Chapter 161

Chapter 161: Isn’t It Better to Strike First? (3)

Ghislain watched in bewilderment as Claude spoke urgently.

“When are you planning to strike? Can’t we take a bit more time? We should at least assess Count Desmond’s movements and adjust our plans...”

Ghislain shook his head firmly.

“No. Our schedule has been delayed already more than I anticipated. We must start preparations immediately. I’ll depart as soon as the next harvest is over.”

The next harvest was only a few months away. It was far too soon.

Claude let out a sharp scream.

“Why does it have to be then?!

“Because I have to fight on my own terms,” Ghislain replied in an uncompromising tone.

It wasn’t just a matter of seizing the territory quickly for the sake of claiming it.

Acquiring iron ore sooner would certainly be beneficial, but even more crucial was finding the optimal timing for victory. Rushing ahead carelessly only increased the likelihood of failure.

For Ghislain, a single failure—no matter how minor—meant potential ruin.

“I need to secure an overwhelming victory with minimal losses. The best way to minimize risk and capture the iron mines swiftly... is to attack at that time.”

Only Ghislain, armed with foreknowledge, could devise such a plan.

To continue steering all events according to his intentions, Ghislain had drawn in the Marquis of Branford and aligned himself with the Royal Faction.

However, explaining all this now would be pointless, as no one would understand, let alone believe him.

Even after seeing the results, people would most likely chalk it up to pure luck, as they had before.

As Ghislain stood firm, Claude, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, spoke pitifully.

“My Lord, why don’t we make a bet this time too?”

“What kind of bet?”

“A bet on whether we defend the estate my way or embark on this expedition according to your plan.”

Claude’s face was etched with genuine urgency.

To protect this estate with his very life, he couldn’t afford to continue being swept up in his lord’s reckless decisions.

That was what any sensible person living in the real world would think.

Hearing Claude’s tear-laced voice, Ghislain nodded without hesitation.

“All right, go ahead and tell me.”

Relieved, Claude’s spirits lifted as he eagerly began.

“To be honest, if you command it, then of course I should obey without question... But it seems the situation is just too risky. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone felt more secure?”

On that point, Ghislain couldn’t help but agree.

Blind obedience to the lord’s orders was meaningless.

The foes they would soon face could not be warded off with that kind of mindset.

If it meant instilling fervor in his people, he was willing to make bets a hundred, even a thousand times over.

“All right, so what’s your plan?”

“I’ll handle all the preparations for the expedition as you instructed. But, on one condition...”

“One condition?”

“If everyone here hasn’t mastered mana control within two months, please call off the expedition.”

“Call it off?”

“Yes, and instead, we’ll put everything into defending the estate. If we’re fully prepared, even if Count Desmond truly attacks, I’ll find a way to hold them off. I can manage at least that much, can’t I?”

Ghislain inwardly clicked his tongue.

He knew Claude was capable, but he was equally sure Claude couldn’t prepare enough to counter a Duchy’s power.

Even the royal family and the Royal Faction hadn’t completely grasped the Duke’s full resources and strategies—how could Claude anticipate and prepare against that?

By the time the Duchy’s true strength was revealed, it would already be too late.

Yet, Ghislain knew it would be impossible to make his retainers understand this.

The only reason they had managed to grasp the urgency of the situation was because Count Desmond’s forces were already making genuine moves, enough to warrant serious defensive preparations.

“Hm...”

While Ghislain paused, lost in thought, Claude watched him anxiously.

An enemy was clearly preparing to invade their territory. And here he was, betting the estate’s entire future on a gamble. Even if the lord himself insisted, it wasn’t something he could accept lightly.

As Ghislain’s silence stretched on, Claude quickly added,

“Ah, does that still not feel like enough? Then... Alfoi and I will each add another ten years of servitude to the wager!”

“Hey! What the hell! Why are you betting me too?” Alfoi protested, horrified.

Claude ignored him, pretending not to hear. It felt less burdensome with two people at stake rather than one.

Alfoi, attempting to resist, stopped short when he saw the intimidating glares from the others around him, sealing his lips shut. They were all intent on using Alfoi to dissuade the lord from going to war.

