Chapter 130: Omen

The northernmost point of Luden Shire, a place that could only be reached after nearly ten days of nonstop travel from the Daphne Viscounty.

On the eastern edge of this land, which belonged to the Count of Tread, stood a large port.

Quench Trading Port.

It was used as an intermediary stopover by countless merchants transporting goods imported from foreign lands into the inland regions.

But on a foggy morning, near the docks—

Where merchant ships should have been docked, massive warships lined up in a row instead.

The large hammer-emblazoned flags hoisted on the sails looked like emotionless faces, and the surrounding fog clung like fur coats… giving the impression of a group of arrogant ogres standing shoulder to shoulder atop the sea.

At the front of those warships—

Hiiiiiing!

“Here, unload the cargo from the wagons quickly!”

“More gunpowder has arrived!”

Cargo wagons coming out from all corners of the port alley screeched to a halt in front of the ships.

And then—

“Move quickly!”

“Check the food supplies! Reinspect the gunpowder too!”

Dozens, even hundreds of laborers standing by rushed to unload the wagons and hurriedly carried the cargo aboard the warships.

Inside the warships...

“Replace the cannons with the new model, fast! Tear out the old ones!”

“Yes, sir!”

They were busy installing the newly developed cannons from the Salamander’s Tongue.

With over fifteen warships and hundreds of workers moving simultaneously among them, the scene gave off a strangely majestic impression, like watching an ant colony in motion.

Meanwhile, at the plaza of the port, a little removed from the docks—

“Ahem!”

“……”

Around seven to eight hundred people had gathered there.

At the rear stood conscripts in light armor, armed with longbows and spears. In front of them stood knights, and at the very front were three men with expressionless faces.

Chillas of the 2nd Unit.

Gilton of the 3rd Unit.

Bohim of the 4th Unit.

They were unit commanders and all 3-star knights.

From the conscripts to the unit commanders, they stood in perfect alignment, not a single line out of place.

It was an appearance that made them seem more like statues than people.

At that moment, the white-bearded old knight Pattinson, standing in front of them with his hands behind his back, spoke.

“Lord, everyone seems to be gathered.”

“Indeed.”

Standing right beside him, Count Vernian nodded and spoke in a firm voice.

“From this moment on, we march against the Daphne Viscounty. We will strike down those scoundrels who killed our loyal administrator Rohim and built a trading port without permission, harming our house.”

“……”

Just then, Vernian let out a huff through his nose and smiled.

“…Though I say that, this will still end up being a pitiful fight. They’re weaklings who’ve never even experienced a proper battle.”

At that, grins spread across the faces of the conscripts and knights alike, with some even letting out mocking snorts.

‘This will be a massacre.’

‘It’ll be no different from grabbing a child’s hand and smashing it.’

They all knew it well.

The gap between Daphne and themselves wasn’t small at all… and this war would inevitably turn into a one-sided slaughter.

Count Vernian continued speaking.

“So enjoy this fight, everyone. Cut down whoever you want, take whatever you desire. Let them feel—down to their very bones—what it is Daphne has brought upon themselves.”

“……”

A brief silence settled over the gathering.

Watching quietly until now, Commander Pattinson pounded his chest a few times with his fist and shouted.

“What are you all doing? Didn’t the Lord just give his command? Answer him!”

At once—

“Yes! Understood!”

“Hyahahaha! Leave it to us!”

“We’ll make them eat shit through their own mouths!”

Boisterous cries rang out from all directions.

Vernian, folding his arms in satisfaction, nodded approvingly and said,

“Then let’s get moving. Prepare to set sail.”

As he gave a slight nod, a soldier standing beside him quickly raised the horn hanging from his belt and blew it with all his might.

BWOOOOOOOOO!

The sound of the horn echoed across the entire Quench Trading Port.

“Orders to set sail!”

“Saaaail! Everyone, get to your ships!”

“This way!”

Step! Step! Step!

As if waiting for this moment, the soldiers and knights began marching forward, splitting off toward their assigned ships.

“Let’s go take a good look at those Daphne bastards’ ugly faces!”

“Maybe I’ll try to pick up some women along the way.”

“Ahahaha! Sounds good! Maybe I’ll find a bride during this war!”

With swaggering strides and wide grins, their voices were full of cocky confidence.

Watching their backs intently, Count Vernian twisted one corner of his mouth.

At that moment, Commander Pattinson extended one arm forward and respectfully said,

“Let us go, my Lord.”

“…Yes.”

Nodding, Vernian began walking at a calm pace.

‘It’s been a while… Let’s enjoy this.’

After all, chances to soak his hands in blood didn’t come often.

With the corner of his mouth curled up to the point of tearing, he wore a devilish smile and licked his lips—Count Vernian looked every bit the demon he was.

---

That night, in front of the Daphne estate—

“Alright, make sure none of you forgot anything! Check everything thoroughly!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Load it quickly! There’s no time!”

The estate’s servants and family knights were tirelessly loading goods onto twenty or so wagons.

The reason for all this bustling in the middle of the night… was due to an order from Viscount Cobalt to prepare for war.

And the reason he had no choice but to issue such an order was because of a letter that had arrived from the Count of Tread.

[We find it deeply regrettable that the Daphne Viscounty has killed Administrator Rohim, and in order to protect the honor of our house, we will commence an invasion of Mudside.]

A false accusation that they had killed Administrator Rohim.

And, following that, an unjust declaration of war.

