Disbandment

After finishing his private conversation with Richter, Karl sat alone in the crude wooden chair and rubbed his throbbing temples.

The slightly languid afternoon sunlight streamed through the small window of the office, illuminating the fine dust motes floating in the air.

The army's battles had temporarily come to an end. The scenes of flashing blades and billowing smoke still seemed to linger before his eyes, but an even more arduous and mentally exhausting "battle" had only just begun.

Reorganizing the army, compensating the wounded and the dead, restoring production, balancing the finances, responding to the surrounding situation, and digesting the strategic benefits and potential risks brought by Tyrol.

There were countless tangled matters, like innumerable intertwined threads waiting for him to sort out.

A profound weariness spread from deep within him like a rising tide. It was not merely physical exhaustion, but more the collapse that followed a prolonged period of intense mental tension.

He glanced at the piles of documents on the desk waiting for his review, but finally let out a soft sigh.

He knew these matters could not be rushed, and there was no way he could complete them all by himself in an instant.

Brendan, Roland, Edgar, and Richter were all exhausted and needed time to recover. The territory also needed a chance to catch its breath.

He needed one as well.

"Let's take it slowly..." Karl muttered under his breath, forcing himself to temporarily suppress his chaotic thoughts.

He rose and stretched his somewhat stiff neck and shoulders. His bones crackled softly.

When he pushed open the heavy wooden door of the office, the slightly chilly air from the corridor outside rushed in, carrying the distinctive dampness of the stone walls. Yet it was far fresher than the stuffy atmosphere inside.

Karl took a