A light armored personnel carrier rumbled across a muddy field covered in weeds and mist, the roar of its engine echoing from the valley all the way to the river's mouth. The Latovinian legion, clad in dark green bulletproof armor and led by their officers, gathered by the riverbank, awaiting the arrival of their assigned APCs. The vehicles rolled slowly over the makeshift pontoon bridge, and the soldiers followed, advancing toward their objective. Compared to the days when they barely had enough to eat, the Latovinians now showed a flush of health on their cheeks. Their formerly frail bodies had become stronger with training, and what once was disorganized military conduct was gradually shaped into the beginnings of steel discipline under the guidance of the political commissars.
The river glittered under the sunlight, and distant snowcaps whipped up white clouds as high-altitude winds tore across their peaks. Overhead, two squadrons of assault transports—painted in gold and crimson—blazed across the sky, leaving behind jet trails. On the ground, the Latovinians looked up and raised their hands, cheering thunderously for the vessels soaring above. A week ago, in a fierce siege, it was these strange-looking aircraft that had descended onto the battlefield, unleashing terrifying firepower that wiped out all enemy resistance. Their powerful main cannons had shattered the local noble's fortifications in a single strike. Latovinian confidence had been built through such victories, and many children just beginning their education under the Undying City now dreamed of piloting such aircraft one day.
This mechanized infantry unit's destination was a village near Latovinia's capital. Two days earlier, guerrilla forces had seized several nearby villages and evacuated the local population. Now, those guerrillas were preparing to move out and take control of the roads around the capital, cutting off noble reinforcements. Once the mechanized unit arrived, they would coordinate with the guerrillas to secure all access routes to the capital and deploy anti-air missile systems to block any royal escape. Their efforts would buy time for other resistance forces to liberate surrounding towns and cities one by one.
High above the valley, two golden-armored giants stood, each wielding a massive shield engraved with eagles and lightning bolts. Between them stood a figure cloaked in deep red robes. Nearby, a man in iron armor and a dark green cloak waited silently, allowing the other to speak first.
"You'll never guess what I dreamed of as a child."
"Probably frying sausages on a shovel you'd just used to scoop African elephant dung," Victor von Doom replied, with a faint trace of sarcasm. "The Latovinian information network was built by the Undying City, and that New York gallery incident made headline news. How could I not know?"
Solomon looked as though he'd choked on his own sausage.
He shifted his gaze from the valley below back to Victor von Doom. He knew Victor had some misgivings about his antics. After all, if the Latovinians realized their sovereign was such a troublemaker, it might undermine their faith in the revolution. Latovinia was not a place for bread-and-circuses. Such "fun" couldn't win votes. The Latovinian ruler had to project absolute authority. "Whatever the case," Solomon said, "no one's going to recognize me. And look on the bright side—no one would ever suspect that the mastermind behind this war is the same guy pulling those stunts. That works in favor of my other identity."
"Not necessarily," Victor said slowly, exhaustion thick in his voice. The small guerrilla victories had gone well. The Latovinian army had seized a trove of supplies stolen from the people by local oligarchs, as well as proof that the royal family had been colluding with foreign powers. These materials and intelligence required Victor's personal attention. Combined with the grind of military command—even with the Undying City handling much of the burden—he was worn thin. "We've already captured several CIA agents from the list. Their handlers all come from divisions that operate in Eastern Europe. One confessed to having personally incited several riots in Serbia. Looks like the U.S. is paying attention to Latovinia. And with the time you wasted on vacation, you don't have many chances left."
"You weren't expecting me to handle diplomacy, were you, dear Regent?" Solomon said with a wide smile. "Serbia is our first step into Europe, and it's the country most likely to merge with us. But you have to negotiate that. Latovinia is far too small. We need to expand. We can offer Serbia satellites, even nuclear deterrence against NATO-aligned neighbors like Montenegro and Bulgaria—but only if you can quickly stabilize Latovinia and redeploy troops to the northern border to face NATO with me."
Victor let out a low, raspy growl. "When I proposed eliminating the royal family outright, you insisted on a complete liberation of Latovinia," he said. "You demanded that every inch of Latovinian soil be turned over, every hidden oligarch rooted out, every trace of fear in the hearts of the people crushed. I can't do that in the shortest time possible. I need time."
"Bring as many as you can, Victor. I know it's a heavy ask—but it must be done." Solomon's smile didn't waver under Victor's frustration. "There's a TV in every camp now. The people must see that they're not just defeating the monarchy—they're standing against the invincible NATO and winning. They must believe in themselves. They must believe they are the most exceptional, most ambitious branch of humanity. They must believe The Unified Truth. That they are the ones destined to liberate all mankind. Hammurabi—"
"My lord?"
"—Kindly hand me that battle standard."
Solomon took the Roman-style banner in his hands. At its top was a golden eagle with wings outstretched like twin axes, its claws clutching the deep crimson fire-resistant silk. The standard's black steel pole, seemingly ordinary, housed layers of advanced tech—anti-corrosion chains and hidden components. Master artisans had hand-stitched Solomon's golden vow into the fabric, a symbol of his authority as ruler of the Undying City.
"I'm glad to see how far the education of The Unified Truth has come under your guidance. It proves I didn't choose the wrong man. They fight under the same banner—the Latovinians must understand what this emblem means."
Solomon gestured for Victor to take the standard. Embedded within was a powerful refractive shield generator and a teleportation beacon. Victor knew its tactical significance: it was how the Honor Guard would locate and teleport into battle. Wherever the banner stood, the Honor Guard would arrive. And where the Honor Guard fought, Solomon would not be far behind.
"I'll stand with the Latovinians, Victor. That's my duty." Solomon said after handing him the standard. "When you launch the final assault, I'll join the battle. I promise you, the Latovinian people will see their sovereign fight beside them—to the death."
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.