NOVPUBThe Marquis of Branford paused in silence before asking again.
“A war? With whom?”
“With Count Cabaldi of the Ducal faction.”
After another moment of silence, the Marquis of Branford seemed to grasp something, chuckling faintly.
“Oh, so Count Cabaldi attacked Fenris for food supplies?”
The knight remained silent, unable to respond to a Marquis who, despite hearing the report of the war, still clung to a sense of denial.
Instead, he simply handed over a hastily prepared report.
The war had already been underway for several days. Thanks to the merchants and informants across the North, the news had spread quickly.
Reading the report, the color slowly drained from the Marquis of Branford’s face.
Right now, both the Ducal faction and the Royalist faction had to exercise caution; there was nothing to gain from fighting.
If a civil war broke out now, both sides would incur irreversible losses.
He had just advised the nobles to be cautious mere moments ago.
And yet, a war had already been sparked. That lunatic had finally gone and caused a major incident—an incident bigger than anyone could have imagined.
For the first time in his life, the Marquis, who had always lived with dignity, muttered a curse under his breath.
“That crazy bastard...”
“Pardon?”
“No, nothing.”
The Marquis of Branford rubbed his forehead. Every time he heard news about that guy, a splitting headache ensued.
The nobles in the hall were visibly uneasy, unsure of what to do.
“What is going on? Baron Fenris, starting a war? And against the Ducal faction, no less!”
“That’s why I said we shouldn’t have supported him! Declaring war under these circumstances—isn’t he completely out of his mind?”
“We should seize him immediately and weigh him against a duck!”
The assembly turned into utter chaos, with nobles shouting and throwing out outrageous suggestions.
The Marquis of Branford pondered so intensely that it felt as though steam was rising from his head.
He’d never been in such a difficult position before.
‘What am I supposed to do? Was that guy really just a madman?’
He’d known for a while that Ghislain was a fearless, amusing character but had thought he was hiding something beneath it all.
Hadn’t they managed to avert the worst of the drought crisis thanks to Ghislain?
But seeing what he was doing now, it seemed he was crazier than anyone could have anticipated.
It wasn’t just any noble he targeted—it was one from the Ducal faction. Right now was the time to do everything possible to avoid civil war, yet he seemed oblivious to the bigger picture.
While the Marquis was deep in thought, the nobles in the hall grew more agitated and began to speak more boldly.
“We must expel Baron Fenris from our faction and cut him off entirely!”
“We should issue a formal explanation to the Ducal faction that this isn’t our intention!”
“Lord Chamberlain, withdraw your patronage immediately! Let him suffer the consequences alone!”
“That guy has to be a dark sorcerer! Capture him and find out!”
The Marquis of Branford remained silent, his eyes closed. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to hear what anyone was saying clearly.
His insides roiled.
‘Should I step back?’
Withdrawing from this situation wasn’t difficult. It was humiliating, but if he provided enough compensation to the Ducal faction and abandoned Ghislain, the matter would end there.
The Ducal faction would handle Ghislain however they saw fit. Perhaps Perdeium would be caught up in the fallout as well, but at least the situation wouldn’t escalate any further.
Of course, the Marquis would take a heavy blow, having invested an enormous sum into the cosmetics venture. His authority would plummet as well.
But if it meant saving countless lives, that loss might be worth it.
‘Should I abandon him after all?’
In that moment, the Marquis of Branford recalled Ghislain’s words.
— “Put me forth as the representative of the North.”
— “Count Desmond is a suspicious figure. We may very well have a common enemy.”
‘Count Cabaldi possesses the largest iron mine in the North.’
‘And he often deals with Desmond.’
‘Desmond could very well be in league with the Ducal faction.’
It was as if he was on the brink of understanding something. Although he couldn’t be certain, it didn’t seem like Ghislain had waged war without some purpose.
‘I can’t give up on our influence in the North.’
Abandoning Ghislain would mean that the Royalist faction would never set foot in the North again.
Once concessions began, it wouldn’t stop. Gradually, the faction would lose influence everywhere.
Abandoning Ghislain was tantamount to abandoning the North. There was no other way forward.
‘That bastard... Could he have anticipated this and made me his patron?’
If that was the case, Ghislain was truly despicable. It would mean he had plotted this scheme from the start, intending to cause trouble when he asked for a patron.
It was infuriating, but there was no time to dwell on such matters now.
