Restart:Untalented Man



With the blande forces decimated, the aftermath of the battle revealed a scene of both triumph and devastation. The once-beautiful landscape had been transformed into a grim tableau of fallen soldiers and strewn weaponry.

The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of gunpowder and smoke, a result of the fierce attack unleashed by Ryntum's troops.

Amidst the devastation of war, medics and healers tirelessly moved through the battlefield, providing aid to injured soldiers. The rest of them meticulously checked the bodies of the fallen Blande soldiers. Wounded soldiers were carefully tended to. Their wounds were cleaned and bandaged to the best of the healers' abilities.

As the sun reached its zenith, the surviving Ryntum soldiers gathered together. They took a brief respite to replenish their strength before forming ranks and began their journey back to Tetherswest.

....

As they marched toward the city, word of the decisive victory quickly spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the nearby villages. 

Wilmot has dispatched a lot of messengers to carry the news of Blande's defeat.

The messengers galloped through the countryside, their horses kicking up dust as they raced towards the villages. Villagers emerged from their homes and fields, their faces lighting up with joy as they absorbed the news. Cheers erupted, spreading from village to village. 

Meanwhile, the army continued their march. The banners of Ryntum and Tetherswest fluttered proudly in the wind.

Soon, the city gate came into their sight. Unlike before, the gate was no longer shut tight but was open as wide as it can.

The army with an amount of almost ten thousand soldiers passed the gate. The scene that greeted them took their breath away. 

The streets leading to the heart of the city were lined with excited onlookers.

Their faces beaming with anticipation. Men, women, and children gathered, waving flags and banners, their cheers echoing through the air.

The sound of drums and trumpets filled the atmosphere in the background, adding to the crescendo of jubilation.

As the army entered the city, the streets transformed into a sea of celebration. Rose petals rained down from windows and balconies, creating a colourful carpet beneath their feet. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and the melodious sounds of music and laughter.

Grateful citizens thronged the streets, reaching out to touch the soldiers and offering them words of gratitude.

The soldiers smiled and nodded to the civilians, humbled by the outpouring of love and respect.

The city square served as the epicentre of the celebration.

Theodore, the Duke of Tetherswest, stood at the forefront. His eyes filled with pride and gratitude as he awaited the arrival of the victorious army. 

As the soldiers marched into the city square, a wave of applause and cheers erupted from the gathered crowd.

Theodore stepped forward, his voice resonating with warmth. "Brave soldiers of Tetherswest and Ryntum, for the past few days, you have fought with unwavering courage and determination to free this land. Today, we stand here united, triumphant over our common enemy."

His gaze swept across the sea of faces before continuing. This time, his voice filled with a melancholy tone, "To those who have fallen, we offer our deepest condolences and eternal gratitude. They shall forever be remembered as heroes in our hearts."

Theodore's words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made. However, the solemn atmosphere didn't last long.

The celebration continued with feasts prepared in every corner of the city, tables groaning under the weight of sumptuous delicacies. The aroma of savoury delicacies mingled with the sweet fragrance of victory, enticing all to partake in the bountiful celebration. Laughter and conversation echoed through the streets and mingled with music. 

While the jubilant celebration engulfed the city, Wilmot and the duke found a moment of respite to meet in private. The air carried a sense of formality as they exchanged pleasantries.

Curiosity burning within him, the duke wasted no time in addressing the question in his mind. "Wilmot, tell me, what has transpired in Weymewesto?"

"Are you sure you wanna hear it?" asked Wilmot.

Theodore nodded. Without further ado, he recalled everything that happen in the city in great detail. His words were imbued with a mixture of pride and happiness.

On the other hand, the duke's expression turned grave. An undercurrent of fear pulsed through his veins. Although he knew Riz's personality fairly well, he never imagined the extent of the kid's wickedness. 

As the duke contemplated, Wilmot broached a sensitive topic.

"Your Grace, I must inform you that Ryntum has claimed most of the land in this region." Wilmot began, his voice measured but firm. "Our flags now fly proudly in those territories, signifying our authority."

"What?!" He exclaimed. The duke's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and anger. He struggled to comprehend Wilmot's words.

