Zwalter quietly stared at the map laid before him.

Until a moment ago, he had been pondering how best to form their battle lines and take their stand. But now, with the enemy’s supply unit annihilated, more options were on the table.

Still, before making any decisions, he needed to confirm exactly what had happened.

"Explain the situation in detail."

The other retainers, too, remained silent, their eyes fixed on Ghislain, who was still drenched in blood.

Ghislain calmly surveyed the hall before reporting on the situation.

"...So, we ambushed the enemy, annihilated their forces, and burned all their supplies. It’s a bit of a shame we couldn’t bring anything back, but it was impossible to transport. Oh, and this is the head of Baron Pavro, the commander of their supply unit. Does anyone recognize him?"

Homeron opened the box and closely examined the severed head before stammering his reply.

"Y-Yes. That’s Baron Pavro of Degald. I’ve seen him a few times before."

The retainers all murmured in astonishment, while only Randolph blinked in confusion, unsure how to react.

He had been ready to lash out at Ghislain the moment they met, but the atmosphere didn’t allow for it.

Having spent his life on the battlefield, Randolph’s instincts warned him.

‘This isn’t the same spoiled Duke as before. He has the aura of a butcher. What on earth happened to him...?’

He couldn’t make sense of it. How could a Duke who had never experienced war act like this?

Zwalter, too, was surprised, but for a different reason.

"An ambush? How could you act so recklessly?"

Although he voiced criticism, there was more amazement than anger in his tone.

An ambush, when executed successfully, can devastate the enemy. But if it fails, it can lead to total annihilation. It’s a double-edged sword that requires careful consideration of weather, terrain, timing, and the enemy commander’s tendencies before attempting.

And yet, without even obtaining the lord’s permission, Ghislain had led his forces into an ambush—and succeeded.

"There weren’t many options available to us."

Ghislain replied nonchalantly. Zwalter, frustrated, raised his voice.

"Even so, you should have consulted with us first! We should have gathered our forces and properly prepared! If you had failed, both you and the mercenaries would be dead. We can’t afford to lose even a handful of troops right now! Don’t you understand that?"

"If we had hesitated, we might have failed."

"What?"

"We already have traitors who’ve given Degald justification for this war. How can we be sure there aren’t more among us?"

"You... what are you saying now?"

Zwalter stood up, unable to contain his anger.

The retainers who remained were those who had resolved to fight to the death for Perdiom. To suggest that there could be more traitors among them was a dangerous accusation.

How could they trust their lives to one another if loyalty was in doubt?

But Ghislain, his face expressionless, answered coldly.

"Can you truly guarantee there’s no one like that left by Father’s side?"

"W-What?"

"I trust no one. The only one I rely on is myself."

Zwalter found himself speechless as he looked at his blood-covered son, who spoke so resolutely.

The other retainers, too, couldn’t muster any objections.

After all, it was true that one of their retainers had betrayed them.

Ghislain’s current demeanor was like that of a volcano on the verge of erupting. His cold, piercing gaze silenced everyone.

After glancing around at the quiet retainers, Ghislain spoke again.

"We will defend the castle from here. From now on, no one will leave the castle. If anyone tries, they will face my sword."

Randolph, his face twisted in frustration, stood up in protest at this forceful and dictatorial declaration.

But before he could say anything, Zwalter raised a hand to stop him.

"Very well, since the ambush succeeded, we’ll move past that. Now, why do you propose we hold the castle?"

"The enemy commands a large force. Even in a minor territorial skirmish like this, they needed to send a separate supply unit. But now that it’s destroyed, they won’t be able to sustain their army for long."

"..."

"In the meantime, you should request reinforcements from Count Roges again. Once they arrive, we can open the gates and launch a coordinated attack."

"What if the reinforcements are delayed or don’t come at all?"

"Even if they don’t arrive, the enemy won’t be able to last as long as we can. While they retreat and prepare to attack again, we’ll have time to find another solution."

Though the enemy’s main force likely had brought some supplies, it wouldn’t be enough to sustain such a large army for more than a few days.

The key question was whether Perdiom could hold out that long.

With such a large army and siege weapons, it wouldn’t be easy to defend the castle for an extended period.

"We need to hold out for at least a week."

"We’ll do our best. In a short-term battle, our chances of victory are lower."

"Hmm..."

Ghislain’s reasoning made sense.

If they attempted an open-field battle and lost, it would be over. But by holding the walls, they increased their chances of winning.

While it’s true that defenders usually struggle in a long siege due to supply lines being cut off, now that both sides were facing supply issues, the situation was different.

Zwalter, deep in thought, turned to Randolph.

"What do you think?"

"Ahem, I’m not sure."

Though Ghislain’s plan made sense, Randolph, still bitter about Ghislain’s independent actions, couldn’t give a favorable answer.

On the other hand, Homeron, who had supported a defensive stance from the beginning, was quick to agree with Ghislain’s proposal.

"I believe the Duke is right this time. We should request aid from Roges and hold out as long as we can."

The other retainers also reacted positively.

"Both sides are cut off from their supplies."

"They won’t be able to sustain 6,000 men for long. Holding out is in our favor."

"The Duke has accomplished something great. This is an opportunity!"

With their chances of survival now higher, there was no reason to oppose Ghislain’s plan. While Ghislain had often been a thorn in their side, this time, his recklessness had worked out.

Even Homeron, Albert, and the other retainers smiled approvingly at Ghislain.

However, Randolph remained wary, watching Ghislain with suspicion.

‘He’s certainly accomplished something, but... it’s dangerous. He’s on the verge of becoming a bloodthirsty killer.’

