NOVPUBThe Kingdom of Ruthania’s military organization is currently divided into four legions, each of which maintains a vigilant defense around the capital city, Cardinia.
In times of war, regional forces are mobilized by gathering the lords of each area and restructuring as needed.
However, regional commanders are selected during peacetime to develop strategies for various situations, as planning ahead is much more stable than choosing a commander on the spot and rushing to issue commands.
Because of this, the title of regional commander is merely nominal in times of peace.
Yet, this position comes with a single significant power.
That is, during wartime, the commander has the authority to summon all the lords within their region.
Currently, Count Desmond is the commander of the Northern Army.
Ghislain was planning to seize that position.
“To confront the Duke’s family in the future, I’ll need that title. It’ll be helpful during troubled times as well.”
Though it was close to an honorary position now, in his previous life, it had granted immense authority.
When the Duke of Delphine succeeded in his rebellion, he conscripted the soldiers from each region, weakening the lords and turning them into something like the kingdom’s standing army.
At that time, Harold Desmond, who had risen to the rank of Duke, continued his role as commander of the Northern Army.
Ghislain planned to seize control of the entire north in the same way that Count Desmond had done in his previous life.
However, for Marquess Branford, who had no knowledge of future events, Ghislain’s request was baffling.
“Is there a reason behind this?”
“After all, Desmond and I are bound to clash. Didn’t you witness what happened this time?”
“He won’t recklessly start a war. They also know that if necessary, we could go after Desmond directly.”
While it was a comforting statement, Ghislain didn’t fully trust it. The pro-royalist faction was barely able to hold off even one ducal family.
Rather than hurt Branford’s pride by pointing this out, Ghislain brushed it off with a different reason.
“I need justification to suppress other lords after dealing with Desmond.”
“Justification?”
“Yes. As someone close to the royal family, I cannot continue waging war against all the northern lords.”
Only then did Marquess Branford nod a few times in agreement.
If there’s no war, the role is meaningless, as it grants no authority to command anyone.
But if a civil war breaks out, it’s a different story. A civil war is still war, and the position of regional commander will provide the necessary justification and authority to handle rebellious lords.
“Since Count Desmond has revealed his fangs, we were planning to take him down eventually...”
In the South and West, where all the lords have already sided with the Duke’s faction, it didn’t matter who was assigned as commander.
However, some areas of the East and North were still resisting the influence of the Duke’s faction.
In these areas, even if the position was nominal, it would be unwise to have someone from the Duke’s faction appointed as commander.
Especially in the North, where fresh changes were happening with the rise of Baron Fenris, it was crucial to curb the Duke’s influence.
After a moment of thought, Marquess Branford spoke with a somewhat indifferent expression.
“Even if the Northern Commander is a nominal title, it still wields significant authority in wartime. While Count Desmond needs to be dealt with, appointing you to that position is another matter entirely.”
“Didn’t you want to support me more after we won the war? I thought you were considering what else to grant me.”
Ghislain’s shameless reply made Marquess Branford grin. Ghislain wasn’t wrong.
Battles rely on momentum. The pro-royalist faction was quietly sinking under the Duke’s constant pressure. In such times, Ghislain’s victory had transformed the mood entirely.
Other lords and nobles, who had been biding their time, began cautiously aligning themselves with the pro-royalist faction.
The perception had changed; people began to realize that the pro-royalist faction was not as weak as they had assumed.
— “That young man from the North achieved that? Then how strong is the pro-royalist faction?”
— “With this kind of strength, even the powerful Duke’s faction may struggle to subdue them. After all, the pro-royalists do have the legitimate claim.”
— “Marquess Branford certainly knew what he was doing. Sending the Second Legion to block Desmond’s army was a masterstroke. Rumors have spread that Count Desmond is part of the Duke’s faction.”
Marquess Branford was not the type to pass up such an opportunity.
A seasoned veteran of the political arena, he had spent decades dismantling his rivals. He intended to reward Ghislain generously and extend this momentum as long as possible.
“A hunting hound... must be fearless and exceptionally skilled.”
The peculiar young man standing before him certainly fit that description. Whether he was a loyal hound or a mad dog that would turn on its master, time would tell.
“If someone has to take the position, this one is the best choice.”
Assigning a major responsibility to someone inexperienced would cause an uproar, but still, there was no one better suited in the North than Ghislain.
If he managed to defeat Count Desmond, he would become a powerful lord that no one could ignore.
“I’ve been thinking about what to give you as a reward... You always appear at the perfect moment to claim exactly what you want. An infuriating man.”
Though he could refuse, Ghislain had an uncanny knack for showing up exactly when a refusal was difficult. The more Marquess Branford observed him, the more fascinated he became.
Ghislain was undeniably talented. While his wild nature made him hard to control, his abilities were unquestionable.
After a brief contemplation, Marquess Branford slowly nodded.
“Fine, I’ll grant you the position.”
Ghislain’s smile grew. While he had been confident that Marquess Branford wouldn’t refuse, given their shared objectives, he was still pleased that things had gone so smoothly.
With his goal achieved, he intended to return, perhaps offering some provisions in return. But Marquess Branford wasn’t finished.
“Since you’ve claimed Count Cavald’s territory, I’ll submit a proposal to the royal court for your elevation.”
“I have no particular interest in a title.”
Ghislain was sincere. The title had only been necessary initially to secure his lordship; now, it held little importance.
If he needed a title in the future, he could seize it by force, whether it was duke or king.
But Marquess Branford replied gravely.
“...To hold the position of regional commander, one must be a count at minimum. It’s the kingdom’s law.”
Ghislain scratched the back of his head, surprised.
“Oh, is that so? I don’t know much about the law... So, there’s a law like that?”
“...”
After all, this man seemed like someone who could live without any law, Marquess Branford mused, shaking his head at Ghislain’s impudent smile.
“Then, let’s keep the title under Fenris since it’s unified under that name.”
“...Do as you please.”
With the ceremony and festivities complete, Ghislain returned to his territory, Fenris, in high spirits.
In Fenris, celebrations erupted to honor their lord’s elevation to count. His closest allies, Belinda, Fergus, and Gillian, were the happiest of all.
While the retainers, soldiers, and common folk all joined in celebrating their lord’s success, Claude was speechless, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“What? Supreme Commander of the Northern Army? Count of Fenris? Not only is our lord insane, but the whole world is as well. He keeps claiming everything good for himself.”
In this mad world, Claude was now certain he was the only sane one left.
Fenris wasn’t the only place stirred by Ghislain’s triumphant return and news; the northern fortress also buzzed with the arrival of a royal emissary.
