Chapter 124: Like Father, Like Son.

Late at night. The Tread County Estate, in Count Vernian’s room.

“Hm...”

Count Tread, seated at the table with his legs crossed, tilted the teacup in front of him.

Perhaps it was the moonlight pouring through the window, but his pale skin stood out even more.

At that moment—

An elderly man standing before the table bowed his head toward him and spoke.

“You called for me, my lord.”

Tap.

Vernian placed the emptied teacup on the table, gently folding his hands together as he spoke.

“I’d like you to handle something regarding Daphne.”

“There’s already a plan in place for that matter, but...”

“Ah, I know. I’m well aware. But it seems the higher-ups are asking for a little more.”

“What might that be?”

When the old man asked, Vernian curled one corner of his mouth into a grin and answered.

“Not just shutting down the port... but they want Daphne to be completely... burned to the ground.”

“But, my lord, that won’t be so easy...”

The old man’s brow furrowed for a moment.

‘Just decommissioning the port is already a heavy political burden.’

A fight, a war—or something along those lines... To exert influence over another house, there needs to be some kind of justification.

No matter how dominant Tread was in the region, the other noble houses in Luden Shire would never stand by and watch Daphne’s lands be razed without cause.

If they went that far, then surely...

“If we go through with that, there will be those who’ll try to side with or aid Daphne.”

Destroying a single port and incinerating an entire territory were two entirely different matters.

As the old man responded with a worried expression, Vernian tapped his chin lightly with his finger and replied.

“So what? We’re dealing with Daphne here... Do we really need to care about things like that?”

His voice had dropped into a cold, heavy tone.

His gaze now resembled that of a predator just before striking its prey.

Just meeting his eyes felt suffocating.

A bead of sweat formed on the old man’s forehead, and discomfort filled his expression.

“M-my apologies. That’s not what I meant. I know full well that if you put your mind to it, my lord, you could crush Daphne with a single finger...”

He flailed his hands and desperately offered an explanation.

How long did he keep rambling?

Grin.

Vernian’s previously expressionless face broke into a smile as he waved his hand lightly.

“Hahaha, I’m just teasing. You’re absolutely right. There’s no need for us to shoulder any political burden over something like Daphne.”

“Then...”

At the moment the steward cautiously gauged his mood, Vernian snapped his fingers and spoke.

“Offer a sacrifice.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m saying we should create a justification—by offering a sacrifice.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean...”

“Soon, we’ll send a diplomatic delegation to Daphne.”

The old man’s eyes widened in shock.

But soon enough, he seemed to grasp Vernian’s intention and slowly nodded.

‘So that’s the kind of stunt he’s planning.’

Though Vernian’s face was all smiles... the room felt saturated with the stench of blood, an overwhelming sense of unease.

But the old man knew full well—

If he didn’t follow through with that order, he would be the one offered as the sacrifice.

He trembled slightly, his lips twitching as he replied.

“Yes, then I’ll make preparations for the delegation. I’ll select those whose deaths... wouldn’t cause much trouble.”

“Yes, yes. You’ve understood well.”

A dark smile spread across Vernian’s face, illuminated by the moonlight.

He looked like a full-fledged demon.

---

The estate of Calpion Castle.

Deepest within, the main conference room.

Over a dozen retainers of the “former” Calpion sat gathered, all bearing anxious expressions.

At the center of them, seated at the highest seat, the steward Syllot tapped his leg nervously and asked,

“Huuu... What’s the atmosphere like these days?”

At that, one of the retainers scratched his head roughly and answered with a troubled look.

“Exactly as you feared, Steward.”

In an instant, all the retainers' faces turned grim.

“N-no way...”

“Is that really happening?”

“Grrrrng. Calm yourselves.”

Syllot reached out to soothe the retainers and, rubbing his face in frustration, muttered inwardly.

‘...I can’t believe things are actually turning out this way.’

The recent strange occurrences surrounding the Daphne Viscounty.

Syllot had been on high alert about all of it.

First, the naval blockade incident by the Tread County near Mudside.

It was enough to shake the house to its core, but with some stroke of luck, a Tread ship ran aground, and the situation ended on a relatively positive note.

However, it was the events that followed that posed the real problem.

—

“Syllot, Steward. Send over some conscripts. Hmm... we’ll need at least two hundred.”

“Two—two hundred? What do you need that many for?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

—

Not long ago, Former Commander Mulgybson, a close confidant of the Lord, had come to recruit a large number of conscripts from Calpion.

Finding it suspicious, Syllot dug around and discovered that many conscripts were also being drafted directly from the Daphne main estate and trained under Mulgybson.

And that wasn’t all.

A massive defensive stronghold was currently being constructed in Mudside.

The conscriptions, the fortifications—all of it was supposedly to prepare against pirates, but the scale was far too excessive for that excuse alone.

On top of that, the Tread County on the other side was now also mobilizing warships and a huge number of conscripts, at the worst possible time...

Syllot raised his head, which had been lowered for a moment, and spoke again with a solemn expression.

“Are they really... planning to start a fight with the Tread County?”

