Chapter 247

The Imperial Palace’s opulent conference room was silent, save for Abelus, the chairman of the meeting, huffing and puffing. He glared at the assembled nobles and shouted.

“Do you all not have mouths? Tell me your countermeasures! Those barbarians from the north are still ravaging our people!”

Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. The Maindulante army wasn’t committing the sort of atrocities the word “ravaging” usually implied—massacring civilians, or brutal exploitation.

Instead, they were steadily expanding their forces by drafting soldiers from various regions and taking military provisions, but nothing beyond what could be called reasonable. If anything was being ravaged, it was the nobles’ pride.

At first, the nobles had assumed everything would be resolved quickly after Abelus declared war. Yet here they still were, and the situation was worse than before.

It would have been better if they had moved sooner. If they’d blocked Maindulante’s entrance—the narrow canyon of the Illopium Mountains—the terrain would have made it difficult for them to get out, no matter how skilled they were. That might have bought time to rally the nobles.

But the Grand Duke had acted quickly. Now, the Illopium Mountains weren’t a weakness at all. They were a strength, allowing him to retreat whenever he pleased and stay protected while roaming freely through the Empire.

Abelus knew all of this, and so did the nobles in this room. If the army led by the Grand Duke were weak, things might have been different. But they kept winning and building momentum, swelling their ranks with the troops of defeated lords. Something had to be done—quickly.

But what were they supposed to do?

No one spoke. Abelus’s gaze shifted to the highest-ranking noble present.

“Marquis Odroy! Speak up, you’re always talking about your loyalty to the Imperial Family! That barbarian is rushing toward the Imperial Family every minute—what are you doing?”

Marquis Odroy hadn’t been coming to the Imperial Court often since Camille’s confinement. He attended important state affairs meetings like this one, but he rarely spoke—only listened, then returned home.

Abelus disliked Marquis Odroy. As if it were so hard to look at the collapsing state of the country. Was the country doing so well when his sister Camille was around? He still hadn’t learned, even after seeing the end of a traitor.

Marquis Odroy accepted Abelus’s sharp gaze without a word. Then he simply said, “This old subject is ignorant and does not know what to do, Your Highness.”

“Ha! When it came to my marriage, you acted like you were the best in the world! Well, you’re still better than Duke Ganielo or Duke Grunehals. You took full advantage of the Imperial Family’s grace under the name of Duke of Imperial Bistor, but now that there’s nothing to gain, you turn your back like this!”

Duke Ganielo was still ill, and Duke Grunehal only showed his face at the Imperial Court occasionally. Even today, he’d cited a cold as the reason for his absence.

Abelus had basic common sense, having been educated as the Crown Prince since childhood. In the past, he wouldn’t have used such harsh words in a state affairs meeting, inviting resentment from his subordinate nobles—especially now, with the atmosphere already ominous from the forced enlistment of the nobles’ children.

But as time passed, everything around him drove him closer to madness.

If Camille were here—no, in an even worse hypothetical, if Cledwyn Maindulante were here—would the nobles still be showing such insincere attitudes?

If Camille had been the Crown Princess instead, could she have kept Cledwyn in check better than him?

Unable to bear the images his own mind created, Abelus kept shouting, face flushed red.

“Marquis Kendall has once again failed to answer the Imperial Family’s call! Last time, he came to the Imperial Court, citing the Crown Princess, then turned around without even seeing my face! A crazy bastard! Marquis Wells is a criminal, yet he claims his family has no money and can no longer provide military funds! Is the name of a great noble so meaningless? Yes! Marquis Lykeandros, you are the only loyal subject!”

Nellusion Elandria, present at the meeting but silent because he had no money to offer, twitched his lips.

In a context like this, even praise was an insult. Marquis Lykeandros barely endured the dry gazes of the other nobles.

“…I am honored, Your Highness.”

“What do you think? If I give you troops now, you can stop that crazy Grand Duke, right? Huh? You’re the only one I can trust!”

Marquis Lykeandros flinched. He wanted to say no.

By tradition, he had been responsible for military affairs since youth and had fought in a few small battles—always within a reasonable scope. But how could anything about that young Grand Duke be called reasonable?

The Imperial Army had grown lax after a long peace, and most administrators and high-ranking officers sat where they did because of bloodline and status. There was nothing to gain by facing the storm-like Maindulante army with such forces.

But the Marquis couldn’t speak the truth under Abelus’s bloodshot gaze. Especially not when the peaceful life of his beloved daughter depended on that man’s mood.

And now, the family had nothing left.

In a fleeting instant, countless words rose in his mind, then scattered uselessly.

He had been the one who taught Megara Lykeandros directly. In the past, he could make people move as he wished just by sitting still and smiling elegantly. When things went wrong, he could shift blame. When things went well, he could take credit without resistance.

Now, he couldn’t see a way out. His daughter was among those who had instigated this war. How much blame would be poured onto her the moment he tried to step back?

The Marquis let his eyes sweep across the conference room. Recently, noble families with young children had certainly been showing “sincerity” to Abelus. But what about those that didn’t…? Was he imagining that they were slowly disappearing from this place?

And at some point, far too many families—too many—were watching him.

And his daughter.

Was it his imagination that they were waiting for them to fall into the abyss?

Closing his eyes tightly, the Marquis said, “Yes, Your Highness. Of course.”

❖ ❖ ❖

The Ennim Plains glittered green beneath the summer sky.

