Login Required

A space fortress where the Imperial Army's vessels were gathered.

Besides the regular army's fleet, the private fleets of those known as the great nobles had also assembled.

Watching the scene from within the fortress, Cleo truly felt the meaning of the phrase "violence of numbers."

"The view is filled with warships as far as the eye can see. I almost feel sorry for Liam, having to face this many ships. Six million—and if you include logistical support, we're talking tens of millions of vessels on the move."

Though his words were sympathetic, his expression held a faint, mocking smile.

Beside Cleo stood Marquis Hampson.

He was a large, wild-looking man who had simply combed his long hair back with his fingers, yet he was wearing a suit.

In his hand, he held a glass of liquor.

"They must have judged that they couldn't win without a fleet of this scale. It's not pitiful; it's an honor for Duke Banfield."

Hampson's remarks were typical of a warrior, but Cleo wanted to hear his true thoughts.