Cobalt had sent carrier pigeons several times to protest, but no reply ever came.

By then, even Cobalt could only realize one thing.

‘So this was their plan from the beginning.’

That this outcome had never been one they intended to change.

Just as preparations were nearing completion—

Cobalt climbed onto the driver’s seat of the foremost wagon and shouted.

“All right, move out!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Hyah! Hyah!”

Hiiiiiiing!

Horse whinnies echoed from all directions at once.

Clatter! Clatter!

And soon, twenty wagons rolled out of the estate in unison.

Thus began the march toward Mudside.

At that same moment—

“……”

Seated beside Cobalt, Hardin gazed blankly out toward the distant horizon.

A few hours along this road, and they would arrive at Mudside.

‘So it’s come to this in the end.’

A long sigh escaped him.

The supposed death of the administrator was almost certainly a fabrication.

The fact that those bastards went this far meant...

‘They intended to crush this place from the start.’

As things stood now, he still didn’t understand why they were so obsessed with Daphne.

Judging by the distance and geography, attacking this place offered them no real benefit.

But now that things had reached this point, the answer was simple.

Win this battle completely—and turn even this into an opportunity for growth.

‘Phewww, how exhausting.’

Was it really this difficult just to keep one port running?

Ever since he came back to life, it felt like not a single thing had gone smoothly, from start to finish.

Hardin let out another sigh, then turned his head slightly to the side.

And there he saw the Lord, sitting with a calm expression.

‘Hmph…’

As Hardin stared quietly at him—

Cobalt suddenly flicked his gaze sideways and asked,

“Hmm? Got something you want to say?”

“……”

Hardin opened and closed his lips briefly before he finally spoke.

“Well… it’s nothing major.”

“Speak freely.”

Scratching his cheek, he asked,

“Aren’t you worried about your father?”

“Worried? About what?”

“We’re about to go to war with the Count of Tread. But, how should I put it… your face looks more relaxed than usual.”

“Hmmm… relaxed, huh.”

Cobalt paused for a moment before answering.

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing left I can do… so there’s no point in being tense.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said. It might be a bit embarrassing to say this myself, but from the lowest member of the house… to me. Everyone has done their utmost to prepare for this. Knowing there’s nothing more that can be done… somehow, I feel oddly calm.”

Hardin let out a deep breath through his nose.

‘Their utmost, huh.’

He subtly shifted his gaze toward the others riding in the nearby wagons.

Malion and the retainers, Former Commander Mulgybson and the conscripts, even the ordinary inhabitants of the territory.

All of them looked visibly exhausted, but even so, there was a clarity in their eyes that he couldn’t ignore.

Fighting spirit, or determination.

Perhaps confidence that they could do this.

Whatever it was, it hovered somewhere between them all—a strange and stirring emotion.

Hardin chuckled softly.

‘Still… I guess this time, I’ve got to admit it. Just a little.’

From over a month ago, when they first foresaw the invasion by the Count of Tread, to this very day.

Everyone, including Cobalt, had poured their all into preparing for this fight, sacrificing even sleep.

They hadn’t let their guard down, not even at the promise of support from the princess. They’d worked to protect the port.

To protect the future of their house.

Each person had done their best in their own role.

At that moment, Viscount Cobalt spoke.

“But why ask that? Are you worried now, Hardin?”

“No, it’s more like…”

As Hardin fumbled to come up with a proper answer, Cobalt cut in.

“No need to worry. We’re going to win.”

“Oh? That’s a rare show of confidence. Not like you, Father.”

“God Faeron will smile upon us.”

“God, huh?”

“Yes. We’ve poured the blood… the sweat of our entire house into this effort. God smiles upon those who are more desperate. So we will win. No doubt about it.”

Hardin’s expression twisted ever so slightly.

‘A sacrifice.’

Of course he was afraid.

Of course he was anxious.

But… this guy truly believed in victory.

The gods only grant to people what they believe in.

So one must believe.

Believe that they can win.

Whether this was something he had realized on his own, or it was the fierce blood of Daphne carved into his very being—he didn’t know.

Still…

‘Guess that’s why he didn’t just become the Lord by chance.’

Well, sometimes… he could be admirable like this.

A soft, involuntary laugh slipped from Hardin’s lips, but then Cobalt continued.

“So don’t worry, Hardin. In this battle… we have more than a fair chance at victory.”

At that moment, Hardin’s expression turned completely serious as he responded.

“You’re wrong, Father.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“There’s not just a chance we’ll win. We will win—without fail.”

At that, Cobalt’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at Hardin for a long moment.

“…Yeah, I think you’re right.”

With a grin, he roughly ruffled Hardin’s hair like he would a puppy.

Then he turned and shouted toward the procession behind them.

“Pick up the pace, everyone! We’re getting to Mudside as fast as possible!”

“Yes, sir!”

Right now, they wanted every minute and second they could get to prepare for the battle.

Because the seconds they saved now… could one day change a month, a year, even a decade of their house’s future.

Perhaps it was that very determination of Cobalt’s that reached them.

“They said to speed up!”

“Hyah!”

Hiiiiiing!

With determination thick on everyone’s faces, the pace of the march toward Mudside gradually began to quicken.

‘Well now, aren’t they full of confidence.’

Still, it was better than seeing them crushed and dispirited.

Watching this scene, a faint smile formed on Hardin’s lips.

Of course…

‘They don’t know that the princess isn’t coming.’

There was still a tiny, minor (?) problem left unsaid.

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