Chapter 117: Prepare for the Storm (1)

Main conference room of the Mudside Port Administration Office.

Confusion appeared on the faces of the Daphne retainers filling the conference room.

‘What is he talking about?’

‘He wants to repair the ships? Why all of a sudden?’

The ships stranded over there weren’t even Daphne’s to begin with—they belonged to the Count of Tread.

With everyone already busy preparing for war, it was no surprise they were thrown off by the suggestion of fixing the enemy’s ships.

At that moment, Malion adjusted his glasses out of habit and asked Hardin,

“Brother, are you perhaps… planning to use those ships for the war?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

Malion pressed his fingers against his temples and continued.

“Phew. Brother, didn’t I tell you already? Our goal is to fortify Mudside and counterattack when the enemy lands. So why are you suddenly talking about repairing ships?”

The retainers then chimed in.

“He’s right, Young Master. The Count of Tread’s fleet is massive. Facing them at sea would be reckless.”

“Focusing all our efforts on building the defenses is the right decision.”

As resistance poured in from all directions, Hardin stroked his chin and fell into thought.

‘Well, this kind of reaction is only natural.’

It was as good as confirmed that the Count of Tread would launch an assault along the coast.

Of course, they’d bring a massive fleet for the invasion, and trying to stop them at sea… would be a suicide mission.

It was only logical—and correct—to defend from fortified positions on land.

However.

‘That would cause massive damage to the port.’

The entire reason for this fight in the first place was to protect Mudside Port.

The enemy would, without a doubt, bombard them with cannons. And if they tried to defend from land, half the port would be obliterated.

‘No way, absolutely not.’

I went through hell and back to build this port.

And now it’s going to be destroyed? That’s nonsense.

The point is… to protect the port, and to wage a proper naval battle, they absolutely needed the Tread ships.

The only minor problem was—

‘If I said it, they wouldn’t even listen.’

The ‘strategy’ Hardin had in mind was a far cry from what these people considered common sense.

If he spoke it out loud, he’d be lucky if they didn’t call him crazy.

So, for now, he had to say something more palatable.

Hardin waved his hand and replied,

“Ah, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying we’re going to fight a full-scale naval battle.”

“Then what are you going to do by repairing the ships?”

“We can use them to flank the enemy when they land, or delay their landing time. If used right, they could be strategically useful in various ways.”

“…Hmm.”

When Cobalt showed signs of hesitation, Hardin added,

“Please allow it, Father. I’m certain it’ll be a great help.”

“…Will you be able to proceed without any issues?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll take care of the repairs myself.”

“But aren’t you already busy with the knight order’s training?”

As a worried look crossed Cobalt’s face, Hardin waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing. I’ll just sleep a bit less and take fewer breaks.”

“If that’s truly your intention, then do as you wish. However, we’ll need to discuss the detailed plan later.”

“Of course. That’s only right.”

Hardin nodded with a gentle smile.

Cobalt gave a slight nod in return before turning his head.

“……”

A moment of silence.

After taking a few steady breaths, he slowly rose from the table and looked around at those gathered.

‘My Lord.’

‘Father…’

Everyone looked at Cobalt with eyes full of seriousness.

Just their gazes alone were enough to make the atmosphere in the conference room feel like it was heating up.

Then, Cobalt spoke.

“This may become a difficult battle, but I ask all of you to prepare with everything you have. Let’s not bring shame to Princess Medeia, who is giving us her full support.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Understood!”

Their voices filled the conference room.

---

Early morning, on the beach of Mudside.

 Squawk! Squawk!

Swaaah, swaaah!

Dozens of strong men and a few carts stood on the shore, where five of the Count of Tread’s stranded warships had become nesting grounds for seagulls that flew endlessly over them.

“So, we’re supposed to… fix these ships?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Men with bronzed skin and muscular shoulders.

Hammers and saws stuck into their packs, and planks of wood stacked high on the carts clearly revealed their profession—carpenters.

One of the carpenters scratched his head and spoke.

“But I heard these were the Count of Tread’s ships. Why are we bothering to repair them? Weren’t the other laborers and carpenters sent to help with fortification?”

“How would we know? I’m sure they have their reasons.”

“Hmm…”

“By the way, where is the Young Master? I don’t see him anywhere.”

Everyone glanced around with confused expressions.

They had gathered early in the morning at the Young Master’s command—

But there was no sign of Duke Hardin, who had summoned them, nor of any retainers or knights to relay his orders.

“He’s late.”

“Yeah, he is.”

They waited, glancing around restlessly.

Then, an old carpenter with sparse white hair stroked his beard and spoke.

“Let’s just start working. Fixing ships isn’t anything new.”

“Should we?”

“Alright.”

The oldest carpenter in Mudside, and effectively their leader—‘Paul.’

At his words, the carpenters nodded without resistance and began moving, as if they had been waiting for the signal.

“Alright, unload the lumber first.”

“Yes!”

First, they unloaded the materials from the carts and stacked them neatly. Then, each person pulled the necessary tools from their packs and gripped them firmly.

“Ritter, Zitt, Roetgen. You three, start by tearing off the rotted planks. The rest of you, begin cutting the wood to fit.”

“Ah, yes, yes. I’ll handle the planing.”

“I’ll set up the ladders first.”

“Alright, be careful.”

