Chapter 153: The Skull Monster (1)

It was a clear day without a single cloud in the sky, with the sun shining down intensely.

In front of the docks at the Mudside Trade Port, two ships bearing the imperial flag were anchored.

One was the imperial vessel that Medeia had arrived on, and the other was a slightly smaller ship—the one that had been neatly repaired after belonging to the Count of Tread.

“Load the right ship first! Put the food on the upper deck and the rest of the supplies below!”

“Y-Yes!”

While Daphne’s workers were busy loading various supplies and provisions onto the two ships—

“How’s that? Looks good enough to use, right?”

Hardin, chin lifted proudly, spoke with his hands on his hips.

Standing beside him, Princess Medeia replied in an indifferent tone.

“Well, it doesn’t look bad. Since it’s a gift, I’ll make good use of it.”

“…If you’re thankful, just say so. Why do you always have to talk in circles?”

Hardin pouted as he spoke.

“Young Master, shouldn’t you mind your words in front of the Princess?”

Manton, who had been standing just behind, stepped in while staring hard at Hardin.

‘This bastard again.’

Why does he always lose his head when he sees the princess?

Hardin glared at Manton and let out a deep sigh, at which Medeia smiled just faintly and said,

“You’ve got a very loyal subordinate.”

“Th-That’s too kind of you, Princess Medeia. I only said what any knight should say.”

T-The Princess praised me…

Manton’s eyes widened for a moment before he bowed his head politely.

Just as he opened his mouth again, clearly wanting to say something more—

Thud!

Someone bumped into his shoulder and pushed past, stepping forward to stand beside the princess.

“Princess, you’ve been through a lot.”

It was Viscount Cobalt, Lord of Daphne.

“If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

And with him was Malion, the Steward and Third Young Master of the house.

Medeia slowly nodded in response.

“Thanks to you, I’ve had a good rest. Seems like I won’t have to worry about supplies for a while.”

While they exchanged a few words of parting—

“Take care. Let’s share a drink next time.”

“You’ve worked hard, Lieutenant Benjamin.”

“I’ll gather lots of good stories to tell you next time we meet.”

Behind them, Lieutenant Benjamin was sharing a warm handshake with Beryl and Mikkelsen.

Then—

“Looks like all the supplies have been loaded, Third Young Master.”

Engelmann, the supply officer, approached Malion and reported.

Medeia turned her head slightly to glance at her subordinates and gave the order.

“Let’s depart. Everyone, get on board.”

“Yes!”

“The Princess has given the signal!”

At her command, Medeia’s troops quickly split into two groups and boarded the ships with practiced ease.

Just as the boarding was nearly complete, Medeia spoke.

“Let’s meet again sometime.”

“Good luck out there. I hear the Eastern Front is a damn mess.”

Hardin snickered as he replied.

“If you ever decide to visit again… it would be an honor.”

“If you need anything, please reach out through my brother. We’ll support you to the best of our ability.”

Cobalt and Malion bowed deeply at the waist.

Medeia acknowledged their farewell with a glance and then turned around.

“Let’s go, Benjamin.”

“Yes.”

Once the two of them were the last to board the ship—

“Raise the anchor!”

Clatter clatter clatter!

The sailors shouted loudly as the anchor chain was hoisted, and the large sails unfurled.

In the blink of an eye, everything was ready.

“Set sail!”

With the sound of the horn echoing from the deck, the two ships slipped out of Mudside swiftly and smoothly.

On the deck, Medeia stood with her arms crossed, gazing back at the harbor.

Everyone from Daphne, including Hardin, remained standing, watching her figure until it disappeared from sight.

Somehow, everyone wore an expression tinged with regret.

---

A few days later, in the main conference room of the Daphne estate.

From the retainers to unit commanders Beryl and Manton, and even Mulgybson—

The core members of the house filled the room to capacity as each retainer stood before Viscount Cobalt, seated at the head table, delivering their reports one by one.

“Two ships have been successfully converted into merchant vessels. The rest of the warships are still undergoing repairs.”

“Good. Make sure to inspect them thoroughly—don’t rush it, do it right.”

“The defensive positions have all been repaired, and we’re currently working on clearing the route to the port to ensure smooth access.”

“Right. We couldn’t leave it like that forever.”

“We’ve sent an additional supply request to Calpion Manor. Steward Syllot is scheduled to visit next week.”

“Tell Syllot to come two days earlier. Things are urgent—we can’t have him dragging his feet.”

“About a hundred of the wounded have completed treatment and departed.”

“Provide full support so the remaining ones can return quickly as well. Engelmann, check the required medicinal herbs and handle the supply.”

“Yes, sir.”

As each retainer gave a report on their area of responsibility, Viscount Cobalt responded with comments and made the decisions.

It felt like the post-war cleanup was being wrapped up piece by piece.

Everyone appeared competent and composed.

Watching the scene, Hardin’s lips curled upward.

‘Now the house is finally starting to run properly.’

When he first reincarnated into this descendant’s body, half the people were just fumbling around uselessly… and the rest sat silently with dead eyes and sealed lips. Compared to that, this was a massive improvement.

‘All that’s left now is to keep pushing forward.’

Not only had they defended the port, but they’d also acquired nine ships—for free, no less.

Once those ships were fully converted, they could be used for direct trade all over the region.

Dock usage fees, trade profits…

‘At this rate, we won’t have to worry about money for a while.’

How could Hardin not smile at a future this bright?

Just as he was happily envisioning that future—

“Lord, I have something I’d like to report as well…”

“Speak.”

