Count Digald had suddenly declared war on Feridium.

As soon as the declaration was delivered by an envoy, the vassals of Feridium gathered in the main hall.

Zvaltier read the declaration over and over, his expression grim.

The proclamation was filled with flowery language, listing all the "just" reasons for the war and the "noble" motives of Digald. Stripped of the embellishments, it boiled down to this:

"My son, Gilmor Digald, was killed by Giselle Feridium, and I will have my revenge."

The vassals were incredulous.

“What madness is this? Claiming that the young lord killed Gilmor? Absurd!”

“They’ve clearly decided to go to war! They must have heard about the Runestones.”

“They're using a false pretext to wage war! We should teach them a hard lesson!”

The vassals trembled with rage, venting their fury at Count Digald.

No one believed that Giselle, notorious troublemaker though he was, had actually killed Gilmor. Everyone knew that two of their own had defected and fed Digald false information.

At first, the vassals couldn’t understand why this had happened, but it quickly became clear: it was all about greed for the Runestones.

While the council descended into chaos, Homen looked at Giselle with a conflicted expression.

‘He did something good for the estate, but it’s led us to war.’

Homen had expected that sooner or later other lords would challenge them over the Runestones. But he hadn’t imagined it would happen this quickly, nor from someone as insignificant as Count Digald.

‘Tch, we’re going to waste precious resources in this conflict. As if we didn’t already need every soldier.’

Homen stifled his irritation, but the vassals, though enraged, were not particularly afraid.

Digald’s estate was as poor and unremarkable as Feridium. If there were a ranking for the poorest estates in the North, Feridium and Digald would vie for the bottom spots.

However, Feridium had the advantage of being a margrave’s estate, receiving support from other territories, with better-trained soldiers and more experience in battle.

Randolph, the commander of the knights, slammed his fist on the table.

“Damn it! If they want to fight, let's stop overthinking it! Let’s head out there and crush them!”

While there was no benefit in war, it was unavoidable once a declaration was made, especially with such a powerful justification as avenging one’s bloodline.

Zvaltier sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair.

‘War... how did we end up in this situation? And to think we’ve been betrayed from within.’

The fact that long-standing vassals had betrayed them for personal gain hurt more than the prospect of war.

‘Tch, things are only going to get tougher.’

For a struggling estate like Feridium, war was a disaster. Even if they won, the costs of fighting would be immense, and they would have a hard time recovering from the losses.

Especially with an estate as resource-poor as Feridium.

‘I have no choice but to tap into the Runestones.’

Zvaltier hadn’t wanted to touch the Runestones that his son had found. But there was no other way to mitigate the losses.

Standing tall, Zvaltier issued his orders with authority.

“Prepare for war. We will meet the enemy at the borders and annihilate them.”

His cold, battle-hardened gaze swept over the vassals, who all bowed in acknowledgment.

Though some of Feridium’s forces had to remain in the north to monitor potential threats, the soldiers they had were more than capable of dealing with Digald.

Zvaltier turned to Giselle, his tone direct.

“I hear you’ve hired a significant number of mercenaries. They will be a valuable asset. You, as the heir, will also join the battle.”

In times of war, the lord’s commands were absolute. Giselle bowed, accepting his father’s orders, but offered a critical reminder.

“It would be wise to assess the enemy’s numbers before acting.”

“I agree. We need to understand what gave them the confidence to start this war.”

Since the estates were so close, they both knew the general state of each other’s forces. It was puzzling that Digald, who had fewer resources, had the audacity to declare war.

The vassals were confident, but three days later, when the scouts returned, they were speechless.

“The enemy has mobilized around six thousand heavily armed troops! Additionally, a supply unit of about one thousand soldiers is following behind. Numerous siege engines have also been spotted!”

“...”

The number was far beyond what a single estate like Digald could muster, especially one as impoverished as theirs.

Randolph was in disbelief and demanded confirmation.

“Are you sure? Did you just take a quick look and exaggerate the numbers? Are you certain of this?”

The scout remained silent.