The retainers’ faces twisted into grimaces, and sighs of despair echoed throughout the room.

“Why on earth would they do that?”

“That’s just insane...”

At that moment, a middle-aged retainer with glasses cautiously raised his hand and asked,

“Our opponent is the Tread County—the strongest power in Luden Shire. And yet, is Daphne... actually preparing to go to war with them?”

“I don’t know the reason either. But no matter how you look at it, the odds seem quite high.”

“What are those lunatics thinking...?”

Going to war with Tread? Daphne of all places?

It was no different from an ant challenging a giant.

Calpion’s retainers, pale-faced, began voicing their opinions one by one.

“W-we should just flee in the night! If a war with Tread actually breaks out, we’ll all be slaughtered!”

“Or maybe we should send a secret letter offering to surrender...”

Though, to be fair, all their suggestions were more or less the same.

That’s how overwhelming the weight of the Tread County’s name felt.

Then, Syllot waved his hand and said,

“Calm down. It’s not confirmed yet. No need to act rashly.”

“But it’s Tread we’re talking about. If we hesitate and this really happens, it’s only a matter of time before our heads roll.”

“I know that. But if we make a careless move and give ‘that Grand Young Master’ any excuse to come down on us, how do you plan to deal with the consequences?”

“T-that’s...”

Flinch!

At Syllot’s words, the retainers visibly recoiled.

‘Right... There’s that man...’

‘Damn it!’

Hardin Daphne.

That terrifying man—no, that demon—if he ever caught wind of their schemes, there was no telling what might happen next.

With anxious faces, the retainers turned to Syllot.

“Then what are we supposed to do? Just sit back and watch?”

“That’s not it. If we use Viscount Cobalt properly... we might be able to turn the situation around.”

“Viscount Cobalt?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t dealing with him offer a better chance at finding a way out than confronting the Third Young Master or the Grand Young Master?”

Syllot allowed a crooked smile to spread across his lips.

Cobalt Daphne.

Compared to the obsessive Third Young Master who would make them redo an entire ledger over a single misplaced digit, or the hot-tempered Grand Young Master who would beat people senseless at the slightest provocation...

At least Cobalt had...

—

“Hardin... don’t you think that’s going too far, hitting someone like that?”

“Too far? This is the bare minimum to knock some sense into them!”

“S-stop it now.”

—

He had something the others didn’t—mercy and compassion.

As Syllot’s lips slowly curled upward, one of the retainers asked,

“What exactly do you plan to do... with Viscount Cobalt?”

“We can always create an opportunity. Haven’t we been doing quite a bit of work lately?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

That much was a fact.

With the massive supply demands from Daphne recently, they had barely had time to breathe, working day and night.

Syllot stroked his chin and continued.

“So now, we request group leave or ask for duties outside the estate where the family won’t have their eyes on us. What do you think Viscount Cobalt would say?”

“Ah... Knowing his personality, I think he’d agree.”

“Right. And once we’re out of sight, we’ll have plenty of chances to escape.”

“Escape? But what if the Grand Young Master comes after us...?”

“It doesn’t matter. If this actually goes down... the house will be ruined by Tread anyway.”

At those words, the retainers blinked in surprise—then slowly, their faces began to brighten.

“Ooooh! When you put it like that...!”

“As expected of Lord Syllot, how brilliant!”

“Haha, come now. This is just the basics, the bare basics.”

Syllot tapped his temple with a finger, a sly smile playing on his lips.

‘What a brilliant plan!’

‘Yes... we’ll use Viscount Cobalt.’

The retainers sighed in relief.

They say even in an ogre’s den, you’ll survive if you keep your wits about you.

This felt just like that.

Just as the room basked in a moment of shared relief—

Bang bang bang!

Suddenly, someone pounded roughly on the door, making everyone jump in their seats.

Syllot scowled and called out.

“...What is it?”

“Steward, sir. A guest from the main Daphne estate has arrived.”

A servant’s voice came from beyond the door.

“From the main estate? Who is it?”

At once, cold sweat started trickling down everyone’s backs.

‘Don’t tell me it’s the Grand Young Master? Or the Third Young Master?’

‘Damn it... this feels bad...’

Just as the tension peaked, the reply came.

“It’s Lord Cobalt Daphne.”

At that moment, everyone’s shoulders dropped in collective relief, exhaling deeply.

Syllot even looked somewhat pleased.

‘Hmm, perfect timing.’

Just as they’d discussed—if they buttered him up a little, it would make things far easier for them.

Syllot exhaled sharply through his nose and said,

“Let him in.”

Creeeak.

The door opened, and Viscount Cobalt stepped inside.

Wearing his usual pleasant smile, he met Syllot’s gaze and asked,

“Oh, were you in the middle of a meeting?”

“Y-yes, just receiving a few reports here and there... hoho.”

Syllot’s mouth twitched, barely hiding his reaction.

“Actually, my lord, we were just about to ask you a favor...”

Syllot cast a careful glance around and was just about to speak—

“I’m busy right now. I’ll hear it later.”

“Pardon? But I think you should at least hear us out—”

Thud!

