Marquis Branford fell silent for a moment, then asked again.
"A war? Against whom?"
"The Duke's faction, Count Cabaldi."
The Marquis, who had gone silent once more, soon gave a faint chuckle as if he had realized something.
"Ah, so you're saying Count Cabaldi attacked Fenris to seize their food supplies?"
"…"
Despite having been informed that Baron Fenris had started the war, the Marquis clung to this rationalization, unwilling to face reality. The knight had no answer and merely handed over a hastily prepared report.
The war had already been underway for several days. Thanks to merchants and informants across the north, the news had spread quickly.
"…"
As Marquis Branford read through the report, the blood drained from his face.
Both the Duke's faction and the Royalists were treading cautiously. Neither side had anything to gain from an outright conflict at this time.
If civil war broke out now, both factions would suffer irreparable losses.
The Marquis had just finished urging the nobles to exercise caution to prevent such a scenario.
And yet, a war had already been started. That insane fool had caused a disaster—a colossal one at that.
For the first time in his life, the dignified Marquis Branford muttered a curse under his breath.
"That mad bastard…"
"Pardon?"
"No, nothing."
The Marquis rubbed his forehead. Every time he heard news about that man, a throbbing headache ensued.
The nobles in the conference hall were equally stunned and at a loss for words.
"W-what is this? Baron Fenris starting a war? And against the Duke's faction, no less?"
"That's why we shouldn't have supported someone like him! A war in these times—he's completely insane!"
"I told you! We should weigh him against a duck to confirm if he's a dark mage!"
The hall descended into chaos as the nobles shouted over one another.
Marquis Branford sat in silence, his mind reeling. He had never been in a more perplexing situation.
'How should I handle this? Was that fool really just a lunatic after all?'
He had known the man was reckless and absurd, but he had believed there was more to him.
After all, the Marquis had averted the worst of the drought thanks to Ghislain's warning.
But this... Starting a war against the Duke's faction in the current climate? It was madness, pure and simple. Could he really be so blind to the larger political situation?
As the Marquis pondered, the nobles' complaints grew increasingly heated.
"We must expel Baron Fenris from our faction and sever ties with him immediately!"
"We need to inform the Duke's faction that this was not our doing!"
"Lord Marquis, retract your guardianship of him! Let him live or die on his own!"
"He's definitely a dark mage! Let's bring him in and confirm it already!"
The Marquis remained still, his eyes closed, as if he couldn't hear the growing cacophony around him. His head throbbed, and he felt dizzy, unable to discern what anyone was saying.
His insides churned.
'Should I abandon him here?'
Disavowing involvement in this incident wouldn't be difficult. It would be humiliating, but compensating the Duke's faction and abandoning Ghislain could put an end to the matter.
The Duke's faction would likely handle Ghislain themselves. Fenris and the entire Perdium family might go down with him, but at least the situation wouldn't escalate further.
Of course, the Marquis would suffer a significant blow. His investments in the cosmetics trade would take a massive hit, and his political authority would plummet.
But if it meant saving countless lives, the loss might be worth it.
Perhaps it's best to cut my losses.
At that moment, the Marquis recalled something Ghislain had said.
― Support me as the representative of the North.
― Count Desmond is a suspicious figure. We may share the same enemy.
'Count Cabaldi controls the North's largest iron mines.'
'And he frequently trades with Desmond.'
'Desmond might be aligned with the Duke's faction.'
Something was on the verge of falling into place. Though he couldn't be certain, it didn't seem like Ghislain had started this war recklessly.
'I can't give up on influence in the North.'
Abandoning Ghislain would mean permanently losing the North to the Duke's faction.
Once one concession was made, others would inevitably follow, leading to the loss of influence across all regions.
Forsaking Ghislain was tantamount to forsaking the North entirely. It was an irreversible move.
'Could this bastard have anticipated all of this when he chose me as his guardian?'
If so, Ghislain was utterly audacious. It would mean he had planned to cause trouble from the moment he sought the Marquis's guardianship.
Though the thought enraged him, it wasn't something he could dwell on now.
'I'm the only one who can contain this.'
He had to prevent the Duke's faction from intervening. He needed to frame the conflict as a justified dispute between two lords, keeping both factions at arm's length.
Whatever the outcome, it was up to him to manage the situation.
Having made his decision, the Marquis opened his eyes and spoke slowly.
"I will not abandon Baron Fenris."
"What do you mean, Lord Marquis?"
"If we continue supporting him, we're all doomed!"
"This could spark a civil war!"
Despite the nobles' protests, the Marquis remained unfazed and asked coolly.
"So? Are you suggesting we abandon our ally out of fear of the Duke's faction? Then what will you give up next? What will be left for us if we abandon Baron Fenris? Who will trust and follow us then?"
