Chapter 683: The Desert Plan
“Your Majesty—you plan to campaign against the Southernmost Region?” A rare agitation crossed Iron Axe’s normally composed face. “But the Months of Demons are almost upon us…”
“How many soldiers do you think would be needed to hold Neverwinter against the demonic beasts?”
Iron Axe drew a slow breath, suppressing the agitation. “Judging from last year’s numbers—a thousand soldiers could hold the wall.”
“Then twenty-five hundred would be more than sufficient for safety. And a new recruitment round has begun, which further secures the city.” Roland walked to the tall window. “Tell me about the Southernmost Region. You know the people there better than anyone.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Iron Axe came to attention. “More than half the land is yellow sand. Oases line the western edge of the desert along the course of Silver Stream. Over ninety percent of the Mojins live among those oases. The largest oasis holds the only city in the Southernmost Region—Iron Sand City.”
“So Silver Stream is a river?”
“Half a river, at best.” Iron Axe considered how to explain it. “Most of it runs underground, like a subterranean Styx. Where it surfaces, oases form. The Mojins call it the River of Life.”
Roland turned from the window, curious. “Where does it originate? There are no mountains or lakes near it on the map.”
“It originates from the sea—a gift of the Sea God, the Mojins say.” Iron Axe moved to the desk and pointed to the juncture of the Southernmost Region’s western edge and a stretch of grassland. “A vast limestone cave sits here. Seawater flows backward into it continuously. Standing on the ground above, you can feel the earth trembling underfoot.”
“Seawater feeds an oasis?” Roland frowned. Seawater was too saline for irrigation or drinking. This didn’t add up.
“The earth absorbs the salt. You can see white salt residue crusted across the soil throughout that area—it isolates the grassland from the Kingdom of Graycastle. Anyone needing salt need only lift a bucket and scoop it from the ground.”
Filtration through saline-alkali soil. Roland couldn’t help marveling at it. Natural desalination on a geological scale. And besides petroleum, now he had another resource to consider.
“How many residents does Iron Sand City have?”
“Around forty thousand.”
“More than the old king’s city of Graycastle?”
“The comparison isn’t quite right, Your Majesty.” Iron Axe allowed himself a small smile. “There is one central urban area—where the ruling clans maintain their seats of power. Beyond that, the city extends in rings of tents and thatched cottages. One step onto the oasis and you are already within Iron Sand City’s domain.”
“What about Mojins living in the other oases? There must be a substantial number.”
“No precise figures, but I estimate at least a hundred thousand.”
Then a few mining stations and a pipeline would be enough. The question is how to govern the population.
“You mentioned the holy duel before. How do the Mojins determine the right to rule?”
Iron Axe’s explanation was thorough. It took nearly half an hour before Roland grasped the full structure.
Setting aside promotions within individual clans, strength was the currency the Sand Nation trusted. The ruling parties in Iron Sand City were never constituted by inheritance—always by combat. But to prevent the clans from bleeding themselves dry in the pursuit of dominance, reducing their combined strength against external threats, they had settled on a system: send representatives to duel. Over generations this rule had acquired sacred weight. Big clans stationed in Iron Sand City and small clans scattered across the oases alike respected the outcome of holy duels. Anyone who defiled them drew the condemnation of the entire Sand Nation.
“So the prime rulers are the leaders of the six clans?” Roland asked. “There’s no figure above them—no chief, no one equivalent to the King of Graycastle?”
“A chief…” Iron Axe hesitated. “Among the clans, there is a saying: only two things would make the Sand Nation civilians obey willingly. The first is acknowledgment and blessing from the Three Gods. The second is opening new oases—expanding the realm of life, pushing back the sandstorm, removing the constant threat of thirst and death.”
“Acknowledgment of the Three Gods—how does that work?”
“In the Land of Fire, one offers sacrifices to three divine beasts: the Armored Giant Scorpion that governs the earth, the Unicorn Sea Beast that dominates the Southernmost Cape, and the Four-winged Eagle that rules the sky.” Iron Axe paused. “These three creatures appear and vanish without pattern. They have claimed countless lives, yet their lairs remain unknown. Bait and traps don’t work on them. I suspect they’re hybrid demonic beasts that have acquired basic intelligence.”
