Chapter 187: Time to Show Them Our Strength (1)
It wasn’t just the high-ranking nobles from the Royal Faction and the Duke’s Faction who were shocked by Ghislain’s actions.
Some individuals were more than just surprised; they were deeply concerned about the direct consequences it could have on them.
Those individuals were none other than the nobles who had placed immense trust in Rosalyn and invested significant amounts of money into her merchant guild.
“War, you say? Then what will happen to the production of cosmetics?!”
“If Baron Fenris loses, all the money we invested will go up in smoke!”
“The cosmetic technology will undoubtedly fall into the hands of the Duke’s family!”
Every day, these nobles gathered to vent their anxieties about the current situation.
With the Marquis of Branford’s strict order forbidding anyone from intervening, there was nothing else they could do but complain.
While they voiced their frustrations to Rosalyn, she, too, was just as bewildered by the unfolding events as they were.
‘War? Really? Starting a war in a situation like this? Are they completely insane?’
In fact, Rosalyn was perhaps the one most on the verge of losing her mind among them.
She had confidently gathered investors, only to now face a situation where everything was teetering on the brink of failure.
Beyond financial losses, her credibility as well as the prestige of the Marquis’s household were at stake, making her want to scream in frustration.
Among the investors, Countess Mariel, who had invested a particularly large sum, frequently voiced her concerns to Rosalyn.
“What should we do? If Baron Fenris loses, the damage will be catastrophic.”
“...We can only pray that he wins.”
“Didn’t he win a war once before? So, maybe he’ll win this time too? I have a feeling he will.”
Her “feeling” was more akin to wishful thinking, but neither of them had the heart to point that out.
“...Honestly, I don’t know,” Rosalyn admitted, shaking her head with a conflicted expression.
Based on the information available, it was clear that Count Cabaldi had superior forces and reputation by a wide margin.
Although rumors claimed that Ghislain had sold grain to bolster his troops, it was hard to believe it would be enough to defeat Count Cabaldi.
Mariel’s face grew more worried as she continued, “We may be able to scrape by since we’ve stockpiled some food, but other nobles aren’t in the same position. For now, we need to calm them down until the results come out.”
“I suppose so. Otherwise, there’ll be chaos.”
Rosalyn and Mariel both bore partial responsibility for the current situation. They had actively promoted the investment and persuaded the nobles to join.
The number of nobles who had invested in the cosmetics venture was substantial. As a result, the two women had no choice but to attend what could only be described as “meetings of victimized investors,” disguised as social gatherings, on a daily basis.
Deep down, they wanted nothing more than to give up on everything and run away. However, they both knew that disappearing would lead to absolute ruin, so running away wasn’t an option.
Still, thanks to Rosalyn and Mariel’s standing, no one had dared to openly express their anger just yet.
Instead, they gathered in small groups in the corners of the banquet hall, pouring out their worries.
“What should we do? I’ve invested 3,000 gold! If Baron Fenris loses, I’m done for!”
“Just think of it as not your money. That’ll put your mind at ease.”
“It really isn’t my money!”
“...Pardon?”
While some were panicking because they’d borrowed money from others to invest, there were still a few holding onto threads of hope.
“Will worrying like this solve anything? Let’s stay optimistic and muster our strength!”
“Exactly! Let’s all pull together! Heave!”
“Ho!”
“Heave!”
“...Heave-ho or not, I think we’re all doomed.”
Of course, there were also those who had resigned themselves to the worst.
“Come on, let’s not worry so much. Stress isn’t good for your health. Take a step back, reflect on your family, your daily life, and realize how precious those things are—”
“Shut it.”
“What? What did you just say to me?!”
Crash!
Endless bickering ensued between the resigned and the furious.
Wine bottles and glasses started flying across the banquet hall.
At some point, whether it was someone’s deliberate act or just an accident caused by a fallen candle, a fire broke out in one corner of the hall.
“Fire! There’s a fire!”
“Everyone evacuate! It’s a fire!”
A noble who was still disoriented asked, “Is this good news?”
“It’s a fire! Snap out of it!”
With such chaos breaking out daily, Mariel and Rosalyn felt utterly drained.
After much deliberation, Rosalyn finally turned to Mariel with a serious expression.
“Your luck ends here. I swear, I’ll make you and your father weep tears of blood.”
Count Cabaldi suppressed his anger and waited.
He vowed that he would kill that brat with his own hands.
While Count Cabaldi ground his teeth, awaiting reinforcements, the Fenris forces grew increasingly relaxed.
