Ghislain had been able to avoid pressure from the Duchy and Harold up until now, thanks to Amelia. But such protection could not last forever.
In the end, Harold decided to fully target Ghislain.
Of course, Harold's vassals were shocked by this decision. Harold was a man so capable that the Duchy trusted him to oversee the North.
Yet, he was now defying direct orders from the Duchy.
One of the vassals, sweating nervously, asked again:
"You're saying we should prioritize the destruction of Fenris and Perdium above all else?"
"Yes. Divert all funds, troops, and resources currently being used to prepare Amelia's rebellion to attack Baron Fenris. Amelia said she could manage on her own, so review and support only the essentials."
The vassals could not understand his decision.
Although Baron Fenris had been gaining influence recently, it was nowhere near as important as Amelia's plans.
"If Amelia's rebellion fails, it will cause major problems. She currently has no one who can face Jürgen, the Finest Sword of North, and her forces are far too weak to succeed. Are you sure about this?"
"We'll deal with the most tangled knot first. If we leave that brat alone, the situation in the North will worsen. Count Rayfold is struggling to raise an army due to the drought, so dealing with him first is the better option."
"Baron Fenris is still a small fry compared to Count Rayfold. Wouldn't it be better to take a bit of a risk and resolve Amelia's rebellion quickly…?"
"Enough."
The vassal immediately shut his mouth at the sight of Harold's distorted expression. Saying one more word would surely have cost him his head.
Harold looked around at his vassals once again and spoke:
"Use any means necessary to crush him first. Prepare accordingly."
This was no longer the Harold of old. He no longer saw Ghislain as a lucky brat to be dealt with later but as a clear and present "enemy" to be eliminated immediately.
And with this realization, Harold began to reevaluate the current state of affairs.
"We can't let him gain control of the iron ore. If he does, it will cause long-term disruptions to our resource supply. Immediately prepare food and reinforcements to send to Count Cabaldi."
"R-right now? Surely the Duchy is negotiating with the Royalist Faction. It might be better to wait for the results of those talks…"
"Too late. Prepare now."
"U-understood."
Faced with Harold's murderous glare, the vassal bowed his head immediately.
As Count Forwood had predicted, Harold made a swift decision.
This was also because he now acknowledged Ghislain's capabilities.
With time running out, there was no opportunity for leisurely preparation. The most they could do was send an initial force and food to hold out temporarily.
"We'll depart immediately, my lord."
Commander Emerson saluted Harold.
As the commander of a cavalry unit, Emerson was renowned for his expertise in maneuver warfare.
If not for Viktor, Emerson might have been the commander of the Siege of Perdium. The urgency of the situation was evident from Harold's willingness to send such a valuable figure.
With a resolute expression, Harold spoke to Emerson:
"Use any means necessary to deliver the food to Cabaldi Castle as quickly as possible. Once they hold out, I'll send a second wave of reinforcements."
"Understood. I will succeed without fail."
"I'm counting on you."
Emerson departed swiftly, leading a force of 1,000 troops and the food supplies.
Although inferior to the Fenris forces, Emerson believed that if the Cabaldi forces coordinated properly from within the castle, they could easily unite.
Harold calculated that once the forces combined, their numbers would be equal, making the enemy hesitate to engage in an all-out battle.
"Don't stop! Ride hard! We're within range to reach Cabaldi before they fall!"
Emerson had no doubt about the success of his mission.
Sieges take time. Especially when encircling an enemy, the process is drawn out.
Given the proximity between Desmond and Cabaldi territories and Harold's quick decision-making, Emerson believed they could reach Cabaldi before the troops inside starved or surrendered.
But his expectations were utterly shattered as soon as they left the territory.
"Wh-what is this…?"
On the quickest route to Cabaldi County, a massive force of at least 5,000 troops had set up camp.
It was the 2nd Corps of the Lutania Royal Army, sent by Marquis Branford.
As Emerson stared in disbelief, someone approached him on horseback.
"Well, well, if it isn't the renowned Sir Emerson of the North?"
The man grinning at him was none other than Viscount Dorren, commander of the 2nd Corps.
Dorren was tasked by Marquis Branford with monitoring the area near Desmond, preparing for the worst-case scenario of moving against Count Desmond.
Momentarily stunned, Emerson bit his lip and bowed his head slightly before speaking:
"It's an honor to see you, Commander of the 2nd Corps. But why is the 2nd Corps, tasked with guarding the northern part of Cardenia, here near our territory? This violates established protocols."