Having spent his life on the battlefield, Randolph sensed something unsettling in Ghislain’s aura.

As Zwalter pondered the opinions of the retainers, Ghislain spoke again.

"There’s another option."

"What is it?"

"We could abandon the people and retreat to the northern fortress."

"You fool! Is that something a noble should say?"

Zwalter pointed at Ghislain, shouting in anger.

The retainers frowned and looked at Ghislain with disdain.

"If the castle falls, the people will be enslaved and slaughtered. Don’t you understand that?"

Even if they successfully held the northern fortress, the devastation of the people would leave Perdiom in chaos for decades.

But Ghislain, his expression cold, stared directly at his father.

"But you know as well as I do that our chances of survival are higher if we do that."

"...."

Zwalter said nothing, glaring silently at his son.

The one who broke the silence was none other than Homeron.

"Enough! Stop this! We don’t have time to argue among ourselves. My lord, while the Duke’s tone was harsh, his words weren’t wrong. You must decide quickly!"

Zwalter turned away from Ghislain in disgust, closing his eyes.

Though he didn’t like the situation, Homeron was right. They needed to make a decision fast.

‘The chances are slim, but… it’s better to stake everything on this.’

He had never truly intended to abandon the people and flee. He had simply hesitated because their odds of victory were so low.

But now, with Ghislain offering them a chance, the decision had essentially been made for him.

Zwalter took a deep breath and spoke.

"Very well. We’ll defend the castle. Prepare to reorganize the forces and secure our positions. And reconsider the routes for sending a message to Count Roges."

At his command, all the retainers bowed their heads.

With a small glimmer of hope restored, they now had to give their all to withstand the enemy.

At that moment, Randolph stepped forward and spoke.

"Wait! What about the mercenaries the Duke has gathered? Shouldn’t we integrate them into the main force?"

Once again, all eyes turned to Ghislain.

Zwalter, his voice cold, spoke.

"You probably have no intention of agreeing to that."

"I will act separately."

"Will you ever listen, even once?"

"I’m sorry."

Ghislain’s refusal was firm.

Randolph frowned. He had wanted to forcibly take control of the mercenaries, but with Ghislain having already returned triumphant, he no longer had the justification to do so.

Suppressing his anger, Zwalter said.

"You will, at the very least, follow the battle plan."

"Understood. But…"

"What is it?"

"Allow me to defend the gate."

"The gate?"

"Yes."

Zwalter narrowed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

‘Does he want to save his forces? What’s he planning?’

The gate would be the most dangerous point after the siege began. Siege engines could strike at any moment, and they would have to repel the enemy forces pouring in from siege towers.

However, once the gate was breached, it would become the fiercest battleground.

"Why? Are you afraid of standing on the walls?"

"I intend to wait by the gate and deploy reinforcements wherever they’re needed."

"Reinforcements?"

"The mercenaries lack proper training. It would be better to fill in wherever the defenses are weakest."

His reasoning made sense, and although it left Zwalter feeling uneasy, he agreed.

After all, Ghislain wasn’t the type to follow orders unless he wanted to.

"Fine. But when this is over, you’ll be held accountable for acting on your own."

"So be it."

Ghislain, as if finished with the discussion, turned to leave.

Albert stopped him, calling out urgently.

"Wait! Where did you put the newly acquired runestones?"

"I’ve already used them."

"What? You used all of them? Where?"

"I used them where they were needed. Don’t worry."

Without further explanation, Ghislain left the hall.

‘Everything is almost in place.’

Piece by piece, the board was coming together as he had planned.

But there was still something he hadn’t revealed to anyone.

‘Count Roges won’t be able to send reinforcements.’

While replies had come back, even if refusals, from other territories, communication with Roges had been completely cut off.

The roads leading to Roges had likely already been blocked.

‘Just as I expected.’

Seeing the soldiers who had come bearing Degald’s banners had confirmed his suspicions.

There were only two powerful lords in the north capable of providing that much support.

One was Count Reyfold. And the other…

‘Duke Harold Desmond, the Supreme Commander of the Northern Forces.’

Later, when the Kingdom of Lutania reorganized its military to face the wars that swept the continent, the northern lords had all sworn fealty to Harold. Harold Desmond had been granted the title of Duke in recognition of his leadership.

‘So, it’s you controlling the north, as expected.’

Ghislain had encountered Harold in his previous life.

Though rigid in his thinking, Harold had been a competent strategist and skilled in combat.

After Amelia had been defeated by Ghislain, she had waged guerrilla warfare with her remaining forces, while Harold had faced him in direct, head-on battles.

‘Now that Harold is involved, holding out will be difficult.’

Count Perdiom and his retainers had chosen to believe in the hope Ghislain had given them and fight.

But Ghislain himself didn’t believe they could hold the castle.

Harold had clearly anticipated a prolonged siege, which was why he had sent such a large force with siege equipment.

‘This is the best option.’

Ghislain was confident that even in a direct confrontation, he wouldn’t lose easily.

With six mages launching surprise attacks, they could inflict significant damage on the enemy.

The enemy didn’t know that there were mages on Perdiom’s side.

And if Ghislain led a charge to strike the enemy’s flank, they could break through the enemy’s formation.

With proper planning and coordination, they had a fighting chance, even in open battle.

‘But just having a chance isn’t enough.’

Even if they won, the cost would be high.

If they lost, it would be over. Even if they won, it wouldn’t feel like victory.

They would be too battered to withstand a second assault.

Ghislain didn’t want a victory that left them in ruins.

‘I need to set an example.’

He needed to send a clear message to the enemy: that attacking Perdiom would lead to certain death.

Everything he had done so far had been for this one purpose.

For just one decisive move.