He didn’t need to answer; everyone knew the report was accurate. Multiple scouts had returned with the same information.

They simply didn’t want to believe it.

While they hadn’t yet identified the number of knights, with such a large army, there were likely at least fifty knights on the enemy side.

“How could Count Digald possibly raise such an army?” one of the vassals asked in shock.

“Even if he conscripted all his citizens, he couldn’t field this many soldiers! And they’re all fully armed?”

“Other estates must be supporting him!”

Feridium’s standing army was around two thousand, and even that included some conscripts. At most, they could gather another thousand men.

And the number of knights was fewer than thirty.

Now the enemy was bringing an army twice their size. If they faced them head-on, they would be annihilated.

As the vassals repeated their disbelief, Zvaltier slammed the table in anger.

“Enough! What good is debating the cause now? The enemy is coming, and we need to plan our response!”

With such a stark difference in numbers, it was impossible to intercept the enemy at the border. Without a superhuman fighter on their side, a direct battle would only result in defeat.

Randolph, however, was unfazed.

“Let me lead the troops, and I’ll cut them all down! They’re just a bunch of inexperienced conscripts. Between me and you, my lord, we can handle them!”

Randolph’s experience in the north had made him a formidable warrior, capable of defeating larger forces with smaller numbers.

His philosophy was simple: if they had to fight, it was better to face the enemy head-on.

But Homen was horrified by the suggestion and quickly voiced his objections.

“We can’t! The difference in numbers is too great. One defeat will end everything! We must hold out in the castle and request aid from the other lords!”

With the two men presenting opposing views, the other vassals began to take sides.

“If we’re going to hold out, we should retreat to the northern fortress. This castle isn’t suited for defense.”

“But if we abandon the people and the castle, what’s the point of holding out?”

“We don’t have enough food to last a siege! If we get reinforcements, we’ll be able to fight back! If Count Reyfold helps, it won’t be difficult.”

The vassals were divided, arguing without reaching a consensus.

Giselle watched their bickering with a cold expression.

‘As expected.’

He had anticipated that the enemy would concoct a false pretext for war, and that a force large enough to crush Feridium would come.

In his previous life, Feridium had confidently marched into battle against Digald’s army, only to be defeated and forced to retreat.

The enemy’s numbers had been far greater than expected.

Giselle had a good idea where Digald had gotten such support.

‘If they’re bringing siege engines, it means they intend to crush us completely.’

In most territorial disputes, battles were fought in the field. Once a victor was clear, the conflict was usually settled with negotiations.

Bringing siege engines meant there would be no such negotiations. The enemy intended to annihilate Feridium.

Randolph, knowing this, could barely contain his rage.

“Damn it, we can’t hold out here for long! We need to go out and fight!”

Feridium’s poor state meant they had neither the food nor the supplies to withstand a prolonged siege.

“We absolutely can’t last long under siege. We have to end this quickly.”

If the enemy besieged them, it would only be a matter of time before they starved and lost any will to fight.

Randolph argued that it was better to strike while they still had strength.

Zvaltier, after pondering in silence for a while, suddenly turned to Giselle and asked, “What do you think we should do?”

He didn’t expect his son, who had no experience in war, to have a solution. But given Giselle’s recent success in the Forest of Beasts, he thought it would be worth hearing his opinion.

“I think we should request aid and hold out in the castle,” Giselle replied.

“Hm?”

Zvaltier was surprised. He had expected Giselle to advocate for a direct battle, especially since he had his own mercenaries and might want to make a name for himself.

But Giselle had reasons for suggesting defense.

‘No reinforcements will come. Except perhaps from Count Roges.’

In his previous life, none of the other lords had come to Feridium’s aid, save for Count Roges, father of his friend Cain. Even then, Roges had ultimately fallen alongside Feridium.

In other words, requesting aid was pointless.

Still, Giselle recommended it, laying the groundwork for his own plan.

‘This way, I can minimize our losses and wipe out the enemy.’

After much deliberation, Zvaltier finally gave his orders.

“Send word to the surrounding estates. We need their help as soon as possible. And bring all the remaining troops and supplies from the northern fortress to the castle.”

