Chapter 186
Chapter 186: From Now On, Advance at Full Speed (3)
The Marquis of Branford fell silent for a moment before asking again.
“War? With whom?”
“Count Cabaldi of the Ducal Faction.”
The Marquis, who had closed his mouth again, soon let out a faint chuckle as though he had realized something.
“Ah, so you’re saying Count Cabaldi attacked Fenris to secure food supplies?”
“……”
Even though the report clearly stated that Baron Fenris had initiated the war, the knight could not bring himself to respond to the Marquis, who was deliberately avoiding reality.
Instead, he simply handed over the hastily written report.
The war had already been ongoing for several days. Thanks to the Northern Merchant Guilds and informants, the news had spread rapidly.
“……”
As the Marquis of Branford read through the report, the color drained from his face.
Right now, both the Ducal Faction and the Royal Faction needed to tread carefully. There was no benefit to engaging in conflict.
If a civil war were to break out now, the damage on both sides would be catastrophic and uncontrollable.
It was only a short while ago that he had urged the nobles to exercise caution.
And yet, war had already begun. That lunatic had gone and caused an incident.
And not just any incident—an enormous one.
The Marquis of Branford, who had always prided himself on living with dignity, muttered a curse for the first time in his life.
“That damned lunatic…”
“Pardon?”
“No, forget it.”
The Marquis rubbed his temples. Just hearing about that man gave him a headache and made his head throb.
The nobles gathered in the meeting hall were equally at a loss, looking flustered.
“How… how could this have happened? Baron Fenris started a war? Against the Ducal Faction, no less!”
“This is why we shouldn’t have backed someone like him! A war at a time like this? The man is completely insane!”
“I told you we should’ve weighed him against a duck to check his sanity!”
The meeting hall descended into chaos as the nobles raised their voices in outrage.
The Marquis of Branford wrestled with his thoughts so intensely that it felt as if steam might start rising from his head.
Never in his life had he found himself in such a predicament.
‘What should I do? Was that man really just a complete madman all along?’
He had long known that the man was fearless and absurd, but he had also assumed there was something hidden beneath his antics.
Hadn’t they avoided the worst outcome of the drought thanks to Ghislain?
But looking at his actions now, it seemed impossible to be this recklessly insane.
To provoke not just any noble but one from the Ducal Faction? At a time when preventing civil war was paramount? Could he truly not grasp the political climate?
As the Marquis struggled with his dilemma, the nobles in the hall began to speak even more fervently and aggressively.
“We must expel Baron Fenris from our faction and sever all ties!”
“We need to explain to the Ducal Faction that this absolutely does not reflect our intentions!”
“The Minister of the Royal Household must withdraw their sponsorship! Let that bastard fend for himself, whether he lives or dies!”
“That lunatic must be a black magician! We should capture him immediately and confirm it!”
The Marquis of Branford kept his eyes closed and remained silent. He couldn’t make out what anyone was saying anymore; the ringing in his ears and the dizziness clouded his senses.
His anger boiled inside him.
‘Should I retreat here?’
It wouldn’t be difficult to step back from this situation. Humiliating as it would be, he could make ample amends to the Ducal Faction, abandon Ghislain, and let things end there.
The Ducal Faction would take care of Ghislain themselves. Most likely, Ferdium would also be dragged into ruin alongside him, but the situation wouldn’t escalate beyond that.
Of course, the Marquisate, having poured a staggering amount of money into Ghislain’s cosmetics venture, would suffer a massive blow. The Marquis’ authority would also plummet significantly.
Still, if it meant saving countless lives, that level of sacrifice might be worth enduring.
‘Should I discard him after all?’
At that moment, the Marquis of Branford recalled something Ghislain had said.
— “Please appoint me as the representative of the North.”
— “Count Desmond is a suspicious individual. It’s possible that we share a common enemy.”
‘Count Cabaldi possesses the largest iron mine in the North.’
‘And he frequently trades with Desmond.’
‘Desmond might be in league with the Ducal Faction.’
