Ribue was the most prosperous city on the Empire’s frontier. At least, while the war with the Sultan lasted. When the seemingly endless 50-year war finally ended, the outposts near the frontline quickly declined.
The endless flow of resources came to a sudden halt. War is a business that swallows vast amounts of money, and the merchants who had invested in it either ended up on the streets or left Ribue after the war ended.
All kinds of businesses—mercenary work, transportation, trade, metallurgy, and food distribution—were hit hard. Ribue, which had been a hub for trade routes to all the frontline outposts, could no longer cover the massive population growth and the resulting security vacuum with gold.
Thus, the Grand Duke of Ribue, Erbe de Carvelier, had to find a way out. The golden age of war profiteering was over, and all that remained was the bill for the glorious past.
“Grand Duke, Lorance is burning!”
To minimize bloodshed in the war, the Empire had state-led mercenary operations. As a result, after the war, the number of unpaid mercenaries became unmanageable.
And unemployed mercenaries are no different from bandits. This meant that Ribue’s vast territory was now swarming with at least dozens of bandit groups.
Meanwhile, the Imperial Army had already withdrawn entirely over the past year. The Imperial Army, composed of the forces of various Dukes, had no desire to stay in Ribue and pay maintenance costs.
Moreover, some Dukes wished for the downfall of a powerful rival.
“…Soldiers. Do I have any soldiers left, Deputy?”
“Baron Isidore’s forces are still stationed here. Marquis Maurice and Marquis Turen have also… offered to assist Your Grace.”
The Duke’s dry voice was met with a somber reply from his deputy. The principality’s standing army had already been scattered to suppress bandits and rebels.
The vassals who had successfully preserved their forces during the war were staying in Ribue instead of returning to their own territories.
They were vultures. The Duke sighed deeply and held his forehead. Vultures. Since they had mobilized their troops under the Duke’s summons, etiquette dictated that the Duke had to cover half of their maintenance costs. But the Duke lacked the resources to sustain all those troops.
What they wanted was simple: his daughter. The heir to the Grand Duchy after his death. In exchange for resolving this crisis, they sought sovereignty over Ribue.
That was impossible. He couldn’t burden his precious daughter with the failed war business and the downfall of their family while saving his own life. The Duke, still holding his forehead, spoke.
“We need war to survive…”
“Your Grace.”
“Human blood keeps us alive. How are we any different from vampires? Tell me, how are we better than those vile mosquitoes…?”
The deputy bowed his head without a word. Imperial support had ceased, the Dukes desired Ribue’s downfall, and his lord was too fragile.
It wasn’t that he lacked the talent for war. In fact, he was a highly capable commander. But now, with the war over and his territory on the brink of collapse, the old general had become more vulnerable than ever.
There was no hope. The general and his deputy had been together for many years, and they could communicate with just a glance. Despair flowed between them.
Then.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!!”
-Crash!
The door to the lord’s chamber burst open, and a servant rushed in, panting. The servant, drenched in sweat, ran forward and prostrated himself before the Duke.
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Grace!”
“What is it?”
“An envoy has arrived!!”
“An envoy?”
“The envoy of the Federation of Nobles… The Chieftain himself requests an audience!”
“What?!”
The Duke shot up from his seat and shouted. In this era of chaos, the strongest warlord of the Great Wilderness had come to Ribue?
There was no time to waste. The Duke splashed water on his face and quickly donned his coat.
“Lead the way!”
An unexpected guest in the midst of turmoil. Whether this would be a saving grace or the trigger for the territory’s downfall remained to be seen. But with no other options, the Grand Duke bit his lip and left the room.
“The Empire is a kind of federation ruled by eight Dukes.”
“Your Excellency, this is a bit heavy!”
“The more extravagant, the better. Imperial nobles don’t deal with those who look insignificant.”
Fernandez adorned Kirhas with jewelry as he spoke. It had to be as practical as it was lavish. To deal with and manipulate the Dukes, a shabby appearance was unacceptable.
“If one family ascends to the throne, the other seven families take key positions in the Imperial Palace. They’re nominal titles, but power comes from names.”
“What is the position of the one we’re dealing with now?”
“Commander of the Imperial Western Expeditionary Forces.”
-Click.
“Ugh!”
As Fernandez tightened the gold-decorated belt around Kirhas’s waist, she let out a choked gasp. She shook her head and made a pained face.
Ignoring her, Fernandez sat at her feet, bowed his head, and retied her shoelaces.