"…"
The nobles couldn't refute his logic and fell silent.
As the Marquis had pointed out, abandoning an ally out of fear of the enemy would destroy their credibility. Even if they had justification, expelling Ghislain would cause the more cautious nobles to begin withdrawing their support.
They couldn't abandon him, even if they wanted to. Baron Fenris had chosen the perfect time and position to initiate his war.
Seeing the uneasy expressions around him, the Marquis softened his tone slightly.
"The Royalists will not intervene. I will ensure the Duke's faction does not either. Fenris and Cabaldi will fight under legitimate pretexts. If Fenris loses, so be it."
The report contained a tenuous but somewhat plausible justification for the conflict.
Using it to frame the war as a personal vendetta rather than a political power struggle might dissuade the Duke's faction from intervening.
Since the Marquis himself had taken charge of the matter, none of the nobles dared voice further objections and reluctantly nodded.
All except one—the only man in the room with authority rivaling the Marquis's own.
Marquis Maurice Macquarie stood abruptly and glared at the Marquis.
"So you're saying we should shield that brat? Even if it puts us at great risk?"
"Should I interpret that as the commander-in-chief of the kingdom's forces saying he's too scared to stand against the Duke's faction?"
At the Marquis's taunt, Maurice's lips twitched angrily. He spoke with a menacing glare.
"Once we've crushed the Duke's faction, if that brat survives, I'll personally confirm whether he weighs the same as a duck. And then I'll cut off his head myself."
"When that time comes, do as you please."
"I'll prepare the troops, just in case."
Maurice stormed out, followed by nobles from his faction.
The meeting ended, but the Marquis had little time to rest.
The very next day, an envoy from the Duke's faction arrived.
Hiding his fatigue, the Marquis welcomed the visitor.
"Welcome, Count Forwood."
Count Forwood, one of the Duke's faction's key envoys, was often tasked with delicate diplomatic missions.
If Raul was the Duke's mind, Count Forwood was his voice.
The fact that they had sent someone of his stature indicated how seriously the Duke's faction viewed the situation.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Count Forwood cut straight to the point.
"Baron Fenris has attacked a noble of the Duke's faction. Should we consider this the stance of the entire Royalist faction?"
Count Forwood came out swinging, knowing full well that the Royalists were unlikely to back Ghislain's actions.
'Viscount Josef believes this was a reckless act by that brat. The Royalists want to avoid civil war more than anyone.'
Raul, the "crippled devil" had met Ghislain once. After speaking with him, Raul had concluded that Ghislain was an impulsive, reckless youth.
Such men invariably made mistakes. As expected, Ghislain had escalated to war, and Raul saw an opportunity to isolate him from the Royalists, destroying Fenris and Perdium altogether.
Confident in his plan, Count Forwood approached Marquis Branford to demand answers.
'I'll secure hefty compensation as well.'
But the Marquis's response shattered his composure.
"I authorized it."
"Of course, that brat must have… Wait, what?"
"I said I authorized it."
Count Forwood was stunned into silence.
Raul's predictions had never been wrong before. He hadn't considered this possibility.
'What is going on? Did the Marquis really approve this? Has he lost his mind?'
The Royalist strategy had always been simple—avoid civil war at all costs.
And Marquis Branford was a rational politician, known for his pragmatic decision-making. He despised relying on intuition and made judgments based purely on practicality.
There was no way such a man would back a reckless youth like Ghislain out of sheer loyalty.
Struggling to make sense of the situation, Count Forwood stammered.
"W-what possible reason could you have for allowing a war in these difficult times?"
"Baron Fenris and Count Cabaldi had personal grievances. The justification was sound. Surely the Duke's faction has already heard of it?"
"No matter how justified, timing is crucial! Does this mean the Royalists are prepared for civil war?"
"Civil war? Are you suggesting rebellion, Count?"
The Marquis's icy gaze made Count Forwood flinch.
Despite his backing from the Duke's faction, he was facing one of the kingdom's most powerful figures.
"Of course not. Surely you know that's not what I meant. But Count Cabaldi is one of ours. We cannot simply stand by."
"That is unacceptable. The Duke's faction has no grounds to intervene in personal disputes. The Royalists have no reason to interfere either, which is why we are observing from a distance. But if the Duke's faction involves itself, we will not remain idle."
The Marquis's firm stance made Count Forwood grit his teeth in frustration.
'What is going on? Why is he so adamant about protecting that brat? Is he really willing to risk civil war over some northern upstart?'
Count Forwood couldn't back down without gaining some insight. He decided to provoke the Marquis further.
"Are you truly prepared to resolve this by force? Do you really think you can win? Lord Marquis, you may have stockpiled food, but surely you understand the risks of mutual destruction."
