"Administering Justice"

Franz didn't dislike intelligent people. It was just that this business prodigy was far too clever. Even when Franz was helping him restore his country, the latter still wanted to maximize the former's value.

Viraweis Adani kept hopping back and forth between Franz and the British, hoping to secure the greatest profit and emerge as the ultimate victor.

A king—or, rather, a nominal emperor of India—was nowhere near enough to satisfy his ambitions.

The British would never allow India to unite, and neither would Franz. A united India would be far too vast for any single great power to control.

Back to the matter at hand. Lakshmi Bai asked, "If guerrilla warfare can't win a war, then what's the point of persisting with it?"

Franz took a sip of tea. "When the disparity between the enemy and us is overwhelming, guerrilla warfare can at least preserve a glimmer of hope for victory."

Lakshmi Bai asked another question.

"Will we get to see guerrilla warfare this time?"

Franz and Albrecht exchanged glances. They didn't know either, though they hoped they would. The former wanted to seize more land.

The latter wanted to witness the terror of the guerrilla warfare Franz had described—and test whether he could handle it.

But the main reason the latter was so confident was that he had so many troops, with plenty of room for error.

Just then, a cavalry scout came galloping back with news of a situation.

He brought with him a dazed, portly man who looked to be around forty. The man had fair skin and a neatly trimmed little mustache. His clothes were caked with mud and bits of grass, and there were scorch marks on his head. He was muttering something in Polish.

Franz couldn't make out what he was saying. He