Chapter 1431: Born For War
“Come on. One, two, three—”
“To your recovery. Cheers!”
Inside the Sleeping Spell’s living quarters, Dusk’s smile was wide enough to shame the occasion. Balshan raised her glass anyway, helpless against it.
As partners went, Dusk visited constantly, with no regard for her own schedule or Balshan’s dignity. Back on Sleeping Island, a Combat Witch would never have warranted such attentiveness. The mixture of guilt and being genuinely moved sat uncomfortably in Balshan’s chest — she felt herself the lesser one, though she knew Dusk would never think in such terms.
Then her gaze found the third person at the table, and her expression soured.
“Why are you here?”
Charms drained an entire glass in one motion. “I brought the wine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It sounds like we can’t drink without you.” Balshan rolled her eyes. “Neverwinter has pubs on every corner.”
“A pity, then, that His Majesty declared a state of war. All alcohol is a controlled commodity now — you can’t simply have it because you want it.” Charms shrugged. “So you ought to be thanking me. I stole this from my old man’s stores.”
State of war, huh.
The words killed her appetite for bickering.
Even confined to bed, she had felt the city tighten around her, the way a body tenses before a blow. The newspapers had been the first sign — weekly reports becoming two or three printings a week, their pages filling with frontline dispatches, emergency recruitment notices, and columns of missing persons. The defense line was holding, pushing the war’s edge back from the developing grounds, but the cost was printed in silence between those lines. Farms and settlements built through years of hard labor, gone. The odds that the missing workers had survived — slim.
The food changed next. Eggs and meat vanished from the midday meal, bread taking their place. Not enough to complain about, not compared to other cities — but a line had been crossed all the same.
Then the streets.
Every day, columns of soldiers in new uniforms moved through Neverwinter while residents pressed to the roadsides to watch. She saw it from the window of her room: excitement and nervousness on the soldiers’ faces, reluctance and worry on the faces of the families left behind. The numbers were not trivial. This was a different order of mobilization than anything she’d seen from the knightage or the Judgment Army.
This is war.
For the continuity of the race, thousands of men fought with everything they had, the whole weight of a civilization pressing at their backs. Compared to them, the battles she had fought as a Combat Witch amounted to almost nothing. She had come to the Fertile Plains with Dusk to avoid running into people she knew. Then the developing grounds were destroyed, and she’d been thrown back into the category of useless person once more.
“Hey — why have you gone quiet?” Sensing the absence of retort, Charms scratched the back of his head and shot Dusk a glance. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Dusk don’t know.” Dusk stuck her tongue out. “But Dusk knows the person who says something wrong must drink three more glasses!”
“Are you drunk already—”
“No! This is only Dusk’s second glass. Dusk is fine!”
Three sharp knocks cut through the room.
“Coming!” Dusk sprang up and flung the door open. “Eh — Lord Camilla?”
The Chief Butler of Sleeping Island, Camilla Dary, swept the room with one measured look and walked to the other two.
“Seems your visiting hours are up,” Balshan said, forcing a smile toward Charms. “Lady Dary has no patience for people who ignore the clock. Your chances of getting back in here are not good.”
“I was keeping track — it hasn’t even been half an hour,” Charms murmured.
Before she could answer, Camilla stepped past him and stopped in front of Balshan.
“The Witch Union has announced a new recruitment drive for Witches across Graycastle.” Camilla spoke without preamble. “Roughly fifty slots. Priority to those with combat experience. I thought of you first.”
Balshan needed a moment to parse it. Mass recruitment. Priority to combat experience. Was this connected to the war? If so, why no requirement on the recruits’ abilities?
“You’ve guessed correctly.” Camilla read her face. “The Witch Union is forming a specialized task force to support the frontline — designed for the battles ahead. I can’t give you the details. You know the risks of the battlefield better than most, so the choice is yours.” She paused. “Though having combat experience won’t guarantee selection. The final decision depends—”
“I’ll go,” Balshan said.
Nothing to hesitate over. She had waited too long for this.
“Then follow me.” Camilla stepped aside.
