Bab 185: Chapter 185: From Now On, Full Speed Ahead (2)
Count Cabaldi doubted his ears for a moment.
He had just decided to negotiate a food trade with that man. And now, that very man had invaded?
It was too unbelievable, and he had to ask again.
"Baron Fenris? Why?"
"…I don't know."
"Why him? How dare he! That wretch dragged his army into my territory?"
His initial shock quickly turned into uncontrollable anger.
He was on the cusp of becoming one of the great lords of the north.
With abundant iron production and advanced refining techniques, he maintained a strong force of heavily armed soldiers.
And behind him stood Duke Delphine, the most powerful figure in the kingdom.
For someone like Count Cabaldi to be targeted by an invading force—by a miserable wretch from a border fief, and not even a count! A mere baron!
"What on earth were the border fortress doing? How could the enemy arrive here without a single report being sent?"
Count Cabaldi bellowed furiously.
He had grown complacent, thinking no one would dare attack him. As a result, the fortress consisted of only a few guards. If the enemy had launched a determined attack, resistance would have been futile.
It was no surprise that the border fortresses had been taken, but none of the vassals dared speak the truth.
"I'll see the insolent face of that wretch with my own eyes!"
Count Cabaldi stood and stormed out.
His flustered vassals followed behind, trying to placate him.
"Perhaps this is a good thing. Since Baron Fenris struck first, we have the justification we need."
"We don't even need to worry about logistics. Let's march out immediately and crush them."
"The heavens must be on our side. Neither the Royalists nor the Duchy can blame us for this."
Count Cabaldi nodded as he listened to their words.
"I don't know why they came, but this is the perfect chance. I'll crush them immediately and occupy Fenris. What's the maximum force we can muster right now?"
"Forty-two knights and eighteen hundred armed soldiers. If we recruit troops from across the territory, we could gather more than three thousand, but that would take too long. We'll have to rely solely on our standing forces."
"That will be more than enough."
"Yes, they're nothing more than a poor and tiny barony. Even if they've rallied their forces, they'll barely have five hundred men."
The knight who had delivered the report looked troubled, but by now, the others had already dismissed his presence.
Count Cabaldi strode forward with satisfaction, imagining his overwhelming victory and the occupation of Fenris.
"Securing provisions will be easier than expected."
Even if they hadn't come for war, he had no intention of forgiving them.
Who would let such an opportunity slip by?
However, his confidence evaporated the moment he stepped outside and saw the situation.
Count Cabaldi froze in disbelief and muttered.
"What… What is that…? That army?"
It was enormous. At a glance, there were at least three thousand soldiers camped outside.
These weren't mercenaries from another territory, either. The flags waving across the battlefield unmistakably bore the emblem of Fenris.
He had been so sure he would overwhelm the enemy with sheer numbers, but now it was his forces that were outmatched.
"What is this? How does that brat have such a large army?"
"…"
No one could answer Count Cabaldi's outburst.
The size of the force was far beyond what a single barony could reasonably muster.
"They… they took in immigrants, didn't they? Perhaps they brought in a horde of recruits?"
"L-look! Most of them are infantry. They must be recruits. Their quality will be abysmal."
"But there are over three hundred cavalry. Are we sure this is manageable?"
With little information, the vassals could only speculate based on what they saw.
Count Cabaldi bit his nails, trying to think.
'What is going on? The Duchy explicitly told me to stay quiet. If this is something orchestrated by the Royalists, they wouldn't have told me to lie low. Or… was there some kind of agreement between the two factions?'
There had been no formal declaration of war, no conflicts with Fenris or its baron. He couldn't even understand why he was being attacked.
'There's no way that brat could assemble such a force on his own. Did the Royalists back him?'
At this point, news of Ghislain trading food for soldiers with other territories hadn't reached Cabaldi.
Ghislain had imposed a strict deadline and moved quickly to act before any rumors could spread.
The difference between someone fully prepared and someone caught off guard was stark.
As Count Cabaldi stood frozen, biting his nails and breaking into a cold sweat, two riders approached from the Fenris camp.
It was Ghislain and Gillian.
They stopped a short distance from the castle. After taking a deep breath, Ghislain called out loudly to Count Cabaldi.
"Hey! Count Desmond's lackey!"
Ghislain's voice, infused with mana, carried clearly to everyone on the castle walls.
