Chapter 139

Chapter 139: A Do-or-Die Position

After Hardin’s bombshell declaration, chaos swept through the tent.

‘We’re supposed to face Tread’s forces without any reinforcements?’

‘Then what happens to us?’

Everyone looked as if the cheerful mood from earlier had been a lie. Their faces turned pale, and their bodies trembled like aspens.

Then, at that moment—

Grab!

Malion lunged at Hardin, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shouted.

“Don’t joke around. Be serious—just tell us the truth.”

Hardin grasped Malion’s wrist and replied.

“I’m not lying.”

“No, then what are we supposed to do? Telling us now is no different from telling us to die!”

Malion’s face flushed red as he yelled.

Maybe a few days ago, it would’ve been different.

But just today alone, hundreds of Tread’s soldiers had turned into drowned corpses, and four of their warships had sunk.

“With things as they are, they have all the justification they need to wipe us out!”

Negotiations or not, it was far too late to mend the rift between the two houses.

As the color drained from Malion’s face, Hardin let go of his arm and replied coldly.

“Don’t shout. That won’t bring you any answers.”

“Noooo!”

Malion clutched his head, staggering backward in anguish.

Cobalt tightly shut his eyes and pressed his temples with all his strength.

“No reinforcements… Then what the hell are we supposed to do now…”

“My Lord…”

The retainers, agitated and restless, began speaking one after another.

“Is there no way to reverse this now?”

“What if we hand over the port to them…?”

“What if… we ask for a truce?”

Of course, none of these suggestions were of any use.

‘It’s over.’

‘We’re finished… Our house is doomed!’

Just when they thought they’d glimpsed a ray of hope, they realized it had only been the final flicker of a dying candle.

Everyone was too stunned by despair, as if they had all been struck on the back of the head.

As each person expressed their anxiety in their own way—

Commander Mulgybson quietly raised his hand and spoke.

“Um, Young Master Hardin.”

“Yes.”

Hardin turned to meet his gaze.

“Do you have a plan?”

“What kind of plan?”

Mulgybson’s eyes twitched as he clenched his fist with resolve and asked again.

“A plan to win… without the princess’s support.”

A complicated, delicate expression—anxious yet faintly hopeful.

At that, the others frowned.

‘What nonsense.’

‘It’s over. What plan could there possibly be now?’

‘Even if Tread has taken some damage, there’s no way we can face them alone.’

Then, Hardin folded his arms, let out a deep sigh, and spoke with a serious expression.

“I do have something in mind.”

“…What is it?”

At Mulgybson’s question, curiosity spread across everyone’s faces.

“Hurry up and tell us, Hardin. Every second counts!”

“…Brother?”

At that, Hardin turned his head and met the eyes of each person in the room, one by one.

“I’m fine with telling you. But this operation… it can only work if everyone puts their complete trust in me and follows my plan without question. Are you all willing to do that?”

“Can we really win with this plan?”

“Yes. We can.”

Hardin answered firmly.

Commander Mulgybson spoke up in a trembling but urgent voice.

“Please tell us. No matter what it is… I trust you, Young Master.”

All eyes turned back to Hardin.

It was a situation where even a rotten rope was something worth grabbing, so their desperation was understandable.

Hardin parted his lips for a moment, then calmly began to speak.

“I’ll only explain this once, so listen carefully.”

“Yes.”

Everyone gave a small nod, and Hardin began to speak.

“So, if we do it like this, then…”

“Yes, yes…”

One word at a time.

As Hardin’s explanation continued, the expressions on everyone’s faces changed drastically with each word.

‘Huh?’

‘Here? Like this?’

How many minutes had passed with him speaking without pause?

When he finally finished, Hardin smacked the center of the table with his palm and said,

“And that’s my plan.”

“…”

As if it were only natural, everyone froze on the spot.

It wasn’t until several seconds had passed that people started glancing side to side, exchanging cautious looks, and eventually, someone broke the silence.

“Is… is that really something we can pull off in real life?”

“Yes. It seems a little too far-fetched, doesn’t it…”

Voices filled with concern echoed from all directions.

It was only natural.

What Hardin had just laid out was less of a “plan” and more like—

‘What is this, some kind of chivalric fantasy novel…?’

‘Can you even call that a strategy?’

It sounded more like an absurd delusion. A dream?

Calling it a “plan” seemed far too generous.

While everyone argued back and forth—

“Phewwww…”

Viscount Cobalt shut his eyes tight and leaned his head back.

Then, as if steeling himself, he let out a long sigh and opened his eyes wide.

“Let’s go with Hardin’s plan.”

“F-Father?”

“But, my Lord, that’s not a proper strategy, is it? There’s no way we can beat Tread with something like that…”

As grumbling voices began to rise again—

Thud!

Cobalt rose from his seat with a resolute expression and spoke in a calm yet weighted voice.

“Tread will most likely invade us tomorrow at sunrise. If we face them head-on, we’ll lose—one hundred times out of a hundred. And we have no time to come up with a new strategy before then.”

“But still—”

“Other than the plan Hardin just laid out… do we have any alternatives?”

Cobalt raised his voice as he continued.

“Or what, are you suggesting we surrender to the Count of Tread in this situation? Well, if we’re lucky, maybe we’d end up being sold off as slaves.”

“…”

The retainers’ heads drooped.

They all knew.

That once the sword had been drawn, there was no retreat. No other choice remained.

