North Wind and Flames

A bitter north wind howled across the Oder River, the border river in the west of the Piaster Kingdom.

On the river, a vast fleet of ships struggled south against the current, aided by the strong north wind.

The Kingdom of Angland's transport fleet carried the food supplies that sustained the three-nation coalition. It was enormous, with vessels of all sizes crowded together in the river channel, making progress extremely slow.

The atmosphere aboard the fleet's flagship was tense.

Baron Skringer, the actual commander, furrowed his brow as he stared at the desolate riverbanks and the rolling hills in the distance.

His sharp eyes quickly spotted numerous newly erected wooden signs along the banks, their slogans painted in conspicuous red letters. They read: "Front-line combat zone. All vessels are forbidden to pass!"

"Lord Fudge," Skringer said gravely, turning to Count Fudge, the fleet's nominal commander-in-chief. "The situation is unusual. The Wesen Army's 3rd Division is stationed in Boerling City on the west bank. They're perfectly capable of attacking river traffic."

"I recommend that the fleet halt and immediately contact the Piaster Kingdom's army, requesting troops to guard key points on both banks and prevent any mishaps."

Fudge was wrapped in a thick fur coat, leisurely enjoying hot wine sweetened with honey. His face was full of disdain.

He scoffed. "Skringer, you're far too nervous!"

"The Kingdom of Angland and the Rhine Alliance are not at war, and there have been no direct hostile military actions."

"The Duchy of Weissen? Hmph. Would Frederick dare attack a ship belonging to the Kingdom of Angland?"

"Could he withstand the wrath of the Angland Royal Navy?"

"Do you remember those warships in the harbor, bristling with cannons?"

"Even if he had ten times the nerve, he wouldn't dare. Our warships could sail up the