Chapter 190

Chapter 190
## Chapter 190

For a brief period, Viscount Karayan was convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him as he scanned the parchment.

Occupation? Was that not a term reserved exclusively for the heights of military conflict?

Yet, regardless of how many times he squinted at the ink, the message remained unchanged.

—At the start, the strategy was unfolding perfectly. The Duke appeared powerless against the whims of nature, and the infantry held no grudge against me, as I provided for them with feigned warmth. But as the Duke observed his men losing their fighting spirit, he circulated a claim that this entire predicament was a theater piece I had choreographed.

“Hmph.”

Viscount Karayan knit his brows at the mention of a “theater piece.”

Strictly speaking, it was a fabrication, so the accusation wasn’t false—but provided one remained undetected, it shouldn’t have mattered. Had the man been so inept in his execution that he allowed proof to surface?

—I assure you, no proof existed. There was nothing but raw mistrust. Yet, the Duke did not abandon his senses out of simple fury at being manipulated. Whether the situation was staged or not, he required a way to preserve the battalion’s morale, and so he designated me as the sacrificial lamb.

“…!”

—Aware of the Duke’s nature, even if I were innocent, he would have gleefully branded me the antagonist. He intended for his legion to continue radiating terror throughout the West. To him, a loss of momentum among the ranks was the only unacceptable outcome.

Marquis Bernhardt’s initial intent had been to drown the West in a sense of futility, thereby snapping the spirit of the five-thousand-man host.

Nevertheless, that inexperienced young Duke had unmasked the Marquis’s intent in under a month and struck back.

The issue was that the ferocity of that retaliation surpassed any anticipated boundaries.

—Once the Duke riled the men, their indignation hit a breaking point. It reached a stage where a spontaneous slaughter seemed inevitable. I was left with no choice but to essentially surrender the fortress and cater to them once more.

“….”

—With a moral pretext, that five-thousand-strong force felt no hesitation in flexing their muscle. My subjects and my personal guard were forced to cower under the weight of that massive army, to the point where my own knights can no longer manage a simple grunt. Their drive is far more potent now than it was at the journey’s onset.

Viscount Karayan felt a chill crawl across his skin.

If the Duke had simply lost his temper and trapped Viscount Oleg based on a hunch, Karayan would have dismissed him as a fragile youth.

But according to the script of this letter, the boy had reached a frigid, tactical verdict to offer Viscount Oleg up as a martyr.

This indicated he wasn’t the sort to act blindly and repent later, but rather the variety of man who designs grand tragedies with a clear objective.

Curse it, what a stroke of misfortune.

Viscount Karayan chewed his lip, recognizing that Lucian was the specific brand of adversary he most dreaded encountering.

A hot-headed man was simple to navigate. Once such a person cooled down after a flare-up, one could exploit that moment of clarity to corner them in the political arena.

But the variables shifted when confronting someone who willingly embraced a minor setback to secure a massive victory. It suggested that at the time of the strike, they had calculated the rewards to be far greater than any potential diplomatic fallout.

Beyond the fact that such individuals are unstoppable once they begin their rampage, they annihilate their rivals with clinical precision to ensure no future blowback occurs.

The dread one felt when facing a man consumed by fury was fundamentally different from the weight of facing a man who intended to cut your throat and leave without a stain on his sleeve.

Viscount Karayan clung to the desperate hope that Lucian would be content with seizing Viscount Oleg’s stronghold and would simply head back.

However, the text of the letter was the polar opposite of his desires.

—Through either fortune or fate, they did not reduce my castle to rubble. Despite their various cruelties, they still intend to march north to honor the Marquis’s summons. The trouble is that they are hunting for further sacrifices.

Viscount Karayan clamped his eyes shut at the phrase “further sacrifices.”

For a fleeting second, he felt the impulse to shred the paper, ignore the world, and simply sip his tea. He could already envision the gruesome warnings that would follow.

But if he actually surrendered to that urge, a far more devastating catastrophe would certainly follow.

Forcing himself to look, Viscount Karayan somberly traced the next paragraphs.

—The Duke believes that for every delay he endured, the other regional lords will treat him with contempt. While he turned my lands into a warning, he will not rest with me alone; he will undoubtedly seek fresh prey. I cannot say who the next target will be. It could very well be you.

“This fellow…!”

—Lest you take this the wrong way, let me clarify. This is not a threat, but a worry. How heartbreaking would it be if the same ruin struck a House we have been allied with for so many decades? Consequently, I shall offer a bit of guidance so that such an event is avoided.

At the mention of “guidance,” Viscount Karayan’s eyes flew open just as he was preparing to crush the letter in a fit of pique.

A five-thousand-man legion was on the verge of destabilizing his domain, and the man was suggesting a path to safety?

As if his anger had never existed, Viscount Karayan scrutinized the following line.

—Do not impede the Duke. He is already aware of the Marquis’s goals and our own, though he lacks certainty regarding the specific conspirators. If you make even a token effort to stall him, he will strike and transform you into his next victim.

“…!”

—You might face the Marquis’s disapproval later, but isn’t it far better to take a scolding than to see your lands laid waste? That is what I, having been defeated by the Duke, believe now. My comrade, I hope you do not endure the same fate as I have.

Upon finishing the final sentence, Viscount Karayan narrowed his gaze.

The Marquis’s directive was to slow Lucian down by any means necessary.

If he permitted him to pass without a struggle, he risked losing the Marquis’s favor.

Yet, simultaneously, he sensed that—as the message implied—that was vastly preferable to having his home decimated.

What could be more vital to a provincial noble than their inherited lands and their lineage?