“I know very well that victory is not—no, that it’s nearly impossible. But! If we’re doomed to be trampled anyway, shouldn’t we at least struggle to the end?”

“…Still—”

“If all you’ve got left is talk that saps everyone’s morale, keep it to yourself. Just like the times before—perhaps God Faeron will watch over us once more.”

Though he tried to sound confident, even Cobalt’s voice held a slight tremor.

He couldn’t completely hide the fear inside him.

‘So he’s made up his mind…’

A faint smile, barely noticeable, flickered across Hardin’s face as he looked at him.

“…”

As silence filled the tent—

Malion, with his head lowered, began to tremble.

Thud! Thud-thud!

“Damn it! Damnnn it!”

He slammed the table a couple of times, then stood up and shouted.

“So what do we do, Brother? If we’re really going to pull off that ridiculous plan?!”

At that, Hardin turned to look at Gadolph and said,

“Gadolph.”

“Yes?”

“Bring the thing I gave you.”

“The thing you gave me? What… was that?”

“You know, the one I gave you along with the bundle. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, right! I remember now! Just a moment!”

With that, Gadolph rushed out of the tent.

“Here it is!”

He came running back, clutching several rolled-up parchments.

He had sprinted so hard his hair was practically floating in the air.

Hardin motioned with his chin.

“Hand one out to each person.”

“Yes!”

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Gadolph distributed the parchments so fast his hands were a blur.

Then…

“…Huhhh?”

“Brother, you already had all this prepared?”

Everyone’s eyes went wide in disbelief as they asked.

Hardin’s eyes curved into crescent moons as he replied.

“I’ve written out, roughly, what each of you needs to do. Just prepare according to what’s written there and act accordingly.”

“…”

Everyone just blinked, stunned and confused, until Hardin clapped his hands sharply and urged them.

“What are you all waiting for? Aren’t you going to get ready?”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

Only then did they scramble to their feet and rush out of the tent.

---

Between the tidal flats and Mudside, near the shore made of gravel and sand—

Tatatak! Tatak!

Dozens of makeshift barracks had been set up, and around the many campfires burning between them, numerous Tread soldiers and knights sat, tending to their weapons and armor.

“...Damn those Daphne bastards.”

“Deton’s dead. Because of those bastards…”

The soldiers’ faces were twisted with ghostly rage, and curses poured from their mouths without pause.

Just today, hundreds of soldiers had died, and four warships had sunk into the sea.

All those who had fallen were friends, family, and brothers to the men now seated here.

‘I’ll kill them.’

‘Filthy insects…’

The pain of losing loved ones in an unexpected disaster didn’t leave room for sorrow—it planted the seeds of fury instead.

Of course, not everyone was consumed by rage.

Shrrrrrk. Shrrrrrk.

Count Vernian sat on a boulder, sharpening his sword with a whetstone.

Calm and composed.

So composed, in fact, it was hard to believe he was in the heart of enemy territory.

Swish.

He lifted his sword and examined its blade under the moonlight.

But his brow furrowed slightly, as if something didn’t sit right.

‘Annoying.’

It felt more like irritation than anger.

“Young Master, preparations are mostly complete.”

Commander Pattinson approached and spoke with his hands behind his back.

Vernian wiped the blade clean with a handkerchief and asked,

“What’s the status of our forces?”

“Including sailors, around 700 regular soldiers and 94 knights. Meals have been completed, and I’ve confirmed that all weapons and equipment are in full working order.”

“What about Chillas’s death? How are we handling that?”

“I’ve split the 3rd Unit and reorganized them into other squads. We’re ready to deploy at your command.”

Vernian gave a slight nod and continued his questions.

“What’s the operation plan?”

“We’ll pierce through the center of their fortification in one strike with the knights under artillery support. There’s no need to drag this out and increase casualties unnecessarily.”

“Hm, I see…”

Vernian looked up at the sky.

A dark sky veiled by heavy clouds, with only a sliver of a waning moon visible.

Even the moonlight was weak—dim and suffocating, leaving a stifling feeling in the chest of anyone who looked at it.

“Then let’s deploy… at sunrise.”

“A sound decision. We’re in an overwhelming position, so it’s best to strike when the variables are minimal.”

“That’s not why.”

“...Sir?”

“If we’re going to kill those rats… I want to get a good, clear look at them as they die.”

A flash of bloodlust passed through Vernian’s eyes.

Pattinson flinched slightly in surprise, taking a step back before nodding.

“…Understood.”

Then, Vernian withdrew the malice from his gaze and added,

“Pheww… Then get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pattinson bowed deeply and stepped away.

Vernian rose from his seat and casually gripped his sword with one hand.

Then, his pupils began to glow with a faint blue light.

Tap.

He gently touched the tip of his sword against the boulder he had been sitting on.

Crack!

The boulder split cleanly in two.

The cross-section was so sharply cut it looked as though a radish had been sliced with a knife.

Without a change in expression, Vernian sheathed his sword and slowly lifted his gaze, turning it toward the distance.

‘Daphne, huh.’

In front of the trade port of Mudside—

The defensive fortifications and watchtowers built by Daphne glowed faintly with light.

Who knew how desperately they had struggled to build that defense line? Just looking at it stirred a strange sense of pity.

Vernian extended his hand toward the fort, then clenched his fist tightly and trembled.

“Make sure to entertain me.”

So that the price I paid for this little pleasure won’t go to waste.

A sinister expression, thick with both ecstasy and rage, began to darken his face.

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