Chapter 110
Chapter 110
"What kind of bullshit is this?!"
BANG!
The interior of the Vifros command tent in the central frontlines erupted into chaos.
Despite Roger Vifros's face flushing crimson with rage, his subordinates could only bow their heads in silence, unable to offer any response.
"What the hell were the Pereta bastards doing?!"
"W-well, word has it that the castle fell before Pereta's forces could even mobilize, my lord."
"Grrrgh! That idiot Lentor!"
Cursing a dead subordinate—and doing so in front of the others—was utterly unlike Roger's usual demeanor.
But it only proved how deeply shaken he was.
"At least the ladies and young master managed to escape safely. They're on their way here now—"
"Does that matter right now?! My castle! My lands have fallen to those MacLaine dogs!"
Roger Vifros continued to roar, oblivious to the increasingly strained expressions of his men.
"We're turning back immediately! I'll slaughter them! Tear them limb from limb! How dare they lay hands on my territory!"
The pent-up fury he had suppressed until now burst forth unchecked.
"Prepare for retreat! Our territory comes first! We must reclaim what's ours. I'll personally explain the situation to His Grace."
Under these circumstances, Duke Jordan Waltermein would no longer have any justification to stop him.
No—given their prior agreement, he might even lend his support.
That was Roger's hope.
But reality betrayed his expectations.
"Denied."
The gray-haired giant's response was identical to before.
Roger's face twisted into a grotesque mask of frustration.
"My land! My stronghold has been attacked by those lawless savages! How can you refuse?!"
"The central front is currently balanced between both factions. And now you want to withdraw Vifros's forces? Are you saying your territory matters more than the grand cause?"
"Th-that's not what I—! Only with my lands secure can I and my forces join the cause without hindrance! Besides, those bastards ignored your warning—they're madmen! If we leave them unchecked—"
"We won't leave them unchecked."
"...Huh?"
For a fleeting moment, hope flickered—only to be crushed by the duke's next words.
"After the grand cause is settled, I'll personally tear them apart."
"Your Grace—!"
Roger's resentful glare was met with Jordan's icy smile.
"But first, I'll extend an offer for them to join our faction."
"W-what? What are you—?"
"And then drag them to the frontlines to serve as cannon fodder. That should suffice, no? Those lunatics who ignored my warning won't have the right to refuse."
"Ah..."
Roger had no right to refuse either.
But the madmen had another option.
[If you threaten us like this, we'll have no choice but to pledge our support to the First Prince's faction.]
The acting lord of MacLaine had delivered this response with a grin.
The actual lord was nowhere to be seen—only this brat, smiling leisurely as if he hadn't a care in the world.
The sheer audacity was incomprehensible.
Jordan Waltermein's face visibly contorted in humiliation before his subordinates.
"Do you understand what you're doing? Ignoring my warning—and now rejecting an offer of alliance? This is tantamount to defying the will of His Highness Romain, the future king of this nation!"
Though his tone remained composed, the volcanic aura radiating from him pressed down on everyone present.
Roger and his retainers broke into cold sweat, shrinking back—but that pressure couldn't reach beyond the communication channel.
[I'm well aware of my impertinence, Your Grace. However, the feud between Vifros and our house stretches far back. This was never about disregarding you or His Highness Romain.]
"Then prove it. March your forces to the frontlines and earn merit. Do that, and my wrath—and the prince's—will pass you by."
[I regret to say that's impossible.]
BOOM!
[Hmm? Strange noises keep interrupting. Is the connection unstable...?]
Though the explosion beneath Jordan's feet sent everyone scrambling, the redhead on the other end remained unfazed, feigning innocence.
"...You're testing my patience."
As the killing intent intensified, Roger Vifros—who had been sweating bullets—allowed himself a faint smirk.
But the other side didn't waver in the slightest.
[I intend to maintain neutrality, as per my master's wishes. My loyalty to the royal family remains unwavering, so I ask you not to doubt my sincerity due to an old grudge between houses.]
"You insolent brat! How dare you—!"
"Your Grace! The First Prince's faction is making its move!"
Whether the timing was fortunate or not, the knight who burst in with news from the frontlines paled instantly under the concentrated bloodlust.
[You seem busy. Attend to your duties.]
Logan's leisurely voice from the communication channel only stoked Jordan's fury further.
"...I'll have to sever your necks, even if it costs me. That should lift morale."
[Do you truly believe you can afford such losses? The frontlines are stretched thin as it is. I thought a man of your stature knew better than to let petty rage cloud his judgment.]
"Hmph... You reckless fool. You'll soon realize what you've done. And by then, it'll be too late for regrets."
[Who knows? Regrets are—]
ZZZT.
Jordan severed the connection with a hardened expression, grinding his teeth before barking orders.
"What are you all standing around for?! Prepare to march! We crush the First Prince's dogs first!"
"Yes, Your Grace!"
As the nobles hastily dispersed from the tent, the duke gestured coldly to his adjutant.
"Summon [...] quietly. I'll assign additional personnel—ensure that insolent whelp is..."
The order, laced with even deadlier intent than the mobilization command, was met with a stiff nod.
"Whew. That's done."
"But, young master... Are you sure this is wise? He's still a duke—a Transcendent..."
Dwain's worried question was met with Logan's nonchalant shrug.
"They can't touch us right now. At most, they'll scheme behind our backs. As long as we stay vigilant, it's manageable."
"How can you be so blasé about this?!"
"What else? Should we actually march to the frontlines and serve as their meat shields?"
Dwain looked ready to tear his hair out.
"That's not what I meant! Couldn't you have phrased it more diplomatically...?"
"It's too late for that. We're not meeting their demands anyway. With predators like them, showing weakness only invites attack. Better to stand firm."