The land here was ruled by the Ennim family, distant relatives of the Lykeandros Marquessate. Lord Ennim, who held a knighthood, was wealthy enough to send his only son to Noble Academy, but he was a minor lord with no ties to politics or military affairs.

And it was on Lord Ennim’s land that a battle between giants was unfolding today.

Standing atop a low hill, Cledwyn studied the stone fortress ahead. The old fortress bore the Imperial Family’s sun emblem, the Lykeandros Marquessate’s emblem, and the Ennim family’s emblem, barely disguising its shabbiness.

“The little rats are sticking their heads out one by one.”

His cool words referred to the faces that had begun appearing above the fortress ramparts. The adjutant, grinning with confidence, assured him.

“Just leave it to me, Your Highness! I’ll become a cat and sweep them all away!”

They had been relentless in their campaign. They’d won every battle, except for the few times they’d shown their backs for strategic reasons, and their confidence had risen accordingly.

Cledwyn smiled.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to play the role of the cat today.”

The adjutant couldn’t hide his disappointment at being denied by the Grand Duke he revered. Seeing his expression, Cledwyn chuckled.

“The other side has a considerable army as well. It seems the Marquis has prepared quite a bit, so we should treat them accordingly.”

The Ennim Plains were small, but they sat on a geographically important road. Once this place fell, the Imperial Capital wouldn’t be far. It was so easy it was almost a joke.

Which was why the enemy had concentrated their forces beyond what this land’s size suggested. Of course, the Imperial Family’s true main force would reveal itself a little farther ahead.

“Your Highness is a lion and a bear, so shouldn’t I at least be able to catch rats like that?”

“No.”

Cutting off the adjutant’s reluctant plea, Cledwyn lifted his chin with elegant composure.

“I have to repay my wife’s debt.”

“Yes? Are there those who dared touch Her Highness here? What lowly beings don’t know their place!”

The adjutant, unaware of the old grudge between Megara and Nerys, was baffled even as he grew heated. Her Highness came straight up after graduating from the Academy, didn’t she? Was it something that happened when she went to the Imperial Capital?

Cledwyn, however, knew exactly what he meant. His eyes narrowed as though smiling, and a cold light flashed within them.

Nerys’s previous life had been miserable. If he hadn’t known, he couldn’t have known—but Cledwyn had no intention of forgiving Megara Lykeandros. Even if Nerys forgave her, he would not step back.

His heart ached when he thought of Nerys’s hardened expression—how she feared her own powerlessness. Someone too precious to look at directly had been trampled from the Academy onward, and after becoming an adult, even her husband had been stolen from her—

‘Although they met like attracts like.’

Nerys was too good for Abelus, let alone wicked Megara. When he thought of her suffering because of those fools, he cursed himself for failing to prevent it.

Cledwyn didn’t know the exact role Marquis Lykeandros had played in Nerys’s previous life, but he could guess well enough. Even now, the man was demonstrating touching paternal love by coming out to a battle he was destined to lose, all to carve out a foothold for his beautiful daughter.

The adjutant snapped his mouth shut when he saw Cledwyn’s eyes gleam dangerously. A chill ran down his spine. It had been a long time since Your Highness had been this angry. Well—someone who dared touch Her Highness must be insane.

“Let’s go.”

A warhorse clad in silver armor was brought forward. Cledwyn mounted in a single smooth motion and rode out to the front of his soldiers.

Roughly half of the Maindulante army spread across the field carried the flags of different families. They were soldiers drafted from territories occupied by the Maindulante army along the way.

Normally, it was dangerous for the occupier’s main force and the troops drafted from occupied territories to be of similar size. If the drafted soldiers joined hands with outsiders, the occupier risked being attacked from both front and rear, and managing them was difficult to begin with.

Yet the soldiers bearing the emblems of various families showed no hostility toward Cledwyn. Instead, their eyes held awe.

A mind that overwhelmed opponents as if by magic. Martial skill that cut through enemy camps like mowing grass.

It stirred the longing they’d carried since childhood—hero stories told again and again. And, according to what the Maindulante army had spread after each subjugation—

“Listen!”

With a dignified air, Cledwyn rode lightly before the massive army. He stopped where everyone could see and shouted.

The mid-level commanders in front struck the butt ends of their long spears against the ground.

Clang, clang, clang!

The soldiers near them followed. Then those farther away. The sound spread like ripples across water.

Clang, clang, clang!

Eyes waiting for death beneath countless helmets shone bright blue with excitement. Death they would deliver to the enemy, death the enemy would deliver to them—either way, blood would soon soak the land. Their heartbeats hammered so loudly inside iron helms it felt as though their eardrums would burst.

“As you’ve already heard, my wife and I are descendants of the old heroes. But you shouldn’t follow me for that reason alone!”

The truth of the Three Heroes had spread wherever the Maindulante army marched. The soldiers had heard the story countless times. It was complicated, yet few failed to understand it, because the contents of the novel Betrayal had already spread widely.

“The era where descendants of heroes rule the world by flaunting their bloodline is over! We have been humiliated unfairly, and what is ours has been taken from us. We have only come to take it back. Those who wish to join us—join us, and earn the freedom you will reclaim through your own merit!”

The soldiers roared. The field shook. Whether they were from Maindulante or not, everyone shouted until their throats tore, believing in victory.

===

On that day, the Lykeandros Marquessate army was crushed in miserable defeat.