Uninvited Guests (2)
Puuuuw ———.
The magic stones embedded in the walls of the banquet hall began emitting red light and blaring noise. Like soldiers blowing horns upon spotting the enemy, the crimson stones unleashed a deafening trumpet blast, ringing the alarm throughout the entire mansion.
"Wh-what's going on!?"
"This is... an enemy raid?! Is it... war?!"
"Enemy alert! Enemy alert!! Aaaah!"
The nobles plunged into chaos in an instant. Forgetting who was even present in the room, forgetting how nobles were supposed to act in emergencies.
Correction. They were simply terrified for their lives, scrambling toward the main entrance in droves to save their own skins.
"Tch."
Father clicked his tongue at the sight of those nobles. He already despised this mansion-wide alarm that rattled the whole place at full volume; now, with the murmurs of panicked people piling on, it must have been even more grating.
"M-Mother. This is...!"
"The... the Empire!"
Noir and Letar clutched at Mother's skirt and buried themselves in her embrace.
"Don't worry, dears. It's fine. Still... it's been about a year, hasn't it...."
As children of Gibraltar, they knew full well what this 'red alert' meant—one that hadn't even sounded during the orc invasion.
"My lord."
"Mm."
Snap.
Father flicked his fingers, and the red magic stones on the walls fell silent all at once.
"C-Count! What was that just now?!"
"You said the party's over, but ending it like this?!"
Some of them, utterly clueless, didn't even realize it was real. They thought it was just a party gimmick or a surprise show put on by the margrave.
"Empire forces are heading for the canyon."
"!!"
The nobles all swallowed hard at Father's low voice.
"I will now move to intercept the Empire army. The celebration ends here."
The party had ended abruptly, but no one could complain about it. Not when it was a real crisis.
And yet.
"H-ha! So we finally get to see it?! The margrave in action?!"
Such people—if they moved immediately when a crisis hit—would have kept the kingdom from falling to the Empire so easily.
"Margrave! We want to see it!"
"...See what?"
"Your prowess! The battle with the Empire army!"
Is he insane? Father shot him a glare laced with curses, but if the fool had noticed, he wouldn't have spouted such nonsense.
"Th-that's right! I hear the margrave's mansion has a projection stone that shows the canyon in real time!"
"So we can watch from here? Oho...!"
"A Sword Master versus the Empire army...! What a spectacle...!"
They should count themselves lucky that Father still harbored some loyalty to Nostrum deep down. If he'd decided to snap right then, he'd have shoved a sword through those flapping mouths first.
"Go home."
Father warned them as he undid his cufflinks.
"Take your carriages and leave Gibraltar immediately. War isn't a sideshow, and we haven't even grasped the enemy's numbers yet. Unless you intend to fight alongside us, get out quietly."
For Father, that was an unusually long speech.
"I won't say it twice."
As Father growled his threat, the nobles glanced around nervously and began setting down their glasses one by one. But their feet still wouldn't move. Did they think sticking around might let them watch after all?
"C-come on, everyone! This isn't the only celebration we'll have!"
Clap.
Viscount Hex stepped forward with a clap.
"The margrave must focus on battle now. Anyone interfering becomes a traitor. That's not what the capital wants—or Morgania, for that matter."
"!!"
At Viscount Hex's words, the nobles began slinking away one by one.
"M-Margrave. I'll lead them out. Go fight without worry. Alright?"
"Ha...."
I didn't love him invoking Morgania's pressure right in the heart of Gibraltar.
"Much obliged, Foreign Minister."
But hauling away those pests itching at our backs? I could overlook that much. It might even plant a subtle hook for better relations with Morgania.
"What a shame.... I wanted to see the margrave's sword."
"Nothing to worry about with him leading the charge. Sigh."
Some grumbled even as they left, but I memorized their faces and names one by one before turning to Father.
"Father."
"Yes."
After Viscount Hex cleared the nobles from the hall.
"Grant me authority over the knights remaining in the mansion."
I caught Viscount Hex flinching as he headed for the main gate last. I flashed him a smile and pointed outside; he whipped around and shoved the nobles along.
"Come on! Hurry up! Linger here and you'll earn the margrave's ire!"
"But it's not like this place is in danger—"
"Move! Hmph. Or should the Foreign Minister issue you an emergency order?!"
"Ugh, really. Why make such a fuss.... Fine, fine. If you're so insistent."
Only then did they finally scurry to their carriages. They left behind more irritating chatter on the way, but their faces and names quietly joined my mental list.
"Why the knights?"
"They're no threat to us, but we might be to them?"
"........."
"You chased them out for the same reason, didn't you, Father?"
Mother and my siblings were nearby, but—
"With so many outsiders in the mansion, who knows what pests slipped in."
Which meant I had to spell it out clearly.
"In wartime, assassins could strike anytime."
"A-assassins...?!"
Noir yelped in shock.
"Grey."
"Yes, Father."
"While I'm away, your mother will act as margrave in my stead."
Father turned to Mother.
"Madam. Take the children to the safe room as the adult here."
Disappointing. At ten years old, even borrowing authority was a stretch, huh.
"But for mansion defenses, heed Grey's words. Treat his judgment as mine."
