Chapter 131: No Support?

A few days later, early morning.

At the coast of the trading port Mudside, where heavy dark clouds loomed.

Log fences as tall as a man were stacked in layers, and behind them stood a defensive camp with watchtowers scattered here and there.

Behind that, hundreds of conscripts, armed with their own weapons, moved in orderly fashion with tense faces.

“Now, everyone eat!”

“Eat up while you can! In half a day, the fleet of the Count of Tread will arrive! When that time comes, you won’t be able to eat even if you want to!”

“Yes!”

Near the bonfires lit here and there.

The women of Mudside distributed soup boiled in large cauldrons and simple hardtack to the conscripts.

The conscripts, receiving the food, shoved it into their mouths with a militant attitude, even while their expressions remained tense.

“Here, I brought more bread and jerky!”

“Ah, yes! Thank you, sir!”

“Let’s put these down near where Lord Engelmann is staying!”

Engelmann and the mansion’s servants rushed in and began stacking food and supplies neatly to one side after bringing them out from the warehouse.

Meanwhile, at the same time, right beside them…

“Has everyone gathered?”

“Yes!”

Former Commander Mulgybson stood among dozens of soldiers, holding a map, his face serious as he continued his explanation.

“Longbowmen are to wait at the first line of defense until the horn is blown. Prepare plenty of arrows, and have those with spears wait right beside them!”

“…Understood.”

“Um… if the front breaks through, how should we retreat?”

“The troops positioned at the rear will provide covering fire, and you must fall back to the second line as quickly as possible. Each ten-man leader must command all their troops to the very end and retreat last. Keep that in mind.”

The soldiers nodded.

A middle-aged man whose face and body were covered with scars.

A man in hunter’s clothing with dark skin.

These men, who gave off the impression that they were not to be underestimated, were the ten-man leaders who commanded the conscripts.

During the past month of training the soldiers, strategies and orders had been drawn up around them to efficiently operate the troops, and thus this system naturally formed.

And right beside them…

“Brother Beryl, do you think we can really win this time?”

“Well, who knows? How would I know that.”

Beryl, Mikkelsen, and the Daphne Knights surveyed their surroundings with tense expressions.

At that moment, Manton placed a hand on Mikkelsen’s shoulder from behind and spoke.

“We will surely win. So do not doubt the will of the Great Young Master.”

“Hm? Why are you butting in again? And… just because the Great Young Master said so, does that mean we’ll definitely win?”

When Mikkelsen replied curtly, his brows furrowed, Manton clenched his fist tight and spoke with a serious face.

“Hasn’t it always been so? And… thanks to this training, we achieved remarkable results. This battle was prepared in advance, so it will proceed without much issue.”

“That’s that, and this is this. They say the Count of Tread’s house alone has nearly a hundred 2-star Knights. Objectively speaking, isn’t there a big difference in strength?”

“Hah, what, did you get scared?”

“Scared? What nonsense are you spouting?”

Crackle!

Sparks seemed to fly from the glaring eyes exchanged between Mikkelsen and Manton.

“Whoa, whoa, stop it, Mikkelsen.”

“But, brother.”

“Unit Commander Manton. This isn’t the time for us to be like this.”

“……”

Beryl quickly stepped in, forcing the two apart as if to calm them down.

Then Manton snorted and said to Mikkelsen.

“Even Princess Medeia said she would send reinforcements. So… there is no way we can lose.”

“Oh, really. So where exactly are these reinforcements right now, and what are they doing?”

“What did you say?”

“No, but it’s true. I don’t see a single trace of any reinforcements here. Could it be that Her Highness the Princess got scared and ran off?”

Crack!

Of course, at Mikkelsen’s mocking words, the veins on Manton’s forehead bulged again.

“The reinforcements must be on their way here right now! What do you know to be spouting off like that?”

“Hah, I see. Say anything about the Princess, and you lose your head over it.”

“Say that again! I’ll shut your filthy mouth for good….”

“Oh? You’re gonna hit me? Go on, try it, I dare you!”

As the two once again prepared to throw fists at each other…

“W-wait a minute!”

Smaaack!

“Ugh, I said stoooop….”

Beryl, who had shoved himself between them, ended up taking the blows instead.

