When Belinda launched her attack, not everyone was asleep like Bernarf.

Conrad, Amelia’s advisor and head of the Actium Merchant Guild, was awake, spending the night reviewing various matters.

Adjusting his monocle, he flipped through some documents and muttered to himself.

“It’s a relief Lady Amelia stockpiled so much food. I thought we’d suffer heavy losses, but things are turning out better than expected.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

The woman he served was truly remarkable. Not only was her knowledge vast, but her strategic acumen and political finesse were enough to make even seasoned men pale in comparison.

But that wasn’t all. Amelia possessed a unique instinct. Her seemingly intuitive actions often led to unexpected and extraordinary results.

The large-scale purchase of food during the recent drought was one such example.

Conrad’s smile faded as his hand instinctively moved to the rapier at his waist.

“Hmm…”

He felt a strange sensation, as if an insect were crawling up his neck. It wasn’t a literal bug, but rather a chilling, predatory presence.

Clang!

In an instant, his rapier struck like lightning, piercing a corner of the tent.

A figure leapt out of the shadows within the tent, narrowly avoiding the strike.

“Tch.”

Conrad clicked his tongue. He had aimed for the face, but the target had dodged with exceptional precision. Yet, they hadn’t escaped unscathed—a gash on their cheek left blood trickling down.

Seeing the assassin’s impassive expression, Conrad tilted his head slightly.

He thought he recognized that face from somewhere.

After a moment of contemplation, he let out a bitter chuckle and spoke.

“You… you’re one of the ‘Bribery King’s’ bodyguards, aren’t you?”

The assassin targeting Conrad was none other than Wendy, who had once served as Claude’s bodyguard.

Given the gravity of this operation, even she had been forced to participate.

Conrad had seen her before, back when she was the point of contact during Fenris’s first dealings.

With a mocking grin still plastered on his face, Conrad continued.

“Your presence here… does it mean the Count of Fenris intends to make an enemy of us as well?”

Wendy, her expression still unreadable, replied flatly.

“I was never here. Don’t act like you know me later.”

With that, she hurled a barrage of daggers.

Swish, swish!

Conrad dodged the incoming daggers with ease, thrusting his rapier toward her. But Wendy, seemingly uninterested in continuing the fight, retreated while pulling something from her cloak.

Click.

The sound of metal mechanisms locking into place was followed by a spark. Realizing her intention, Conrad scowled.

Wendy produced a cloth soaked in oil, ignited it, and tossed it onto a pile of documents.

Fwoosh!

Conrad swiftly used his mana to snuff out the flames with his rapier, wrapping the burning cloth around the blade.

But Wendy hadn’t thrown just one.

She scattered fire-starting bundles throughout the tent before darting outside.

Soon, flames erupted across the Layfold army’s camp.

“Damn it! What the hell is going on?! Who’s responsible for this?!”

Ulkan stormed out of his tent, brandishing a massive club, his voice booming with rage.

Meanwhile, Caleb stomped on the corpse of a masked assassin, his face twisted in anger.

As the leader of the Wildcat Smuggling Ring and an assassin himself, being attacked by other assassins was a blow to his pride.

Both Ulkan and Caleb dealt with their attackers with ease, but not everyone in the camp was as capable.

Several Layfold officers were killed, plunging the camp into chaos.

“The commander of the 4th Infantry Division is dead!”

“Catch them! What are you doing?!”

“They’ve disappeared! The enemy is gone!”

The unexpected attack left the soldiers in disarray, scrambling to catch the assassins who were already retreating.

From a distance, Belinda watched the chaos in the camp with a tinge of regret in her eyes.

“It’s not as easy as I thought.”

Just as Ghislain had predicted, the camp’s defenses weren’t particularly high due to their focus on speed.

Even so, they hadn’t inflicted as many casualties as she had hoped.

Worse, several of her assassins had been killed in the process.

Belinda clicked her tongue bitterly.

“It’s such a waste of trained operatives…”

For years, she and Ghislain had quietly nurtured a network of assassins, selecting the most talented individuals and disguising them as ordinary servants within the territory.

Only Ghislain’s closest confidants were aware of their existence.

The most skilled among them were operatives Belinda had personally trained, like Wendy.

“I’ll need to train more when we return.”

Though their skills were not lacking, their numbers were still too few—especially when facing high-level targets like in this operation.

Lower-tier assassins couldn’t even succeed in their missions, let alone escape unscathed.

Still, they had managed to ignite fires and sow chaos throughout the camp. The distraction would buy some time.