Roland fell into a silence. Neither path is easy. Making an oasis from desert is the work of gods. Winning the blessing of three near-mythic predators is hardly less so.
And simply making Echo clan chief again—restoring what had been taken from her five years ago—wouldn’t be enough. The six clans had different status but no chain of command over one another, and the scattered Mojins in the smaller oases had no formal tie to any of them. To genuinely integrate the Southernmost Region, he needed a way to make himself recognized as Grand Chief of the entire Mojin Clan.
He also needed to reckon with the holy duel itself. The First Army could shatter the Iron Sand City guard like rotten timber—but breaking things was not the same as winning submission. The Sand Nation would need to accept him by its own logic, its own rules.
“Can an outsider be invited to participate in a duel?”
“That is no problem at all,” Iron Axe replied with certainty. “I am a mixed-blood, yet I could represent the Osha Clan in a duel. Brave gladiators are always welcomed by the big clans. For small clans, a warrior of exceptional ability is often their only path upward—three or four strong fighters among their descendants can earn them a better standing in the next holy duel.”
“Is that so.” Roland smiled. “Then it’s simpler than I thought.”
Chapter 683: The Desert Plan
Translator: TransN Editor: Meh
“Your Majesty, do you plan to go on an expedition of conquest to Southernmost Region?” Iron Axe’s ever peaceful face showed a rare agitation. “But the Months of Demons are drawing near…”
“How many soldiers do you think should be left in Neverwinter to tackle the swarming demonic beasts?”
“Well…” Iron Axe deeply inhaled to suppress his agitation. “Judging from the number of demonic beasts from last year, 1,000 soldiers would be able to guard the city wall.”
“So to be on the safe side, 2,500 soldiers would be sufficient to guard the city. Besides, a new round of recruitment has begun, which will safeguard Neverwinter,” Roland said, and then walked to the French window, “so tell me about Southernmost Region. You should be the most familiar with the people there.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Iron Axe saluted. “Over a half of the land in the Southernmost Region is composed of yellow sand. Oases are scattered along the western side of the desert along Silver Stream. Over 90% of the Mojins live amongst those oases. There’s a city built on top of the biggest oasis, which is also the only city in Southernmost Region—Iron Sand City.”
“So Silver Stream is a river?”
“It could be counted as half a river.” Iron Axe explained. “Most of it is buried underground, just like an underworld Styx’s River; the parts that appear above the ground have formed oases. For this reason, the Mojins also call it the River of Life.”
Roland turned around, asking curiously, “Where did it come from? Judging from the map, there were no high mountains or lakes near it.”
“It originates from the sea, so it’s a gift of the Sea God.” Iron Axe walked to the desk and pointed at the juncture of the west of Southernmost Region and a piece of green land. “There’s a huge limestone cave located here where the sea water constantly flows backward into. One could feel the trembling underneath the feet when standing on the ground.”
“Do you mean Silver Stream originates from the sea? But it has bred oases.”
Since it breeds oases, it means Silver Stream is freshwater—seawater contains too much salt, which makes it unsuitable for irrigation or drinking. So what Iron Axe said did not make sense.
“Mother Earth absorbed the salt in the seawater. White salt residue can be seen on the ground all over that area, which also isolated the grassland of the Kingdom of Graycastle. When people need salt, they only need to lift a bucket and scoop the salt from the ground.”
“Is this the superb craftsmanship of nature? The dirt underneath the yellow sand filtered the salt and made the area into saline-alkali soil.” Roland could not help but exclaim. It seemed that besides petroleum, now he had one more sort of resource to exploit.
“How many residents are there in Iron Sand City?”
“Around 40,000.”
“Even more than the old king’s city of Graycastle?”
