Chapter 175: We Will Not Be Lazy

The sun was high over Port Solis, casting bright light across the great courtyard of the conquered imperial palace.

Six months ago, this vast square was paved with polished marble stones where high priests knelt and golden paladins walked. Now, heavy steel barricades, sandbag revetments, and rows of green Humvees flanked the perimeter. In the center of the plaza, an elevated concrete stage stood beneath the wide shadow of an American flag flapping against the ocean breeze.

Assembled in neat, disciplined formation were thousands of soldiers. Men and women from the infantry divisions, engineers, naval shore parties, and logistics brigades stood shoulder-to-shoulder in clean desert fatigues, their rifles slung across their chests. Along the outer edges of the courtyard, hundreds of local citizens of Port Solis—artisans, dockworkers, and former commoners—gathered behind security cordons to listen.

High-output public address speakers crackled to life.

A hush fell over the entire square.

General John Smith walked up the short flight of stairs onto the platform. He was dressed in his standard service uniform, without medals or parade frills. Behind him stood Colonel Richter, several staff officers, and a detachment of heavily armed military police.

John walked to the podium. He adjusted the microphone slightly, took a breath, and looked out across the sea of soldiers and civilians.

"Men and women of the Coalition Force," John began, his deep voice carrying clearly over the speakers and echoing off the ancient stone pillars. "And to the people of Port Solis."

The courtyard was dead silent. Even the harbor gulls in the distance seemed to quiet down.

"Six months ago, the high leadership of the Solarian Empire threw everything they had at us. They mobilized two hundred thousand conscripts. They fortified the mountain passes. And when their ground armies failed, they unleashed an ancient beast from the depths of the earth, believing it would burn our fleet and drive us into the sea."

A low murmur of pride rippled through the ranks of the gathered troops. Many remembered that morning clearly—the roar of the dragon, the smoke over the water, and the thunder of their own heavy guns tearing the monster apart.

"They failed," John continued firmly. "That beast lies dead in our drydocks. Its bones and scales now serve the technology of our engineers. And today, I stand here to give you an official intelligence assessment based on half a year of continuous reconnaissance."

John paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment.

"Our long-range drones, and scout patrols have thoroughly combed the Dragonspine Mountains, the Ironwood Basin, and the southern passes. The rebel camps are deserted. Their palisades are rotting in the rain. The trails are empty."

John leaned forward slightly, resting both hands on the wooden sides of the podium.

"Viona has fled."

A sudden wave of gasps and excited murmurs broke out among the local citizens. The commoners looked at one another in pure shock. To them, Viona was not just an empress; she was an untouchable divine figure who had ruled the continent with an iron grip for generations.

To hear that she had packed her bags and run away like a common thief was mind-blowing.

"Her high priests have scattered," John announced. "Her remaining mercenary forces have retreated far to the north. For the first time since our arrival on this continent, the Solarian Empire as a political and military threat has completely ceased to exist."

The soldiers stood tall, their eyes bright.

"This is our victory," John said, his voice ringing with pure authority. "You fought through unfamiliar terrain, against magic, monsters, and overwhelming numbers. You held the line, you secured this harbor, and you broke the enemy’s will to fight. Every single one of you earned this peace."

CHEERS!

A tremendous roar of triumph erupted from the ranks. Soldiers raised their fists into the air. Helmets were tipped back, and boots stomped in unison against the courtyard stones. Even the local commoners along the sidelines began to clap and cheer, tears streaming down the faces of older dockworkers who had spent their entire lives under the harsh taxes of the imperial throne.

John allowed the cheers to echo across the square for a full minute, watching his troops soak in the moment. They deserved it. They had lived under high stress and muddy conditions for months without a break.

Then, John raised his right hand.

The crowd settled down almost instantly, the discipline of the soldiers snapping back into place.

"However," John’s voice dropped into a sober, serious tone that cut through the celebration. "Listen to me closely."

He scanned the faces in the front ranks.

"We may have won the battle for Solis, but this war is far from over."

The soldiers tightened their posture, listening intently.

"Viona did not surrender. She did not sign an armistice. She did not lay down her weapons. She simply ran away to fight another day."

John stepped away from the podium, pacing slowly across the front edge of the stage so every man could see him.

"I will not let this army become lazy. I will not allow complacency to undo everything we built with blood and sweat. Therefore, as of this hour, all units will remain on full combat readiness."

He pointed toward the hills and the sea.

"Our air defense batteries will stay powered on, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Our coastal radar networks will continue continuous sweeps. Our patrols along the northern frontier will not slacken by a single meter. We will sleep with our boots on, and we will keep our magazines loaded."

He stopped in the center of the stage, his eyes burning with cold determination.

"Peace is not something you are given. Peace is something you guard with superior firepower. If Viona thinks she can hide in the north and return when we are comfortable and off-guard, she will find out that our teeth are sharper than ever."

He snapped a crisp, razor-sharp salute to the thousands of men standing before him.

"Enjoy this victory, soldiers. You earned it. But stay ready. Dismissed!"

CLACK!

Thousands of soldiers snapped their boots together, returning the salute with thunderous precision before breaking into disciplined dismissal formations.

As the courtyard began to clear, John walked back down the steps. Colonel Richter fell into step beside him, handing him a clipboard.

"Well said, General," Richter said with a faint grin. "A little praise to keep their spirits up, and a firm kick in the rear to make sure they don’t leave their posts."

"Soldiers get careless when they think the war is done," John replied, unbuttoning his top collar button as they walked into the cool shade of the palace corridors. "In a fantasy world full of unknown empires and subterranean war beasts, carelessness gets people killed."

"Speaking of which," Richter said, lowering his voice as they entered the administrative wing. "Our listening posts near the northern border pass picked up something faint this morning.

"What is it?"

"Movement from the north, possibly the Wallachian Empire."