Chapter 116: The Approaching Tide

“Her Highness... is offering us... su-support?”

“Heooooh...”

Dozens of eyes widened like lanterns and blinked rapidly without pause.

At that moment, when surprise and confusion appeared simultaneously on every face of the Daphnes—

Viscount Cobalt asked again.

“Is that true?”

Benjamin, meeting his gaze, glanced sideways at Hardin and then spoke.

“Ahem. Yes, Her Highness has promised to spare no support in aiding the war against Tread.”

“Truly? But isn’t she occupied with the affairs of the Eastern front?”

“The continuation of Mudside is a matter of great importance. For Her Highness, that is.”

Cobalt’s pupils trembled.

‘That’s... she truly intends to support us.’

‘We’ve got it, it’s done!’

‘If Her Highness lends her support... then it’s more than worth trying.’

Hope began to light up on the faces of the retainers.

Just then, when a strange tension filled the air—

Sssrrk.

Benjamin stood from his seat, stared straight at Cobalt, and asked.

“So what will you do? Will you fight against Tread?”

Fwoosh.

Cobalt took a deep breath and stood up.

Then he slowly turned his head, meeting the gaze of everyone in the conference room.

Faces filled with hope, or steeled with determination. Some even gave him a small nod.

After scanning them all, his gaze returned to Benjamin’s blank and impassive eyes.

Cobalt took a short breath, then spoke heavily.

“I will stand and fight. And I will protect the port at all costs.”

“You’ve made the right decision.”

“Yes, that’s how it should be.”

“We’ll contact you soon with the details of the support. I’ll take my leave now.”

“You’re heading back right away? You’ve come a long way—shouldn’t you rest a bit before—”

Benjamin shook his head firmly as he replied.

“I need to return quickly.”

“Understood. Then... until next time.”

“Yes. No need to see me off.”

Step, step.

Benjamin quickly exited the conference room.

“Hup-cha.”

A little while later, when he mounted his horse on the outskirts of Mudside—

“Thanks for the effort.”

At the voice, he turned his head to find Hardin leaning casually against an alley wall, arms crossed.

Benjamin let out a heavy snort through his nose and spoke.

“What exactly are you planning?”

“What do you mean?”

“This was done at the Young Master's request, but... there's no way we can actually provide support to Daphne. Her Highness is already overwhelmed with the Eastern front.”

“I asked, knowing that.”

When Hardin shrugged, Benjamin furrowed his brow.

“You’re saying you’ve got a way to win even without support?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have started this.”

“Really... I just can’t tell what you're thinking.”

“You’ll understand if you wait a bit.”

“...I’ll be going now.”

As Benjamin tugged on the reins, Hardin gave a light wave in farewell.

And after Benjamin departed—

“Ugh-cha-cha-cha.”

Then... let’s get started.

Stretching wide once, Hardin wore a meaningful smile.

---

Late at night, in the corridor of the Tread Count’s estate.

Step, step.

A man with an eyepatch strode quickly down the hallway.

His name was Chillas.

He was the captain of the 2nd Unit of the Anvil Knight Order, the backbone of the Tread household… and also the person responsible for the current port blockade operation.

Every time the light from the luminous stones installed along the corridor walls touched his face, his hardened expression became clearly visible.

At last, when he reached the end of the corridor, a uniformed doorkeeper bowed his head toward him.

“You’ve arrived. The Count is expecting you.”

“…Right.”

When Chillas gave a shallow nod, the doorkeeper knocked on the door.

“My lord, Unit Captain Chillas has arrived.”

“Enter.”

Creak!

As the doorkeeper opened the door and bowed, Chillas slowly walked in.

Then...

“You’re here.”

In the room with the lights off, illuminated only by the full moon through the window—

Sssrk. Sssrk.

Count Vernian was wiping his sword with a handkerchief.

Perhaps it was due to the deep whiteness soaked in moonlight.

The Count’s face looked even whiter and more pallid.

So much so that one might mistake him for a vampire often found in the songs of minstrels.

Chillas swallowed hard.

“All the ships... they’ve run aground, haven’t they?”

“…Even with ten mouths, I wouldn’t be able to excuse myself.”

Tap!

At that moment, a thin red line appeared beneath Chillas’s eye...

Drip!

And from it, crimson blood began to leak out.

Just as Chillas’s eyes widened in shock, Vernian clicked his tongue while still wiping his sword.

“Tsk.”

Only then did he notice—

Red blood staining the handkerchief used to wipe the sword.

‘…I—I didn’t even see it.’

Chillas began trembling slightly.

Thud!

He quickly dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

“M-My apologies, Count. The failure of the operation is entirely my fault. If you grant me one more chance, I will, without fail, bring Daphne’s head—”

Vernian shook his head and approached the wall.

Then, carefully hanging the sword on its mount, he clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at Chillas.

“That’s enough. I have no intention of wasting more time on such half-baked attempts.”

“Then that means...”

“We land at Mudside.”

“Ah…”

In that moment, a smile appeared on Chillas’s blood-covered face.

“I’ll leave the preparations entirely to you. Don’t let anything go wrong.”

“…Understood.”

“Go.”

Thunk!

Chillas immediately stood up and left the room.

‘It’s war.’

Even as blood dripped from his face, the smile did not leave him while he walked down the corridor.

---

War with the Tread Count’s house.

After Viscount Cobalt made the decision not to avoid the conflict, the gears of the Daphne Viscounty began turning in earnest.

