The Sovereign System.

It took Luke some time to walk on foot to the northern side of the fortress, where the mercenaries had set up camp. Even if he hadn't been told they were there, the stark difference in tents and equipment would have made it obvious.

While the mercenaries still flew the banner of the Marxx Kingdom, their armor and uniforms were entirely different from those of the regular soldiers. As Luke and Kayson walked through the camp, Luke became increasingly uncomfortable under the weight of the many gazes directed at them.

These were hardened men. Some were retired soldiers past their prime, while others were the dregs of society, forced to fight to put food on the table.

Luke couldn't deny that he and Kayson stuck out like sore thumbs, with their youthful appearances and expensive-looking robes. He wasn't sure if the mercenaries were merely wary of them or considering whether they were worth robbing.

Thankfully, they didn't have to venture far before spotting a hulking figure hunched over a pot, cooking what looked like breakfast. The woman wore a sleeveless robe, revealing muscular arms covered in scars, some fresh and others old.

Luke instantly recognized her—Hilda, the same woman Sebastian had defeated at the mercenary guild. Beside him, Kayson tensed briefly, but Luke ignored it, stepping forward and entering her camp.

"Hilda, how are you?" he asked, perhaps a little too casually.

The woman turned, revealing her face. It was surprisingly pretty, a stark contrast to her muscular and scarred frame. The combination created a comical yet intimidating sight.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice a deep timbre that matched her body far more than her face. When she straightened to her full height, she towered over Luke, amplifying her imposing presence.

"I-It's me, Luke. I'm Sebastian's son," he replied, trying to keep his composure.

To his surprise, her entire demeanor shifted. Her tone rose several octaves as she exclaimed, "Oh! You're my Sebby's dear son! Forgive me for being so rude. Please, come in, make yourself at home."

Luke's jaw threatened to dislocate as it dropped in shock. Shaking it off, he stepped further into the camp, nudging Kayson along with him. Before he could ask about Sebastian's whereabouts, Hilda spoke again.

"Sebby~ we have company!" she called, her voice carrying the sing-song tone of a housewife summoning her husband.

Luke turned to Kayson, his expression seeking confirmation that he wasn't imagining things. Kayson's equally stunned look assured him—this was really happening.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that," a grumpy voice responded from inside the tent. Moments later, a figure emerged, clad in a tight-fitting but faded robe. His gray hair and hawk-like features gave him an air of sharpness and wisdom.

"Seba—Father!" Luke exclaimed, running forward and wrapping the man in a hug. He hadn't planned on how he would act when they met, given their altered dynamic, but his body moved on instinct.

At first, Sebastian's body was stiff, but he soon relaxed, returning the embrace with a firm grip. "It is good to see you again… my boy."

Stepping back, he held Luke at arm's length, his piercing eyes scanning him from head to toe. For a brief moment, Luke thought he saw a satisfied smile flicker across the guy's face.

"Have you been keeping up with your training?" Sebastian asked, his tone sharp and fatherly.

Luke let out a small chuckle. "Of course. My friend over here is even stricter than you," he said, gesturing to Kayson behind him. "This is Kayson Diego, the City Lord's son."

"Young Master, it's a pleasure to meet you," Sebastian said, bowing slightly. "I am Sebastian Drakon. Thank you for looking after my son."

"It's no problem," Kayson replied, returning the bow.

"Ah! I thought you looked familiar," Hilda exclaimed. "Forgive me for my rudeness earlier, Young Master."

"I harbor no grudges, Miss Fonterra. Please, think nothing of it," Kayson said, waving it off.

Luke suddenly remembered that Hilda was part of the noble Fonterra house, making it unsurprising that she and Kayson knew each other. Perhaps that explained Kayson's earlier shock at her behavior.

Hilda clapped her hands together. "What a wonderful occasion! How about we have some breakfast to celebrate?" she suggested, smiling warmly.

Luke was about to decline, having already eaten, but his eyes caught the slight twitch in Hilda's muscles as she nearly crushed the metal ladle in her hands.

"T-That would be lovely," he quickly replied.

For the second time in under an hour, he found himself subjected to an awkward meal. Yet this time, instead of a bloodthirsty General, it was a hulking woman making him nervous.

Luke glanced at Sebastian, itching to tell him about everything that had happened over the past three months. However, it was clear this wasn't the time or place for such conversations. This certainly wasn't the reunion he had envisioned.

Deciding to shift the conversation, Luke turned to Hilda and asked, "So, how long have you and my father been… together?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sebastian tense, his sharp gaze boring into the side of Luke's head. In that instant, Luke realized he had made a grave error.

'Ah, shit… I didn't mean it like that.'

Hilda, on the other hand, looked utterly delighted. She clasped her calloused hands close to her heart and let out a dreamy sigh. "Your father was playing hard to get for quite a while. I tried tagging along on his missions, but he was far too slippery."

Luke swallowed hard, a surge of sympathy rising for Sebastian. Given Hilda's position in the guild, it would have been easy for her to find out which missions Sebastian had taken and insert herself into his party.

Her face brightened as she continued. "But thanks to the war, I was finally able to track him down. He's still keeping me at arm's length, but I'll continue to show him my love until the day he accepts."

"I told you, woman, I don't plan on getting wed," Sebastian interjected, his voice heavy with exasperation.

