Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: The Bastain Army Marches on Robros
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The Bastain Army Marches on Robros.
"The man himself has arrived."
At Marquis Fabius's words, every eye in the room turned to me. They all seemed awkward, inwardly uncomfortable at the fact that they were meeting with me—their enemy until yesterday—over something like this.
I waved a hand toward Marquis Fabius.
"Gramps. You beat me here."
"Skip the greetings. Show that document to everyone."
I pulled the hit list from my bosom and handed it over to Gramps.
As the papers made their rounds and everyone let out groans, I eyed the middle-aged man seated at the head of the round table. Duke Bastain himself.
The duke gave me a suspicious look before scrutinizing the document when it reached him.
"This bears His Majesty's royal seal."
At that moment, one man shot to his feet. Viscount Yosten, one of the chief of staff. Though his title was low, his exceptional talent in logistics had earned him a key position under Duke Bastain.
"Your Grace! Marquis Fabius is right. We can't just roll over and accept this."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. None of them wanted to die branded with false treason.
Duke Bastain raised a hand, silencing them all.
"Quiet."
"Your Grace!"
"Nothing has been confirmed as fact yet."
"Didn't you just verify the king's seal?"
"Seals can be forged."
"Your Grace!"
Ignoring Viscount Yosten's outburst, Duke Bastain fixed his gaze on me.
"Whiteface?"
I smirked. Just as I figured—the duke wouldn't go down easy.
"Yeah. Speak your piece."
"Is this the only evidence?"
"Yup. That's it. But give it time, and it'll lead to more. This one's solid."
"What other evidence?"
"In ten days, there's a victory banquet. I'll invite everyone here to celebrate the triumph of both Kara and Robros. You get what that means, right?"
Duke Bastain glared at me intently.
"That's not evidence."
"It is. Your royal palace is throwing a victory banquet too—the one where all your families are invited. That's when they'll link you all by association and slaughter you. Wait ten days, and it'll be crystal clear."
Everyone leaped up, shouting at the duke. They couldn't sacrifice their families just to gather proof.
"Your Grace! We must warn our families to flee and strike now!"
"Exactly. Polkin Pass, deemed impregnable, fell to four thousand men. What more circumstantial evidence do we need? Look—even Count Malthus, the man at the center of it, suspects foul play and stands with us."
At one staff officer's heated plea, Count Malthus nodded firmly toward Duke Bastain.
"Your Grace, it's true. That day, I and most of Polkin Pass's garrison were taken without drawing our swords. It would have been impossible without inside help."
Rubbing his temple as if nursing a headache, Duke Bastain eyed me again. Treason wasn't some petty impulse—it was a rational decision—yet everyone was losing their heads, blind to reason.
"Is it truly His Majesty's intent to brand us traitors and execute us?"
I shrugged.
"Yup. If you can't believe it, lock me up somewhere. Ten days from now, if your families are all dead, let me go since I was right. If not, chop my head off. Simple."
The room erupted again in heated voices.
"Even Whiteface is staking his life on it! Why would he if he weren't certain?"
Duke Bastain slammed the conference table with all his might.
"That's exactly why we must suspect him more! Why would our enemy Whiteface risk his neck for us? There must be some ulterior motive. Speak, Whiteface—what do you gain from inciting our rebellion?"
"Your king can't be trusted. Getting stabbed in the back hurts."
"And we can?"
"Of course not."
"Then why choose us?"
"Honestly, it's not so much a choice. I just want rebellion, nothing more. You can guess why."
At that, Duke Bastain's expression softened somewhat.
A rebellion in Robros would plunge the kingdom into chaos, its lands ravaged by civil war. Even if the duke succeeded, he'd be tied up with internal affairs for years, unable to project military power outward.
In short, it bought Kara perfect time to establish the kingdom and stabilize.
"There's logic to it. But what of the war that follows?"
"No problem. We just need ten years. You couldn't invade us even if you tried."
"Why?"
"You lack the capability."
In ten years, humanity itself would perish. The dead couldn't wage war, obviously.
But Duke Bastain misread it.
"You think Kara can grow stronger than Robros in that time?"
"Eh, probably not enough to get beaten by you."
"Our population alone is over ten times yours."
"Heh. Since when have we fought wars on population? The last one, the gap was even bigger."
"True enough."
"So, we doing this?"
Duke Bastain waved him off.
"Not yet. You haven't properly proven the king intends to frame and execute us for treason. You've only stated your hopes."
"You'll know in ten days. Just sit tight like now."
The clamor rose again. It was solid proof if true, but at the cost of every family member's life.
They couldn't wait that long.
Duke Bastain waved to calm them.
"It's the enemy's scheme. We mustn't act rashly."
"Then at least warn our families to flee."
I chuckled at the staff officer's suggestion, and the duke shook his head. In truth, the children at the royal academy and families in the capital served as hostages to keep provincial nobles in check.
If they all vanished, the king would suspect these nobles' intentions, making rebellion a foregone conclusion.
"That starts the civil war right now."
"Your Grace!"
As the conference room grew chaotic, Marquis Fabius approached me.
