Chương 378: 378：Go Back and Tell Your Emperor to Bow to Me!

The sheer weight of that interrogation slammed into Alaric like a physical blow. This was a supreme commander who valued knightly honor above his own life. Yet, under Soren's ruthless questioning, he was rendered utterly speechless, his face flushing with profound shame. He could have made excuses like ordinary, calculating politicians—claiming the blizzard was too fierce for the Griffons to take flight, or that military transfer orders had been delayed. But meeting Soren's piercing gaze...

Alaric slowly lowered his proud head. He didn't shirk the blame. Instead, he laid bare the ugly, agonizing political calculus with complete honesty.

"It was the decision of the Imperial High Command... specifically, my father, Grand Duke Valentine." Alaric's voice was hoarse, choked with the agonizing conflict between military discipline and his own conscience.

"The High Command determined that Greywater Village was doomed. To prevent the Empire's main legions from suffering meaningless casualties in the swamp... for the sake of the Empire's damned 'greater good'..."

"The Command issued a strict non-engagement order. We were forbidden from taking to the skies. We were ordered to stand by and watch you get surrounded." Alaric ground his teeth together.

"I felt nothing but utter disgust and shame, but... I could not defy a direct military order." Hearing this confession, Soren slowly straightened his posture.

"Just as I thought." Soren's demeanor became incredibly decisive. Without a single ounce of hesitation, he waved his right hand dismissively across the desk, ruthlessly rejecting every single temptation of wealth and status the Holy Halycon Empire had to offer!

"Take your Marquis title, take your hundred thousand gold coins, and take your Emperor's expectations. And go back." Soren stood up, towering over Alaric.

"Go back and tell your Emperor!" Soren declared, his voice echoing with unyielding resolve.

"I, Soren, do not need his Royal Legions! And I certainly don't give a damn about the so-called 'Prince of the Realm' throne he offers as charity! The sword in my hand is drawn for one reason only: to protect the people on this land who believe in me!"

"If the Emperor of the Holy Halycon Empire truly wishes to find a path through this Dark Age—a way to defeat the Orc Alliance and save the human faction!" Soren pointed a finger squarely at Alaric, delivering a statement of sheer, earth-shattering audacity:"Then tell him to abdicate his rotting throne! Tell him to lead the entire territory and citizenry of the Holy Halycon Empire, and submit to the command structure of Greywater Town!"

"Tell him to fall in line behind me! Together, we will eradicate the class oppression that plagues this continent! We will forge a new world with no nobles and no slaves!"

"That, is the only true path to salvation!" Hearing such unbridled, arrogant words that openly humiliated the Emperor, any other Imperial general would have instantly drawn their sword, ready to fight Soren to the death to defend the crown's honor. But hearing these declarations, Alaric felt absolutely no anger. Instead, a complex wave of profound shock and strange relief washed over him! He maintained his bitter, heavy silence.

In truth, as a general who had witnessed the terrifying developmental speed of Greywater Town firsthand, Alaric had already harbored a suspicion before he even arrived. With the sheer martial prowess Soren had displayed in sniping the Orc Warchief, coupled with his terrifying ambition to abolish the class system... a conqueror of this magnitude would never bow his head to be ruled by another. A man like this was born to rule the entire era!

His visit today, following his father's orders, was nothing more than fulfilling his duty as a vassal—making one last, utterly hopeless attempt on behalf of the Empire. Alaric gazed at this peerless god of war with genuine admiration.

"Only a man like him is worthy of making a declaration capable of reshaping the world..." He thought to himself, a deep-seated fear taking root in his soul. He truly, desperately hoped that his beloved Holy Halycon Empire wouldn't clash with Greywater Town in the future due to blind, greedy expansion. As a soldier, the absolute last thing he ever wanted to see was the day he had to lead the Royal Griffon Knights onto a battlefield... against an invincible god like Soren!

