Chapter 117
Chapter 117
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: Latest on the Envoy Delegation
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[To my beloved Lenia. We fortunately won the territorial war against Viscount Wayne. But now there's news that Count Osland has mobilized his troops...]
After beating Viscount Wayne, now Count Osland is marching in? He crammed the letter full of pleas for help until his mind went fuzzy. It was his usual style, sure, but this wasn't some elementary school kid stretching out his diary entries.
"Deliver this to Count Cligrove."
"Yes, sir! I'll carry out the order!"
The cavalryman took my letter and rode off toward Cligrove. Then I surveyed Wayne Castle, now under Cisella's rule as the new lord. The atmosphere in the castle she'd inherited was like a house in mourning.
The lord who'd been running the territory smoothly up to now had marched off to war and come back dead. His army had returned in near-total ruin. Those who'd been captured and ransomed out were the lucky ones. Most were still imprisoned, unable to pay.
"We need to announce the arrival of a new lord soon... but in this mood, it'll turn into a funeral."
"Isn't that the fate of a defeated territory, brother? Viscount Wayne's greed got innocent folk killed left and right. In noble fights, it's always the underlings who get crushed."
Cutter, who'd been sticking by my side, said that. Fair point—whales fight, and shrimp backs crack. It wasn't just this world; Earth was full of the same.
Still, if things kept going like this, Cisella's lord proclamation wouldn't be a ceremony—it'd be a wake. She was my vassal lord now; I couldn't let her debut go down like that.
"Release all the prisoners. Refund the ransoms to those who've already paid. And... tell the merchants to distribute all their booze and food to the castle folk free of charge."
"Refund the ransoms too, sir?"
"If the soldiers and mercenaries gripe, say I'll cover it from my own pocket. Ransoms for soldiers are pocket change anyway—I won't fall out with them over pennies."
The drastic measures went out. On top of freeing prisoners and returning ransoms, everyone was to know it was my order. And slip in a rumor that Cisella had begged for it.
"Long live Viscount Lucas!"
"Thank you! Thank you!"
Those who'd languished in chains over a few crowns poured into the castle cheering. Even those getting refunds shouted my name from the roads.
Then the merchants followed my earlier orders, handing out booze and food gratis to the townsfolk. Festival vibes kicked in. Simple as it was, nothing won hearts here faster.
No wonder backward countries toss out freebies during elections. In a world where most folks barely had schooling, material rewards always hit home.
I was working to stabilize the castle and set up Cisella's proclamation when—three days later—Count Osland's army linked up with Viscount Wisilly's and invaded Wayne's lands. A scout spotted them, raced back hell-bent for leather, and dropped to his knees before me.
"Count Osland has crossed the border!"
Osland had crossed the line. Officially for revenge on me for killing Viscount Wayne, no doubt. But his real game was obvious: Cisella was a puppet viscountess, so crush us here, shove me out, and swallow Wayne whole.
And grab my magic beast ranch as a bonus. Lose, and all our gains went poof. That much was certain.
"My lord! Count Cligrove has arrived!"
While scouts tracked the enemy, Lenia arrived with reinforcements I'd requested. Supplies from both territories piled up in the castle, and merchants and non-combatants swarmed the gates for army scraps.
"Check everywhere else! We got the lowest prices here!"
"We'll buy all loot at top dollar! Bring anything!"
Kyle handled weapons directly, so no sales there, but loot wasn't just arms—soldiers hawked their war hauls to the vendors.
The castle gates bustled like a market. Until Lenia's army rolled in, freezing everything.
"Make way! Count Cligrove's procession!"
Cligrove's gold lion banner fluttered; clanking armor and weapons drowned out the crowd. At the front rode Lenia on her white steed.
"Still as stunning as ever..."
"Shouldn't we call her Cligrove's Flower, not its Sword?"
"Shh! Wanna lose your head to that flower?"
Soldiers and merchants alike doffed hats and bowed. Some sneaked peeks anyway.
They called her Cligrove's flower after glimpsing her face. Me? The bandit who'd plucked it.
I heard it all, but chalked it up to good ears and let it slide. Chopping heads for backtalk would leave no one standing. Anyway, the woman they'd only dared ogle lit up at the sight of me and ran over.
"Brother!"
"Lenia!"
Lenia hugged me tight, heedless of the stares. So embarrassing... But as officially engaged lovers—and deeper—we could embrace freely now.
Her faint, sweet scent—like shampoo or perfume I itched to ask about—drew every eye our way. I noticed late.
"Ahem! Let's head inside."
I cleared my throat awkwardly and escorted her into the manor. There, we discussed the war.
"They've got an inside man—Arthur. I introduced him once, right?"
Last time Arthur visited, he'd vowed to backstab the count if I drew out Osland's knights. Capture the count from behind.
If plans always panned out... but they don't. Calling Lenia was insurance.
Arthur's crew was small; if things soured, his rear strike might flop. Then we'd smash them head-on—with Cligrove's army shining.
"Oh lord! Their army burned our village!"
As we prepped to march, refugees flooded in—the count was looting villages on his way down.
Deliberate terror? Or just allowing forage? If he planned to take the viscounty intact, why wreck it?
Here's hoping it was forage necessity. I smacked my lips thinking it. Armies needing loot to hold together were harder to control.
"My lord! Ready to deploy!"
The officer's report came; I glanced at Lenia, who nodded readiness. Thousands lined up before the walls.
Conscripts, dragged to war's brink, relaxed seeing my army—standing fearless in ranks. I gave a speech. Clichéd, sure.
My army would stand by them, never lose. Not empty words to soothe—it was strategy.
To stop conscripts fleeing, we'd sandwich them between Cligrove elites and my troops, with mercs too. Win, and it all held true.
"Elites on both flanks, mercs and conscripts center. Thin merc line up front, conscripts backing."
"Yes, sir!"
Cligrove knights and my officers roared back. Post-meeting, knights swarmed me.
"Need fortress knights? Got a squire finishing up..."
"Put me vanguard this war..."
Favors, mostly. Familiar faces, nothing outrageous. One very familiar among them.
"Viscount! You're glowing with luck!"
"Sir Karon."
It was Sir Karon. Grinning, he greeted me, then chattered fortress gossip with a hearty laugh. Cligrove these days, young squires lacking manners.
Mostly fluff; I nodded along. Then he dropped something juicy.
"Heard the imperial envoy delegation finally left for elf lands?"
They'd gone. Late start meant the court had agonized over picks. Real crown prince aboard?
"Pretty late departure."
"Debated who... settled on Second Prince and Duke Norsmond for the delegation."
"Second Prince?"
Not the crown prince and duke—but Second Prince and Duke Norsmond. Duke backed the crown prince, I thought...
"What's the Second Prince like?"
Only rumors on him; curiosity piqued. I stared blankly; Karon shrugged slyly and spilled.
He'd never met the prince either, but spun it like an old pal. I humored him; he spilled beans, real and imagined.
"Second Prince is a sword prodigy... once rivaled our lady as imperial rising star. After she awakened aura first, he sulked and slacked off, they say. Ha ha!"
He bellowed that Lenia had beaten the prince. Once his guffaws died...
"Bit worried, though. He's hot-tempered—wonder if delegation's right for him."
Sounds like a war genius hothead from the court. Brothers opposites? Common enough. But Second Prince's talent could shine in chaos.
This tilted things against the crown prince. The empire looked shakier to me lately.
Elves rampaging north; war-weakened Depord Empire eyed by rival kingdoms and empires licking chops.