‘With that many runestones, we could’ve armed the soldiers with some incredible equipment. Ah, what a waste!’

Still, this was better than an unprepared expedition, so he had to be content with that.

Once Claude fell silent, Ghislain looked around at everyone and spoke.

“Just keep focusing on war preparations and development work for the estate, as you have been. I’ll personally handle the mercenaries’ mana training. Although, some of you will be moving much busier than you are now.”

As soon as he said this, everyone’s gaze shifted to one side. They realized who Ghislain was referring to.

With the focus suddenly on them, Alfoi and the wizards paled.

To train the mercenaries in mana quickly, they would need to create a mana convergence array.

And the only ones capable of that were the wizards.

The problem was that they already had a mountain of work piling up—from the estate’s waterways and reservoir construction to clearing land with runestones. There was barely enough time for sleep.

Alfoi trembled and asked, his voice quivering.

“Is that... absolutely necessary?”

“Of course.”

“But... we already have too much work...”

“No, you can handle it.”

“I can’t!”

Alfoi clenched his teeth and shouted.

“I can’t live like this anymore! As the branch manager, I’ll be terminating the contract between the tower and the Fenris Estate! Don’t try to stop me—I’m serious, I’m really leaving!”

At Alfoi’s defiant declaration, the other wizards joined in.

“Yeah! We’re leaving too! Let’s just end this! We’re done! We can’t do this anymore!”

Ghislain put on a mockingly impressed expression.

“Terminate the contract, you say? Are you prepared to handle the consequences? The Tower Master won’t take that lightly if you go back.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there! Anyway, I’m breaking it off!”

Ghislain nodded, seemingly agreeable.

“Fine, if the branch manager of the tower wants to cancel the contract, there’s nothing I can do. But we still have a personal agreement in place, don’t we?”

“What?”

“If you want to leave the estate, be my guest. A group of slave traders will be arriving soon, so you can go with them.”

If they left with the slavers, the odds of reaching the magic tower were practically zero. No, it was a guarantee they’d be taken somewhere far, far away.

“No! I can’t stand it here anymore!”

Alfoi and the wizards slumped to the ground, clutching their heads, utterly disregarding any semblance of dignity befitting a mage.

At some point, their lives had completely unraveled.

If they kept working, they’d probably die of exhaustion; if they held out, war would claim them; if they ran, they’d be sold as slaves; and if they returned to the magic tower, the Tower Master would likely kill them.

Just then, Vanessa, who’d been watching anxiously, stepped forward.

“Lord, how many do you need us to make?”

“A hundred for now. The mercenaries will be training daily in rotation over the next two months, so we’ll likely need several more sets after that.”

The wizards let out a small sigh of relief. They were worried that he’d order them to make enough for each person, but a hundred was still only about half of what they’d had to make during the last mana convergence array.

But Ghislain’s demands didn’t end there.

“You’ll have to make them all within a week. We need to start as soon as possible.”

The murderous schedule made the wizards turn pale again.

Although others felt sorry for them, they didn’t dare take their side. If they did, the estate’s construction projects and land-clearing work might be delayed, given the lord’s firm resolve.

However, Vanessa, wearing a confident smile, encouraged the wizards.

“Alfoi, you can do this. I’ll help you. Aren’t you the heir of the greatest tower in the North? And the other mages here are just as skilled.”

At her comforting tone, Alfoi pouted slightly. Having once been the maid of the tower, Vanessa’s encouragement pricked his pride.

Just then, Claude chimed in.

“Hey, bro. You’re a top-tier intellectual and a mage, right? Surely, this is no big deal for you? What’s with the sudden slump? Guess you’re feeling a bit tired lately, huh?”

Others started throwing in similarly empty words of encouragement.

“There is a lot of work, sure. But those from the Crimson Flame Tower should manage it.”

“Of course! Who could doubt the greatest talents from the finest tower?”

“Looks like our future Archmage is making a bit of a fuss. Haha.”

The decision was made. If the wizards kept stalling, everyone else would end up exhausted, too.

If a few words could nip that protest in the bud, it was well worth it.

“Hmph! All this flattery...”

As the flattery poured in, Alfoi straightened his back slightly and rubbed his nose with a hint of satisfaction.