Balshan moved toward the door. As she passed Charms, he spoke quietly, a thread of genuine worry in it she hadn’t expected. “You’re really going to the frontlines?”
“I thought you’d be cheering.” She smirked. “Now you can court Dusk without anyone in the way.”
His mouth opened. Something hovered there, unfinished. He watched her back and didn’t say it.
A day later, she arrived at the Misty Forest by train.
Camilla handed her off to a woman named Isabella, who was responsible for selection and training. Balshan couldn’t account for it, but she felt, inexplicably, that she knew her — as if they had met in some context she couldn’t name.
The other surprise was the sheer number of recruits. Not only Witches from the Sleeping Spell but many from the Witch Union proper, and in the short half-hour journey she’d already met Vanilla, Amy, and Hero. Among the faces she recognized were Iffy and Nightfall from the Bloodfang Association, both wearing the same look she imagined she wore.
They wanted to prove themselves too.
Isabella led the group into a factory building after they disembarked.
The moment they stepped inside, everyone stopped.
In the center of the empty floor sat something enormous and metal. The most obvious features were the wheels — five on each side — with iron panels fitted beneath them, banding the wheels together in a continuous track. The body above was all plate and angle, armored like a fort sealed shut, and at the top, a metal cannon jutted from a rotating control tower.
One glance was enough.
Balshan knew the shape of it. It reminded her of the machines that broke ground for the farms — the tractors. But where those were built for earth, this was built for something else entirely. The iron that covered it was not for function. It was for surviving fire.
Every line of the thing said the same thing.
It was born for war.
Chapter 1431 - Born For War
Translator: Henyee Translations Editor: Henyee Translations
“Come on. One, two, three…”
“To your recovery, cheers!”
Inside the living quarters of the Sleeping Spell, a small celebration was underway. Looking at Dusk’s happy smile, Balshan helplessly raised her glass.
As partners, Dusk would visit her often, completely paying no heed to her own situation. Back on the Sleeping Island, she knew for certain that she would never have cared so much for a Combat Witch. The mixture of guilt and being moved made her feel as though she paled in comparison to Dusk.
Even though Balshan knew that Dusk would never think of such a thing.
But when her gaze landed on the other person, her expression turned nasty.
“Why are you here?”
Charms confidently downed an entire glass of wine. “I was the one who brought this red wine; why can’t I be here?”
“Why does it sound like we can’t get to drink without you?” Balshan rolled her eyes. “Neverwinter has many pubs, we can get it from anywhere.”
“A pity, His Majesty announced that the Western Region is in a state of war and all alcohol are controlled commodities, you can’t get it just because you want it.” Charms shrugged. “So you should be thanking me, I stole them out of my old man’s storage.”
State of war, huh…
Balshan suddenly lost her interest to bicker.
Even while recuperating in bed, she was able to sense the tense atmosphere in Neverwinter.
The first inklings came from the frequent news regarding the developing grounds from the weekly reports that increased to two to three prints a week. It included reports on the frontline along with emergency recruitment articles and missing people notices. According to the newspaper, although the defense line was regaining their foothold and pushing the flames of war out of the developing grounds, the price paid to do so had been huge. Once the grasslands, farms, and settlements that were built up through difficult times were destroyed, the chances of the missing workers surviving would undoubtedly be slim.
The most obvious and direct impact were the drop in eggs and meat for lunch, with bread becoming the main staple. Of course, they were on much better terms compared to the other cities. At the very least, they were able to fill their stomachs.
The second was the streets.
Everyday, she would see many new soldiers in uniform moving through the streets, with residents and family standing by the sides to send them off. Excitement and nervousness could be seen from their faces, along with reluctance and worry. From a cursory look of the numbers, the number of soldiers recruited to the Fertile Plains was definitely not trivial and on a completely different level compared to the recruitment for the knightage and the Judgment Army.
This was war.
For the continuity of the race, thousands upon thousands of men fought with everything they had under the support of a civilization population tens or hundred times their numbers.
Compared to them, the battles she had experienced as a Combat Witch was simply too insignificant…
Her choice to move to the Fertile Plains with Dusk previously was based on her unwillingness to bump into people she knew. But after the destruction of the developing grounds, she was once again banished back to the state of a ‘useless person.’