"And where are you headed in such a rush, Sir Emerson?"
"We're… conducting a mobility training exercise."
"Well, what a coincidence! We're also conducting training here."
"What do you mean? We've heard nothing of this!"
Emerson frowned openly.
Even the royal army couldn't move troops into another lord's territory without permission. Such actions were tantamount to an open threat.
"Hmm, I think there's been a misunderstanding."
Viscount Dorren spoke politely.
Even as a royal corps commander, he couldn't treat Emerson—one of Count Desmond's knights and commanders—lightly. Such was the power of Count Desmond's reputation.
Instead, Dorren pulled a document from his coat with a relaxed smile.
"This is an official training exercise authorized by the royal court. It seems the message hasn't yet reached Count Desmond. Surely, you know that all parties have agreed to cooperate with official royal exercises?"
"T-this is…"
Emerson gritted his teeth.
This was clearly a ploy by the Royalist Faction. They were blocking anyone from aiding Count Cabaldi with such underhanded tactics.
"Then step aside for now. We need to complete our training as well."
"Ah, that's a bit difficult. We've already secured control of this area. A needless conflict would inconvenience both parties. How about giving us just a few days?"
"Commander!"
"I'm just following orders. Cut me some slack, would you? If this exercise doesn't go well, I might lose my position. My kid just entered the academy—do you know how expensive tuition is these days? Raising children is no joke…"
Dorren's oily excuses only made Emerson's breathing grow heavier.
For now, without escalating conflict with the Royalist Faction, there was nothing he could do. Emerson reluctantly sent a messenger to Count Desmond.
A full day later, an urgent messenger brought a letter from Count Desmond to Viscount Dorren.
The letter was filled with rage and threats, causing Dorren to scratch his chin awkwardly.
"Oh dear, Count Desmond seems very upset. I suppose we can't keep this up much longer."
Viscount Dorren couldn't handle a major northern lord like Count Desmond alone. However, he had his own reasons for confidence.
"Just wait a little longer. I'll need to confirm this with the royal court."
"Commander! Move aside at once!"
"Ah, I'd like to, but there's a process to follow, you know? Can you take responsibility if I lose my position? Are you going to pay for my daughter's academy tuition?"
It was a ridiculous excuse. A corps commander had the authority to halt an exercise and clear the path, but Dorren feigned helplessness.
Emerson continued to protest, but Dorren remained resolute.
"I want to return quickly too. But our administration is so slow—this whole system needs reform. Anyway, no response yet, so please be patient."
This farce dragged on for five full days.
By this time, Emerson would have already reached Cabaldi County.
Infuriated, Emerson decided to force his way through.
It would cause significant problems later, but fulfilling Harold's orders took precedence.
Just as Emerson prepared for his final warning to Dorren, a soldier rushed over and shouted:
"Baron Fenris has taken Cabaldi Castle!"
'It's over.'
As Emerson closed his eyes in defeat, he heard Viscount Dorren's sly mutter:
"Ah, this bickering has been such a hassle. I suppose we can head back now."
'I want to kill him.'
Emerson thought sincerely.
***
The news of Ghislain's victory quickly reached the capital.
The Royalist nobles, who had been endlessly debating fruitless solutions, fell silent in shock upon hearing the report.
Particularly Marquis Maurice Macquarie, the commander-in-chief of the Royal Army, was deeply shaken.
"Already… He already won? That duckling of a brat? Did he use dark magic or something?"
Who was Count Cabaldi? He was one of the strongest in the North, renowned for his soldiers' exceptional equipment.
Even if their strength had diminished due to food shortages, for the fortress to fall so quickly—it was shocking!
It was too soon to assume they had won through a siege by starving the enemy.
"H-how could this happen so soon? Are you telling me Count Cabaldi surrendered this quickly?"
Marquis Maurice asked the knight delivering the report, but the knight shook his head.
"We still need to investigate the details, but it appears that Count Cabaldi didn't surrender. The Fenris forces fought and took the castle. The news is spreading rapidly."
"Hah…"
With Maurice's sigh, murmurs of astonishment broke out among the surrounding nobles.
"Are you saying Baron Fenris has such exceptional military capabilities? To end a siege so quickly? Against Count Cabaldi, no less!"
"Couldn't it just be luck again? The Cabaldi forces were starving and likely couldn't fight properly."
"I disagree. Didn't Baron Fenris play a significant role in the Siege of Perdium as well?"
"If it had been a fair fight, there's no way Baron Fenris could have won."