Something hovered just out of reach of his understanding. He couldn’t confirm it yet, but it didn’t seem like Ghislain had initiated this war thoughtlessly.
‘Relinquishing influence over the North is not an option.’
If he abandoned Ghislain, the Royal Faction would never again be able to establish a foothold in the North.
The first step was always the hardest, but once they started yielding, they would eventually lose their influence everywhere.
To give up Ghislain was to give up the North entirely. It was a no-win scenario.
‘That bastard… did he anticipate all of this when he chose me as his patron?’
If so, Ghislain was truly a villain. It would mean he had been planning this disaster from the very moment he sought the Marquis’ sponsorship.
It was infuriating, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on such grievances.
‘There’s no one else who can shield him but me.’
He needed to block the Ducal Faction’s involvement at all costs. He had to frame this as a justified conflict between two territories, forcing both sides to maintain distance.
No matter the outcome, now was the moment for him to step in and resolve the situation.
Having made up his mind, the Marquis of Branford opened his eyes and spoke slowly.
“I will not abandon Baron Fenris.”
“What are you saying?”
“If we do that, we’ll all be doomed!”
“This could lead to a civil war!”
The Marquis of Branford, unfazed by the clamoring nobles, coldly retorted.
“And? Are you saying we should abandon our own allies because we’re afraid of fighting the Ducal House? If we do that, what will we give up next? If we throw away Baron Fenris, what do we have left? Do you think anyone will trust and follow us after that?”
“…….”
The nobles were unable to counter and remained silent.
As the Marquis of Branford said, abandoning their ally out of fear of the enemy would set a disastrous precedent. Even if there was justification, driving out Ghislain would only encourage wavering nobles to withdraw one by one.
It was a situation where they couldn’t cast someone out, even if they wanted to. Baron Fenris had chosen a remarkably strategic moment and position to wage this battle.
Looking at the anxious nobles, the Marquis of Branford spoke again, his tone softening slightly.
“I won’t permit the Royal Faction to intervene. I’ll handle the interference from the Ducal House. Baron Fenris and Count Cabaldi are fighting with legitimate justification. If Baron Fenris loses, then that’s a matter we can’t help.”
The report contained a justification that was tenuous at best but had its own form of logic.
Using it as a foundation, the conflict could potentially be framed as a personal grudge rather than a factional dispute, limiting the involvement of the Ducal House.
Since the Marquis of Branford himself had taken the reins, the nobles couldn’t voice further complaints and reluctantly nodded.
All except for one man—someone whose authority rivaled that of the Marquis of Branford.
Marquis Maurice suddenly rose from his seat and glared at the Marquis of Branford as he spoke.
“So, you’re saying we should protect that brat? Even if it means we might suffer heavy losses?”
“Shall I interpret the Supreme Commander of the Kingdom’s Army as saying he’s too afraid of the Ducal House to take a stand?”
At the Marquis of Branford’s provocation, Maurice’s lips twitched several times before he continued, his gaze menacing.
“After we’ve crushed the Ducal House, if that brat is still alive, I’ll personally check if he weighs the same as a duck. And then, I’ll make sure to take his head myself.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
“Do as you please when the time comes.”
“Make sure the troops are prepared, just in case.”
With those words, Maurice turned and stormed out. The nobles aligned with his faction followed him, leaving the room.
Although the meeting had ended, the Marquis of Branford found no respite.
The very next day, a messenger from the Ducal House arrived.
The Marquis of Branford greeted the visitor, barely concealing his fatigue.
“Welcome, Count Fowd.”
Count Fowd was one of the nobles loyal to the Ducal House, primarily responsible for handling critical diplomatic matters.
If Raul was the brain of the Ducal House, Count Fowd could be considered its voice.
Sending someone of such stature demonstrated just how seriously the Duke’s family perceived the situation.
After exchanging perfunctory greetings, Count Fowd got straight to the point.
“Baron Fenris attacked a noble of the Ducal Faction. Should we consider this to reflect the collective will of the Royal Faction?”