As the assassins fled, Amelia surveyed the camp in a fury. Unable to contain her rage, she screamed.

“Ghislain! Ghislain! That bastard dares—!”

Flames roared around her as horses bolted in panic. The sudden attack had turned the camp into a chaotic mess.

Once again, Ghislain had bested her. And in a way she hadn’t anticipated, no less. It was infuriating.

Breathing heavily, Amelia scanned the camp. Soldiers were running in every direction, trying to regain order.

“Put out the fires!”

“Reorganize the troops!”

“Find out where they broke through!”

The soldiers were as disoriented as their commander, though some managed to arm themselves quickly and secure the perimeter.

After a short while, a knight approached Amelia and bowed.

She glanced at him sharply and asked, “What’s the damage?”

“There weren’t many casualties,” the knight reported, “but… several company commanders have been killed.”

The damage assessment wasn’t about the number of soldiers lost—it was the impact of losing capable officers.

Knights weren’t the only valuable assets; skilled commanders were sometimes even harder to replace. Amelia had carefully selected mid-tier officers, but many had died in the attack. Restoring this loss would take considerable time.

The knight’s report wasn’t finished.

“They released the horses, spread poison around the area, and then set fires. Many of the horses either ran off or died as a result. The poison has been purified by the mages, and we’re in the process of recovering the runaway horses.”

Horses were essential for maintaining the pace of the march. If their goal was to hinder the Layfold forces, targeting the horses was undoubtedly their main objective.

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before asking again.

“How did they manage to get in?”

Even though the army had been focused on speed, they hadn’t neglected security. The Layfold forces were disciplined, and Amelia placed great importance on maintaining strict vigilance. The soldiers didn’t take their guard duties lightly.

Moreover, the perimeter was guarded by skilled knights and mages in shifts.

With an army of 5,000, it seemed impossible for assassins to infiltrate unnoticed, no matter how skilled they were.

And clearly, not all the assassins were particularly capable—several had failed to escape and been killed.

The knight hesitated briefly before continuing.

“There were… tunnels.”

“Tunnels? They dug tunnels knowing where we’d camp?”

“They weren’t large. More like hidden pits. It seems they dug several in advance and waited nearby after observing our movements. We’ve found a few outside the camp as well.”

“Go on.”

“Some of the pits happened to be directly beneath soldiers’ tents. They used those to infiltrate the interior, set fires, and then allowed others to join the attack. The timing of the attacks was staggered.”

The knight quickly explained the situation, piecing together the events.

As he described, Belinda had been monitoring the Layfold forces closely, knowing they would eventually move.

This allowed her assassins to hide in advance in pits near the campsite.

Patience was the most critical trait for an assassin. Staying cramped in uncomfortable, narrow spaces for days wasn’t an issue for them—it was part of their basic training.

Amelia clenched her lips tightly.

Without enemies nearby and with a focus on speed, internal security had inevitably been loosened.

And with 5,000 troops to accommodate, the camp itself was sprawling. Once the general location was identified, infiltrating the interior became relatively easy.

“How… how does that bastard know everything…?”

She still couldn’t understand how Ghislain managed to anticipate her every move.

“I need to find out, no matter what. This isn’t luck, nor is it intuition. He’s acting with certainty.”

Amelia could no longer dismiss Ghislain as simply lucky or a genius. Everything he had done so far suggested something closer to prophecy.

But how he was accomplishing this remained a mystery. She pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a headache brewing.

Bernarf, standing nearby, cautiously asked, “If Ghislain is moving now, too, what should we do? Shouldn’t we get there before him?”

From the situation, it seemed the Layfold and Fenris forces were moving almost simultaneously. But everyone knew Ghislain’s army was composed entirely of cavalry, renowned for their speed. It was obvious they were racing toward Desmond’s territory at full gallop.

Bernarf, realizing this, spoke again.

“Why not use the remaining horses to send out cavalry and knights now? We might be able to match their speed.”

“They’ve set traps.”

Amelia’s voice was firm.

The audacity of those who had infiltrated the camp suggested they had already anticipated the Layfold forces’ next move. With a clear destination in mind, it was highly likely traps had been laid to counter their cavalry.

Amelia grabbed a map and studied it again.

“That doesn’t mean we can just give up. Divide into three groups—one takes the fastest route, one takes the middle, and one circles around. Forget everything else and focus on capturing the fortresses and strongholds I’ve marked.”

Desmond was a massive territory. Unlike other northern domains, which typically consisted of a handful of villages or perhaps a town or two, Desmond’s scale was entirely different.

