A few days later, Duke Horace and General Oscar arrived at the northern domain of Marquis Eric. This densely populated region was strikingly orderly, with villages surrounding the castle radiating a tranquil, idyllic peace. The Marquis himself stood at the castle gates to greet them, accompanied by only a small retinue. His demeanor was both cautious and polite.
"My lord duke, general, it must have been a tiring journey," Marquis Eric said with a slight bow, his tone warm and measured.
Duke Horace nodded, his gaze steady as he regarded the older nobleman. Slowly, he spoke: "My lord marquis, the northern territories are well-governed. The villages are orderly, and the people are at peace. It is truly a rare sight."
Marquis Eric offered a modest smile and gestured for his guests to enter the castle. "Please, come inside. Let us talk at leisure."
The reception hall within the castle was simple yet dignified. After the servants had brought hot tea and withdrawn, the three men sat facing one another. Duke Horace, rather than addressing the purpose of his visit directly, began by discussing the governance of the northern lands, his tone carrying genuine praise. "The stability of the north sets an example for all of Strongson. Your diligence, my lord marquis, does not go unnoticed."
Marquis Eric inclined his head slightly, his voice composed. "You flatter me, my lord duke. I am merely fulfilling my duties."
The conversation shifted, and Horace's expression turned serious. "However, the front lines are far from as peaceful as the north. The siege of Whitehold has dragged on for days. Morale and supplies are steadily dwindling. His Majesty requires support from the north."
Marquis Eric's expression flickered with unease. After a moment of silence, he said, "My lord duke, might I request a private conversation?"
Horace signaled for General Oscar to leave the room. Though hesitant, Oscar complied, closing the door quietly behind him.
Left alone, Marquis Eric's steady gaze met Horace's. In a measured tone, he began, "My lord duke, I hold you in the highest regard. However, I am afraid I cannot agree to your request for front-line support."
Duke Horace raised an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm. "Why, my lord?"
The marquis sighed deeply before responding. "Since the founding of Strongson, the north has been a place where diverse peoples and cultures have come together. Today, many who reside here are immigrants from other nations, living in peace and stability. They do not wish to be drawn into an endless war, and I cannot bear to see this hard-won harmony destroyed."
He paused, his expression conflicted. "I do not oppose His Majesty's foreign strategies. Yet, as the lord of the north, it is my duty to protect this land and its people. I cannot allow this war to dismantle everything we have built."
Duke Horace remained silent for a moment, his stern expression unwavering but free of anger. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured: "My lord marquis, your reasoning is not without merit, but the realities of war cannot be ignored. If the north chooses to stand aside, the consequences of a failure at the front will ripple through the entire kingdom. Do you believe the north can remain untouched?"
Marquis Eric's voice was low as he replied, "If the war's aftermath must inevitably reach the north, then I will accept it. But I implore you to consider: is this war truly in Strongson's best interest? Is it worth the cost?"
For a fleeting moment, Horace's gaze darkened before he regained his composure. "I understand your perspective, my lord marquis. But the fate of the nation cannot be jeopardized by regional concerns. You may withhold troops, but you must provide financial support."
Marquis Eric's silence spoke volumes. Horace continued, his voice firm: "Five million gold lanns—for recruitment and supplies. The kingdom requires these funds."
The marquis's brow furrowed deeply, and he answered slowly, "Five million is no small sum. I fear I cannot raise such an amount on short notice."
Horace's tone turned cold. "You have five days."
Marquis Eric's expression grew heavier, clearly strained by the impossible deadline. Yet, after a long pause, he nodded. "I will do my best, my lord duke."
As they departed the castle, General Oscar quickly caught up to Horace and asked in a low voice, "My lord duke, what is the marquis's stance?"
Horace's face remained impassive as he replied, "He will yield. Five days is enough for him to see reason."
Oscar nodded but couldn't hide his concern. "Even if reinforcements reach the front, it will only delay the inevitable. Victory is the only way to end this war."
Horace gazed toward the distant northern mountains, his voice heavy with resolve. "Victory has never come without cost. No matter how steep the price, someone must pay it."
As the two figures disappeared down the road, Marquis Eric stood alone on the castle's high balcony, watching them go. His expression, laden with turmoil, eventually gave way to a sigh. The distant horizon seemed to carry the weight of the decisions yet to be made.