Reborn as the Failed Lord with my Resource Gathering System.

"What do you mean, killed? Are the Yins already this deep into our territory?"

The man speaking was a mountain of muscle, crammed onto the front of a rickety wagon.

He wore a single, sweat-stained tank top and shorts, and a cigarette dangled from his lips.

He let out a slow, angry plume of smoke.

The three men standing before him in the dirt flinched, each one carrying the same worried look. This was Grak, a sub-leader in the Yaima group, and his patience was clearly gone.

It had been four days since the rumors of that golden, royal carriage started to spread. Four days. And every day since, he was down more men. Killed or captured, he didn't know which was worse. They had no idea who was doing it, but they knew where the trouble was coming from: that useless village to the left, the one that was supposed to be under his thumb.

"Say something, dammit!" Grak barked, his voice a low growl. "Are we being attacked from the inside?"

One of his subordinates finally found his voice, stammering,

"W-we don't know what's happening either, boss. Hell, it's not just that. As of yesterday, the Yins… they pulled back. They stopped attacking the front lines completely."

"What? They stopped attacking?" Grak stood up from the wagon, grinding the cigarette butt under his heel. He looked to the side, a deep, calculating look on his brutish face. "That don't make sense. Has the King finally given up on us? Or… is our benefactor planning on betraying us?"

He spat on the ground. Something fishy was going on.

The Yins stopping their attacks at the same time some high-status noble shows up? It was too much of a coincidence.

Baam!

Grak slammed his fist into the side of the wagon, making the wood splinter and his men jump back.

"Right. Enough of this. Get the men. We're heading to that village. It's about time we find out what is truly happening there and remind those villagers who they belong to."

…

Meanwhile, at the village in question…

Inside the very village the Yaima group was targeting, the atmosphere was entirely different. It was no longer a hovel of terrified civilians; it was a fortified, disciplined military encampment.

"Commander of the Second Division, reporting for duty!"

"Assistant Commander of the First Division, reporting for duty!"

Jordan and Aces, both dressed in their full military attire, stood at attention before Maria.

Further back, over 100 soldiers moved with quiet efficiency, setting up camouflaged tents, distributing rations, and checking their gear, ready to head into the battle they would soon be briefed about.

They had only arrived at the Red District a few moments ago, managing to infiltrate the area without being spotted by any Yaima patrols. Maria knew to let them get their rest; the real work was about to begin.

"Commander Maria," Aces began, his voice calm but with an underlying eagerness, "was the message we received true? Is Lord Dorian truly about to receive the title of Duke?"

Jordan, on the other hand, didn't seem to hide his excitement at all. His eyes sparked with curiosity, and he leaned forward, trying to get a whiff of the gist.

Maria, maintaining her usual calm look, gave them the response they were looking for. "That would be correct."

"YES!" Jordan pumped his fist, a huge, unrestrained smile playing on his face.

Aces smiled as well, though his was calmer and more controlled. "I am glad," he uttered. "I knew Lord Dorian would climb the ranks. I am not all that surprised."

"I know, right?" Jordan was still bursting with excitement. "Lord Dorian is so damn cool! He's going to become one of the Dukes of Lumberg! Hahaha! No one can even come close to him!"

Aces smiled at his friend's enthusiasm, about to add his own agreement until he noticed the faint red blush spreading across Maria's cheeks.

It was clear she was feeling embarrassed, and perhaps a little proud, at hearing them praise Dorian so much.

However, the moment she noticed Aces looking, her professionalism took over, and the blush was replaced by her neutral, commanding frown.

"That's not why we are here," she began, her voice crisp. "We have a task to do, ordered by Lord Dorian himself."

Both commanders immediately snapped back to their professional personae, all traces of casual celebration gone.

"Right. This place has been infested by rats," Jordan said, his tone shifting to one of disgust. "I can't stand people like this. I had a few of them in my hometown. Fucking bastards destroy every single place they step on."

"I see." Maria's expression was cold; she didn't care for his personal stories, only the mission.

"Lord Dorian wants us to reclaim this district from them. It is to be done in less than two days. We are far stronger than they are, even if they outnumber us."

Aces, ever the tactician, asked the critical question.

"What are the rules of engagement, Commander? Are we to capture them, or are we authorized to use lethal force? If it's the latter, it might be difficult, as every single one of them will be out to kill me and my men. I don't want to put their lives on the line needlessly."

Maria stared past Aces at the soldiers behind him, who were all looking at her with hints of adoration. She looked back at Aces.

"No. The orders were to take the land back by any means possible. I would wager killing is amongst the methods required."

"Roger." Aces's face was grim but determined. He understood the order.

"Alright then." Maria stretched a rolled-up paper towards them. "These are the plans, including Bandi's intelligence on their known bases. Go through it with your soldiers and be ready to move out as soon as possible."

Jordan took the paper from her. "Understood. Do send our regards to Lord Dorian. It's a shame; many of the Second Division soldiers couldn't wait to finally see him."

Maria was a bit confused. "Did something happen?"

"Not really," Jordan said, a proud smile returning to his face. "It's just that most of them are the elves we rescued. They feel they owe him everything after he gave them a home they could rely on. As such, when they heard Lord Dorian needed help, they all volunteered to show up."

Maria tilted her head to the side so she could get a better view of the distance. She could see them now: the elves, dressed in Aurelian-issued gear, seated in a circle, laughing and eating with the other human soldiers.

It was a sight she never would have thought possible.

"Oh. Sure," she said, her voice a bit softer. "I will do just that."

Then, all business again, she turned and walked away.