"You didn't mishear me, Your Grace," Wilmot replied calmly. 

"No! No! No! This is an outrageous act! You have clearly overstepped your boundaries," the duke burst out with indignation. "You have no right to take it."

Wilmot, maintaining his composure, offered a different perspective. "Your Grace, I know it sounds like we deceived you but hear me out. It is important to note that the territories Ryntum now claims were once lost to the Blande forces. We merely take them. We did not snatch the land from Tetherswest but from Blande as spoils of war."

The duke's face turned pale as he absorbed the gravity of the situation.

The loss of his duchy's territories was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving him with only Tetherswest City as an independent enclave.

Anger and defiance swelled within him, fueled by the realization that his power and influence had been greatly diminished.

"I cannot accept this!" the duke's voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation as he shouted. "You cannot simply take what rightfully belongs to my duchy! Ryntum is supposed to help us liberate ourselves."

Wilmot chuckled, "Your Grace, I am pleased to remind you that there's no formal agreement signed between the Grand Duchy of Tetherswest and the Kingdom of Ryntum. Both sides only made a verbal agreement. Remember what the messenger told you the other day?"

The duke recalled the promise they made earlier. It only revolves around Tetherswest and Ryntum joining forces to defeat Blande. 

"It seems like you remember them well," said Wilmot after observing the duke's facial expression. "So, we are not obligated to help you. And our actions were simply driven by our own strategic interests."

The duke's face flushed with anger. He felt like he was tricked by someone he trusted. His voice was laced with defiance. "You manipulate the situation to your advantage! This is not how an ally behaves. Ryntum was supposed to be our ally, not a conqueror!"

Wilmot's gaze hardened. His voice took on a more serious tone. "Your Grace, let us not forget the reality of our situation. The world is very complex and ever-changing. You shouldn't trust someone so easily, especially when he has no familial ties with you."

The duke's face contorted with anger upon hearing Wilmot's words. His eyes narrowed, and his voice quivered with suppressed rage as he retorted, "How dare you question my judgment!"

"But, it's true right?" Wilmot shrugged his shoulder.

The duke took a step forward, his expression a mix of defiance and determination.

"I will not accept it, Wilmot. Tetherswest will not bow down to Ryntum's ambitions. We will find a way to stand against this tyranny and reclaim what is rightfully ours."

"Is that so?" Wilmot questioned with a firm and unwavering tone. "You are quite adamant in your refusal, Your Grace. But, let me tell you something. Ryntum is also interested in this city." 

The duke straightened his posture, his eyes reflecting resolute defiance. "I will not submit to Ryntum's demands. Tetherswest will never surrender its sovereignty to another kingdom."

He leaned forward, eyes locked on the duke. "Your Grace, I must make it clear that Ryntum will not hesitate to take the same approach we did in Wemeywesto—a hostile takeover—if necessary. We seek to establish our authority in these lands, and if resistance persists, we will be left with no choice but to assert our authority forcefully."

"You have the audacity to threaten me in my city?!"

"Yes. We can do it once, so we definitely can do it twice. We can settle this in an easy way or in a hard way. The choice is yours." said Wilmot.

At the same time, multiple soldiers emerge around them.

The duke realized the gravity of the situation had increased dramatically. The sight of the soldiers surrounding them only added to his apprehension.

His voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "You... you wouldn't dare!" he stammered.

Wilmot's expression remained stoic, "Oh, who knows about that, Your Grace. I can simply report your death in the enemy hand to the king and your entire family member who is currently in Bideford."

Theodore's unwavering gaze softened slightly when thinking about his family. His expression showed a momentary flicker of concern and uncertainty.

Wilmot seized the opportunity, his tone more persuasive. "Your Grace, just think about this as a transition to new management. There's no drastic change that would happen except for you losing a chunk of your power."

After a relentless persuasion, the duke's resistance crumbled. His shoulders slumped, and his voice quivered as he reluctantly capitulated. "Fine... I will comply with your demands. But know this, Wilmot, I will inform that kid about this."

"Feel free to tell the king," Wilmot replied. He doesn't care as long as he can get things done.

[A/N: Map]