“Hey, grab Mikkelsen!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Commander Manton, calm down!”

“Calm down? Didn’t you see that bastard insult Her Highness the Princess? Let me go, now!”

The Jellyfish Unit and the Maw unit soldiers hurried in and pulled the two men apart.

Amid the noisy scuffle between the two, inside the makeshift tent set up in the rear…

“…Uuugh.”

On the table in the center lay a large map, and around it sat Viscount Cobalt, Malion, and the key retainers of the house.

One thing stood out—their faces were all clouded over with gloom.

The silence dragged on for quite a while until Malion adjusted his glasses and asked.

“Administrator Bilton. Her Highness Princess Medeia still… has not contacted us?”

“Yes, nothing yet…”

Administrator Bilton bowed his head deeply as though he were a criminal.

Then Malion turned his head sideways and asked another retainer.

“Carrier pigeons? Scouts?”

“Nothing has arrived. A-and the scouts have no reports either.”

“What in the world is this….”

Malion scratched his head furiously.

‘C-could it be… there are no reinforcements?’

It had already been three to four days since the fleet of the Count of Tread had departed.

If the calculations were correct, their fleet should be arriving at Mudside within half a day.

And yet, not a sign of reinforcements—nothing even resembling them—had shown up, leaving everyone inside burning with anxiety.

“If we have no reinforcements… this war will be a certain defeat, my Lord.”

“Shouldn’t we take some immediate measures? At this rate… we have no hope.”

The retainers looked at Cobalt, each voicing their concerns.

The opponent was the overlord of Luden Shire, the Count of Tread.

Though they had already built a fortification and the enemy had to land on the coast—an extremely advantageous situation—this only mattered if their strength was roughly equal to that of the enemy.

‘We cannot win.’

‘If Her Highness Princess Medeia does not come, then this is a lost cause.’

With each second that passed, the retainers’ faces grew paler, their trembling more intense.

Then Viscount Cobalt pressed hard at the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long sigh as he spoke.

“Malion, where is Hardin right now…? If it’s Hardin, can’t we at least try to reach him through magic tools?”

“I don’t know either. I’ve been making inquiries since morning, but no one has seen him…”

“Haah, what on earth am I supposed to do with this…”

At that moment, the retainers beside him hastily spoke up one after another.

“What if we surrender now and hand over the port?”

“He’s right. Fighting in this state is no different from marching to our deaths.”

Surrender… is that what they were saying?

Cobalt’s head throbbed painfully.

‘But if we do that… what does that make of all the struggle we’ve gone through until now?’

And yet, to go to war like this was no different from smashing an egg against a rock.

The reed at the center of his heart swayed restlessly in the storm of indecision.

“B-but surrender, at this point? Then what of all the preparations we’ve made…”

“To hell with the preparations! Fighting Tread without reinforcements is suicide, sheer suicide!”

Voices grew louder, more emotional, faces turning red as tempers flared.

“Everyone… calm yourselves.”

Cobalt let out a weary sigh, trying to restrain his retainers when—

Flap!

Suddenly, the entrance to the tent fluttered open, drawing all eyes toward it.

“Yaaawn.”

From beyond, Hardin strolled in, scratching his stomach.

Everyone stared blankly, their faces filled with confusion, while Viscount Cobalt’s voice rose, a mix of anger and urgency.

“Hardin! Where have you been until now!”

“Ah, sorry. I just had a few things to take care of here and there. Heh.”

When Hardin scratched his head and spoke as if it were nothing, Cobalt’s voice rose even higher.

“Do you even realize what the situation is right now?”

“What situation… what about it?”

“In just half a day, the Count of Tread’s forces will be upon us! And yet you disappeared on your own, and now return as if nothing happened…”

Viscount Cobalt, who had been spitting out words in anger, stopped short, caught his breath, then dropped his shoulders as he spoke.

“Enough. Hardin, I won’t question anything else, but quickly contact Her Highness the Princess.”

“Mm. Contact her about what?”

“The promised reinforcements have not yet arrived. Find out what has happened. Use the magic tool you have and confirm it with Her Highness.”

“Ah, that.”

