Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Under the intense scrutiny of Logan and the MacLaine command staff,
The envoys arrogantly declared with heads held high:
"We, Pereta, demand the return of fleeing territory citizens along with compensation for preventing recurrence—namely, the Tesron Plains adjacent to Pereta territory and the newly cultivated southwestern wastelands."
"We, Silvan, demand sovereignty over Tesron Castle and the transfer of rights to the newly cultivated northwestern wastelands."
Logan's predictions proved accurate once again.
The envoys, wearing expressions of utter confidence, spouted absolute nonsense.
Hand over an entire castle, then surrender half the lands cultivated from it.
This was nothing short of a threat—effectively a declaration of war.
'Well? Was I right?'
Logan shot a glance as if asking whether his prediction had been correct. Patrick exhaled softly before nodding gravely.
That signal was immediately relayed to Captain Heinkel standing below the podium.
With a hardened expression, Heinkel stepped forward and roared:
"Are Silvan and Pereta declaring war against MacLaine at this very moment?"
"Madmen!"
"How dare they!"
"Have they lost their minds? Do they know where they stand?"
Simultaneously, the thirty knights lining the grand hall stepped forward in protest. Some even hastily drew their swords, instantly turning the atmosphere murderous.
The envoys faltered momentarily, but soon regained their composure and stood even taller.
"Lord Baron! Threatening envoys is unheard of! Unless you truly wish for war, we demand you withdraw your knights!"
"It was you who provoked this conflict. When war is thrust upon us, how can we refuse? MacLaine fears no battle."
Contrary to their expectations, Patrick's stance grew even firmer.
The envoys' expressions stiffened slightly at this unexpected response.
"Not a single blade of grass will remain of MacLaine. Do you truly seek annihilation?"
"You wouldn't be under the delusion that such aggression will make us yield, would you, Baron?"
The slyly grinning envoy from Silvan with his bushy mustache and the fox-like envoy from Pereta.
The two leading representatives' tones shifted into blatant threats.
Even the knights behind them only widened their eyes slightly, still maintaining their composure.
Their confidence in their advantageous position was palpable.
'Then let's shatter that confidence.'
A cold smile curled Logan's lips as he imagined the looks on their faces.
"Refugees fleeing tyranny cannot be bargaining chips. Father, these men have forgotten the noble duty of blue-blooded lords. There is no need for further negotiation."
Clang!
With that decisive statement, Logan stepped forward—and every MacLaine knight drew their swords in unison.
Only then did the envoys' expressions twist in shock.
"Y-You're seriously declaring war?"
"Are you insane? Do you all have a death wish?!"
Despite their furious shouts, the MacLaine knights only responded with mocking smirks.
The envoys' reactions split starkly.
"Th-These bastards...!"
"Have you lost your minds?! This means war! Do you think MacLaine will survive this?!"
While the fox-like Pereta envoy paled and fell silent, Silvan's mustached envoy shrieked like a cornered rat.
Seizing the moment, Logan responded with deliberate provocation.
Whoosh.
"Oh? Calling us insane? You've got quite the nerve, pointing fingers and hurling insults at the ruler of this land. Who's truly lost their mind here?"
"N-No, it was you who—"
Logan didn't bother listening further, advancing step by step.
"St-Stop him!"
As Logan's killing intent surged unbearably, the envoy's bodyguard knights rushed forward.
But Logan was faster.
Slash.
"Guh—cough!"
The moment one bodyguard collapsed, clutching his spurting throat—
Thud.
Slash.
Splatter!
A lightning-fast dance of blades froze the envoys in terror.
Thump.
"Ghk—!"
"Ugh...!"
"S-Such cowardice...!"
In the span of a single breath, every bodyguard lay dead.
Though the horrified envoys glared with accusations and fury—
"If you draw your blades on another's land, you should be prepared to die."
Logan merely raised his sword again, his tone chillingly calm.
"I-I'm an envoy—!"
Splat!
"G-Guh...!"
Thud.
Silvan's mustached envoy collapsed, blood gushing from his mouth.
Instantly, Pereta's fox-like envoy threw himself flat on the ground.
"MacLaine's will shall be conveyed faithfully to our lord. We beg forgiveness for our discourtesy."
Though his voice trembled slightly, it was clear enough for all to hear.
"...Clever."
Logan smirked at Rihalt, who remained prostrate without daring to lift his head, then turned away.
Before the eyes of all present—including the enemy delegation:
Killing those who offered excuses would serve as justification, but cutting down a groveling man would only invite condemnation.
Moreover, his initial objective was already achieved.
'Lucky for us that Silvan's fool was stupid enough.'
With that thought, he bowed his head toward his father.
Patrick gave a slight nod before addressing the assembly:
"MacLaine knights—prepare for war! To defend our sovereignty!"
His solemn voice echoed through the grand hall as the knights raised their swords in unison.
"...Do you truly believe you can win against us?"
Pereta's fox-like envoy asked in bewilderment as he was being expelled.
Logan answered only with a sly grin.
That very same day, MacLaine sent a magical communiqué to both viscounties.
[We express profound regret regarding the grave discourtesy and verbal abuse displayed by your envoys...]
Though filled with lengthy formalities, the essence was simple:
Your envoys came, acted like fools, and died. We're offended. How will you compensate for this insult?
Despite the communiqué's closing remark about awaiting a response, the entire MacLaine knight order immediately galloped toward Tesron Castle.
Thunderous hooves.
Seventy mounted knights cut straight through the heart of MacLaine Town, charging across the plains toward Tesron.
At the head of the formation, the stern-faced red-haired patriarch glanced at his son riding beside him and asked:
"Is there truly a need for such haste? Even if they're unaware, you know full well our current forces could crush a viscounty with ease."