"Sigh... Dear gods, why must I endure such trials..."
Logan chuckled at Dwain's theatrics.
"What? Feeling uneasy?"
"Ask anyone! You're the odd one for being so calm!"
"Well, if you're worried, avoid the estate for a while. Who knows what might happen."
"Young master!!"
Dwain nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Kidding, kidding! You're so tense. Anyway, no word from the First Prince's faction yet?"
"Huh?"
"The Second Prince's side is settled for now. Shouldn't the other side have reached out by now? Should we contact them first?"
"W-what? Why?!"
"Why? They'd be thrilled about what we just did—"
BZZT.
As if waiting for the cue, the communication channel lit up again, displaying the crossed-sword emblem of the Douglas ducal house—the First Prince's faction's powerhouse.
[You've seized Vifros?! Hahahaha! What splendid news after so long! And here I hear it's you, a mere youngster, representing your house now. Fresh and bold—I like it. So, having struck Vifros, you're joining our faction, yes?]
Duke Juan Douglas himself had initiated the call, his face appearing through the channel.
In these sensitive times, the ramifications of MacLaine's sudden conquest of Vifros were impossible to ignore.
"The honor is mine, Your Grace, that you'd contact me directly."
Logan bowed repeatedly, playing the humble vassal.
But—
"Our house's feud with Vifros is ancient. My apologies, but we're not yet prepared to support either prince. Truly, I regret it."
His words were clearer and firmer than ever.
'Just a little longer, my poor back...'
Swallowing his frivolous thoughts, Logan maintained a polite smile under the gaze of the kingdom's sole Archmage.
[Jordan won't let this slide. Knowing his vindictive nature, he'll seek to devour your entire house...]
The blue eyes beyond the channel bore into Logan.
Though the duke's expression was amiable, his eyes held no warmth—only an eerie, emotionless chill that sent a shiver down Logan's spine.
"We just spoke, actually. I apologized profusely and declined."
[That's all?]
"They lack the resources to act now. Frankly, Your Grace's faction seems the stronger bet."
[Oh? Sharp eyes. But you're not just flattering me, are you? You wouldn't join the Second Prince's faction just to smooth things over...]
The duke's trailing words and unchanging gaze pinned Logan in place.
"Of course not. Our house's neutrality is born of necessity, not defiance. But spiritually... we're rooting for you. Crush whatever remains of Vifros's forces for us, won't you?"
[Hahaha, you've got nerve. Well, you don't seem to be lying... But heed this—if you're deceiving me, I won't overlook it like that fool Jordan.]
More threats. All because MacLaine lacked power.
Logan gritted his teeth internally while keeping his smile intact.
"Naturally."
Thus, in the early throes of civil war, the MacLaine house's neutrality was officially recognized—though not without lingering dangers.
MacLaine's seizure of Vifros.
The sudden event shocked the kingdom's nobility, but none more so than Max Peretta.
His territory lay sandwiched between MacLaine and Vifros—a position that had led him to submit to Vifros's rule after past conflicts.
He had been ordered to send reinforcements to Vifros—only to learn the battle ended before his troops could march.
Now, forced to tread carefully, Max had resigned himself to witnessing MacLaine's inevitable, brutal retribution.
"Either Count Vifros himself will return to crush them, or the faction will deliver harsh punishment."
It was the logical conclusion.
But then—
[No punitive expedition will be launched. MacLaine's neutrality is permitted.]
A single line from above left him dumbfounded.
"H-how is this possible?! They've committed suicide, haven't they?!"
"...MacLaine must have pulled some strings. Roger Vifros would never tolerate this! His elite forces should still be intact—why...?"
Beside him, Rihalt scrambled for explanations, but no amount of reasoning could make sense of the situation.
"I—I was following the count's orders! I was going to aid Vifros, to send my knights to the central front! I was just delayed! Shouldn't the count protect us now?! What if they come for us next?!"
"...If they've declared neutrality, they can't openly attack us, my lord. Calm yourself."
'He wasn't this much of a fool before...'
Rihalt suppressed a sigh as he watched his lord panic.
He understood the peculiarity of MacLaine's sudden move.
Peretta was now effectively encircled by MacLaine's territory—a precarious position that would've spelled doom under normal circumstances.
But Peretta had openly aligned with Vifros—the Second Prince's faction.
'If they've declared neutrality, they can't strike first. We're safe.'
His lord's hysterics were just embarrassing.
Yet the very next day, Rihalt received MacLaine's missive—and realized he was the true fool.
[To forget past conflicts and forge a new relationship between our houses...(omitted)...]
The lengthy, flowery message boiled down to:
'Given the current climate, we can't attack you directly. But once the dust settles, we'll be the rulers of this region. So...'
'Kneel now if you want to live.'
"...What are our odds against MacLaine?"
"Without external aid? Slim."
Max's face twisted further at Rihalt's blunt assessment.
"What were their terms?"
"First, a monthly tribute of food and supplies worth 100,000 gold..."
1.2 million annually—less than a tenth of Peretta's budget.
A pittance, it seemed—until the other clauses came into play.
"...They demand tenant taxes be reduced from 70% to 30%, with monthly internal audits permitted. And most critically... the right to levy troops when needed."
It was a blatant power grab—control over finances and military.
"And if we refuse?"
"...Historically, civil wars like this last six months at most. When it ends, MacLaine won't hesitate."
'You and your family will die.'
Rihalt couldn't voice it aloud—only convey it through his gaze.
Defeated, the lord exhaled, looking a decade older.
"...I accept their terms. We'll swear fealty once more."
Thus, after two centuries, Peretta became MacLaine's vassal again.