"Yes, my lord. I'll remember."
"Grey. Gibraltar..."
"I'll show you."
I bowed to Father.
"With actions."
Power only truly emerges when you prove you're more than empty words.
"Godspeed, Father."
* * *
The nobles were gone.
Mother immediately ordered the servants to clean up the hall, then sent me and my siblings to the mansion's safe room—Father's study.
"Young masters and miss. You must stay here."
"Don't worry. Sir Robert."
Sir Robert and a few knights and maids entered the study. To protect us, but also because this would become the wartime command center overlooking the battlefield.
"Surprising, Sir Robert. Isn't this a chance to earn merits?"
"Pardon?"
"Even if the Empire army comes, it'll just be a show of force. Going with Father now would rack up achievements."
Father had left for the walls with some family knights and soldiers.
"It's not too late. Why not join them?"
He could reach fast alone, but leading a unit meant they hadn't hit the canyon yet.
"I must protect you and the family!"
"And your record?"
"Defending the mansion is a knight's duty too!"
"That's why no promotions or raises."
"Urk...."
Sir Robert was too good-hearted. A loyal retainer who never looked out for himself.
But this time, he picked the right side.
Depending on his performance, Robert could claim the greatest merits of all.
"Sir. If anything happens, priorities: Mother first, then Letar, then Noir."
"...Pardon?"
"That's an order."
I lacked formal authority, but Sir Robert nodded with a complicated expression.
"If it's your word, young master... Understood."
Protect Mother and the siblings first. He wasn't so dense he couldn't grasp my intent.
"Then we'll wait here until Mother returns."
I sat on the sofa and closed my eyes briefly.
My two siblings across from me were terrified, but the situation ahead was too dire for comforting words.
The projection stone that Head Butler Malcolm had set up and left behind lit the white wall, soon projecting the battlefield beyond the canyon.
This was where I'd faced three thousand orcs before. Now, Gate 1 stood empty atop the walls, its defensive magic shimmering faintly.
They must be dying to see it.
The hall had facilities to project the war situation too. An ancestor fond of showing off had installed them, once inviting nobles to watch battles from there.
The nobles had hoped for that, but Father wasn't the type.
It's a different era from when muskets were unknown cold weapons.
Too dangerous now to treat as entertainment.
Why stop the hall's live feed? Why a separate safe room in the mansion?
Because even here isn't safe.
In the past, a Sword Master triumphed on the field, but one family member watching his exploits was poisoned mid-champagne toast.
Feint and strike is basic tactics.
Distract the front, stab the back. The Empire's core strategy—before overwhelming frontal assaults—was to whittle and break the foe.
That's how they became the Empire.
Deploy troops up front like a full assault, while spies, assassins, and terror lurk behind.
That's how they annexed minor states and merged the old empire, reaping massive gains.
The kingdom's suffered it multiple times already.
The Empire had periodically flexed against the kingdom: sending spies, assassinating generals, cursing with black magic.
Publicly denied as Empire work, but post-victory truths emerged.
Hearing that bred resentment toward the Empire—but
The Empire cunningly targeted only corrupt nobles squeezing territories dry—winning locals' support—and executed rotten officers before kingdom troops, swaying them.
Empire-trained administrators filled the voids, solidifying control.
Until then, they avoided all-out war.
"The Empire army's here."
Ironically, even now—with massive troops at the canyon.
"More than three thousand orcs, looks like."
They provoked at borders periodically but rarely crossed.
Not just taunting—they'll pour in the moment we slack.
Instead, they grated nerves with local provocations.
Circling south coast.
Empire warships shadowing trade vessels.
North canyon, conquering monster turf.
Clearing polluted zones for land routes.
South canyon to coast, through elf lands.
Logging elf forests for bypasses around the canyon.
All failed, so they turned to wooing the margrave.
Tech made monster lands unnecessary by land; elves surrendered under kingdom rule, gaining autonomy. Naval fleets—
[Yaaaaaaaah————!!]
"Whoa."
A shout so loud it pierced eardrums echoed through the projection stone.
"The old man's got pipes."
A white-bearded general in heavy plate rode his armored horse to the gate, bellowing.
[Crimson, you rag-wearing beggar————!]
Just provocation? No—his voice seethed with rage.
The Empire's a scary place.
Roughly five thousand visible troops. The general who'd brought them: Claydoll Marquis, one of the Eight Generals, a Sword Master.
[If you've got any conscience, come out————!!]
But scarier still was their 'pretext' for marching here.
"B-Brother...? Um, there."
"Something on your mind?"
"Y-Yeah...."
Noir, pale with fear, asked timidly.
"Wh-why are they here? N-nothing happened all year."
"Noir. Remember this: the Empire never wars without a pretext that lets them claim victimhood."
"Wha...?"
"They paint themselves as the massive underdogs."
The reason felt even justified to kingdom folk at first glance.
"Noir. Why'd we hold this party?"
"To celebrate Father subjugating the orcs...."
"Next question."
I pointed to the red earth where soldiers stood.
"Where'd all those orc corpses roll off to?"
The canyon winds blow from kingdom to Empire.
[Those demon trash you slaughtered—clean 'em up yourself————!!]