Chapter 89

Chapter 89. Territorial War Preparations (4)

While I was busy preparing for war, an officer of heraldry from the Franche royal family came to see me.

He must have rushed here, because he looked terrible.

The moment he met me, he abruptly declared,

“Count Eric Westfalen Marcel, I have come to Marcel on behalf of the royal family to confer a title upon you.”

“Count? Did Count Michael die... pass away?”

“No. This is not from the Germania Imperial Family. The Franche royal family has elevated Viscount Marcel to the rank of Count.”

What was this about now?

I had a guess, but it was difficult to ask carelessly.

I had no idea what kind of person this heraldry officer was.

Besides, it seemed the King had decided on my elevation without the consent of the other nobles.

“Can the King elevate someone on his own?”

“Of course. Marcel Territory was originally a direct territory of the royal family.”

The first Viscount Marcel had followed royal orders to develop this land, which had been swallowed by the Great Forest.

Afterward, his achievements were recognized, and he became lord of the newly separated autonomous Marcel Territory.

That was also why Marcel had remained a viscounty for generations despite being a frontier territory.

“Then I will read the message of King Louis de Franche.”

[We solemnly decide to raise the rank of Marcel Territory to that of a county, and elevate Viscount Eric Westfalen Marcel to the title of Count. ... Though it is a remote mountain territory bordering the Great Forest, its knight order is shamefully small... therefore, the authorized strength of its knight order shall be set at ninety, and Our decision shall be obeyed with due solemnity.]

Putting “Westfalen” randomly into my name was one thing, but what was with calling Marcel a remote mountain territory?

Did Marcel really have that much of a backwater image?

Anyway, just as I had guessed, the King’s message was basically encouragement not to lose against Ronalp in the territorial war.

From the royal family’s perspective, they also did not want the difficult-to-control Count Ronalp to become the hegemon of the south.

Ha! Chatillon plans to fatten me up and then cut my throat. He was planning to swallow Marcel Territory whole, just like Corsica. Is that bastard completely insane?

Thanks to this, I finally understood Count Chatillon’s intentions.

Instead of being upset, I decided to use it.

Didn’t this mean I could cause a certain amount of trouble without consequences?

Still, even if my authorized knight strength increased, where was I supposed to suddenly find that many knights?

“Heraldry Officer, was there any word about recruiting additional knights?”

“Count Chatillon suggested borrowing them from Westfalen Territory or the Berber Kingdom.”

Damn it.

No wonder they had shoved “Westfalen” into my name.

Even though Marcel and Westfalen had signed a mutual defense treaty, if I relied too heavily on someone else’s forces, then even if I won the territorial war, the rewards would not entirely belong to me.

It would be better to borrow only enough from Westfalen that they could not brag too much about it.

Maybe one Deputy Commander and around twenty knights.

And Berber?

If knight orders from another continent could be borrowed that easily, someone would have built a continental empire already.

I also had no intention of worsening the situation enough that I needed to borrow those rude and brutal elf knights who treated chivalry like something to be fed to dogs.

It would be best to borrow around twenty knights from the Algiers Royal Knight Order or the royal guard, since they were relatively decent.

That should somehow bring the total close to ninety. I can pay them by sharing the spoils.

Since borrowed knights were not actually members of my knight order, becoming a Count did not change all that much.

Axel and I were steadily conducting interviews for free knights, so eventually the authorized strength would be filled.

Eventually...

Will my taxes change, at least?

“Do I keep paying the same taxes? Since I’m a Count now, don’t I get some sort of tax reduction?”

“There was no special mention of that. In such cases, you should continue paying the same amount.”

Ah.

They could have at least cut my taxes.

How disappointing.

While I grumbled to myself, the royal heraldry officer hesitated before speaking.

“Um, Count Marcel. I apologize, but the King has approved the Ronalp and Dijon alliance’s request for a territorial war. An envoy will arrive soon, but I was told to inform you in advance.”

“It’s fine. I expected it. Tell Count Chatillon that I appreciate his consideration.”