Reinforcements, huh…

Hardin scratched his cheek, then tapped the silver bracelet on his left wrist with his finger as he said.

“I actually already reached out a little while ago. She said she’d be a bit late.”

“Late?”

“Yes, apparently things at the eastern front delayed her departure.”

“Then… how much later? Will she arrive before the fleet of Tread makes landfall?”

“Mm, she’ll probably be just a little late.”

Cobalt’s eyes widened as he asked again.

“L-late?”

“Yes, well… she said she’d be here in about a day. So if we can somehow hold out just another half a day, she should arrive by tomorrow morning.”

“Heavens…”

A chorus of groans escaped nearly everyone’s lips at the same time.

‘We have to hold out for half a day?’

‘Damn it… if only she had arrived a little earlier.’

Faces mixed with regret and worry.

Then, a few retainers cautiously opened their mouths.

“If it’s only half a day… surely we can endure it, can’t we?”

“That’s right. We have a defensive camp. If we can just block the landing somehow, we should be able to buy time…”

But of course, this was the opinion of only a few.

Most of the retainers thought otherwise—very differently.

“What nonsense is this? Can you guarantee that the defenses won’t be breached in that time?”

“We are dealing with the Count of Tread! Do you not realize how dangerous it is to choose a plan with no certainty?”

Terrified retainers raised their voices in heated opposition.

Given the opponent and the fact that their lives were on the line, they all shouted with veins bulging.

And then—

Thaaang!

“I’ll do it.”

Hardin slammed his palm down hard on the central table, seizing everyone’s attention.

Malion immediately asked back.

“Brother, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’ll buy us time. Together with the knights.”

“But how? Other than holding out inside the defenses, what else can we possibly do?”

“What do you mean, nothing? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the things I’ve worked so hard to prepare.”

Cobalt narrowed his eyes and asked.

“Are you… talking about the ironclads?”

“Yes, that’s right. You know it well.”

The five warships seized from Unit Commander Chillas.

They had been remodeled over the past month into ironclads.

Originally, they were meant to be used alongside the reinforcements of Princess Medeia, but if utilized well, they could certainly buy more time.

Clad in thick iron plates on all sides, the ironclads looked outwardly like ordinary ships of odd color, yet their defensive strength was second to none.

If used properly, they could slow the enemy’s advance. But weapons… always bore drawbacks alongside their strengths.

Cobalt asked with a worried expression.

“But Hardin, if you board the ironclads… it could become very dangerous.”

Hardin shrugged as he replied.

“I know. Their mobility is so slow, the chances of getting surrounded are pretty high.”

“Then why…?”

“Because I’ve already thought of a way out if that happens.”

“You have a way? What is it?”

“Well, you’ll see soon enough. Explaining it here would take too much time.”

“You mean we’ll have to wait and see? But…”

At that moment, Hardin cut him off.

“We don’t have time. Please give me an answer quickly.”

Cobalt’s face darkened.

‘Can he really… hold out half a day with just the ironclads?’

Waves of doubt rippled in his heart again.

One wrong step, and it could mean sending his son into the jaws of death.

“No, this must not be done, Great Young Master!”

“My Lord! You must not allow this. It’s no different from suicide!”

“Holding out inside the defenses is the correct choice!”

Soon enough, the retainers’ voices turned against Hardin, leaning heavily toward stopping him.

But somehow, Hardin’s face and voice brimmed with conviction and confidence.

And because if they did nothing, the entire house would be swept away…

Cobalt’s heart stood with one foot between two choices, unable to step firmly into either.

Then Hardin looked him squarely in the eyes and spoke again.

“Father, it’s fine.”

“…”

For a moment, Cobalt’s eyes trembled. His lips quivered for quite a while before he slowly opened them.

“Very well. Do as you wish.”

“My Lord!”

“But…”

Cobalt closed his eyes tight, then opened them again, determination etched across his face.

“…You must survive.”

A moment of silence.

“Of course. Who do you think I am?”

Hardin smiled as he answered, then turned and strode out of the tent.

“Knights! Gather at once!”

A clear shout rang from outside.

‘Hardin…’

‘Is this… really the right thing?’

Worry and anxiety spread across the faces of Cobalt and the retainers.

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