"Whiteface. A word outside."
The marquis led me out, glanced around, and spoke quietly.
"No other proof at all?"
"Nope. And if they won't trust a hit list with the king's seal, what else could I show? Wait ten days, and the answer comes."
"That's why it's impossible. They won't accept letting families die just to confirm."
"That's on them, not me. The duke's hesitating now, so he pays the price."
Marquis Fabius shook his head vigorously.
"I'm thinking ahead. If his hesitation gets them all executed, won't his subordinates resent him?"
"Probably."
"Even if he wins the civil war, the new kingdom carries that rift and grudge."
That did nag at me a bit. I wanted the new Robros to be strong. That's why I planned to behead the Robros king and crown Duke Bastain.
"Tch. There is a way, but it's risky."
"How so?"
"If they still refuse, it could deepen the duke's and command staff's rift beyond repair—or get them all killed."
"Do it. Things can't get worse."
"If Gramps insists, fine."
I reentered the conference room with Marquis Fabius. It was still a cacophony of debate between the duke and his officers. Count Malthus was especially vehement—he trusted me completely. For his mistake to be erased and his path cleared, I had to be right.
I dragged a chair over and stared at Duke Bastain.
"Duke. You really trust the Robros king?"
The duke, mid-conversation with Count Malthus and staff, paused and met my gaze steadily.
"More than you."
"Fair. Your liege-king is closer than your enemy-me. Now, let's talk about you."
"About what?"
"Why refuse rebellion?"
"I don't trust your word."
I waved dismissively.
"No, we're talking about you. Why's my word even relevant?"
"Hm?"
"Win this civil war, and you're king of a great power. Glorious position. Why pass it up?"
The room fell silent; the duke narrowed his eyes.
"I swore loyalty to Robros."
"Why swear it? Must've gained something."
"Loyalty to the realm is a vassal's duty."
I snorted.
"You expect me to buy that?"
"What?"
"Dude, that's total hypocrisy. You dismiss me for self-interest, but wave morality at me and demand trust? Would you buy it? Be honest—what do you gain by refusing rebellion now? Strike hard, and it's an easy win. Defenses are wide open."
The duke faltered, speechless. Logically, rebellion served his interests best now—with 150,000 troops and eager officers.
And timing was perfect: undefended capital, families saved.
"So?"
"Hear me out. What if you're waiting for the king to massacre your families? Fuels the cause, enrages your generals for fiercer fighting, boosts success odds. Moral crown on your throne—and hey, wife can be replaced, kids remade."
My words painted the duke as utter scum. As everyone surged to berate me, Marquis Fabius slammed his sword on the table.
"Duke. Answer him."
The duke was even more tongue-tied. If the king executed families in ten days, he did stand to gain.
"Victors make justification. Win, and that's it—no need for morality. And fury-born odds aren't better than a surprise assault's."
All nodded in agreement. It made sense. But I shook my head.
"Even more suspicious. Duke, you're dodging the point. I asked what you gain from hesitating—not excuses of none. What is it? Using family deaths to win neutral nobles' sympathy and odds?"
"No."
"Then what?"
The duke steepled his fingers silently.
"No guarantee Kara won't stab us in the back during rebellion."
I smiled slyly. There it was. He'd run out of excuses.
"Kara's busy founding a dynasty—no time to hit your rear. Still doubt? We'll return Polkin Pass."
Gasps filled the room; all eyes locked on the duke. Reclaiming it secured the rear and a year's supplies.
"Wasn't it yours to begin with? To rebel, you must cross it home."
"Naturally. But we could refuse. Your intentions are suspect now."
"Meaning?"
"Colluding with the king? Sacrificing families for victory? Looks that way."
"No."
"Choose: Answer honestly to earn trust, or end talks here. I'm getting bored; you're deluded. I hold your leashes. I leave, you all die—by your king or starvation. Pick."
Faces blanched paper-white. True—I held their lives.
Seeing the duke hesitate, I turned to leave.
"Fine. Die here then. I'm out."
Duke Bastain clenched his fist.
"I don't know why myself."
As expected. If he did, he'd have drawn sword on the king at my first nudge—no other path.
"I have a hunch."
"What?"
"You're brainwashed. Fed loyalty to king and kingdom since childhood—it's paralyzing you now, prettily packaged as duty. Robros dynasty's social system."
"..."
"Still unsure? Rebel successfully once. You'll see—you'll do the same. Heh heh."
Amid desperate stares, the duke bit his lip. It was tough but simple: rebellion or bust.
"Your Grace. Let's go. We must."
"Yes. Reject Whiteface's hand now, and we're done. Only path forward."
Duke Bastain closed his eyes in thought, then spoke heavily.
"We march on Robros. Dawn the day after tomorrow. Prepare without fail."
"Yes, sir!"
At his command, the command staff sprang into action.
I grinned wickedly. Rebellion's banner was raised. The inept old Robros king would fall, and capable Duke Bastain would rule the new nation into the age of ruin.
Padilla would have its hands full too.
The stronger Kara grew, the more Bastain would fortify defenses.
The Bastain Army Marches on Robros. End