Chapter 161: Isn’t It Better to Strike First? (3)

Ghislain, looking baffled, heard Claude's urgent voice cut through his thoughts.

"When exactly are you planning to march? Can't we take things a bit slower? We should assess Count Desmond's movements and plan accordingly..."

Ghislain firmly shook his head.

"No, we're already behind schedule as it is. We must begin preparations immediately. We'll depart right after the next harvest."

The next harvest was only a few months away. It was too soon, far too rushed.

Claude let out a half-panicked scream.

"Why does it have to be then?!"

"Because I need to fight on my terms," Ghislain replied, his voice resolute.

It wasn't simply impatience driving him to act quickly. While securing the iron ore sooner would certainly help, what mattered more was striking at the perfect moment.

If he acted rashly, the chance of failure would skyrocket. For Ghislain, even a single failure could spell total ruin.

'I must ensure an overwhelming victory with minimal casualties. The best way to reduce risk and secure the mines swiftly is... to strike at that specific time.'

This was a plan only Ghislain, with his foreknowledge, could devise.

Everything had to unfold exactly as he intended. This was why he had drawn in Marquis Branford and aligned himself with the Royalist faction.

But no matter how much he tried to explain now, no one would understand or believe him.

As it had been before, even after success, people would likely dismiss it as mere luck.

Seeing Ghislain's unwavering determination, Claude stomped in place, almost in tears, and pleaded, "My lord, how about we make a bet this time?"

"A bet? What kind?"

"If I win, we'll follow my plan to defend the territory. If you win, we'll proceed with the march as you planned."

Claude's face betrayed his desperation. To protect this land and its people, he couldn't just blindly follow his lord's madness anymore.

It was the only logical stance for anyone who had to navigate a world ruled by reality and reason.

Hearing Claude's half-sobbing plea, Ghislain readily nodded.

"Alright, let's hear it."

Claude sighed with relief and began explaining with newfound enthusiasm.

"Of course, if you order it, I will follow, but... with the current situation so dire, wouldn't it be better for everyone's morale if we settled this matter with a wager?"

Ghislain could only agree.

Blindly following a lord's orders wouldn't inspire the conviction needed to face the challenges ahead.

The enemies they would soon confront weren't foes to be handled with half-hearted resolve.

If a wager could ignite enthusiasm, Ghislain had no reason to refuse.

"Fine, how do you propose we settle this?"

"I'll ensure we prepare for the march thoroughly. However..."

"However?"

"If we fail to train everyone to wield mana within two months, you must cancel the march."

"Cancel the march?"

"Yes, and shift our focus entirely to defense. If we prepare thoroughly, even if Count Desmond attacks, I promise I can hold them off. I am capable of that much, my lord."

Ghislain inwardly clicked his tongue.

He knew Claude was competent.

But being able to fend off the might of the duke faction? That was another story entirely.

Even the royal family and the Royalist faction couldn't fully grasp the full extent of the duke's power and plans. How could Claude?

By the time the duke's strength was fully revealed, it would already be too late.

But this was a point Ghislain knew his vassals would never understand.

Even now, their sense of crisis stemmed mainly from Desmond's visible movements, which barely scratched the surface of the looming threat.

"Hmm..."

While Ghislain was deep in thought, Claude anxiously watched him.

With the enemy clearly preparing to invade, how could he calmly gamble the entire fate of their land?

As the moments stretched, Claude hastily added, "Ah, is that not enough? Then I'll wager myself and Alpoi for another ten years of servitude!"

"Hey! What the hell? Why are you betting me?!"

Alpoi screamed in protest, but Claude ignored him.

It was easier to suffer alongside someone else.

When Alpoi's furious objections met the icy stares of the other retainers, he fell silent.

Clearly, everyone was ready to bet Alpoi to stop their lord from marching.

'Damn this cursed place. I want to go back to the Magic Tower. Please let Claude win this one.'

Alpoi muttered to himself, on the verge of tears, while Ghislain smirked at the sight.

"Wow, ten more years? Are you really okay with that?"

"I don't care," Claude replied earnestly. His life had been pledged so many times over that he'd lost track.

But living as a slave for decades was better than dying this year.

Ghislain shook his head slightly, as if giving Claude one last chance to reconsider.

"Wouldn't it be better to help ensure success? Just think about it—a force of hundreds capable of wielding mana. Wouldn't that be amazing? Absolutely groundbreaking."

No one could argue with that.

Even a proper Perdium county had fewer than thirty knights.

If hundreds of mana-wielding fighters were gathered in one territory?

Even if they weren't quite as strong individually as traditional knights, their combined strength would be staggering.

It was an exhilarating thought, but only in theory.

Claude dismissed such fantasies. Life had taught him to trust reality, not dreams.

"Of course, I'll do everything in my power to prepare for war. The real issue is your insistence on marching, my lord. So let's try this plan of yours. But if the knights aren't ready, we call it off."

Ordinarily, opposing the lord's decision—even with a bet—would be an unthinkable act of insolence.

Yet no one among the vassals called out Claude's rudeness this time.

They all felt that stopping Ghislain was more important than maintaining decorum.

'Manners only matter if you're alive.'

'It's still better than pulling weapons and starting a brawl in front of the lord.'