Hilda simply smiled sweetly. "We don't need to be wed, Sebby. Just give me your seed so we can sire some powerful offspring."

Kayson suddenly began coughing violently, sending a few beans shooting out of his mouth. Luke's expression turned sour, and whatever small appetite he had left promptly vanished.

"W-Well, I have a strategy meeting to attend. Thank you for your hospitality, Hilda," Luke said hastily, getting to his feet. Turning to Sebastian, he placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression turning serious.

"Good luck, Father… And don't die on either battlefield," Luke stated calmly.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of understanding, quickly followed by anger. Without warning, he delivered a solid kick to Luke's backside, nearly sending him sprawling forward.

"G-Gotta go!" Luke called, breaking into a run as the dull throb in his rear intensified. He didn't slow down until he was a hundred feet away.

"Damn that old bastard," he muttered, rubbing his tender behind.

"Your father is strong… No wonder he could conquer Hilda," Kayson remarked, falling into step beside him.

"I hope she breaks his damn hips in bed," Luke spat, though a small smile crept onto his face.

Kayson burst out laughing. "You two have such a weird relationship. I could never talk about my father like that," he added, though there was no judgment in his tone.

Luke merely smiled, feeling warmth inside. He was relieved to see Sebastian doing well, even if he now had to contend with Hilda's relentless pursuit. Honestly, it was impressive that the old man had managed to evade her for so long.

"Come on, I want to check on my mare," Luke said, quickening his pace.

Later that afternoon, the siege weapons began to arrive at the camp. Watching the carts roll in, Luke recognized several familiar designs, though he'd never seen them in person before.

There were two ballistae, three catapults, siege ladders, and several battering rams among the thirty or so carts, all pulled by sturdy horses.

Not long after, the students were summoned to the General's tent for a strategy meeting, along with a few unfamiliar faces. The tent, far larger than any other in the camp, featured stone tiles on the ground—a welcome change from the dirt and tough grass outside.

Inside, a large table dominated the space. General Hart sat behind it, his closed fan resting against his chin as he studied the carved figures laid out on the table.

Commander Tryst sat to the General's right, occupying one of the few chairs in the tent. Two additional chairs were vacant, but Luke hesitated to assume they were for him and Kayson. Instead, he stood straight, eyeing the unfamiliar individuals and wondering if they would claim the seats.

"Come, Commander Drakon, Commander Diego. Sit down," Hayden said, gesturing with his fan toward the chairs.

Both of them obliged, with Luke drawing the short straw and taking the seat closest to the General.

"How long will it take to assemble the siege weapons?" Hayden asked, his gaze still locked on the table.

"General, the catapults will require two days, while the ballistae can be operational within a day. The ladders and battering rams will take less than a day to prepare," a man in his thirties with a drooping mustache responded, his tone confident.

"Mmm, that is acceptable," Hayden replied with a nod. "We'll position the catapults and ballistae to the west, near the boulders. The wind tends to blow east, which will aid in the assault."

"Yes, General," the man responded, bowing deeply. For a few moments, he stood awkwardly in place, unsure if he was dismissed.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" Luke said, breaking the silence. He had noticed the displeasure flickering across Hayden's face and quickly intervened before the situation escalated.

"P-Pardon?" the man stammered, his hackles raised.

Hayden flashed Luke a grin, but it did little to reassure him. There was something sinister behind the expression, sending an unsettling churn through Luke's stomach.

'Just go, you idiot!' Luke thought, willing the man to leave and avoid punishment.

Thankfully, the engineer seemed to pick up on the tension in the room and promptly excused himself, leaving Luke to breathe an inward sigh of relief.

"These engineers are supposed to be smart," Hayden commented, rolling his eyes before returning his focus to the table. He adjusted a couple of the carved pieces representing siege weapons, placing them on the west side of the fortress wall.

"We have two days until the catapults are ready, but that doesn't mean we should wait idly. With the battering rams and siege ladders already here, we'll mount an offensive—even if it's just for show," he stated nonchalantly.

"Commander Drakon, would you care to share your thoughts?" Hayden asked, waving his fan lazily in Luke's direction.

Luke gulped. He wasn't sure why Hayden kept singling him out during these strategy meetings, but he couldn't afford to falter or appear weak. Thankfully, he already had a few strategies in mind.

"While the catapults are being assembled, we should maintain pressure on the fortress by launching small-scale attacks on at least two gates simultaneously," he said, essentially reiterating part of Hayden's earlier plan.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Hayden's face, but Luke pressed on. "We'll organize three shifts for these attacks: one just before dawn, another at midday, and the last at dusk. While one shift is attacking, the others can rest, allowing us to sustain a perpetual assault."

"Excellent," Hayden snapped his fan shut with a sharp clap. "We'll wear them down over the next two days and launch our final attack when they're at their most vulnerable," he exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Luke could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on him, but he didn't shy away. Kayson and the other students were one thing, but Commander Tryst's expression held something different—an appraising look that did not escape Luke's notice.

"Each shift will need a commander," Hayden continued. "Commander Tryst, you'll lead the early shift. Commander Drakon, you'll handle the midday shift. Commander Diego, you'll take the evening shift. Spread the order and have the soldiers split into three groups."

"Yes, General," they all affirmed in unison, their voices echoing through the tent.