Count Fowd came out strong right from the beginning. He already knew it wasn’t the Royal Faction’s intent.
‘Viscount Joseph sees it as the reckless action of that brat. The Royal Faction is more desperate than anyone to avoid civil war right now.’
Raul, known as the “Devil of the Lame,” had met Ghislain before. After a direct conversation, Raul judged Ghislain to be a maniac driven by youthful impulsiveness.
People like that always make mistakes with their reckless behavior. As Raul had anticipated, Ghislain played his extreme card: war.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Raul resolved to sever the Royal Faction’s ties with Ghislain and crush both Ferdium and Fenris.
That’s why Count Fowd, who had been staying in the capital, immediately sought out the Marquis of Branford.
‘And I’ll make sure to secure ample compensation while I’m at it.’
As Count Fowd, brimming with confidence, smiled, the Marquis of Branford responded in a languid tone.
“I permitted it.”
“Of course, as expected! That brat acted on his own— Wait, what did you say?”
“I said, I permitted it.”
Count Fowd, flustered, was momentarily at a loss for words.
Raul’s predictions had never failed before, so he hadn’t even considered this possibility.
‘W-What is going on here? The Marquis of Branford approved this? Has he lost his mind?’
Until now, the Royal Faction’s strategy had been straightforward. There was nothing to hide—they were genuinely focused on suppressing any events that could escalate into civil war.
Moreover, the Marquis of Branford was a shrewd politician. He abhorred impulsive decisions and judged solely based on pragmatic concerns.
Even with allies, if someone became a hindrance, he would remove them. There was no way he would side with that brat just because he was his protégé.
Completely baffled, Count Fowd stammered as he finally managed to speak.
“W-What could possibly compel you to approve war in such a precarious time?”
“Baron Fenris and Count Cabaldi had a personal grudge. It provided an appropriate justification. The Duke’s family must already be aware of the matter.”
“But timing is everything! Approving this is essentially saying you’re willing to risk civil war. Can that be your intention?”
“Civil war, you say? Surely, Count Fowd, you’re not harboring thoughts of rebellion yourself?”
The Marquis of Branford’s icy gaze made Count Fowd flinch.
No matter how much backing he had from the Duke’s family, the man standing before him was one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, rivaling even the Duke himself.
“You know that’s not what I mean, don’t you? But Count Cabaldi is one of ours. We can’t simply stand by and do nothing!”
“That is not acceptable. The Duke’s family has no justification to intervene in a personal feud, and neither do we. We are merely observing because we lack such justification. If the Duke’s family gets involved, we won’t stand idly by.”
At the Marquis of Branford’s resolute reply, Count Fowd gritted his teeth. He still couldn’t make sense of the situation.
‘What is this? Why are they siding with that brat to this extent? Are they really willing to risk civil war? Over a mere upstart from the North?’
There was no way he could return without uncovering the Marquis of Branford’s intentions. Determined, Count Fowd provoked him again with a stronger approach.
“Are you truly considering resolving this by force? Are you confident you can? I’m aware Your Excellency has ample provisions, but if both sides suffer losses, it’s obvious which side will come out ahead, isn’t it?”
“Are you threatening me now, Count?”
Already irritated by Ghislain, the Marquis of Branford’s face twisted at Count Fowd’s insolent remark.
The Marquis of Branford was not usually prone to visible emotional changes. However, ever since getting involved with Ghislain, his temper had been worsening.
Even now, it wasn’t because he wanted to support Ghislain—it was because the brat had maneuvered things into a situation where Branford had no choice but to take his side.
Being forced to do something he didn’t want to was grating, and it was only natural that rage simmered within him, threatening to explode at any moment.
With a cold expression, the Marquis of Branford looked down at Count Fowd and continued speaking.
“If I sent only your severed lips back to the Duke, I’m sure my intentions would be made crystal clear.”
The chilling atmosphere made Count Fowd break into a cold sweat as he bowed his head.
If the Marquis of Branford had truly resolved to initiate civil war, he could have had Fowd executed on the spot.