Capturing insignificant locations would achieve nothing and would only brand them as invaders, prompting immediate retaliation.

At the very least, they needed to secure one major stronghold to justify their claim under the guise of an alliance. Once that was achieved, the Duke’s household could handle the rest.

Following Amelia’s orders, the knights and cavalry quickly reorganized and began to move.

Their sole objective was to secure the locations Amelia had designated and hold them until the main forces arrived.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The cavalry’s hooves thundered across the ground. Though their faces were marked by exhaustion from a lack of rest, their discipline from years of intense training was evident—they showed no signs of breaking.

As the cavalry departed, Amelia surveyed the remaining troops with sharp eyes.

“Recover quickly and move out. There’s no time to waste.”

If Ghislain had predicted her movements and prepared accordingly, he was undoubtedly heading toward Desmond as well. This was now a race against time.

Grinding her teeth, Amelia muttered to herself as they marched.

“Ghislain, Ghislain… that bastard…”

The humiliation of being outmaneuvered once again was unbearable.

If she had stayed put, she wouldn’t have suffered this disgrace.

As she had expected, the cavalry sent along the fastest route encountered trouble.

Most had fallen into spike-laden pits, losing their lives. Those who managed to avoid the pits were tripped up by cleverly placed wooden stakes, set at just the right height to bring down their horses.

The injured groaned as they lay on the ground, while the few unscathed cavalrymen were too preoccupied tending to the wounded to consider advancing further.

The soldiers brought one of the stakes to Amelia, showing her the engraving on it.

[Crafted by the Great Blacksmith and Friends.]

“These bastards…”

Amelia’s eyes burned with fury. Not only had they blocked her path, but they had the audacity to leave behind such a mockery.

Even without further explanation, she knew who was responsible for the traps. It had to be the dwarves currently staying with Fenris.

She resolved then and there that they, too, would pay with their lives.

As they tended to the wounded, cavalrymen from one of the other routes returned.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“There were obstacles.”

“Obstacles?”

“At the narrowest part of the gorge, they’ve built a wall using trees and rocks. We had no choice but to take a detour. I brought back something we found at the site.”

The cavalry commander handed over a stake he had brought with him.

[Crafted by the Great Blacksmith and Friends.]

“…”

Amelia stared at the stake, her expression frozen. She’d heard rumors about the eccentric individuals living in Fenris’s territory, but seeing the evidence firsthand was something else entirely.

There was no time to take another detour. The Layfold forces quickly cleared the obstacles and pressed forward.

By the time they arrived near the first targeted fortress, the cavalry detachment that had taken the longest route rejoined the main force.

“I apologize,” said the cavalry commander. “The enemy has already taken the fortress.”

“…”

How could they have moved so quickly? Securing the front-line fortress immediately after winning the war?

It wasn’t due to a traitor leaking information. Amelia hadn’t shared her plans with anyone.

Her expression remained cold and unreadable as she led her troops closer to the fortress.

Sure enough, the banner of Fenris fluttered above the fortress walls.

“…”

Amelia’s gaze remained fixed on the banner. She didn’t utter a single word.

Standing nearby, Bernarf quietly stepped back. He knew better than anyone that Amelia grew icily silent when her anger reached its peak.

“I told her not to get tangled with that bastard. Controlling Layfold should have been enough—taking half the north would’ve sufficed.”

Bernarf couldn’t bring himself to voice his frustrations, grumbling internally instead. Amelia’s ambitions were far beyond what he could keep up with.

“If only she could let go of her greed, we could live happily. That’s all I want.”

Bernarf’s dreams were simple—just a peaceful life with Amelia, free of endless conflict.

But Amelia’s silence left her closest aides too afraid to speak. No one dared provoke her in this state.

As the Layfold forces stood motionless, glaring at the fortress—

Creak…

The fortress gates slowly opened.

From within, Ghislain emerged on a black horse, flanked by his knights. They rode slowly toward the Layfold army.

Seeing this, Amelia mounted her own horse and advanced. Her knights and aides, including Bernarf, formed a tight guard around her.

Ghislain, still bloodstained from battle, stopped at a reasonable distance from the immaculately dressed Amelia.

He was the first to speak.

“It’s been a while, Amelia.”

Amelia tilted her chin slightly, her expression haughty as she replied.

“It has been a while, Ghislain.”

The two locked eyes, smiles playing on their faces.

Their eyes, however, were filled with deadly intent.

Before the tension could dissipate, Amelia’s hand moved slightly. At the same moment, mana began to surge into Ghislain’s spear.