“My lord! The enemy will be here in about fifteen days!” Randolph shouted.

The Digald estate was directly to the southwest. Even accounting for the slow pace of infantry, they would reach Feridium within a fortnight.

Zvaltier nodded and reassured him.

“I haven’t made a final decision yet. But if we get support, we may be able to minimize our losses. I’ll decide once we hear back from the other lords.”

Randolph reluctantly stepped back, but he wasn’t hopeful. He knew the other lords would only offer just enough support to keep Feridium from collapsing.

Feridium’s role had always been to defend against the northern barbarians, a task that benefited everyone. But it didn’t matter whether it was Feridium or Digald who held the region, as long as someone did.

While waiting for responses from the other estates, the mood in Feridium grew increasingly grim.

But when the replies finally arrived, even the most hopeful of the vassals fell into despair.

“Count Reyfold says he can’t help due to internal matters.”

“Zimbar has also refused to send aid.”

“The messenger sent to Count Roges has not returned.”

“There’s been a rebellion in Villum’s territory...”

Each response was the same: no help was coming.

The one estate they had counted on for support, Count Roges’, had gone completely silent.

Zvaltier closed his eyes, his expression full of regret.

‘So this is how it ends. Who did I spend my life protecting this land for?’

He had been wrong. He thought no one wanted this territory, and as long as they handled the northern invaders, that would be enough.

‘Who would have thought the Runestones would bring about our downfall?’

But he didn’t blame his son.

Giselle had done something remarkable. It was simply bad timing.

‘All of it was a dream. We have no future now. Is this how our family ends, in my generation?’

Zvaltier sighed deeply, his face suddenly looking ten years older.

He lifted his head and looked around.

His vassals looked like the world had ended. Homen and Albert were pale, unable to say a word. Only Randolph still burned with the will to fight.

Zvaltier chuckled bitterly.

‘At least that fool still has some spirit left.’

Yes, he and Randolph would just have to kill as many enemies as they could before they died.

Then his eyes fell on his son.

Giselle was different from the other vassals.

He wasn’t panicking, nor was he afraid. He wasn’t even angry. He simply stood there, calm and expressionless.

‘I never know what you’re thinking, do I?’

For a moment, Zvaltier looked at Giselle with a sense of pity.

‘I hope you don’t blame yourself. You did well, truly. This isn’t your fault.’

As a father, not a lord, he wished his son wouldn’t take the outcome of this war to heart.

Now that the Runestones had been discovered, Feridium would inevitably become a battleground for the other lords, whether sooner or later.

Digald was just the beginning.

‘A siege or a direct battle...’

Zvaltier was torn.

They say you need three times as many troops to succeed in a siege. Defending had its advantages.

But without sufficient supplies, they would be left to wither away.

While knights with mana could leap over walls, Feridium’s weak fortifications wouldn’t hold for long against siege engines.

‘If only we could have gotten reinforcements, we might have had a chance. I spent too much time focusing on the northern defenses. Is this how it ends?’

If Digald had brought siege engines, Feridium’s weak walls wouldn’t last.

Under different circumstances, Zvaltier might have considered surrendering. But with Digald using vengeance as his justification, surrender wasn’t an option. They would all be killed.

Even the “honorable surrender” that nobles often spoke of was out of the question.

‘We must win, no matter what. I don’t care if I die, but I have to save the others.’

With renewed determination, Zvaltier looked around the room and spoke firmly.

“Prepare for battle. We will meet the enemy outside the walls.”

Just as Randolph had suggested, waiting would only lead to a slow death. It was better to fight while they still had some strength left.

The vassals looked grim, but they all nodded in agreement.

Giselle turned and left the hall.

As he exited, his mercenaries began gathering behind him, silently falling in line.

The lord had made his decision, and the vassals had no choice but to follow.

But this wasn’t the path Giselle wanted to take.

‘We can’t fight them head-on. Even if we win, the damage on our side will be too great.’

His face hardened with resolve.

‘I have no choice but to change the game myself.’