The nobles' opinions were quickly divided. Having not seen Ghislain in action themselves, they couldn't help but speculate and debate.
But there was one fact they all agreed upon.
"Either way, this is good news! For now, the Duchy has agreed not to interfere, correct?"
"Exactly! This means our influence in the North can only grow stronger!"
"Hahaha, Baron Fenris has done something truly remarkable. When other lords hear of this, they'll realize the Royalist Faction isn't so easily overshadowed by the Duchy."
The nobles, who had feared provoking the Duchy, now appeared visibly relieved and pleased.
They had been concerned that Duchy intervention might escalate the situation or that Baron Fenris, after losing a battle, would squander the influence they had invested in him to secure in the North.
But the positive outcome restored some confidence to the Royalist nobles.
"Have we been too passive in our approach until now? The Duchy nobles may seem imposing, but we won't know until we show our hand."
"Exactly! Count Cabaldi may have had a reputation as a Northern powerhouse, but it seems it was all talk."
"Indeed, if Baron Fenris could defeat him, perhaps we've underestimated our chances. The North isn't as invincible as they make it out to be. Hahaha."
The Royalist nobles exchanged jovial laughter and compliments.
The victory of Baron Fenris emboldened them, making them feel as though they, too, could stand against the Duchy.
However, Marquis Branford, observing them, couldn't hide the disdain in his gaze.
'Tsk, tsk. Look at them getting carried away so soon. This isn't the time to be celebrating. How can they laugh so easily in a situation like this?'
Reports of Count Desmond mobilizing his forces had also reached Branford. Without the swift intervention of the Royal Army, the situation could have spiraled out of control.
Thanks to Marquis Branford's foresight, a full-blown war was narrowly avoided.
'It's now certain that Count Desmond is aligned with the Duchy. The audacity he's shown thus far…'
While suspicions had lingered without concrete proof, this incident confirmed them.
Even this confirmation was a significant gain. Knowing who your enemies are is invaluable for planning future strategies.
The way Count Desmond had acted made it clear the Duchy had extended its reach across the entire kingdom. It was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish friend from foe.
There was even the possibility of traitors within the Royalist Faction itself.
'Duke Delphine… If you've even brought Count Desmond into your fold, you truly intend to see this through to the bitter end.'
Marquis Branford thought of Duke Delphine, his longtime friend and rival.
The Duchy would not stand idly by. Or rather, Raul, the strategist of the Duchy, would not allow it.
Duke Delphine likely didn't care about someone like Count Cabaldi at all.
'Come to think of it, I do wonder how he's doing.'
It had been over ten years since Branford had last seen Duke Delphine in person.
Since then, the Duke had not taken a single step out of his territory, choosing to remain secluded in his manor.
His prolonged reclusiveness had given rise to rumors that the Duke was a mere puppet and that Raul wielded all the authority in his stead.
But Marquis Branford did not believe that for a second.
Duke Delphine was not the type to be manipulated by anyone. Having observed him closely in their youth and over decades of rivalry, Branford knew this better than anyone.
What the Duke was thinking as he secluded himself was a mystery even to Branford, who had known him for so long.
But he could never forget the Duke's last expression when they met—detached, yet yearning for something. That contradiction in his gaze lingered vividly in Branford's mind.
Shaking off his thoughts, Marquis Branford focused on the present.
'Perhaps this isn't such a bad thing after all.'
The Duchy would inevitably draw its sword at some point. Until now, their efforts had been limited to merely keeping it in check.
But Ghislain's success had injected new energy into the Royalist Faction, giving the timid nobles a bit of courage.
While it was necessary to keep an eye on those who might grow overconfident, it was undoubtedly better to foster self-assurance than to allow fear to take hold when the time for battle arrived.
'Thanks to that brat, the mood within our faction is shifting. Perhaps this isn't so bad after all.'
With this thought, Branford's mood inexplicably brightened. Ever since becoming Ghislain's guardian, he had found himself experiencing emotions he hadn't felt in years.
'That boy never fails to surprise me. To have gathered such forces and achieved victory so quickly in a siege… If he requests anything, I'll ensure he gets all the support he needs.'
Unconsciously, Marquis Branford closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction.
The Royalist nobles, who had been animatedly chattering, fell silent upon witnessing this.
Even when his daughter had been cured, Marquis Branford had not smiled. That icy man was now smiling because of the news about Baron Fenris?
The sight left every noble astonished, and they could only stare in wonder at him for a long time.
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