Ch.131Expansion (3)

“What… is this?”

The army entering the barony is shocked in many ways.

Even if they had intended to use this place as a forward supply base, wasn’t this area originally developed for trade with Caroling?

Yet there’s absolutely no trace of that anywhere.

Isn’t the entrance itself too brutal? Those dozens of linear trenches and hastily constructed wooden towers clearly reveal that combat was kept in mind when building them.

“Haha…”

The well-organized warehouses are filled with numerous supplies. From whetstones for sharpening blades to tools for reinforcing armor, countless arrows and spare equipment, and finally, vast amounts of food provisions that could have been prepared who knows when.

Most soldiers are illiterate and uneducated, but looking at the stored items and the structure of the warehouses, they instinctively sense and shudder at the realization that this was not designed for trade.

Knights, commanders, and other military officers feel similarly to their soldiers. In fact, thanks to military knowledge gained through various battles or formally studied at military academies, they recognize how efficiently these logistics warehouses were designed, filling them with both fear and respect for their king.

Of course, this place wasn’t designed for trade but was planned from the beginning as a logistics hub. Since Caroling was in the midst of civil war, trade goods naturally focused on military supplies—but the soldiers here have no time to realize this.

Due to the king’s terribly negative reputation and various malicious rumors, the soldiers suffer from confirmation bias, concluding that these warehouses must have been designed for war from the beginning.

“W-welcome… sir…”

‘So they even use slaves.’

Moreover, the workers in the warehouses hardly look like people living normal lives.

They’re even dirtier than serfs. They even have iron rings attached to their wrists and ankles.

Of course, these workers—merchants—are technically prisoners, which is why they wear shackles, and they’re dirty because they have too much work to find time to wash, but the soldiers have no way of knowing this.

“Do you need anything?”

“Well… first, we need a place for the soldiers to rest and supplies…”

“Understood. For supplies, please send someone to coordinate with us, and we’ll guide your men to their quarters.”

The commander, who had always been harsh and rude to his subordinates, finds himself speaking politely due to the strangely different atmosphere of the administrator.

Although the administrator overseeing the supply base is clearly a commoner, his work-worn demeanor, the deep fatigue etched on his face, and his appearance of being on the verge of collapse make even the most authoritative person hesitate to speak carelessly.

“And sir, there’s one more thing.”

“One more thing?”

“Yes. Since you’re heading to Lutetia, His Majesty has a message requesting you take these people with you.”

“…!”

The highest commander of this division realizes there’s something about this war that he wasn’t informed of, and while he feels a strange discomfort, he quickly reminds himself that this is His Majesty’s message and endures without showing his feelings.

The commander turns his head in the direction the administrator points, curious about who could be skilled enough to warrant a special order from His Majesty, but his curiosity is quickly replaced by even greater bewilderment.

They don’t look like soldiers at all.

They have some muscle, but it’s not the kind developed from weapons training. Rather, it resembles a carpenter’s build.

However, their demeanor is remarkably confident, and beside them are strange cylinders that make the commander hesitate to speak.

……….

“—Therefore, I, Claude, the rightful ruler of the Kingdom of Lotaring, will reclaim the throne of Caroling that should have rightfully been mine. That is his message… Your Highness.”

“…”

The audience chamber falls silent.

The empty throne stands vacant, reflecting the crisis facing Caroling.

Of course, the Crown Prince stands before it handling state affairs, but nothing can eliminate the visual burden of that empty throne.

“…Your Highness, you must ascend to the throne as soon as possible!”

After a long silence, another minister, unable to bear it any longer, suggests that the Crown Prince should wear the crown of Caroling as soon as possible.

In the past, such irreverent words would have caused all nobles, including the Crown Prince, to rise up and rebuke the speaker, but now no one does.

“…I cannot.”

“Your Highness!”

“His Majesty is still alive and well! While His Majesty is clearly alive and has shown no intention to abdicate, taking the throne would be clear treason! Moreover, isn’t Reims, where the coronation should take place, currently in rebel hands? If I were to ascend to the throne under these circumstances, could I truly claim legitimacy?!”

“Your status as Crown Prince is legitimacy enough!”

“Enough!”

At the minister’s repeated demands, the Crown Prince shouts loudly, and the minister, with a heavy heart, bows his head and falls silent.

