Faced with Sanguinarch Duqare's merciless mockery, Lacey showed not a trace of anger on his face, nor could even the slightest emotional fluctuation be discerned.
He simply sat there quietly, waiting for Duqare to finish speaking.
It was not until the echoes of Duqare's fanatical words were the only thing left in the conference hall that Lacey slowly stood up.
He did not look at Duqare; instead, he cast his gaze toward the mottled Royal Court insignias on the walls of the conference hall.
"Sanguinarch Duqare, perhaps you are right," Lacey's voice reached everyone's ears.
"War is indeed something carved into the bones of us Sarkaz. For tens of thousands of years, we have been fighting."
"We fight against Catastrophes, we fight against other races, and we even... fight against ourselves." His gaze swept over the insignias of the Nachzehrers, the Blood-kin, and the Banshees one by one.
"We have won many times, and we have lost many times. We are the most tenacious warriors on Terra; this is beyond doubt."
The corners of Duqare's mouth curled up, thinking Lacey had been convinced by him.
However, Lacey changed the subject abruptly.
"But, what do we fight for?"
He turned around, looking directly at Duqare.
"For revenge? For glory? Or for the thrill brought by battle itself?"
"I spent a long time traveling through Terra. I saw how the Emperor of Ursus integrated his massive empire, and I saw how Yan fed hundreds of millions of people with a system unchanged for a thousand years."
"Their legions, their fleets, are indeed powerful."
"But, Sanguinarch Duqare, have you ever thought about what supports those massive war machines?"
Lacey extended a finger.
"It is logistics."
"It is countless farmlands, mines, and factories; it is soldiers and officers who are literate."
"Ursus soldiers can charge while drinking vodka and gnawing on black bread, but the premise is that the rear must have enough bread and vodka to deliver to their hands."
He picked up the piece of parchment that Duqare had disdainfully thrown onto the table.
"A sword, no matter how sharp, if the hilt is rotten and cannot be held—what use is it?"
"A warrior, even if powerful enough to tear apart a giant beast, if he cannot even stand steadily due to hunger and disease—can he still fight?"
"The invincible armada you want... very good, I want it too."
"But where does the steel to build the fleet come from? Who guarantees the energy to drive the fleet? The soldiers operating the fleet—what do they eat, what do they wear? Where do their families live?"
"Do they live in shacks that could collapse at any moment, drinking sewage full of mud and sand, and then praying that their loved ones can survive on the battlefield and bring back a pitiful pension?"
Lacey's voice was not loud, yet every word struck the heart.
"Such an army might win a battle or two, but can they win a prolonged war?"
"There is no home in their hearts, no roots, only hatred and despair."
"Such warriors are desperadoes, not an army with a true soul."
He took a step forward, his entire aura changing completely.
"You say we are the noblest warrior race; I agree."
"But true nobility is not knowing only destruction and slaughter, but knowing creation, knowing protection."
"The greatness of a true monarch lies not in how many enemies he has destroyed, but in what kind of prosperous dominion he has created for his subjects."
"A throne built upon a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood possesses nothing but bones. That is not called a kingdom; that is called a graveyard!"
These words caused Duqare's face to instantly turn ashen.
"You..."
Fury ignited in Duqare's blood-red eyes, and a faint scent of blood began to permeate his surroundings. Powerful fluctuations of Originium Arts made the air itself become viscous.
"Enough, Duqare."
The Nachzehrer King, Nietzhere, who had been silent all along, finally spoke.
His voice instantly suppressed Duqare's impending outburst.
"Let him finish."
Duqare's chest heaved violently, but in the end, he let out a cold snort and sat back down. However, those eyes stared dead at Lacey.
At this moment, Lamalien spoke. Her tone was extremely gentle, neutralizing the tension in the hall.
"What Lacey says makes sense. We have fought for too long."
"The first song the children of the Banshees hear when they are born is not a lullaby, but a dirge played for the dead."
"They don't even know what a true home should look like."
She looked at Lacey, her eyes filled with sincerity.
"If your plan can give them a place that shelters them from the wind and rain, so they no longer have to shriek on the battlefield for a few pieces of dried rations, I will represent the Banshee Royal Court and fully support you."
Lamalien's statement triggered a chain reaction.
Nietzhere spoke slowly: "War... requires living people."
Five short words, yet they explained the problem.
War needs soldiers, and soldiers must first be living humans.
How can a race that cannot even guarantee basic survival provide a source of troops?
