Baron Andrew stammered as he spoke to the envoy.
âTh-this makes no sense! It was just a disagreement over the contract price with the mercenary corps, nothing more!â
âHah! Raising the hiring fee by threefold is an insult to Count Crest! How can we stand by and tolerate such disrespect?â
âThen you should settle it with the mercenary corps, not attack me!â
Andrewâs face was filled with indignation. In this harsh world, he had done his best to live quietly, avoiding any trouble.
The Barony of Nodehill was small and resource-poor, a place no other lords coveted. As long as he didnât offend anyone, he could survive in peace.
The envoyâs words were outrageously impertinent for someone of his rank. Yet, Andrew and his vassals swallowed their anger, unable to challenge him.
In an era where power dictated right and wrong, weakness was a crime.
Andrew pleaded desperately.
âEven so, how can you justify starting a war over this? The other nobles wonât stand idly by!â
âWho, pray tell, would dare oppose us?â
Andrew fell silent at the envoyâs sharp retort. While the pretext for war was both ridiculous and forced, the envoy wasnât wrong.
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