“…I cannot bear the sin of betraying filial piety. With His Majesty alive and well, showing no intention to abdicate, coveting the throne would make me no different from a traitor.”

“…!”

The minister’s eyes widen at the Crown Prince’s words that follow.

Why repeat what’s already been said?

Moreover, though his voice sounds tired, there’s subtle emotion in his words. Doesn’t it sound as if he’s suggesting he could become king at any time if not for the issue of filial piety?

‘…Good.’

“I apologize, Your Highness. Please forget this matter.”

“I shall.”

After the minister’s apology, the commotion in the audience chamber quickly subsided.

Afterward, only empty, meaningless discussions continued until the Crown Prince, unable to bear it any longer, decided that everyone should return tomorrow with better ideas, and the meeting was adjourned.

The next day, the King of Caroling was found dead, and the Crown Prince was forced to ascend to the throne of Caroling with the support of his ministers.

Of course, other claimants to the throne refused to recognize him, declaring that the Crown Prince had committed the sin of patricide or that he had not undergone the traditional coronation ceremony.

……….

“The Lotaring army is coming!”

“…Finally.”

The Crown Prince—no, Louis XII—nods slowly with tension at the scout’s report.

He has made sufficient preparations.

Without completely destroying royal authority, he has regained the support of the nobles, and the fragmented army has been somewhat unified to at least have a voice.

Funding has also been barely secured.

Of course, it’s not as if a gold mine suddenly sprang from the ground to solve the financial problems—he borrowed heavily from various sources. Since losing this war would mean the end of everything, he paid no attention to interest rates.

If he wins, he can gradually repay the debts over time, and if he loses… best not to think about it.

‘…Tsk, I should have acted faster.’

Even now, thinking about it makes his blood boil.

If he had to poison his father and take the throne like this anyway, wouldn’t it have been better to have done so from the beginning and ended the civil war quickly? No, not “wouldn’t it have been”—it definitely would have been better.

…No, let’s not dwell on what’s already passed. Thinking about it won’t help solve the current problem.

“Is there a messenger from the Lotaring army?”

“Yes, they’re crossing the battlefield now. What would you like to do?”

“Killing envoys is not the way of the battlefield.”

We should at least hear what they have to say, shouldn’t we?

I don’t expect things to end smoothly with just dialogue, but at the very least, we might gain something before or after.

“The Duke of Lutetia must obey the command of His Majesty Claude, King of Lotaring and King of Caroling!!”

“…”

Of course, that expectation is shattered beyond repair.

The Lotaring messenger doesn’t enter the castle but circles around outside, spewing such extremely offensive statements without hesitation.

Duke of Lutetia? This is hardly the attitude of someone who came to negotiate.

If they were reluctant to recognize me as king, they would have at least addressed me by name without titles.

“Having committed the sin of patricide by killing your father without hesitation and usurping his title—”

Whoosh!

“—Ugh!!”

The Lotaring messenger’s words are cut short by dozens of arrows landing nearby.

The messenger glances at the arrows, glares at the soldiers on the castle gate, then turns his horse and leaves.

“…Well done.”

Although the knight fired without permission, I don’t feel like blaming him.

The dignity of the Caroling royal family hasn’t fallen so low that we need to respond to such low-quality provocations.

…Even if it had fallen that low, we could gradually restore it from now on.

“…Huh?”

After praising the knight and turning my head back toward where the Lotaring army was setting up camp with an uneasy mind, something strange catches my eye.

There’s something larger than a person, like a huge, elongated bucket turned upside down, installed at an angle.

It’s an object I’ve never seen before—when did they set it up?

Judging by its color, it seems to be made of something like bronze, but even for a wealthy kingdom, using that much bronze would be impossible, so it’s probably just the color.

Hmm… are they performing some ritual before battle? Well, since it’s so far away, I probably don’t need to worry about—

BOOM!!

“Ugh, what—huh?”

While looking at the strange object, a sudden thunderous sound assaults my ears, and it takes only seconds to realize that the sound came from that strange object.

That’s because a massive stone has shot out from it along with black smoke and is now flying toward us. Having been staring intently at that strange object all along, I can see the entire process of the stone projectile flying toward Lutetia without missing a detail.