Maybe it was because they had worked together during the port construction over the past year—

With just a few words from Paul, the carpenters moved as if they were one body, working in seamless coordination.

Rip! Rip!

“Ugh, this won’t come off easily.”

“Try sawing it!”

They climbed onto the ship and tore off the planks around the holes…

“How many planks do we need over here?”

“Roughly… about fifty per hole, I’d say.”

“Damn, this is going to take a while.”

They cut replacement planks at regular intervals.

Meanwhile, as a bonus, they used chisels to scrape off barnacles clinging to the surface so there wouldn’t be any problems when attaching the new boards.

“Alright, move this one over there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Several hours passed since the repairs began.

By the time the sun reached its peak, sweat was dripping from the carpenters’ foreheads, and their breathing grew heavy.

“…Let’s take a short break.”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

“Phew… I’m exhausted.”

At Paul’s words, the carpenters laid down their tools and plopped down along the shore.

They sat on scattered wood pieces as makeshift chairs and pulled out hardtack and milk from their packs to satisfy their hunger.

While enjoying this brief, sweet break, one of the carpenters asked again,

“But why hasn’t the Young Master shown up yet? Isn’t he way too late?”

“No idea.”

Paul stroked his beard as he stared at the warships in silence.

‘Something’s not right about this.’

Currently, Mudside was crowded with carpenters from both Calpion Castle and the Daphne capital.

The reason was…

 Here, take these blueprints! We have to stick to the schedule as closely as possible!

 Yes, understood.

Under the direction of Third Young Master Malion, everyone was apparently working on constructing anti-pirate fortifications around the port.

Naturally, these carpenters thought they’d be assigned to that project as well, but instead, they were suddenly told to… repair ships—ships belonging to the Count of Tread, no less. It was only natural they were confused.

Paul scratched his chin.

‘He must have something in mind again.’

That eccentric Young Master, Hardin.

That’s what the carpenters, many of whom were former refugees, called him.

 Hurry up! We’re finishing this within the year!

Hardin had relentlessly pushed them to complete a massive construction project, which would normally take over three years, in just one.

At first, the carpenters had thought he was just a strange man.

But then…

 Screeeeech!

 Let’s gooo! We’re building the breakwater!

The shocking sight of building a breakwater out of a Cockatrice to block an incoming tidal wave.

And after that, when they saw with their own eyes how the knights and Cockatrices were actively deployed in the construction, drastically reducing the timeline—most of the carpenters had no choice but to acknowledge him in the end.

Clearly, he must have another reason for wanting those ships repaired this time as well.

Just as Paul was lost in deep thought—

“Uggggh!”

“Hurry up and get over here, hurry!”

“We’re going as fast as we can!”

At the sounds coming from afar, the carpenters hard at work turned their heads in that direction.

“Huh?”

“Is that…?”

There, they saw the long-awaited Duke Hardin.

But if there was one unexpected detail—

“Isn’t he carrying a steel plate on his back?”

“Looks like it.”

Paul and the carpenters rubbed their eyes with the backs of their hands and took a closer look.

Hardin and dozens of knights.

‘Can a human even carry something like that?’

‘My god.’

They were trudging toward them with thick steel plates that were easily twice the size of their own bodies strapped to their backs.

Of course, the ones most flustered by the situation were the knights themselves, burdened with these steel plates.

“Urgggh! I-It’s so heavyyy!”

“Grrraaah!”

With every step, their legs trembled, and their feet sank deep into the sand.

Even with body reinforcement magic, this was their limit—which only made them more frustrated and desperate.

To make matters worse, Hardin, walking at the front, kept urging them without a break.

“What are you doing? Hurry up! Planning to stay out here all night?”

“We’re coming, we’re coming!”

Why the hell is that guy walking so casually like it’s nothing?!

And then, a moment later—

“Alright, drop them here.”

Thud! Thud!

The knights, drenched in sweat, stacked the thick steel plates right in front of the ships.

“……”

What the hell is this?

While the carpenters stood speechless, Hardin wiped the sweat from his forehead, took a brief look at the warships, and then turned to Paul.

“Master Paul. I see you’ve already started the repairs?”

“Yes. Since you were running late, we went ahead. I hope that’s not an issue.”

“Issue? Nah, what kind of issue would there be? It’s just ship repairs.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

As Paul glanced at him, reading the situation, Hardin placed an arm around his shoulder and said,

“By the way, would it be alright if I made just a tiny additional request?”

“W-What is it?”

“Well, repairing the ships is good and all, but… there’s just something extra I’d like added to them.”

“……”

Rustle, rustle.

Hardin reached into his coat and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment, then spread it open in front of Paul.

And then… a hastily scribbled drawing came into view.

“I’d like the ships to be repaired like this.”

“This is…”

Paul’s eyes widened.

It was a crude, almost childishly drawn sketch of a ship.

The problem wasn’t the drawing skill itself—it was the grotesque appearance of the ship, with strange things slapped all over it.

“What on earth is this?”

“Steel plates.”

“Steel plates…?”

Hardin smiled faintly and pointed a finger at the steel plates stacked on the ground.

“Yeah, I want you to attach those steel plates onto the ship. Very securely. Oh, and don’t worry about running out—I’ll bring as many as you need.”

“……”

A moment of silence.

‘What the hell… is going on here?’

Steel plates? On a ship?

Was he serious?

Paul and the other carpenters’ eyes wavered in utter confusion.

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