He did not explicitly support it, but his words undoubtedly negated Duqare's reckless war fantasies.
Lacey cast a grateful look at Lamalien and Nietzhere. Then, he steered the topic toward the core, and also the most realistic, issue.
"I know everyone's concerns. The plan is good, but where do the resources come from?"
He looked at Theresis.
"The Soul Furnace."
The moment these words came out, the air in the entire conference hall solidified once again.
The Soul Furnace, the energy heart of Kazdel, was also the lifeline by which the Military Commission controlled the various Royal Courts and developed armaments.
All along, its entire output had been strictly used for military purposes.
Duqare laughed wildly again, as if he had heard the world's biggest joke.
"Hahahaha! You actually dare to have designs on the Furnace? Lacey, are you naive, or stupid?"
"Do you know that every unit of energy from the Furnace represents a new cannon, the armor of an assault ship?"
"You want to use it now to boil water, to light up your greenhouses? This is treason!"
This time, even Lamalien revealed a troubled expression.
The Soul Furnace was Theresis's bottom line, and also the Military Commission's bottom line. Touching it was no different from pulling teeth from a tiger's mouth.
Theresia also looked at her brother nervously; she knew the difficulty of this matter.
Everyone looked at Theresis, waiting for his decision.
Lacey, however, appeared unusually calm.
He had expected this step long ago.
"I am not asking for it for free," he said with conviction, meeting everyone's gaze.
"I am proposing a transaction, or rather, a gambling agreement."
"A transaction?" Theresis finally looked him in the eye.
"Correct."
Lacey met his gaze without flinching: "Give me three months, and a fifteen percent energy quota from the Soul Furnace."
"In return, my Kazdel Construction Corps will, within these three months, build at least one hundred standard housing units capable of accommodating a hundred people, and establish the first agricultural plot, planting the first batch of crops."
He paused, adding weight to his tone.
"If I succeed, proving my plan is feasible, then the Civil Livelihood Construction Department will obtain a long-term stable energy quota."
"If I fail, the project will be dissolved immediately. All losses will be borne by me personally. I, Lacey, will voluntarily step down from the position of Lord of Fiends and submit to any punishment."
The entire conference hall was dead silent.
Everyone was shaken by Lacey's massive gamble.
Using the position of Lord of Fiends to bet on an ethereal infrastructure plan? This was simply madness!
Theresia stood up in shock: "Lacey, you can't..."
Lacey raised his hand, stopping her.
His eyes were incomparably firm.
He knew that if he didn't bring out chips sufficient to shake these thousand-year-old monsters, his plan would forever remain merely talk on paper.
Although he was nominally the Lord of Fiends now, he was one in name only, without power in his hands. He had to obtain the support of the various Royal Courts to develop further.
The sneer on Duqare's face froze.
In his view, Lacey was seeking his own death.
Lamalien was full of worry.
Nietzhere's eyes, hidden in the shadows, also seemed to light up.
Theresis looked deeply at Lacey, as if trying to see through his soul.
He saw the resolve in Lacey's eyes; it was not a boast made in a moment of impulse, but a burning of bridges after careful consideration.
To forge a scabbard for his sword.
Now, he said he was willing to use his own honor to exchange for the first opportunity.
After a long time, Theresis's voice slowly sounded in the conference hall.
"Ten percent."
The excitement on Duqare's face stiffened: "Theresis! Are you crazy?"
"You actually agree to divert the Furnace's energy to this kind of boring trick?"
Theresis ignored his words, simply looking coldly at Lacey: "Three months. Ten percent energy quota. This is the limit I can give."
"Your target remains unchanged. One hundred housing units, one agricultural plot. If you can't do it, you know the consequences."
"Deal," Lacey agreed without hesitation.
He knew this was Theresis supporting him in his own way.
Within the Military Commission, even a one percent mobilization of energy would cause a huge backlash.
Ten percent was already the greatest sincerity Theresis could offer while withstanding the pressure.
"I disagree!" Duqare slammed the table, instantly covering the hard stone table with cracks.
"This is weakening Kazdel's armaments! It is aiding the enemy!"
"Aiding the enemy?" Lacey sneered.
"Your Excellency Sanguinarch, the members of my Construction Corps are Sarkaz. The houses built will house Sarkaz. The food grown will be eaten by Sarkaz."
"In your eyes, are they all enemies?"
"You!" Duqare was choked into speechlessness, his blood-red eyes almost spewing fire.