Regardless of how powerful a patron is, a patron is merely a tool. They are a resource to protect my borders, not a master to be served at the price of my House’s annihilation.

Inevitably, Viscount Karayan’s heart drifted toward the counsel in the letter.

However, simply acting on the advice immediately was a strategic risk.

If the other lords were blindsided by Lucian while knowing nothing, but Viscount Karayan alone came away unscathed? He would not only forfeit the Marquis’s trust but would surely face the hostility of his peers.

He required a method to share the blame and ensure he wasn’t standing alone against the fallout.

After a moment of contemplation, Viscount Karayan suddenly cried out as a plan formed.

“Bring me quill and parchment! I must dispatch missives to the other lords!”

—

“There is no reason to travel to every single noble on the route to caution them. If we simply inform one individual, they will circulate the warning to the rest themselves.”

Lucian spoke quietly as he enjoyed a raspberry by the bedside where Hugo rested.

In contrast to the usual expectations of the West, where fresh produce was a luxury, the berry was brimming with flavor. Viscount Oleg had evidently secured them at a steep price from a merchant.

“Viscount Oleg carried out the Marquis’s commands to the letter, and he is enduring all sorts of misery as a result. Consequently, Marquis Bernhardt cannot punish Viscount Oleg, regardless of what transpires.”

“So, if he allows Your Grace to pass exactly as the letter suggests….”

“He’ll be labeled a coward who yielded to the foe and let them through while neighboring lands were being pillaged. If he wants to dodge that label, he has no choice but to pass the warning along.”

“It’s a strategy of spreading the culpability by expanding the circle of conspirators.”

“Precisely.”

An error by one person among many is seen as a betrayal.

But when all the allies act in unison, it is no longer an error—it becomes a collective decision.

Furthermore, that collective decision even carries a valid excuse: “the preservation of the House.”

Even if Marquis Bernhardt found the situation repulsive, he wouldn’t dare strike at them. The moment he dismissed that shared logic, fractures would appear among those who had been his loyal supporters until that moment.

The other nobles would surely grasp this as well and would aggressively recruit more partners in the plan.

“It’s a tactic the street gangs used to employ frequently when they botched a job. Truly, whether it’s a common thug or a high-born lord, the thought process is identical.”

“Choices are scarce when there is a superior waiting to deliver a punishment. It’s a different scenario if the one who stumbled is a leader who doesn’t need to answer to anyone.”

Lucian grinned and flicked a berry toward the cynical Hugo.

Hugo snatched the airborne fruit like a hungry bird and began to chew.

As Hugo went quiet while eating, Felicia took the opportunity to speak.

“However, not every noble House will throw open their gates immediately based on one letter. Some will attempt to obstruct us for at least a few days, if only to protect their dignity.”

“Even after I described in such vivid detail how ruined they would be if they tried?”

“A few of the Houses the Marquis commanded to delay us are tied to the House of Roglan through marriage. Since they are more closely linked than the others, they won’t be able to retreat easily, even if they wish to.”

Lucian signaled his understanding of Felicia’s point.

Families bound by marriage to a Great House enjoy significantly more perks than others. Once they are kin, it’s only natural to provide extra support.

But at the same time, in a crisis like this, they cannot step back as casually as other nobles. The weight of their obligation is as heavy as the favors they have accepted.

If it were a disaster on the scale of total family ruin, they might wash their hands of it and play dumb, but my arrival this time is merely a move in a psychological game. Once I move on, they will have to deal with the aftermath.

Conversely, because of their proximity to the Marquis’s House, they likely felt certain that Lucian wouldn’t dare to be too aggressive.

With their inability to retreat combined with that small measure of arrogance, it was highly probable that things would go exactly as Felicia predicted.

“Well, then there’s nothing for it.”

The retainers’ eyes widened at Lucian’s seemingly defeated remark.

Lucian looked at them and wore a sharp grin.

“I’ll simply have to cultivate an environment where they are forced to yield, regardless of their desires.”

—

After mailing the letters to his peers, Viscount Karayan immediately shifted into hosting mode.

Even if Lucian’s stay was brief, any lapse in hospitality could be weaponized as a reason to take offense.

Meanwhile, he made sure to regularly send out riders to monitor the progress of the bridge repairs.

And then, recently, word finally arrived that the broken bridge had been restored and the legion had made the crossing.

Upon hearing the news, Viscount Karayan went out personally to welcome Lucian.

“When is the Duke’s host expected to reach us?”

“Based on the most recent scout and their current pace, they should arrive in under two hours.”

Viscount Karayan fiddled with his silk handkerchief as he took in the aide’s words.

The cloth was already drenched from the nervous sweat leaking from his hands.

“I will say this one more time: do not, for any reason, provoke the Duke. Concentrate solely on providing impeccable service, and do not hinder him whenever he chooses to depart. Is that clear?”

“We will keep it at the front of our minds, My Lord.”

The assistants nodded with grim expressions at Viscount Karayan’s persistent instructions.

They, too, understood the core message of the letter from the House of Lerum. They couldn’t allow such a nightmare to take root here as well.

“Lord Viscount! The Duke’s battalion is in sight!”

A cry rang out through the air, which was stretched tight with anxiety. It was a rider who had been tracking Lucian’s approach from a nearby ridge.

Viscount Karayan bellowed toward the exhausted scout.

“How close are they?! Is the count the same?! What do the men look like?!”

“Judging by their speed, they’ll be at our gates in minutes! The numbers were just as reported! However, the mood is quite bizarre!”

“What? Bizarre? In what way?”

The rider answered with a voice trembling with dread at Viscount Karayan’s query.

“The soldiers’ plates and blades are covered in gore! It looks as though they have just emerged from a bloody war!”

“…!?”