Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

Under the jurisdiction of the military tribunal, the 43 soldiers were detained in the disciplinary block of the Indahl City Defense Force's headquarters.

The disciplinary block, directly overseen by military police, was hardly a pleasant place. However, considering it was meant for detaining soldiers the prestigious Bartlalis family had invested in, the conditions were somewhat better than the cells of Weisshem's militia headquarters.

The special solitary cell where 25-year-old Sam Hank was held featured amenities rare for such a place: a toilet, a sink, and even a narrow bed with laundered sheets and covers, making it seem more habitable than some factory dormitories.

But Sam Hank was far from calm and composed despite the relatively decent conditions of his confinement.

When he was brought from his cell to the interrogation room by a military police officer in a pristine white hat and uniform, Sam couldn't help but voice his grievance and anger. Facing the slick-haired, impeccably dressed military tribunal interrogator, he blurted out, "What do you want to ask? Do you suspect us of betraying Indahl? I've told you, we never did anything like that!"

"Calm down, Sam Hank. Losing your temper won't do you any favors," the interrogator, his face as smooth as his hair, said with a feigned smile. "Repeat your answer once more, Sam Hank. Do you still plan to gather with your kind and return to Weisshem?"

Sam was seething with frustration, and that was clearly reflected on his face. "Sir, allow me to correct your terminology. We are soldiers of the city defense force, forced into retirement due to a misunderstanding by our superiors. We can all vouch for each other that during our captivity, we committed no acts of betrayal against Indahl or the city defense force. Please refrain from referring to us as 'kind,' thank you!"

"Alright, Sam," the interrogator said leisurely. "Why do you want to return to Weisshem, then? Isn't that where you were captured and imprisoned, bringing you nothing but disgrace and heartache?"

Sam Hank took a deep breath, struggling to contain his anger, his voice heavy with resentment. "It's because we were forcefully discharged, sir! We have nowhere to go once we are kicked off the city defense force!

"You must be aware of how difficult it is to find a decent job in Indahl. My family has run a tailoring shop for generations, but since joining the city defense force at 17, I've not touched a needle or thread since. If I don't want to start tailoring from scratch, my only options as an ordinary person are becoming a mercenary or paying someone to get me some work at a factory!"

"The current times are indeed tough, especially in finding work." The interrogator nodded in apparent agreement, spreading his hands. "But at least Indahl offers job opportunities, Sam. You and I both know that Weisshem has nothing. There isn't a single factory there and barely any decent stores or workshops."

"That was before, sir," Sam earnestly insisted. "Now, Weisshem is brimming with job opportunities. They're renovating the town's main street, transforming former brothels into proper workshops. I've seen the operation of a soy produce workshop myself, with advanced machinery extracting oil from soybeans. The leftover soybean curd is turned into delicious tofu, which I've taken home for my family to try. They're hiring workers everywhere, with no need for bribes to apply. Besides, there are many vacancies in the Weisshem Town Hall…"

Sam Hank was quite a clever young man. He carefully avoided mentioning "Wagner Pitt" and sidestepped the alarming fact that the highest official of the Weisshem Town Hall was an undead. To avoid sounding like he was lying, he wisely kept silent about the employment benefits in Weisshem too.

Sam's attempt to sway the interrogator with his sincerity was destined for disappointment…

After hearing Sam's "excuses," the interrogator didn't give a clear response, merely advising him to wait for news with a nonchalant attitude, then ordered the military police to escort Sam back to his cell.

As Sam was led down the corridor, he saw another fellow compatriot being escorted by two military police officers from another corridor into the interrogation room.

Sam kept looking back, his heart filled with unease…

Two hours later, he was again taken from his cell by the military police and brought before the oily-haired interrogator.

"You all can leave Indahl," the interrogator announced as soon as he saw Sam. "You can bring your family and anyone else you deem necessary, Sam. Commander Horn has given you half a day to make preparations. Once you leave, you and those you take will never be allowed to return to Indahl. Do you understand?"