And everything began in the second-floor main conference room of the Mudside Port Administration Office.

“So, regarding this matter...”

“As for that part, here’s how we should proceed...”

Cobalt and the core members of the house were busy exchanging words non-stop with various documents laid out in front of them.

Through these discussions, one objective fact was established.

“If the Tread Count’s forces are coming to attack... it’s clear they’ll attempt another landing operation by sea.”

At the words of former Commander Mulgybson, Cobalt nodded and asked,

“What’s the basis for that?”

“There are quite a few houses hostile to both our family and the Tread Count’s between us, making overland movement difficult. Their supply lines would also become excessively long.”

“Hmm.”

“If anything, we’d be grateful if they came by land, and even if they chose that route, we’d likely be able to detect it in advance.”

“I see.”

The report was based on several days of investigation and analysis.

After taking a deep breath, Viscount Cobalt spoke.

“In the end, if a battle breaks out, Mudside will become the battlefield.”

“Yes, most likely.”

Mudside, the trading port that was originally the Tread Count’s objective.

Considering all possibilities, there was a ninety-nine percent chance the battle would occur there.

‘To receive the enemy at Mudside...’

Viscount Cobalt’s gaze sharpened as he said,

“The best option would be to strike at the moment of landing.”

“Yes, exactly.”

When Mulgybson nodded in agreement, Viscount Cobalt shifted his gaze slightly and asked Malion,

“What do you think we should proceed with first, Malion?”

“First... constructing coastal defense positions would be the top priority.”

“But wouldn’t that scare off the merchants using the port?”

Adjusting his glasses, Malion answered,

“That’s something we can manage by setting the right atmosphere in advance. We’ve already started spreading rumors about pirate sightings in the nearby sea. Once those rumors have spread sufficiently...”

“You’ll use safety concerns as the pretext for building the fortifications?”

“Yes, exactly.”

As Malion bowed his head, Viscount Cobalt gave a small nod.

Then he turned to former Commander Mulgybson and said,

“The conscription of soldiers... I heard you would be overseeing that?”

“Yes. It’s already partially underway, and the knights will take turns training the conscripts. We’re also planning to supply weapons as quickly as possible in accordance with their numbers.”

At Mulgybson’s report, Cobalt stroked his chin and asked,

“How short are we on weapons?”

“We need about twice as many as we currently have. The population has increased so rapidly...”

“Request as much support from Calpion Castle as possible. If you need help, ask immediately.”

“Yes.”

Beyond that, the reports from many retainers continued in a whirlwind.

“Engelmann, make sure there are no setbacks in supplying food to the conscripts being mobilized for training… and push Calpion Castle for weapon supplies as well.”

“Yes, I’ll ensure everything proceeds without a hitch.”

“Lutern, what’s the status on contacting the neighboring houses?”

“Three of the houses we sent carrier pigeons to have responded that they wish to meet. We’ll be sending envoys by tomorrow morning, and I’ll report back as soon as results come in.”

“Good. Report immediately if anything important comes up.”

“Yes!”

Food and weapon supply.

Political maneuvers to gain support from surrounding noble houses.

All sectors of preparation that Daphne had to cover for this battle were being assigned their responsibilities.

Every person making a report carried a voice and expression filled with gravity and resolve.

‘I can’t let them hold us back.’

‘If we have the support of Her Highness… this is a fight we can manage.’

‘We can do this.’

It was a stark contrast from just a few days ago—back when no one had even considered the possibility of war.

Feeling this shift in atmosphere firsthand, Viscount Cobalt bit his lip and gave a firm nod.

‘…We must seize this opportunity.’

Mudside was built with the blood and sweat of everyone in the house.

No one, unless a fool, would accept having it taken from them while standing idly by.

This promise of support from Princess Medeia—surely it felt like a treasure of infinite worth to all.

Cobalt clenched his fist tightly.

‘We must execute everything flawlessly… no, beyond flawlessly.’

Even with the promised support, even if the enemy had to conduct a difficult landing operation—

It remained true that the Tread Count’s house was still the dominant force in Luden Shire.

And in this battle too, the most critical role would fall to…

Cobalt turned his gaze to one side and spoke in a low voice.

“Hardin.”

“Yes.”

“How do you plan to prepare?”

When Cobalt looked at him with a resolute gaze, Hardin responded with his usual calm tone.

“Well, I’m planning to get some tactical drills and various preparations in line for the landing battle. I’ll work them to the bone, so don’t worry.”

“Prepare thoroughly. The Knight Order’s role will be crucial.”

“No doubt about it.”

Hardin nodded cheerfully with a small smile.

With that, Cobalt swept his gaze across the entire conference room once more, resolutely reaffirming his resolve.

‘We have to win. No matter what.’

The opponent was the Tread Count’s house.

Just imagining going up against them was enough to make one shiver—but things were different now.

Support from Princess Medeia.

With that, and if they could make full use of their ability to establish a defensive line—then this could very well be a battle they could win.

Viscount Cobalt, burning with determination, spoke.

“Then, let’s conclude today’s meeting here—”

“Ah, wait a moment.”

Just then, Hardin raised his hand again and asked,

“What is it, Hardin?”

“There’s one thing I forgot to mention.”

“What is it?”

Flick!

This time, Hardin pointed with his finger toward the window.

Outside, five of the Tread Count’s warships could be seen, stranded beside the sandy beach.

“I’d like to repair those ships.”

“Repair the ships?”

All of a sudden? Those?

Everyone looked at Hardin with puzzled expressions.

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