"Enough," Theresis stopped the argument again.
"The matter is settled. Now for the final vote."
"Those who agree to Lord Lacey's Civil Livelihood Construction Plan and grant him a seat on the Military Commission, please state your position."
This was procedure, and also establishing Lacey's formal status.
"I agree."
Lacey was the first to raise his hand. As the new Lord of Fiends, he automatically obtained a seat.
"Babel agrees," Theresia followed closely, her voice carrying joy.
"The Banshee Royal Court agrees." Lamalien raised her hand with a smile, casting an encouraging look at Lacey.
Three votes in favor.
"The Blood-kin Royal Court opposes!" Duqare said through gritted teeth, as if raising his hand in agreement would dirty it.
One vote against.
Everyone's eyes focused on the last person, the King of Nachzehrers, Nietzhere.
Nietzhere's head, wrapped in strips of cloth, slowly lifted. His eyes swept over Lacey, then over Theresis.
"I need... to see results," he said in that dry voice. "Abstain."
Theresis also abstained.
Three in favor, one against, two abstentions.
"Resolution passed," Theresis announced the final result.
"From today on, Lord Lacey formally becomes a member of the Kazdel Military Commission."
"The Civil Livelihood Construction Department is established immediately. Lord Lacey will recruit personnel and allocate supplies himself."
"The energy quota will be supplied starting tomorrow."
"Hmph!"
Duqare stood up abruptly, flung his magnificent formal attire, and strode away without looking back.
As he passed Lacey, he stopped and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Don't celebrate too early. I will be watching you."
With that, he disappeared into the doorway of the conference hall.
Lacey paid no heed to his threat, merely watching him leave with a smile.
The meeting ended, and the crowd dispersed one after another.
Lamalien walked over and gave Lacey a forceful hug: "Lacey, beautiful work."
"If you need any help, just send someone to the river valley to find me."
"Many thanks," Lacey thanked her sincerely.
When Nietzhere left, he also paused in front of Lacey. He said nothing, simply extending a finger wrapped in cloth strips and drawing a simple symbol in the air.
That was a code they had used on the battlefield, representing "Good luck."
Finally, only Lacey, the siblings Theresia and Theresis, and their respective guards remained in the hall.
"Thank you, Theresis," Lacey said, looking at the nominal Regent.
"I am not helping you," Theresis's voice remained cold.
"I am giving Kazdel a chance, and also giving you a chance."
"A chance to prove you aren't just engaging in empty talk."
"Remember, my patience is limited, and the Military Commission's resources are even more limited."
He paused, adding: "At the construction site, remember to send more personnel for security."
"I understand."
Theresis said no more, turning and leaving with Manfred.
Only when her brother's back had completely disappeared did Theresia let out a long sigh of relief, her face overflowing with uncontrollable joy.
"We succeeded, Lacey! We really succeeded!"
"No, this is just the beginning." Lacey looked at her, his eyes calm.
"Let's go. Our workers are still waiting for the good news."
...
Scar Market, Mudrock Squad's temporary camp.
The atmosphere was somewhat stifling.
Although the blueprint Lacey depicted yesterday had moved everyone, after a night had passed, the mercenaries who had calmed down began to doubt again.
Would the Military Commission, the Royal Courts, those high-and-mighty big shots really agree to share precious resources with them, the lowly muddy-legs?
Mudrock sat on a rock, still pinching that clay tablet in her hand, but her mind was completely elsewhere.
She was worried about her team members. She had given them hope; what if this hope was shattered...
Just then, the figures of Lacey and Ascalon appeared at the camp entrance.
All members of Mudrock Squad, including Mudrock herself, stood up instantly, their gazes cast upon him in unison.
Lacey looked at their nervous and expectant faces, and smiled.
"Mates, let me tell you some good news."
"From today on, the Kazdel First Construction Corps is formally established."
"The Military Commission has approved our plan. Food, medicine, clean living quarters, and stable remuneration—we will have them all."
"Most importantly..." He took out a freshly signed document from his chest pocket, bearing the seals of Theresis and several Royal Courts.
"We got the energy from the Soul Furnace!"
The entire camp was first deathly silent, and then erupted with earth-shaking cheers!
These Sarkaz men who had licked blood from knife edges for half a lifetime, who had long been numb to the future, were now hugging each other like children, jumping and hopping.
Some were even so excited they shed tears.