"What?!" Sam was shocked. "Sir! I-I don't understand! Isn't this exile?! But we haven't done anything wrong!"

The interrogator's fake smile remained, but his eyes and tone were colder than before. "Sam Hank, are you questioning Commander Horn and doubting the decree of His Lordship the Third?"

A chill ran down Sam's spine, and his heart sank.

In Indahl, only one esteemed figure was referred to as "the Third"—Adra III of the Bartalis family!

"No, sir, I didn't mean that," Sam murmured, closing his eyes in despair and hanging his head.

Sam's father had passed away early, and his mother, Mrs. Hank, ran a tailoring shop in the Marley Commercial District. She was particularly adept at mending petticoats and shirts, her repairs seamless and invisible even upon close inspection. Highly regarded by middle-class families in several nearby districts, Mrs. Hank managed to raise Sam and his two siblings on her sewing alone and even brought up Sam into a tall, strong man.

The person Sam was most grateful to was his mother, Mrs. Hank. Had she not inherited Sam's grandfather's tailoring skills, Sam wouldn't have enjoyed a carefree childhood and youth. Perhaps he might have ended up working in a factory by the age of 15 or 16.

Sam always brought his substantial salary home, easing his mother's burden significantly. With the steady income he provided, Mrs. Hank no longer had to work late into the night. Her eyes, once strained from overwork, had healed, and she could afford to add beautiful layers of tulle to her and her daughter's dresses.

During Sam's captivity, Mrs. Hank nearly cried her recently healed eyes out. Had it not been for the persuasion of friends and family, she might have risked a journey to Weisshem to find her son. His safe return was her greatest joy, and his despondence after being forcefully retired was a constant worry, which she countered with her encouragement.

Seeing Sam escorted home by the military police, Mrs. Hank immediately ran out of her shop and embraced her son tightly.

"Thank goodness, Sam is finally back," the neighbors from the adjacent shops exclaimed, coming out to see the commotion. They were all relieved for the Hank family to see Sam returned, even if he was under military police escort.

The military police, indifferent to the gathering crowd, made no attempt to conceal Sam's situation. In full view of the neighbors, they read aloud the Military Tribunal's decree of exile for Soldier Sam Hank.

Murmuring broke out among the gathering crowd, and they hastily stepped back as if afraid of being implicated in the Hank family's plight. Mrs. Hank, a small woman, wobbled.

"How can this be? How can it be like this?" Mrs. Hank was panic-stricken, pleading with the military police, "Sirs, is there some misunderstanding? My Sam has never done anything wrong. We've always been honest and law-abiding. We haven't done anything wrong, have we?"

"This was Sam Hank's own request, ma'am," one of the military police said impatiently, shrugging off Mrs. Hank's hand. "It's they who insisted on returning to Weisshem."

"W-we won't go. Sam, let's not go to Weisshem. Let's stay here, alright?" Mrs. Hank desperately clung to her son, her voice filled with pleading.

Sam remained silent.

"This is a direct order from Captain Horn and His Lordship the Third, ma'am," the military policeman said sternly. "It's not something you can whimsically change your mind about. Where do you place His Lordship the Third in all this?"

Mrs. Hank felt a wave of dizziness wash over her when she heard the "His Lordship the Third."

The ensuing half-day was like a nightmare for Sam and his family. They had to pack up and leave Indahl before nightfall, permanently banned from returning.

The harshness of their exile made everyone keep a wide berth from them. When Mrs. Hank, in tears, tried to give away belongings they couldn't bring along, decades-long neighbors shut their doors, wary of any association with the Hanks.

Mrs. Hank, despondent, brought back the belongings she was unable to give away, saying to Sam through sobs, "They weren't like this when I gave away the tofu and pastries you brought back before."

Sam shook his head, wordlessly focusing on packing their belongings.