‘I am the only one who can block this.’
The Ducal faction’s involvement had to be prevented. Somehow, he needed to frame this as a legitimate conflict between the two territories, forcing both sides to keep their distance.
Regardless of the outcome, it was now up to him to step in and contain the situation.
Once he made up his mind, the Marquis of Branford opened his eyes and spoke slowly.
“I will not abandon Baron Fenris.”
“What are you saying?”
“We’ll all be ruined at this rate!”
“It could lead to civil war!”
Despite the nobles’ outcry, the Marquis of Branford remained unfazed and asked coldly.
“So what? Are we to abandon our own out of fear of the Ducal faction? What will we give up next? If we cast aside Baron Fenris, what will remain of us? Do you think anyone will trust and follow us in the future?”
“...”
The nobles could not refute his words and fell silent.
It was as he said—if they discarded their own simply out of fear of the enemy, the nobles who had been watching closely would start to withdraw one by one.
They couldn’t cast him aside even if they wanted to. Baron Fenris had declared war at the most opportune timing, in the most critical position.
The Marquis of Branford, observing the uneasy nobles, spoke with a softer tone.
“We will not allow the Royalist faction’s involvement. I will block the Ducal faction’s interference. Baron Fenris and Count Cabaldi have their own reasons to fight. Should Baron Fenris lose, so be it.”
The report laid out a forced but somewhat logical justification.
If they framed it as a personal grudge rather than a factional conflict, there was a chance of preventing the Ducal faction from getting involved.
Since the Marquis of Branford himself had taken it upon himself to handle this, the nobles could do nothing but nod in agreement.
All but one—a man of authority nearly equal to the Marquis of Branford—remained unconvinced.
Morris stood up abruptly, glaring at the Marquis of Branford.
“So, you’re going to protect that brat? Even if it costs us dearly?”
“Should I interpret that as the commander of the royal army’s reluctance to face the Ducal faction?”
At the Marquis’s provocation, Morris pressed his lips together tightly and replied with a menacing look.
“After we wipe out the Ducal faction, if that brat’s still breathing, I’ll weigh him against a duck myself and make sure to sever his head.”
“Do as you wish when that time comes.”
“For now, we should prepare our forces, just in case.”
With those words, Morris stormed out, followed closely by nobles loyal to his faction.
Even after the meeting ended, the Marquis of Branford could find no rest.
The very next day, a messenger arrived from the Ducal faction.
The Marquis of Branford concealed his weariness as he welcomed the visitor.
“Welcome, Count Faude.”
Count Faude was a noble aligned with the Ducal faction, primarily responsible for diplomatic affairs.
If Raul was the brain of the Ducal faction, Count Faude could be considered its mouth.
Sending someone of such stature showed just how seriously the Ducal faction was taking the situation.
After brief formalities, Count Faude got straight to the point.
“Baron Fenris attacked a noble of the Ducal faction. May we regard this as the will of the entire Royalist faction?”
Count Faude came on strong from the outset, knowing well that it wasn’t the Royalist faction’s intention.
‘Viscount Josef suspects it was simply a reckless act by that brat. The Royalists want to avoid civil war more than anyone.’
Raul, the ‘Devil with a Limp,’ had met Ghislain once. After speaking with him directly, Raul judged Ghislain to be a young, hot-headed troublemaker.
People like him inevitably made mistakes. And true to Raul’s expectations, Ghislain had gambled everything on a bold move by declaring war.
Seizing this opportunity, Raul aimed to make the Royalist faction sever ties with Ghislain, allowing him to crush both Perdeium and Fenris.
Count Faude, who had been stationed in the capital, came straight to the Marquis of Branford for that purpose.
The Marquis of Branford responded in a languid voice to the smugly confident Count Faude.
“I granted permission.”
“Of course, that guy just—what? What did you just say?”
“I said that I gave him permission.”
Count Faude, caught off guard, stumbled over his words.
Raul’s predictions had never been wrong, so he
hadn’t anticipated such a situation.
‘What... What is going on? The Marquis of Branford gave his permission? Has he lost his mind?’
The Royalist faction’s strategy had always been simple and transparent. They wanted nothing more than to avoid an all-out civil war.
The Marquis of Branford was a shrewd politician, known for making decisions based on reality, not intuition.
Even with allies, he was ruthless if they became a hindrance. There was no reason for him to side with that brat merely because he was his patron.
