Chapter 172

Chapter 172: It’s Not Just About Having Money

Inside the conference room of the Daphne Knight Order’s building.

For the first time in a long while, all the core members of the Knight Order were gathered together.

“Ehem, it feels like it’s been ages since we’ve all met like this.”

The former commander, Mulgybson, was seated first.

“Indeed, it does.”

“...Hmm.”

Manton and Beryl, who were each in charge of the Jellyfish Unit and the Maw Unit, were also present.

And lastly...

“Well then, enough with the greetings. Let’s get straight to the point.”

Hardin sat with his arms crossed, a broad smile spread across his face.

“Let’s skip the pointless talk. You all know that our family’s financial issues are now solved, right?”

“Yes, of course we do.”

“We’re well aware.”

Mulgybson and Manton nodded with satisfied expressions.

“...I’m the one directly involved, so how could I not know?”

Beryl, the victim(?) of the recent matter, replied with a somewhat bitter look.

“Well, anyway, since everything’s been settled, I plan to start moving forward with what we originally intended to do.”

“...You mean the formation of a regular army and the recruitment of new knights.”

“Yes, exactly that.”

At Mulgybson’s response, Hardin nodded enthusiastically.

“We’ll proceed as planned. The preparations are all in place, and since the Young Master has provided the necessary funds, I don’t foresee any major difficulties in execution.”

“Right?”

“Yes. I’ll handle the recruitment of the conscripts as scheduled... and as for recruiting additional knights, I intend for Beryl and Manton to divide the task between them.”

“Hmmmm, I wonder if these two will actually do well.”

Hardin narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two men.

Beryl’s face twisted with faint irritation.

“Why are you looking at us like that?”

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“...Forget it.”

“Come on, say it. I’m not going to eat you.”

Beryl hesitated for a moment before mumbling in a barely audible voice.

“I just think I might be better at it than you, Young Master.”

“Better? In what?”

“Uh... recruiting knights.”

In that instant, Manton and Mulgybson’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

Hardin’s brow furrowed.

“You think you’re better than me at picking knights? Based on what?”

“Young Master, when you recruit new knights, don’t you work them half to death again?”

“Of course I do. How else are we supposed to make them competent? You have to be tough on them at the start.”

“...I can guarantee that if you do that again, ten out of ten will run away.”

“Run away? Why would they do that?”

Hardin spoke in disbelief, as if the notion was absurd.

“Haha! This guy’s ridiculous. You’re not making any sense. What kind of knights would run away just because they’re trained hard? Am I wrong, you two?”

“...”

Manton and Mulgybson avoided Hardin’s gaze.

‘Well... his methods are a bit extreme.’

‘...These days, the price of mercenaries has gone up, so we really should be paying more attention to how we treat our knights.’

Neither of them said it aloud, but both men were thinking the same thing as Beryl.

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“...W-Well, you see.”

“It’s not that what he said is completely wrong. Ah, I don’t mean to criticize you, Young Master.”

“What was that?”

What the hell were these guys even talking about?

Just as Hardin’s brow furrowed in irritation—

KWAANG!

“Huh?”

The door suddenly burst open with a loud crash, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Third Young Master?”

“Hmm? What brings you here at this hour?”

At the doorway stood the Third Young Master and Steward—Malion.

Without a word, Malion reached into his bundle and—

Thud! Thud!

“Here. Take these.”

He dropped a thick stack of documents in front of each of the four men.

“W-What’s all this?”

As Manton flipped through the papers, Malion replied,

“They contain each unit member’s personal records, activity logs, and every financial detail related to unit operations… In short, it’s all the data concerning the Knight Order and the family’s conscripted soldiers. Organize everything without missing a single detail—within a week!”

“A-A week?”

“...”

Everyone blinked in confusion. Hardin snorted and waved his hand dismissively.

“Hey, hey, go on, get out of here. We’re busy dealing with recruitment and the Knight Order. We don’t have time for this kind of childish nonsense.”

“...That’s exactly why you need to do it.”

“What?”

“You’re discussing the formation of a regular army and additional recruitment for the Knight Order right now, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“To do that, you’ll need to use every one of those documents I brought. Actually, there are other things you’ll have to handle later, but for now, start with that.”

“Uh... what?”

What the hell was he talking about all of a sudden?

Everyone stared blankly at Malion, their faces saying they had no idea what was going on. With a deep sigh, Malion continued.

“Brother, you do know that imperial officials will soon be visiting our family, right?”

“The Imperial Court? Why would they come here?”

“To assess our eligibility for the countship.”

“Countship?”

“Yes. To maintain a regular army and expand the Knight Order further, you need a title. You didn’t know that?”

“...Huh, is that so?”

What the hell was he saying?

As Hardin looked completely bewildered, Malion adjusted his glasses and explained,

“It’s common sense, brother. If you form a regular army and expand your knightly force beyond the capacity of a countship without actually holding one, the Imperial Court will demand an enormous amount in tributes. You didn’t know that?”

A look of injustice spread across Hardin’s face.

...How was I supposed to know that?

‘Our family’s been a ducal house since I was born, for god’s sake.’

But still—

If we had the money, couldn’t we just increase our troops? Why would we need a title for that?

Hardin frowned as he replied,

“Tribute to the Imperial Court? And what exactly has the Imperial Court ever done for us?”

“What do you mean, ‘what have they done’? They lent us money.”

“Money?”

“The funds for building our port—didn’t you receive that from Her Highness the Princess?”

“Ah… well, yeah, that’s true.”