Just before dusk, a military police-escorted wagon arrived on Marley Street. The soldiers roughly hurried the Hank family, along with another soldier's family from the same street, onto the wagon and out of the city.

Mrs. Hank, clutching their luggage in one hand and her young daughter in the other, huddled in a corner of the wagon, casting a forlorn gaze through the window at the familiar street they had lived on for decades.

No neighbors came out to bid them farewell. Only a few close friends cautiously cracked their windows open, stealthily waving handkerchiefs in a silent goodbye.

Mrs. Hank broke down in tears once more.Googlᴇ search ɴoᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt

Thus, the 43 soldiers and their families were similarly forced out of the city before nightfall, left near the mule and horse market outside the city gates. Some relatives, having heard the news, rushed to bid them a hurried farewell, and soon, the place filled with the sounds of weeping.

Families like Sam's, which had already split due to the passing of older generations, had it slightly easier. However, for those soldiers from large, undivided families, where the elder patriarch still lived, things were chaotic.

Entire families, some comprising dozens of members, were uprooted from the city due to one person's involvement. The situation at the mule and horse market was tumultuous, with several families erupting into internal arguments and fights.

Amid the chaos, several veteran soldiers stepped forward, rallying the families to gather together. They rented large carts from the market and prepared for a night relocation. Regardless of everything, these soldiers were well-informed about Weisshem's situation and believed all their problems would be resolved upon arrival.

Some soldiers' families had resigned themselves to their fate, while others, with more complex family dynamics, reignited arguments about moving to Weisshem.

Through these noisy quarrels, several soldiers' extended families decided to split up on the spot. Some members followed their kin to Weisshem, while others set off for different villages to make a living.

Sam managed to rent a wagon with another family. Their belongings were loaded up, women and children squeezed into the wagon, while the men had no choice but to walk alongside. Due to the sudden surge in demand, the market's rental prices skyrocketed, and no one was willing to pay the extra amount.

After much hustle and bustle, the cumbersome convoy finally set off around eight or nine at night.

As they left Indahl, Mrs. Hank, clutching her daughter in the corner of the wagon, couldn't stop looking back at the familiar yet alien west gate of Indahl, her tears flowing unabated.

"Your uncles didn't even come to see us off… Had I known, I wouldn't have shared the fine salt and spices you brought back with them. Selling them to a grocery store would have been better."

Sam, walking beside the wagon, reached up to grasp his mother's cold hand, whispering, "It's okay, Mom. Those salts and spices are nothing. In Weisshem, we can have as much as we want."

Besides his mother, Sam had once been most grateful to Mr. Gould, the steward of the Bartalis family. Five years ago, it was Mr. Gould who had spotted him running through the streets with heavy loads, leading to his rise from a tailor's son to a junior middle-class individual earning over 20 gold coins a year.

Among the captured soldiers, Sam might have been the one who hated Weisshem the most, regretting this unfortunate turn of events. He was extremely reluctant to lose his stable position in the city defense force, which he had hoped to serve until retirement.

Returning to Indahl with his comrades after days of anxious waiting only to be forcibly discharged by headquarters was a massive blow to Sam, and it felt like his world had gone dark.

At just 25 of age, he could have served in the city guard for at least another 20 years, earning hundreds of gold coins in salary and benefits, with a pension awaiting him upon retirement. But now, all his dreams had ended with a mere six gold in severance pay.

Sam, utterly dejected, had spent days drowning his sorrows in drink, only snapping out of it when he realized his mother had secretly reduced living standards for everyone else in the family but him.

Sam gathered his spirits, ready to shoulder the family's financial burden once more—to work and earn money in Weisshem and provide a better life for his family.

Little did Sam know that this seemingly ordinary choice would land him in the Military Tribunal's disciplinary block and lead to the exile of both him and his family.

The admiration and respect he had once held for the Bartalis family, especially for Mr. Gould, who had changed his fate, now turned into deep-seated resentment in his heart.