What they were cheering for was not the remuneration, not the food, but a chance to be acknowledged, to be needed.
A chance to use their own hands to build their own homeland.
Mudrock walked silently to Lacey and took off her helmet.
The young girl's delicate face also carried a trace of excited redness.
She did not speak, but simply bowed deeply to Lacey.
"Don't be like this, Mudrock." Lacey helped her up. "We are comrades."
He looked around at the cheering crowd and shouted: "Alright! Don't just focus on being happy! We only have three months!"
"Now, everyone, grab your tools and follow me!"
Under Lacey's leadership, this newly established Construction Corps, with its somewhat peculiar composition, marched grandly toward a ruin destroyed by war outside Kazdel City.
Kal'tsit had already been waiting there.
She wore work clothes convenient for movement, her white coat draped to one side, holding a thick stack of design blueprints in her hand.
Seeing the group of mercenaries behind Lacey, dressed in strange attire and radiating a murderous aura, Kal'tsit's brow furrowed imperceptibly.
"This is your engineering team?" she asked in a skeptical tone.
"They are the best warriors, and they will also be the best workers," Lacey introduced with full confidence.
"This is Doctor Kal'tsit, our project's chief technical consultant."
"This is Captain Mudrock, the commander of our First Construction Corps."
Kal'tsit merely nodded to Mudrock, then cut straight to the chase, spreading a blueprint on a relatively flat stone slab.
"This is the routing map for the energy pipelines."
"Based on the location of the Furnace and the geological structure of this area, we must complete the connection of this one-point-five-kilometer main pipeline within seventy-two hours."
"Here, here, and also here, foundation reinforcement is required; otherwise, excessive pipeline pressure will lead to collapse..."
Kal'tsit spoke extremely fast, her mouth constantly spouting various complex academic terms.
The members of Mudrock Squad looked at each other, their faces written with blankness.
"Um... Doctor Kal'tsit," a bold mercenary scratched his head and asked in a low voice.
"What did that mean just now?"
Kal'tsit's face turned dark, and a vein popped on her forehead.
She took a deep breath, seeming to try her best to suppress the urge to bundle up this group of illiterates and throw them all out.
"Pfft." Lacey, standing to the side, couldn't hold back and laughed out loud.
Mudrock coughed somewhat awkwardly, took the blueprint, and said to Kal'tsit: "Doctor Kal'tsit, you just need to tell me where to dig, how deep to dig, where to fill, and how high to fill."
"Leave the rest to us."
She turned around and roared at her team members: "What are you all staring for! Didn't you hear? Get to work!"
Saying this, she pressed her hands onto the ground and activated her Originium Arts.
Accompanied by a low rumbling sound, the ground of the ruins began to wriggle and roll. The hard rock was shaped like dough in her hands, and a trench meeting the blueprint's requirements extended forward at a speed visible to the naked eye.
A Gargoyle?
Kal'tsit watched this scene, some surprise in her emerald pupils.
She had originally thought the excavation work would consume a large amount of manpower and time, but in the hands of this Sarkaz girl, it became so simple.
She finally understood why Lacey had said they could do it with just these people.
Under Mudrock's leadership, the entire Construction Corps exploded with amazing enthusiasm and efficiency.
These mercenaries who once only knew how to destroy were carrying pipes and mixing reinforcement materials, their faces full of sweat, but their eyes unusually bright.
Time passed day by day.
Finally, at dusk on the third day, the last section of the pipeline was firmly placed in the designated position.
Under everyone's gaze, Lacey personally stepped forward and grasped the valve of the energy hub.
He took a deep breath and turned it forcefully.
Hum—
A low sound resonated.
Immediately after, along the newly built pipeline, rows of temporarily installed lights lit up one after another, from far to near!
Bright, stable white light, without a trace of smoke or dust, dispelled the darkness shrouding these ruins.
A faucet connected to a water pump made a "gurgle gurgle" sound, and immediately, a stream of clear water gushed out, twinkling with crystalline radiance under the light.
Everyone stopped the movements in their hands, staring blankly at the scene before them.
They stood in that light they had lit with their own hands, looking at that stream of clean water, and many people's eyes turned red.
Mudrock had taken off her helmet at some point. She extended her hand, catching the clear water, letting it wash over her palm.
A drop of warm liquid fell onto the back of her hand, mixing with the cool water flow; it was impossible to distinguish whether it was a tear or water.
Lacey stood in the crowd, quietly watching it all.
________________________________________
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