Hearing the taunt, Count Cabaldi's eyes flared with rage.
"That… that bastard! How dare he!"
It wasn't just the vulgarity of Ghislain's tone but the insult in his words that was intolerable.
Count Cabaldi and Count Desmond were technically peers in rank. However, Desmond had often treated him like a subordinate.
No matter how politely Desmond framed his requests, Cabaldi had always felt the subtle condescension.
And now this. Desmond, who had extracted so much iron from him, had completely cut off food aid in his hour of need.
Ghislain's words stoked the inferiority complex that had been festering in Count Cabaldi's heart.
He didn't even have the presence of mind to wonder how Ghislain knew about his relationship with Desmond.
His head was too clouded with anger to entertain such thoughts.
"Open the gates immediately! I'll lead the army myself and cut that wretch's head off!"
His vassals, shocked by the outburst, hastily intervened.
"You mustn't! Meeting them head-on will result in heavy casualties. Their numbers are too great! For now, at least hear what they have to say. This might be a misunderstanding."
"Grr…!"
Count Cabaldi bit his lip. His vassals were right. Even if he had to fight, he needed to know why they were here. That way, he could at least present a case to the Duchy.
Gritting his teeth, Count Cabaldi gave a curt order, which a nearby knight relayed loudly.
"Baron Fenris! For what reason have you brought your army here? Marching on us so suddenly—have you lost all sense of noble honor in your impoverished life? If you wish to wage war, return home, prepare a proper justification, and declare war formally before coming back!"
In short, he was stalling for time to prepare.
"If you attack our territory without cause, the Duchy will not stand idly by. If you wish to avoid ruin, withdraw immediately!"
The knight even invoked the name of the Duchy to instill fear.
Hearing this from the castle walls, Ghislain smirked.
"A declaration of war, huh? Sure, I can do that."
Ghislain held out his hand, and Gillian handed him a bow and arrow.
Attached to the arrow was a letter.
Though Ghislain's actions were technically a sneak attack, he needed at least a semblance of justification to prevent overt interference from the Royalists or the Duchy.
All he had to do now was deliver this appropriately.
Creak. Ghislain pulled the bowstring taut.
The moment Ghislain took the bow, Count Cabaldi's knights moved quickly.
They surrounded the count in a tight formation, raising their shields to protect him.
But instead of aiming for the count, Ghislain shifted his target to the knight on the wall who had delivered the message.
Thwack!
"Gah!"
The knight, caught off guard, collapsed to his knees as an arrow pierced his chest.
The arrowhead only penetrated halfway—Ghislain had intentionally controlled his strength to achieve this effect.
Few would realize this subtle detail.
Watching the fallen knight as others rushed to his side, Ghislain casually tossed the bow aside and grinned.
"This is how I declare war."
***
In the capital, the Royalist nobles gathered daily to discuss how to manage the crisis.
Aside from the Marquis Branford and Count Ailesbur, most were struggling to secure adequate food supplies.
Their reserves were dwindling rapidly, leaving them in a state of constant worry.
"What are we supposed to do about this?"
"Starvation deaths are on the rise!"
"This drought is real!"
Despite all their shouting, no one had a viable solution.
The drought had devastated the entire kingdom.
"Enough! What's done is done!"
At Marquis Branford's thunderous command, the nobles fell silent.
Everyone was watching him closely.
Rumors had spread that the Marquis had stockpiled an enormous amount of food, leading many to believe that aligning with him might yield some relief.
Meanwhile, Count Ailesbur, having heeded Ghislain's earlier warnings and stockpiled food, maintained a relatively calm demeanor.
Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief.
'Phew, if not for my wife, we'd be in serious trouble. From now on, I'm listening to whatever she says.'
Meriel, defying her husband's objections, had insisted on purchasing vast quantities of food.
Thanks to her foresight, the Count, previously considered a secondary figure among the Royalist faction, had risen to become one of its most influential members, second only to Marquis Branford.
The Marquis surveyed the subdued room and began to speak slowly.
"This disaster, while unfortunate, could actually work to our advantage."
The commander-in-chief of the royal army, Marquis Maurice Macquarie, furrowed his brow.
"Ahem, how could you possibly say that? People are starving, and the situation is dire. What could be advantageous about this?"
"Because the Ducal faction is starving too."
"...?"