Hmm, so it’s not like they didn’t help at all.

‘Anyway!’

Hardin scratched his forehead roughly.

“So, you’re saying that as long as we get evaluated by those bureaucrats from the Imperial Court, we’ll be granted the countship?”

“That depends entirely on how well we handle things. Which means, all of you need to fill out those documents as quickly and perfectly as possible. Understood?”

Just as Malion was about to leave the meeting room again, Hardin extended his arm to block him.

“W-Wait a minute.”

“What is it?”

“...When did you start preparing all this?”

“When? Ever since you first brought up forming a regular army, of course.”

“So you’ve been working for months now to secure a countship?”

“Yes, naturally.”

Huh?

So that kind of groundwork was being laid behind the scenes without me knowing?

As Hardin inhaled sharply in surprise—

“Well then, I’ll be going now. I still have mountains of work left to do.”

“Uh, right. Yeah, keep up the good work.”

KWAANG!

Malion slammed the door shut behind him and left.

“Then, for now… shall we start by dealing with these first, Young Master?”

“Y-Yeah, let’s do that.”

What a bolt out of the blue—or rather, a paper storm from a clear sky.

With awkward smiles, Hardin and the others dispersed at Mulgybson’s words.

---

A few days later, at the Daphne Estate.

“Clean every corner thoroughly! I don’t want to see even the smallest speck of dust anywhere!”

“Yes, Third Young Master!”

Dressed sharply in a pristine uniform, Malion strode briskly through the halls, giving precise orders to the servants.

Perhaps it was thanks to that.

The walls and floors of the Daphne Estate gleamed brighter than ever, and even flowers—somewhat out of place—had been arranged here and there, showing just how much care was being put into the preparations.

And that wasn’t all.

“Gadolph!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Is the food preparation going well?”

“Yes. Beef, lamb, pork, and even fresh fish caught by the fishermen of Mudside—we’ve assigned the best cooks in the house to handle it all.”

“Good. Don’t mess up the tea sets or the seating arrangement. Double-check everything until the very last moment. Now go.”

“Yes, sir!”

Swoosh!

After delivering his report, Gadolph saluted the Third Young Master before hurrying off again.

“Phew…”

Was he finally exhausted?

Malion wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath.

‘This isn’t easy.’

Requesting a title elevation was only possible through the Imperial Court.

For this, Malion truly poured every ounce of his energy into the task.

He prepared everything to absolute perfection, leaving no room for the slightest flaw, doing everything that could possibly be done.

In the past few weeks, he had barely slept more than three hours a night.

‘I absolutely cannot—must not—make a single mistake.’

If he failed this time, it would be his fault that the family’s growth came to a halt.

Thanks to a series of victorious wars, the momentum of the Daphne family was soaring to the heavens.

Malion knew well that it was Hardin and the Knight Order who had built that foundation.

And precisely because others had done so much groundwork, the pressure he felt was all the heavier.

He didn’t want to be the fool who ruined a perfectly baked loaf of bread by scattering ashes over it.

Then—

“Hey, Malion. This outfit’s really uncomfortable. Do we have to wear it?”

“Ugh, I admit, it is uncomfortable.”

Hearing the voice behind him, Malion turned his head sharply.

Cobalt and Hardin were fidgeting with their collars, wearing miserable expressions.

They were dressed in tight formal uniforms, their hair slicked back with oil, and they smelled strongly of floral perfume—far too much of it.

“Endure it, just endure it! The fate of our family depends on today—can’t you handle a little discomfort?”

“...It’s not that I can’t handle it. I’m just saying it’s uncomfortable, that’s all.”

When Hardin pouted as he replied, Malion pressed a finger against his lips.

“Brother, please, be especially careful today.”

“What did I do?”

“I mean, don’t say anything wrong in front of the Imperial guests.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Have you ever seen me do that before?”

“...”

Malion and Cobalt both stared at him silently.

“What? Do you two have a problem?”

“Never mind that. Brother, once the Imperial guests arrive, all you need to do is keep smiling and repeat the same answer over and over. Ah, yes? Good idea. My younger brother will explain the rest.”

“...What?”

What did these guys think of me, exactly?

Just as Hardin’s eyes began to narrow dangerously—

“Third Young Master! They’re here! They just passed through the castle gates!”

One of the retainers rushed in, shouting breathlessly.

“R-Right! Everyone, hurry! Move quickly! The Imperial guests will arrive at the estate any moment now!”

“Yes, sir!”

As Malion clapped his hands and raised his voice, everyone quickened their pace even more.

“Now then, Brother, Father—let’s go outside to greet our guests from the Imperial Court.”

“...Ahem, yes. Let’s go.”

“What’s the point of going out to greet them? They’re just officials—shouldn’t they be the ones coming to the audience chamber...? Oww! Why are you pulling my ear!”

“Please… hurry up and come along.”

Malion tugged harshly on Hardin’s ear as he dragged him out of the mansion.

How long had they been standing there, gazing out over the garden?

Clop, clop.

A group of mounted officials approached from the distance.

At the center of the procession fluttered a banner bearing the emblem of the Imperial Court—the sword and sun.

‘They’re here!’

Malion quickly signaled to Cobalt with his eyes.

Understanding immediately, Cobalt gave a firm nod and stepped forward.

“Thank you all for making such a long journey.”

His tone was calm yet disciplined.

His voice was gentle, carrying an air of composure and warmth.

“I am Cobalt Daphne, head of the Daphne Viscounty.”

With one hand placed lightly upon his chest, Viscount Cobalt offered a graceful smile.