Raising his hand a little, Mulgybson wore an awkward expression as he asked,

“What should we do about the prisoners?”

“…Prisoners?”

“Yes, I mean the prisoners from the Count of Tread.”

The moment he said that, the faces of everyone in the conference room turned troubled.

From the recent war, there were forty-three knights and over three hundred conscripts captured from Tread.

In total, nearly 350 people were currently being held in various locations—abandoned storage houses and underground cells.

At that, Cobalt scratched his forehead and asked,

“What about contacting the Count of Tread’s side?”

“We’ve sent letters several times, but there’s been no response.”

Mulgybson replied with a grim expression, and Engelmann, the supply officer, added in.

“It would be best to resolve it quickly. The cost of feeding them isn’t insignificant…”

A reasonable point.

With 350 prisoners, even if they were being fed the cheapest meals, the expense would still add up fast.

At that moment, Hardin asked Mulgybson,

“Any chance they’ll defect?”

“It seems a few of the conscripts might be willing, but none of the knights. Since they’re from the Count of Tread, and the house hasn’t been completely wiped out…”

“Well then, they should hurry up and pay the ransom or something.”

There’s always someone dragging their feet when it comes to clean-up.

Hardin furrowed his brow and shouted, making everyone else in the room exchange awkward smiles.

It was then—

Creeeaak—

“Um, Lord, there’s a visitor.”

The door creaked open slightly, and Gadolph carefully stepped inside.

Cobalt asked with a puzzled expression,

“A visitor? From where?”

“They said… from the Count of Tread.”

In an instant, everyone’s eyes widened, and the atmosphere in the room turned cold.

‘They finally came.’

Cobalt’s eyes sharpened as he spoke in a low voice.

“Then, let’s end the meeting here. Guide the guest to the reception—”

But before he could finish the sentence—

Creeeaak—

The conference room doors opened, and a monstrous figure in a black robe walked in with steady steps.

At that moment—

“Gasp!”

Shing!

In an instant, Mulgybson, Cobalt, Beryl, and Manton all jumped to their feet and drew their swords, aiming them at the intruder.

“Wh-Why are you doing this, Lord?”

The retainers flinched and asked with startled expressions, but Cobalt remained silent, glaring at the figure.

‘That killing intent is overwhelming.’

The strange figure wore a black robe draped over his body, and a half-mask shaped like a black skull covered his face. In one hand, he held what was clearly a mage’s staff at a glance.

The sinister aura of killing intent he exuded and the thick stench of blood radiating from his body filled the conference room.

The retainers who were not mana users probably couldn’t sense it, which explained why they didn’t react.

Just as Cobalt, wearing a tense expression, was watching the intruder closely—

“Well now, hello there. You’re the envoy from Tread, I take it?”

Hardin, resting one hand on the back of his head and crossing his legs, casually tossed out the question.

The skull-masked figure replied.

“Tread, huh? So that’s what you think—I’m some lackey of that third-rate house?”

“Then who are you, and where are you from?”

At Hardin’s question, the skull-masked figure rummaged inside his robe, pulled something out, and held it forward.

It was a metallic badge shaped like a flame, embedded with tightly packed rubies, resembling a fiery blaze.

At that moment, Hardin’s brow furrowed, and the eyes of everyone in the room widened in shock.

Because…

“I’ve come under the orders of Lord ‘Jubilen’ of the Duchy of Ignima.”

“……”

The Duchy of Ignima.

As soon as the name of one of the current Empire’s Seven Great Houses was mentioned, no one could help but be stunned.

The atmosphere in the conference room instantly turned cold and heavy, and the figure let out a sneer from under the mask as he continued.

“My lord has seized the Tread estate. Accordingly, all authority of the Count of Tread now lies with us. I’ve come to retrieve the prisoners of Tread currently held by you.”

“……”

Everyone’s breath caught in their throats at the same time.

If things had gone as initially expected—if Tread had reached out directly—then it would’ve been possible to extract ransoms for the prisoners through proper channels.

But if the other party was Ignima, everything changed.

‘They want to retrieve the prisoners? From Ignima?’

‘Damn… what kind of disaster is this?’

The Empire’s Seven Great Houses.

That title alone meant there was no greater power above them.

While demanding ransom for prisoners from the victorious side was standard procedure—

‘Doing so would offend Ignima.’

Cobalt’s eyes trembled violently.

Even with the heart of a lion, he couldn’t dare entertain the idea of antagonizing Ignima in this situation.

As grave expressions darkened the faces of everyone in the room—

“Come now, even if your mouth is crooked, you should speak straight.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

When Hardin waved his hand dismissively, the skull-masked figure asked back.

Hardin chuckled and replied.

“You guys are from a branch family of Ignima, right? You’re not direct lineage. Isn’t that so?”

“……”

How… how the hell did that bastard know?

As the eyes of the masked figure narrowed, Viscount Cobalt turned to Hardin and asked,

“What are you talking about, Hardin?”

“That badge he showed us—it had a three-pronged flame, didn’t it? Three flames mean he’s from a branch family. The direct line uses four.”

Sorry to say, but I know all about the Ignima lot.

—Varlach Daphne! You cowardly bastard!

—Coward my ass. There’s no such thing as honor in a real fight, you dumb bastard.

I’ve had a lot of tangled dealings with them over the years, especially.

Hardin smirked as he explained, and the skull-masked figure showed clear displeasure.

“So… you mean to say you don’t wish to speak with me?”

He then adjusted his grip on his staff—

Fwoooosh!

Blue flames flared from its tip as he continued.

“If the Young Master’s goal is to insult my lord, then this conversation may need to take a different turn.”