Unable to understand the situation, Count Faude stammered out his thoughts.
“What... What were you thinking, approving a war at such a challenging time?”
The Marquis of Branford, his gaze still calm, responded to Count Faude's bewilderment.
"Baron Fenris and Count Cabaldi have a personal grudge. It was a matter of legitimate cause. Surely, the Ducal faction has already received the news?”
“Regardless, there is a time for such matters! By allowing this, are you saying you are prepared for civil war?”
“Civil war? Count Faude, are you suggesting rebellion?”
The Marquis’s steely gaze made Count Faude flinch.
Even with the Ducal faction backing him, his opponent was one of the kingdom’s most powerful figures, almost equal to a Duke.
“Of course not. You know that wasn’t my intention. But Count Cabaldi is one of ours. We can’t stand by without offering our support!”
“That will not be allowed. The Ducal faction has no grounds to interfere in a personal grudge, and neither do we. If you intervene, we won’t sit idly by.”
Count Faude ground his teeth in frustration, unable to make sense of the Marquis’s actions.
‘Why is he backing that brat so much? Is he really willing to risk civil war over some upstart from the North?’
Returning was not an option without understanding the Marquis’s intentions. So, Count Faude chose to continue pressing.
“Are you sure about resolving this by force? Are you confident? I know you have ample supplies, but if both sides suffer losses, you must know who will benefit.”
“Are you threatening me, Count?”
Already irked by Ghislain’s antics, the Marquis’s expression twisted at Count Faude’s arrogance.
Typically, the Marquis of Branford wasn’t one to show much emotion. However, after getting involved with Ghislain, he found himself easily angered.
He didn’t defend Ghislain because he wanted to. Ghislain had maneuvered him into a position where he had no choice.
Seething with resentment over being forced into this, the Marquis leaned in, his gaze icy.
“If I send your head to the Duke, he’ll understand my message clearly.”
Count Faude, sweating from the tension, bowed his head.
If the Marquis had truly decided on civil war, he might cut him down here and now.
The Marquis of Branford was entirely capable of such a thing.
“I... I apologize for my momentary lapse. Please forgive me.”
“I accept your apology. But it seems you’ve grown dull lately.”
Clenching his teeth, Count Faude decided to retreat. If the Royalist faction truly intended to shield Ghislain, the Ducal faction had few options.
Either they had to step in alongside the Royalists or feign ignorance altogether.
‘Though we intend to wipe them out eventually, who could have expected them to make a move at this timing? Whose mind is behind this strategy?’
No one had anticipated the Royalists would make such an abrupt shift, especially during a time when everyone was struggling.
Count Faude contemplated as he exited the hall.
From behind, the Marquis of Branford’s calm voice echoed once more.
“Remember my warning, Count. Neither the Royalists nor the Ducal faction shall intervene.”
Count Faude halted for a moment, then turned and offered a thin smile before bowing again.
“Of course. We have no intention of intervening.”
With those final words, he left the room entirely.
After Faude’s departure, the Marquis of Branford closed his eyes, mulling over Ghislain’s words once more.
— “Count Desmond is a suspicious figure.” 𝖓𝔬𝔳𝔭𝔲𝔟.𝖈𝖔𝔪
If the Grand Duke, Count Desmond, truly was a pawn of the Ducal faction, he could take advantage of this and strike at Fenris under the guise of aiding Count Cabaldi.
If that happened, both Fenris and Perdeium would face inevitable ruin.
The outcome was clear. If the North fell into the Ducal faction's hands, the Royalist faction would be forced further into a corner.
Given the current circumstances, there was no longer any support left to rely on.
‘There’s no guarantee that brat will win. If he loses, we lose the North; if we step back, we lose the North all the same.’
Just when the drought had created a lull, that fearless fool had stirred up even more complications than before.
‘Is civil war truly inevitable?’
Sighing, the Marquis of Branford spoke in a resolute tone.
“Steward.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Inform Marquis Macquarie to move Viscount Doren’s Second Northern Army to the vicinity of Count Desmond’s territory and keep an eye on the area.”
“Are you saying...?”
“Keep it under surveillance for now. But if Count Desmond’s forces attack Baron Fenris...”
The Marquis of Branford paused before finishing with a chilling glare.
“... tell them to strike Desmond immediately.”
The situation was spiraling out of control.