And he was fully capable of doing so.
“I… I let my emotions get the better of me and misspoke. Please, forgive me.”
“I accept your apology. But you’re not the sharp man you once were, Count. You’ve grown rather dull.”
Count Fowd bit his lip and decided to withdraw for now. If the Royal Faction was truly determined to shield Ghislain, there would be no way for the Duke’s family to stop them.
The Duke’s family would have to choose between siding with the Royal Faction or pretending not to see anything at all.
‘Ugh, these people were meant to be swept away eventually, but to act at a time like this… Whose idea was this strategy?’
No one could have anticipated that the normally defensive Royal Faction and the royal family would suddenly make such a bold move.
It was a time when everyone was suffering, yet this was happening. What kind of plan was it? Was there a trap? What exactly were they aiming for? I couldn’t figure it out.
“Even the Royal Faction suffered greatly from the drought, so how can they act so confidently? Are they trying to provoke us into action?”
If they had set a trap and were lying in wait, the situation had to be carefully observed.
“But if Count Cabaldi falls, it will be problematic.”
The Cabaldi County, the largest iron-producing region in the north, was critical to the duchy. The decision to delay support slightly in favor of more urgent matters had led to an unforeseen disaster.
“Damn it, I didn’t expect that brat to gather such forces under the pretext of food supplies.”
Under normal circumstances, such a move would have been dismissed with a scoff. The armed forces of Count Cabaldi were renowned as some of the strongest in the north. The likes of Fenris could never hope to match them.
But Count Cabaldi lacked food. Even a mere siege would starve them all to death.
While mulling over the situation, Count Fowd turned to the Marquis of Branford.
“Do you swear the Royal Faction will also remain neutral and not intervene?”
“As long as your side does the same.”
“Understood. I will convey your wishes and ensure we maintain neutrality.”
“Do so.”
As Count Fowd turned to leave, his lips twitched, and his eyes glimmered coldly.
“Count Desmond will have to act.”
Count Desmond had maintained the pretense of neutrality as a contingency plan. He was a clever man. Even before orders arrived from the duchy, he would act swiftly and decisively.
Politics were always complicated. Justifications could be fabricated after a victorious war.
“With that, the Royal Faction, eager to avoid unnecessary losses, will have no choice but to retreat.”
Lost in such thoughts, Count Fowd exited the chamber. Behind him, the languid voice of the Marquis of Branford sounded again.
“Do not forget my warning, Count. Neither the Royal Faction nor the Ducal Faction should intervene.”
Count Fowd paused briefly, then turned back with a sly smile and nodded.
“Understood. We will never intervene.”
With those words, Count Fowd left the room entirely.
Even after his departure, the Marquis of Branford remained seated, his eyes closed in thought.
Then, the words of Ghislain resurfaced in his mind.
—“Count Desmond is a suspicious figure.”
If Count Desmond, the northern lord, was truly an agent of the duchy, he could use the pretext of aiding Count Cabaldi to strike Fenris from behind.
If that were to happen, Fenris and the Ferdium family would face total destruction.
The aftermath was obvious. Should the north fall completely into the duchy’s hands, the Royal Faction would find itself even more on the defensive.
In the current situation, there was no capacity to trust and support other northern territories.
“There’s no guarantee that fool will win. If he loses, the north will be lost. If we stand back, the north will still be lost.”
The drought had brought about a temporary lull, but a single reckless individual had made things more complex than before.
“Is civil war truly unavoidable?”
The Marquis of Branford let out a heavy sigh, but his voice turned resolute as he gave his next order.
“Butler.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Relay this message to Marquis McQuarrie: move Viscount Doren’s Northern Second Corps near Count Desmond’s territory and have them monitor the situation.”
“Do you mean…?”
“Focus on surveillance and containment for now. But if Count Desmond’s forces attack Baron Fenris…”
After a moment of silence, the Marquis continued with an icy gaze.
“Order them to strike Desmond immediately.”
The situation was spiraling out of control.