“Hey, why are you silent all of a sudden?” Sensing no ridicule from Balshan, Charms couldn’t help but be taken aback. He scratched the back of his head and stole a glance at Dusk. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Dusk don’t know.” Dusk stuck her tongue out. “But Dusk knows that the person who sys something wrong must drink three more glasses!”
“Hey… are you drunk…”
“No, Dusk is not, this is only the second glass, Dusk is fine!”
“Knock. Knock. Knock…” Right then, a series of loud knocks on the door broke Balshan’s train of thoughts.
“Coming!” Dusk immediately jumped up and headed over to open the door. “Eh… Lord Camilla?”
By the door was the Chief Butler of Sleeping Island, Camilla Dary. She swept the room with her eyes and walked over to the other two.
“Seems like you’ve overstayed your visiting time.” Balshan forced a smile. “Lady Dary detests people who don’t abide by the time; it’ll be difficult for you to come here the next time.”
“How is that… I’m keeping track of the time, it hasn’t even been half hour…” Charms replied meekly.
Right when Balshan was about to retort, Camilla walked past Charms and stood in front of her.
“The Witch Union has announced a new recruitment geared towards the Witches in Graycastle.” The Chief Butler got right to the point. “At the moment, we have a headcount of about fifty slots, with priority given to those
who have combat experience. I feel that you might be more suitable, so I came to specially ask you.”
Balshan was stunned and took her a long time to grasp the meaning behind Camilla’s word. Mass recruitment, priority given to those with combat experience—could it be that this was related to the war? But if that were true, why not have any requirements on the recruits’ powers?
“You’ve guessed right.” Seemingly having seen through her doubts, Camilla spoke up. “The Witch Union is building a unique task force meant to support the frontline, specifically to assist the main force as a response to an even more difficult battle. I am unable to reveal the specifics, but you should know the risks involved on the battlefield, so the choice depends on you. Of course… although it isn’t much in relation to powers, it doesn’t mean that you’ll be chosen upon responding to the recruitment. In the end, the result will depend on—”
“I’ll go,” Balshan replied immediately.
There was nothing to hesitate about!
Or rather, she had waited too long for this day to come.
“Then… follow me.” Camilla turned to the side to make way.
“Hey, are you really thinking of going to the frontlines?” While passing Charms, he asked her with a hint of worry in his voice.
“What’s this? I thought you would be cheering out loud.” Balshan smirked. “This way, you can date Dusk without a worry.”
“I…” His mouth opened wide as though he wanted to say something, but seeing Balshan’s back, Charms ultimately didn’t complete his sentence.
…
A day later, Balshan arrived at the Misty Forest on train.
The person in charge changed from Camilla to an unknown lady named Isabella, who was responsible for the selection and coaching. For an unknown reason, Balshan had a baffling feeling as though she knew her despite it being their first encounter.
And the other surprising thing was the number or recruits was far more than she had anticipated. Not only were there witches from the Sleeping Spell, but many from the Witch Union had come. In the short half hour journey, she got to know Vanilla, Amy, Hero, etc. Aside from that, she recognized a few familiar figures among the crowd, for example, Iffy and Nightfall from the Bloodfang Association.
It appeared as though they were also eager to prove their value on the battlefield.
With Isabella’s guiding them, the witches walked into a factory building after disembarking from the train.
Upon entering, everyone were instantly captivated by a metallic object in the middle of the empty space.
It resembled a ‘car,’ with the wheels being the most obvious parts. But the difference between it and the cars in Neverwinter was that there were five wheels on each side of the all-metal vehicle, with some sort of bound iron panels beneath them, wrapping the wheels together. The appearance of the vehicle was extremely unique.
Balshan immediately recognized the vehicle. It was somewhat similar to the machine used to excavate and plough the land for agriculture purposes… That’s right, it was called the tractor or something.
But compared to the tractor, there were many more iron lumps especially for the upper layer. As though sealed tightly with metal plates, the top resembled a fort’s control tower with an obvious metal cannon sticking out at the center.
One glance was enough to tell everyone that it was a weapon born for war.