Viscount Cobalt slammed a parchment onto the table and spoke firmly.

“Enough. I want you all to handle the tasks listed here as soon as possible.”

“What... is this?”

“Read it and you’ll understand.”

One of the retainers picked up the parchment and handed it to Syllot.

As Syllot read through it with the others, the wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

“This is...”

From top to bottom, the parchment was filled with densely packed instructions in black ink.

Weapon production, food supplies, transport—an endless list of support tasks that all required money.

Syllot asked, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“W-what is all this, my lord?”

“What do you think? These are the tasks you’re to handle.”

“You want us to do all of this? The workload is already overwhelming, and... I don’t think we even have the resources to manage it.”

“Hmmm. Is that so?”

“Y-yes, exactly. It’s physically impossible. Calpion Castle and we ourselves are already stretched to the limit. Cough! Cough!”

As Syllot forced out a series of rough coughs, the retainers beside him looked over in concern.

“Are... are you alright, Steward?”

“My lord, Steward Syllot is right. We’re already short on budget... Even with the tasks you've given so far, we’ve had to work sleepless nights to get them done.”

Syllot chuckled inwardly.

‘Good, good. Play the sympathy card.’

A retainer worn out from overwork and illness.

If he could portray that convincingly, that soft-hearted Cobalt would surely make concessions.

Just then, Cobalt flashed a smile and said,

“If it can’t be done, then make it possible.”

“Pardon?”

“I know you’re struggling, but this isn’t a time where we can afford excuses. So just make it happen. No matter what.”

Uh... what?

For a moment, Syllot’s expression wavered.

“B-but even if you say that... how are we supposed to pull off all this work without proper materials?”

He glanced back and forth between the parchment in his hand and Cobalt, responding in a pitiful tone. But Cobalt only shrugged and said,

“Well... you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

The retainers’ eyes widened in shock.

“You can just work longer hours to get it done. And if you’re short on resources... why not use the money in your own pockets?”

“Are you saying we should use our personal funds to support the house?”

“Hoho, I’m not forcing you. This is for the family, after all. I just trust you’ll make the right decision.”

“B-but...”

Our own money... to support the house?

And for a house that might get swallowed up by Tread any day?

As the retainers' faces turned pale, Cobalt spoke again.

“What, do you not want to?”

“Ah... no, it’s just that...”

Sweat trickled down Syllot’s forehead.

“You’re free to choose, of course. But I’d appreciate a clear answer now. This concerns the very safety of the family, after all.”

Thud!

Viscount Cobalt slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes flaring with a chilling blue light.

A wave of mana filled the conference room, and the retainers trembled as if blades were slicing across their skin.

“So, what’s your decision? If you really can’t do it, just say so.”

Crack. Crack.

Cobalt cracked his knuckles and continued.

“If you can’t manage, I’ll have to find another way.”

All eyes turned to Syllot.

‘Lord Syllot!’

‘Please... do something!’

At that moment—

Shwing!

Cobalt casually brushed the hilt of the sword at his waist. The blade slid out slightly, emitting a dangerous gleam.

“M-my lord!”

Bang!

Syllot shot up from his seat and shouted with a grave expression.

“What is it, Steward Syllot?”

“I’ll... do my utmost!”

“Oh? You mean you can do it?”

“Of course! I’ll pour everything I have into it, grind my body to dust if I must... I’ll get it done. For the family!”

As Syllot shouted with veins bulging on his forehead, shock rippled across the faces of the retainers.

‘What... what did he just say?’

‘L-Lord Syllot?!’

I’m sorry!

Syllot avoided their gazes and bowed his head deeply.

Of course, Cobalt seemed quite satisfied.

“For the family, huh. That’s an excellent attitude.”

Shh-clack.

Cobalt slid the blade back into its sheath.

After briefly scanning the room, he turned his gaze back to Syllot.

“And... there’s one more thing I’d like to say before I leave.”

“What is it? Please, go ahead.”

Crunch.

Suddenly, Cobalt’s face twisted into that of a devil, and he dragged his thumb across his throat as he spoke.

“Just a friendly warning: don’t even think about doing anything else.”

“...Excuse me?”

A moment of silence followed. Then Cobalt smiled and added casually,

“...That’s a message from the eldest.”

“Ah...”

Thud!

Syllot collapsed back into his chair, nodding.

“O-of course. Hahaha... As if we would even consider such a thing.”

“I thought so too.”

Cobalt returned a pleasant smile and said,

“Well then, good luck. I’ve got another appointment to attend.”

“...Yes, sir!”

With that, he opened the door and left the conference room.

And then—

“Did the lord just say that to us?”

“This... this isn’t right.”

Kind and compassionate, my ass.

Wasn’t he just as bad as Hardin—maybe even worse?

As the retainers muttered with distressed expressions, one of them turned to Syllot and asked,

“W-what do we do now, Lord Syllot?”

“Don’t ask me! I don’t know either!”

This damned family. This damned, miserable family!

Why the hell was that man suddenly acting exactly like his damn son?!

Syllot scratched at his head in frustration, his voice full of exasperation.

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