“Your Majesty, the city of the Sand Nation is different from the king’s city.” Iron Axe smiled. “There’s only one nuclear urban area which provides residence for the power-holders of the six clans. The surrounding areas are filled with tents or thatched cottages. After layers of extension, the city became the way you see it now—as soon as one steps onto the oasis, one enters the domain of Iron Sand City.”
“Then how about the Mojins that live in other oases? There should be quite a few of them, right?” Roland asked. Human resource was the key to quickly convert the local specialty into a practical resource. But it was unlikely that he would send a lot of people from the city of Neverwinter to mine petroleum, so he had to rely on the locals to work for him.
The commander-in-chief nodded. “There are no statistics about it, but I think there are at least 100,000 residents.”
Then I could build several mining stations and one pipeline, which should be enough. The next problem would be deciding how to control the residents.
“Well, last time you mentioned the holy duel. What was it about? How did the Mojins determine the right to rule?”
Iron Axe gave a very detailed reply to those questions. It took almost half an hour before Roland finally understood the Sand Nation’s ruling structure and succession.
Putting aside the promotions within the clans, strength was the only thing that was considered trustworthy to those aliens who upheld force. The ruling parties in Iron Sand City were usually constituted by six clans who did not get their powers by inheriting but by fighting with strength. But in order to avoid the clans from losing too many of their own whilst pursuing power, which would consequently weaken their combined strength in the face of external danger, picking a few representatives to duel became their best choice.
Over time, this rule was universally acknowledged over the Sand Nation and was bestowed with a sacred meaning—the big clans which were stationed in Iron Sand City and the newly born small clans that lived in oases all respected the result of the holy duels. Anyone who tarnished the duels would be condemned by all the civilians of Sand Nation.
“Do you mean the prime rulers of the Mojins are the leaders of each clan?” Roland asked in confusion, “Don’t you have a figure like the chief?”
“The chief?”
“I mean a leader who rules all the clans, someone like the King of the Kingdom of Graycastle.”
“Well…” Iron Axe hesitated. “Among the clans, they used to say that there were two ways that the Sand Nation civilians would obey willingly—one was to get the acknowledgment and blessing of the Three Gods. The other was to open up the unmeasured vastness of oases for the nation to eliminate the overwhelming sandstorm, so as to remove the threats of thirst and death for the Sand Nation.”
“The acknowledgment of the Three Gods… How does that work?” Roland asked, frowning.
“In the Land of Fire, one is supposed to offer the sacrifices to the Three Gods who’re the Giant Scorpion with Armor that governs the earth, the Unicorn Sea Beast that dominates Southernmost Cape, and the Four-winged Eagle that rules the sky.” Iron Axe stopped for a while. “These three beasts appear and disappear mysteriously. They’ve taken numerous lives yet their dens remain oblivious to the humans. Baits and traps don’t work on them—I assume they’re some sort of hybrid demonic beasts which might have gained basic wisdom.”
“Both ways aren’t easy to achieve, especially the second one. To make an oasis out of a desert is almost like the power of God.” Roland fell into a deep meditation. By making Echo the chief again as revenge for being framed five years ago won’t help much with my integration of the entire Southernmost Region. Although the six clans have different social status, they don’t have a direct affiliation, not to mention those Sand Nation civilians scattered in the oases. I have to find a way to make myself the Grand chief of the Mojin Clan.
Besides, I should also consider the way of the holy duel. The First Army probably could defeat the guards of Iron Sand City like smashing rotten wood, but to make the Sand Nation civilians submit to me willingly isn’t that easy.
The most suitable way to annex would be by following the rules made by the Mojin Clan itself.
“Can an outsider be invited to attend the duel?”
“That’s not a problem,” Iron Axe replied with affirmation, “I’m a mixedblood, but I could also attend a duel representing the Osha Clan. As a matter of fact, brave gladiators are usually well-liked by the big clans. This is also the only hope for the small clans to have a chance at climbing the ranks—if there are three or four brave warriors among their descendants, they have a better chance to get a good rank during the holy duels.”
“Is that so?” Roland said with a smile, “That makes it easier.”