Amidst the pounding hooves, his voice rang clear in Logan's ears.
Patrick had trusted Logan's judgment until now—issuing mobilization orders without question—but his curiosity finally broke through.
"That's precisely why we must hurry."
"Why?"
Logan had already planned his next move when sending the communiqué.
Both Silvan and Pereta would protest, but it was obvious which would react more aggressively.
"Silvan will undoubtedly be the first to spew nonsense over their dead envoy. So... we'll use that as our pretext."
"To declare war first?"
"Yes. The moment they make their move, we must seize Silvan Castle with overwhelming speed. The swifter and more decisive our show of force, the fewer such provocations we'll face in the future."
Silvan Castle was over twice the size of Tesron Castle—itself more developed than MacLaine's stronghold.
A fortress so grand that even Pereta's twin castles paled in comparison.
In pure numbers, Silvan's garrison far outnumbered MacLaine's.
Yet Patrick only nodded with a smile at Logan's declaration of taking Silvan Castle in one stroke.
"A sound strategy. No need to prolong the war unnecessarily."
"Indeed. There's no need to mobilize conscripts either. With our standing forces alone, a rapid capture of Silvan Castle will paralyze Viscount Max Pereta. A greedy man like him hesitates at the slightest risk of loss."
Max Pereta's insatiable greed made him loathe even minor setbacks, rendering him slow to decide and act.
Logan didn't elaborate that this insight came from his past life.
Fortunately, his father didn't question how he knew the temperament of a man they'd barely interacted with.
He simply focused on what MacLaine needed most at this moment.
"Then the key lies in how swiftly we take Silvan."
"Yes!"
Not just the two conversing, but every listening knight believed this far from impossible.
Fueled by that confidence, the MacLaine knights' charge only grew faster.
When the MacLaine knights arrived at Tesron Castle,
The most tense were undoubtedly the regular soldiers who'd abruptly been placed on combat alert mid-training.
However.
"Excluding the 100 stationed at MacLaine Castle, we have 1,389 regular soldiers and 313 mercenaries on standby, awaiting orders."
Kai's report carried more excitement than tension.
"...Good work. Their equipment?"
"Fully supplied—armor, spears, swords, rapid-fire crossbows, and cavalry. I guarantee they won't lose to any soldiers from any territory."
Logan couldn't help but smile at Kai's confidence.
"Excellent. Have them rest well until further orders."
The crossbow cavalry that had turned last year's territorial war around had now quintupled in number.
With these troops, plus his father and the knights who'd mastered the Iron Blood Sword Technique, confidence was only natural.
'Silvan or Pereta—either would fall easily.'
Facing both simultaneously wouldn't be impossible, but unnecessary—and unwise.
His concern wasn't just wartime losses.
'Taking both Silvan and Pereta would give us five castles—putting our territory on par with a border march. That would make both royal factions desperate to pull us to their side.'
While expanded territory didn't automatically elevate noble rank, reaching that scale would make MacLaine a prime target in the royal succession struggle.
And Logan couldn't afford attracting factional attention—not when he intended to crown the Third Prince.
'This will succeed.'
The First Prince, who'd become king in his past life, had merely used MacLaine before discarding them.
Even ignoring the years of purges that followed his coronation—squandering the kingdom's strength—Logan had no intention of supporting him again.
The Second Prince was little better.
Originally destined for defeat, propping him up wasn't worth the effort.
That left only the Third Prince.
Though third in line, he was the queen's legitimate son—younger but exceptionally talented, once groomed as heir before the king's sudden death left him sidelined.
Logan had to win the civil war and crown him—while minimizing the kingdom's losses.
'Difficult, but not impossible.'
For now, holding three castles—equivalent to a moderately sized viscounty—was enough.
He needed the central factions to ignore this southwestern backwater until the civil war erupted.
Hence this carefully orchestrated casus belli.
As he organized his thoughts—
"...Good news."
Logan looked up to see Kai still lingering by the door.
That complicated expression demanded inquiry.
"Hm? What good news?"
"Victor has become a Force User. He's been waiting to report to you personally."
"Finally!"
"Shall I call him in?"
"Of course!"
Logan shot to his feet without thinking. Kai sighed slightly as he opened the door.
Though Logan could guess the meaning behind that look, he had no attention to spare for it now.
Standing right outside was Victor, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Lord Logan. I—"
"Skip the speech. Show me."
"...Yes!"
For a moment, his red-and-blue eyes seemed to glow—then a faint gray aura erupted from his entire body.
A uniquely colored Force, rivaling Logan's golden hue.
The same aura that had symbolized Victor the Noble Slayer in his past life.
"Hah. Hahaha. It's true. In just two years..."
The dazzling talent that had elevated a mere slave to Aura User status remained unchanged in this life.
Victor's growth felt like an omen that everything would unfold perfectly—Logan couldn't suppress his joy.
Two days after arriving at Tesron, just as the delayed response grew suspicious—
The awaited communiqué finally arrived from Silvan.
[We express vehement and profound regret regarding your dismissal of justified protest and intimidation by force...]
Stripping away the florid language:
Unless you wish to face the combined might of Silvan and Pereta, return the fleeing citizens and pay 10 million gold in reparations each. Also surrender Tesron Plains. Deadline: one month.
A threat, plain and simple.
MacLaine wasted no time drafting an equally firm reply.
[We question the validity of your protest, given your envoys' unprecedented discourtesy...]
In essence:
Cut the crap. Let's fight.
Immediately afterward, a cavalry force of nearly 1,800 thundered northwest from Tesron Castle.