"I understand." Alaric let out a long, heavy sigh—a sound carrying too much anxiety for the Empire's future. He stood up and offered Soren a slight bow. He knew that their respective stances were set in stone. Any further persuasion would be futile. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"I will carry your words, unedited, back to the Imperial Capital." Alaric turned and walked toward the door. But just as he was about to step out of the command post, he paused. He looked back. Driven by the deep camaraderie forged when they had fought side-by-side at Abysswater Keep, slaughtering Orcs in the trenches, Alaric left Soren with one final, heartfelt warning.

"Soren, my friend."

"You have achieved a military miracle that will be etched into the annals of human history."

"Yet, within the bureaucratic swamp of the Silvermoon Kingdom, you are still pitifully saddled with the hollow titles of Vice-Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights and Border Deputy Envoy!"

"You must understand! Those corrupt nobles in the Silvermoon Capital who spend their days playing power games—those vested interests of the old order!"

"They will absolutely not tolerate a man wielding such an invincible army, a man with such sky-high prestige, continuing to expand his power unchecked in the Misty Swamp!" Alaric warned with urgent intensity:"Once the joy of the Orcs' retreat fades, they will feel terror! They will undoubtedly unleash their massive political influence, resource embargoes, or even issue suicidal military orders to violently suppress you and Greywater Town!"

"The crushing weight of political warfare is no less vicious than an Orc's battleaxe!"

"You must carefully guard against their unseen, venomous schemes!" Having delivered his sincere warning, Alaric lingered no longer. He strode out of the command post, his retreating figure quickly vanishing into the swirling blizzard outside. Silence returned to the command post. Soren stood by the window, watching the spot where Alaric had disappeared.

"Political suppression from the Silvermoon Capital?" Soren's right hand slowly tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"If those greedy, corrupt fools are genuinely stupid enough to try and extend their disgusting political machinations onto the clean soil of Greywater Town... then I will personally teach them what a real political struggle looks like!" Soren turned back to the map of the Misty Swamp. To the south lay the bordering nations of the human faction.

"Political suppression..." Soren muttered, tapping his finger heavily twice on the section representing the Silvermoon Capital. He recalled how Meyer had recently plucked a human spy—bought out by the Orcs' Spire of Shadows—from the stream of refugees. While the incident proved the airtight efficiency of Greywater Town's frontline screening, it also served as a stark wake-up call for Soren. He had to admit to a glaring flaw: Greywater Town completely lacked an external intelligence-gathering network.

The two hundred-plus Goblin Scouts under Meyer's command were undoubtedly lethal within the Misty Swamp. With their small stature, greenish-brown skin, and total immunity to miasma, they could lurk in acid bogs for days on end without issue. But what happens once they leave the Misty Swamp and enter human settlements? Send green-skinned Goblins into the taverns of the Holy Halycon Empire to eavesdrop? Or have them infiltrate the noble estates of the Silvermoon Capital to steal official documents?

It was utterly impractical! The moment they showed their faces in a human city, they would be branded as monsters and nailed to crucifixes.

"I need human scouts. Top-tier ones," Soren stated out loud. In the future, Greywater Town was bound to clash with the human nations economically, militarily, and politically. He had to establish a covert intelligence network, infiltrating operatives into the Halycon Capital, the Silvermoon Parliament, and every nation across the continent. Just as Soren was racking his brain over the lack of human intelligence personnel, a crisp, electronic chime suddenly echoed deep within his mind! [Ding!] [Your Talent: 'Eye for Talent' has been triggered!] [Target 1: Name - Evelyn. Location: Recruit Camp] [Target 2: Name - Lucian Flores. Location: Recruit Camp] Soren's heart leaped. For the System to sift through thousands of refugees with its incredibly strict criteria and directly flag these individuals... they couldn't possibly be mediocre. This was exactly what he desperately needed!

"Lyra." Soren grabbed his black cloak from the desk and swept it over his shoulders. From the shadows near the door, the silver-haired young woman stepped out without a sound.

"My Lord."

"Change into a standard padded gambeson and hide any conspicuous weapons. Come with me to the recruit camp," Soren ordered, a sharp glint in his eyes.

"We have two crucial talents we need to recruit personally."