The knights, in particular, wore cocky expressions and even went out of their way to flaunt their bravado.
“Man, I was hoping to get some action this time. Guess my mana-forged sword has them quaking in their boots.”
“Those fools are holed up in their castle, not daring to come out. Complete cowards, wouldn’t you say? Then again, we are pretty strong. Heh.”
“Honestly, just waiting around like this and winning? This is too easy. What a jackpot! Hahaha!”
The enemy lacked the food to hold out for long. Even if they wanted to come out and fight, Fenris had the advantage in numbers.
—
Rosalyn bit her lip and continued speaking.
“So that’s why I asked if you had cash. If we make a donation and frame it as ‘helping someone in need along the way,’ they might accept it.”
“Hmm, I see. Maybe that could work... But what if the Marquis finds out? That could spell trouble.”
“Exactly... So we’ll observe the situation first. If it looks like the baron is going to lose and things turn dangerous, we step in to save him.”
I couldn’t intervene during an ongoing war. But if the fighting had concluded, a priest could step in on humanitarian grounds.
Even if that was a loophole reserved for the nobility.
“It’s not direct involvement in the war. We’re just... helping a defeated noble. Even if Baron Fenris doesn’t surrender, we could mediate on his behalf.”
Rosalyn crafted her plan with the possibility of Ghislain’s defeat in mind. She intended to send capable individuals to ensure his survival, no matter what.
If the situation became dire, they would rescue Ghislain and forcefully declare unconditional surrender under the guise of being his guardians. Leveraging the Branford Marquisate’s name, Count Cabaldi wouldn’t dare act recklessly.
‘Yes, maybe that would be for the best. He could just live in the Marquisate’s household. Maybe even... become a son-in-law. Wait, what am I thinking?’
Though she wasn’t actually considering marrying someone so peculiar, she could secure the cosmetic technology that way.
Beyond that, saving Ghislain was essential when considering the Marquisate’s authority, her own credit and reputation, and the potential losses the merchant guild might suffer.
Mariel understood Rosalyn’s intent. It might be a convenient excuse, but with good timing, they could claim the war had ended and justify their intervention.
“Y-Yeah. But to pull this off, we need really skilled people, and that’s going to cost a lot of money. Plus, we’ll need to hire a priest, and they only accept cash.”
The danger involved meant payment would inevitably have to be in cash, ensuring the hired hands could disappear at any time if needed.
Priests also preferred cash to avoid potential controversies.
Mariel raised her concerns cautiously, but Rosalyn, resolute, wasn’t swayed in the slightest.
“We have to make it work somehow. If Baron Fenris dies, the losses we’ll suffer will be far greater.”
“Alright. I’ll do my best to raise the funds.”
And so, the two women scraped together every coin they could, eventually assembling a team of ten rescue and assassination(?) experts along with a priest to dispatch to the battlefield.
—
It was clear that indecision and hesitation had paralyzed the situation.
This fact had naturally trickled down from the knights to the soldiers, spreading a relaxed atmosphere throughout the camp.
The conscripted soldiers, initially tense from being dragged here, began to look relieved as their worries eased.
Winning a war without fighting? Who wouldn’t be thrilled?
“Man, our lord really knows how to pick the right time.”
“I’ve heard rumors he’s a strange one, but isn’t he actually super clever?”
“Of course! Winning a war without a single fight—what a brilliant leader!”
The lack of battle earned Ghislain plenty of praise. The soldiers, free from danger, couldn’t have been happier.
Moreover, with Claude, the Chief Overseer, sending provisions without fail, no one went hungry.
“If wars were always like this, I’d fight as many as they want!”
The soldiers busied themselves singing Ghislain’s praises day after day.
The dwarves and mages, dragged into this by force, also enjoyed a rare moment of leisure, lounging comfortably in their tents.
“Seriously, what’s this about? I got all worked up for nothing. Why’d they even bring us here?”
“Maybe we’ll be needed once they surrender or something.”
“Ugh, whatever. It’s been so long since I’ve had a break. Feels amazing, doesn’t it?”
Liberated from their usual heavy workloads, the dwarves and mages couldn’t stop grinning.
After several days of rest, some even began to think this war business wasn’t so bad.
As everyone basked in their contentment, Ghislain, who had been staring at the enemy fortress for days, suddenly issued a new order.
“From now on, we’re digging tunnels.”
At his words, the same question popped into everyone’s minds.
‘Why? We’re already winning just by staying put—why go through all that trouble?’
Clearly, their lord was back to his eccentric ways.
He had announced yet another bizarre plan.