Landing

Texas, Port of New Naples.

More than three hundred colonial militiamen in red uniforms had already taken over this once-thriving port.

This was the Republic of Texas's largest hub for foreign trade. In the past, countless shipments of grain, cotton, wheat, leather, and raw meat had been sent out from here in exchange for all kinds of industrial goods.

Now, the place was utterly deserted. The Texans' Lone Star Flag had been replaced by the Thirteen Colonies' Stars and Stripes.

The Redshirts stood around the empty harbor, waiting in bored silence.

"Colonel Arthur, those homeland bastards are really putting on airs. We already told them the Texans had retreated inland and that they could land without worry, but they still insisted on sending us here to feed the mosquitoes."

"There are only a little over three hundred of us, and the Knightly Order isn't with us. If even a wolf centurion shows up, we're all dead."

Colonel Arthur sighed and ignored his subordinates' complaints.

The State Militia had suffered a defeat and lost its arsenal, indirectly triggering a massive uprising among the black slaves. Half of Louisiana and Mississippi had become scorched wasteland.

If the Order of Saint George had not been there to take the blame as the bigger target, then even with his father being a high-ranking colonial official, the best outcome for him would have been returning to Arkansas to become a farmer.

The pitch-black, silent harbor was suddenly flooded with countless flares, illuminating the entire town in sharp detail.

The militiamen covered their eyes, seeing nothing but blinding white.

"No enemy detected. All clear."

Soldiers in khaki uniforms swiftly spread out along the shore and began setting up temporary fortifications, without a single one coming over to greet them.

Arthur hesitated. Just as he was about