"Are you threatening me, Count?"
Already aggravated by Ghislain's actions, the Marquis's patience snapped at Count Forwood's insolence.
Marquis Branford was not one to display such volatility. However, dealing with Ghislain had been steadily eroding his composure.
It wasn't that he wanted to defend Ghislain. Rather, Ghislain had orchestrated events so that the Marquis had no choice but to support him.
Resentful of being forced into such a position, the Marquis felt his anger boiling over.
Fixing Count Forwood with a cold glare, he spoke icily.
"If I send your tongue to the Duke, my message will be perfectly clear."
The chill in his tone made Count Forwood break out in a cold sweat as he lowered his head.
If the Marquis had truly resolved to start a civil war, he might very well execute Count Forwood on the spot.
"Forgive my outburst. I misspoke in the heat of the moment."
"Apology accepted. But you've grown dull, Count."
Biting his lip, Count Forwood decided to retreat. If the Royalists were truly standing firm behind Ghislain, there was little the Duke's faction could do to stop them.
They would have to choose: either involve themselves directly or feign indifference.
'Ugh, though they're just pests to be swept away, I never thought they'd move at a time like this. Whose strategy came out of that head, I wonder?'
No one had anticipated that the royal family and the pro-royalist faction, which had been maintaining a defensive stance, would suddenly take action like this.
And to think, during a time when everyone was suffering. What their plan was, whether there was a trap, and what they were aiming for—it was all impossible to discern.
'Even the pro-royalist faction suffered significant damage from the drought. How can they move so confidently? Are they trying to lure us into making a move?'
If it was a trap, lying in wait, then the situation had to be observed carefully.
'But if Count Cabaldi falls, it'll be a disaster.'
The Cabaldi County, the largest iron producer in the north, was an essential region even for the Duchy.
Aid had only been delayed due to other pressing matters, but now an unexpected incident had erupted.
'Damn it, who would've thought that brat would gather such forces under the pretext of food.'
Under normal circumstances, it would've been dismissed with a scoff. The armed forces operated by Count Cabaldi were among the strongest in the north. Someone like Fenris wouldn't stand a chance.
But Count Cabaldi currently had no food. Even just being surrounded would starve them all to death.
As he deliberated on what to do, Count Forwood asked Marquis Branford.
"Do you promise that the pro-royalists will also remain neutral and not intervene?"
"As long as your side doesn't interfere."
"Understood. I will convey your intentions and ensure we also maintain neutrality."
"See to it."
Turning away, Count Forwood curled his lips into a sneer, a cruel glint in his eyes.
'If Count Desmond moves, it'll do.'
Count Desmond had been maintaining the appearance of neutrality for such contingencies.
Desmond was a clever man. He would undoubtedly make a swift judgment and act even before receiving orders from the Duchy.
Politics were always complicated anyway, and a suitable justification could be fabricated after winning the war.
'That way, the pro-royalists, who want to avoid losses, will have no choice but to back down.'
With these thoughts, Count Forwood left the office. Behind him, Marquis Branford's languid voice sounded once more.
"Don't forget my warning, Count. Neither the pro-royalist nor the ducal faction should interfere."
Count Forwood paused briefly, then turned back with a bright smile, bowing his head.
"Of course, as you say. We will not intervene under any circumstances."
With that, Count Forwood completely left the room.
Even after Forwood's departure, Marquis Branford remained deep in thought, eyes closed.
And once again, Giselle's words resurfaced in his mind.
—Count Desmond is a suspicious man.
If the northern lord, Count Desmond, truly was a pawn of the Duchy, he could strike Fenris under the pretext of aiding Count Cabaldi.
If that happened, Fenris and the entire Perdium would face inevitable destruction.
The aftermath was obvious. If the north fell completely into the Duke's hands, the pro-royalists would be further cornered.
In the current situation, there was no longer any capacity to trust or support other territories in the north.
'There's no guarantee he'll win. If he loses, the north is gone, and if we stand down, the north is still gone.'
What seemed like a lull due to the drought had brought relief, but one reckless man had made the situation even more complicated than before.
'So civil war is unavoidable, after all.'
Marquis Branford let out a sigh before speaking again, his voice now resolute.
"Butler."
"Yes, my lord."
"Relay to Marquis Macquarie to move Viscount Dorren's 2nd Northern Corps near Count Desmond's territory and keep watch there."
"By that, do you mean…?"
"For now, focus on surveillance and containment. But if Count Desmond's forces attack Baron Fenris…"
After a brief silence, Marquis Branford continued, his eyes now as cold as death.
"Send word to strike Desmond immediately."
The situation was spiraling out of control.
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