"Think about it. Why have we been so vigilant against the Ducal faction? Isn't it because we feared they might spark a civil war? But in this situation, even they can't risk starting one. They have to focus on stabilizing their territories."
"Hmm…"
"If we hadn't stockpiled food, the Ducal faction might have risked everything to exploit our weakness. Don't you agree?"
The nobles couldn't refute his reasoning.
If the Royalist side had been left without food, the Ducal faction would have undoubtedly seized the opportunity to incite conflict.
However, with substantial reserves in the hands of the Marquis, the Royalists, and Count Ailesbur, the Ducal faction was left with little room to maneuver.
They had no choice but to prioritize their own recovery, just as Ghislain had planned.
Unlike in the previous timeline, the Ducal faction's actions had been temporarily restrained.
For the Royalists, who sought to maintain the status quo rather than escalate to open conflict, this was a much more favorable outcome.
Understanding the logic, the nobles nodded in agreement as the Marquis continued.
"Of course, this balance won't last forever. It all depends on which side stabilizes the situation first. The Ducal faction will undoubtedly recover and renew their pressure on us."
A glimmer of hope appeared in the nobles' eyes.
If the outcome depended on who recovered first, it implied that the Marquis would actively support the Royalist nobles in overcoming the crisis.
The Marquis didn't disappoint.
"Not only will the royal reserves be distributed, but I and Count Ailesbur will also release some of our stockpiled food. It won't be abundant, but it should suffice to get us through this."
"Oh!"
"Truly a magnanimous gesture!"
"We always knew the Marquis and the Count would make the right decision!"
The nobles visibly relaxed.
Food was the single most crucial resource for maintaining their forces.
None of them had any intention of using the provisions to aid the common folk. They were solely concerned with preserving their own power.
As the nobles expressed their relief, the Marquis remarked almost wistfully.
"If only you had heeded Baron Fenris's advice and prepared in advance."
"Ugh…"
None of the nobles had a retort.
Who could have anticipated such an outcome? The Marquis and Meriel's decision to prepare was extraordinary, to say the least.
Seizing the moment, one of the nobles raised a lingering question.
"But how did Baron Fenris know this would happen?"
"There are rumors that he used astrology or some kind of divination."
"Surely not! Isn't it more likely that one of his baseless guesses happened to be right?"
The most visibly displeased was, predictably, Marquis Maurice Macquarie.
Fond of superstitions and omens, he was convinced that Ghislain must have employed some dark magic or sorcery to foresee the drought.
"Ahem! That man is clearly a dark mage or has a witch in his service! We must apprehend him immediately and weigh him against a duck! If he weighs the same as a duck, he's a dark mage!"
"…"
The Marquis seemed oblivious to the fact that his statements made him appear far more like a dark mage than the accused.
Marquis Branford merely shook his head. Reasoning with that man was an exercise in futility.
His military expertise and noble lineage were the only reasons he retained his position.
Still, even Marquis Branford couldn't entirely dismiss the mystery surrounding Ghislain. How could he predict the drought with such precision? It was hard to believe it was mere intuition.
'Well, I'll learn more about him in due time. For now, he and Rozalin have proven invaluable.'
Thanks to their efforts, the Royalist faction had managed to avert a complete disaster.
Marquis Branford allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he observed the still-anxious nobles.
'Hmm… Perhaps it's worth considering bringing that young man into the family. He and Rozalin might make a fine match.'
Had Ghislain overheard these thoughts, he would have been horrified. Even Rozalin herself couldn't have anticipated what was brewing in the Marquis's mind.
Shaking off these idle musings, the Marquis refocused and delivered a stern warning to the nobles.
"As a precaution, I must stress this—avoid conflicts with the Ducal faction for the time being. No matter how slight the insult, swallow your pride and avoid confrontation."
The nobles nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.
"In these times, any provocation could lead to mutual destruction."
"We'll make sure everyone understands the importance of restraint."
"Surely, no one on our side would be foolish enough to start something. Ha ha ha!"
The atmosphere lightened as the nobles exchanged forced laughter.
They all wished for the crisis to pass quietly. Surviving this would give them the chance to stand on equal footing with the Ducal faction.
But the cheerful mood was shattered when one of the Marquis's knights burst into the hall, panting heavily.
The Marquis scowled, ready to chastise the interruption, but the knight's desperate report stopped him.
"Baron Fenris has started a war!"
The room fell silent, the smiles vanishing from every noble's face.
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