Seeing the vassals' silent support for Claude's proposal, Ghislain readily nodded.

"Alright, we'll do it your way. I suppose seeing is believing, after all."

Then, glancing around, he furrowed his brows.

"But wait—no one's trying to stop this bet?"

Normally, whenever Ghislain proposed a wager, someone would immediately try to dissuade him.

But this time, silence reigned.

Even Gillian, who would usually dive into fire at the lord's command, was busy inspecting the ceiling.

It was clear everyone was united in secretly rooting for Claude to win.

"Tsk. I can't believe none of you have any faith."

Ghislain clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.

"I believe in you, my lord," came an unexpected voice.

"What?"

To everyone's surprise, it was Kaor who spoke.

Not that he particularly trusted Ghislain. He just happened to be on the pro-march side.

Why?

"Because I'm itching for a fight. If we're gonna do it, let's do it big and fast. I'll kill everyone for you!"

The room collectively glared at Kaor in disdain, momentarily silencing even the loudmouthed warrior.

"...What? Did I say something wrong? You're acting like I've disrespected the lord. If he says go, we go! Why's everyone so whiny?"

Kaor, feeling awkward, even tried invoking Ghislain's authority to cover his embarrassment.

Gillian and Belinda had finally had enough.

"If you want blood so badly, how about we start with yours?"

"Don't test me," Kaor grumbled, his bluster fading under their intimidating gazes.

Watching the exchange, Ghislain smirked.

"We're settled, then. If I win, we march. Make sure you're ready by then."

Claude heaved a sigh of relief, nodding emphatically.

"Understood. Defense or offense, war preparations are largely the same anyway. You won't need to worry about those details."

The prospect of squandering a fortune on mana concentration circles still stung, but at least he had avoided leading an untrained rabble into war.

'Those rune stones could have armed our troops with top-tier equipment. Damn shame!'

But it was a price worth paying to avoid an ill-fated march.

With Claude silenced, Ghislain addressed everyone.

"Focus on your current tasks—war prep and territorial development. I'll handle the mana training myself. Though some of you might have a busier schedule ahead."

Everyone immediately turned to one corner of the room.

The mages, led by Alpoi, looked pale as ghosts.

Training the mercenaries to wield mana meant building mana concentration circles—something only the mages could do.

But with their plates already overflowing, they barely had time to sleep.

Alpoi trembled as he spoke.

"Do we... really have to?"

"Of course."

"There's already too much work..."

"No, you can handle it."

"I CAN'T!"

Alpoi shouted, his voice shaking.

"I can't live like this anymore! I'm invoking my authority as the Magic Tower's branch master to void our contract! I'm going back to the tower—don't stop me!"

Hearing Alpoi's outburst, the other mages followed suit, rising in protest.

"Yeah! We're done! We're going back! Enough is enough—we can't take this anymore!"

Ghislain feigned a look of admiration.

"Breaking the contract? Are you sure about that? The tower lord won't just let this slide when you return."

"That's a problem for future! We're voiding the contract now!"

Ghislain shrugged and nodded.

"Alright, as the branch master, you have that authority. But, we still have our personal contracts. If you want to leave the territory, you're free to go—just hitch a ride with the slave traders who'll be arriving soon."

The implication was clear. Traveling with slave traders meant they'd end up anywhere but the Magic Tower.

"NOOO! I HATE IT HERE, BUT I CAN'T LEAVE!"

Alpoi and the mages collapsed to their knees, holding their faces in despair.

Their lives had taken a tragic turn somewhere along the way.

Work threatened to kill them with exhaustion, war loomed on the horizon, and desertion meant slavery or death.

Seeing their pitiful state, Vanessa stepped forward cautiously.

"My lord, how many magic circles do we need?"

"One hundred, for now. The mercenaries will train in shifts over two months, so we'll probably need to make more."

The mages sighed with slight relief. They'd expected to be told to build enough arrays for everyone, but one hundred was only half the amount from the last time they worked on mana refinement.

But Ghislain wasn't finished.

"They need to be ready within a week. We can't afford delays."

The tight deadline drained the remaining color from their faces.

While others looked at the mages with pity, no one dared side with them.

Helping the mages might delay other critical projects, like irrigation and farmland development.

Vanessa, however, seemed confident as she consoled them.

"Lord Alpoi, you can do it. I'll help as much as I can. You're the heir to the northern tower, after all. And the other mages are talented as well."

Alpoi pouted at the former maid's encouragement, his pride slightly bruised.

Claude jumped in, too, slapping Alpoi on the back.

"Hey, buddy, you're a genius mage, right? This should be a breeze for you! Feeling a bit tired lately?"

Others joined in, throwing out hollow compliments.

"It's a lot, but the finest mages from the Scarlet Flame Magic Tower should be able to handle it."

"Of course. Who could doubt the most talented minds from the greatest tower?"

"Future grand mage Alpoi seems to be exaggerating a bit. Ha-ha-ha!"

It was clear the mages had no choice. But instead of risking a mutiny, everyone opted to shower them with insincere praise.

"Pff, tch! Such blatant flattery..."

Despite grumbling, Alpoi straightened his back slightly, wiping his nose with feigned nonchalance.

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