leaned back in his chair, hands clasped beneath his chin. “True, but how long will it take? Furthermore, I believe a surcharge is in order for my not defecting to the Armoa Kingdom and leading their forces against you. Otherwise, why should I assist a nation run by a King who has spent the last two years issuing warrants for my death?”

Osen scowled. “Do you believe I won’t kill you here and now?”

“You can try.”

“I have forty-thousand men at my back. Do you think you’d be able to escape?”

“Ah, scary.” Rojan dryly remarked. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s better to treat people with benevolence? You could learn a thing or two from the lord of the city.” Rojan motioned toward the city in the distance.

“Of the five elements of war, we are only lacking in two - moral influence, and terrain. If you were a kinder commander, we would be only lacking in one. In this, it can be said that you’re making my job harder than it needs to be.

“I believe my price is fair. An official pardon, or something of equivalent value, in addition to the smaller stuff I mentioned earlier. I’ll even throw in a promise - if everything goes according to plan, none of your soldiers will die tomorrow.”

Osen raised an eyebrow, surprised and intrigued. His Moon Division was named so because he, Osen Moon, had created it from the ground up. He had personally overseen the training of each and every soldier, watched as his forces had grown from a few hundred, to a few thousand, to what it was now.

If he could save the lives of his men…

“Fine. What do you want?”

“If you can't get me an official pardon, then I want a battalion of soldiers stationed by Daer Village for their protection. They will stay there for the duration of the war.”

“That’s your hometown, isn’t? I suppose it’s possible to put a reserve battalion there, but… you would have to give me a little more - a thousand men is hardly a small force.”

“Fair enough. Make sure it’s a solid battalion though. They had better keep my village safe. In return, I’ll help the Tero Kingdom either take or defend a city against the Krohan Empire.”

Hearing this, Osen eyes glowed. “Deal.”

“Well then, that wasn’t so hard. I’ll brief you on the plan, then.”