“Yes, Count.”

For now, it was better to maintain an outwardly friendly relationship with Chatillon.

We were mutually exploiting each other.

Friends with benefits.

Was that the phrase for this kind of relationship?

Fifteen days before Marcel’s autumn wheat harvest, and twenty days before Ronalp’s harvest, the canal was finally completed.

The installation of pulley-driven crane-like lifting devices and the lock connecting the canal to the sea still remained.

But to ease the anxiety spreading throughout the territory, and to demonstrate Marcel’s growing strength, we hurriedly held an opening ceremony.

Letters and envoys arrived from various places.

Palatinate in particular sent a liaison officer.

Until now, Catalonia had been the only territory to send a liaison to Marcel.

The fact that another territory had done so meant Marcel was finally no longer being treated as a tiny backwater.

I welcomed him gladly.

“Count Marcel, I am Moritz Palatinate, liaison officer from Palatinate Territory.”

“Welcome. I wonder whether Count Palatinate enjoyed the gift I sent.”

“My father was delighted. He held a seven-day banquet, had Lorian’s arm preserved and mounted in his office, and sent a letter to the former Count Westfalen, who is under house arrest. I imagine it gave him quite a shock.”

What a man.

Wait, his father?

Appraisal.

[Moritz Palatinate, 24 years old]

[Second son of Count Palatinate. Liaison officer to Marcel Territory. Serves Helios.]

So Moritz was Count Palatinate’s son.

Was this his way of showing that Palatinate wanted friendly relations with Marcel?

“For the sake of friendship between our territories, I’ll provide you with a building. You won’t need to pay rent.”

“Thank you, Count.”

Friendship blossoming amid polite compliments.

“While you stay here, think about economic cooperation between Palatinate and Marcel as well.”

“You mean a free trade agreement?”

“You know about it?”

“Of course. It is a fairly famous subject among administrators in Germania. There is still much discussion needed before it can be applied to actual trade, but Count Marcel is widely regarded as someone exceptionally skilled in commerce. I agree with that assessment.”

This guy.

His skill at kissing ass was exquisite.

“You sound like you were being trained as an administrator. Why did you become a liaison?”

“I came to observe and learn Marcel’s policies. If possible, I would like to apply them in Palatinate.”

Excellent attitude.

I liked him.

“I’ll arrange a seat for you at the lord’s council and administrative meetings. Most meetings do not involve confidential matters, so attend through the administrators.”

It was not one-sided generosity.

After Moritz finished his term as liaison and returned to Palatinate, he would probably support his older brother.

The goodwill he accumulated here could eventually help Marcel.

Moritz smiled brightly like a child.

“Thank you!”

While we were happily talking, Pascal, who was managing the ceremony, called me over.

“My lord, it is time for the prayer. Will you lead it yourself?”

“Which church requested it today?”

Ever since I received the Sun God’s blessing during the installation of the Provence Mage Tower, different religions had taken turns requesting that I lead prayers at major events.

They were probably hoping to witness a blessing from their own god.

“It was not a church. The fishermen of the Rhone River asked you to pray to Sebek, God of the River.”

“There really are gods for everything.”

“My lord, such an improper view of religion is...”

“Quiet. Bring me a bucket of water.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pascal scooped a bucket of water from the canal.

In front of the gathered crowd, I poured it back into the canal and prayed.

“Sebek, God of the River, this canal, symbol of our strength and hope, was built through our effort and passion. Please grant us your blessing, guide us along the right path, and show us mercy. Under your guidance, may we follow the flow of the river toward a better future.”

When I finished praying, light descended from the sky.

Like the blessing of the God of Abundance when Benedikta first entered Marcel Harbor, the light illuminated both me and the canal.

The territorial residents had seen this sort of thing so many times by now that they did not make much of a fuss.

Everyone at the ceremony simply knelt and prayed to the God of the River.

Even if he was not the god they personally worshipped, they were grateful for the blessing he had bestowed.

And once again, system messages filled my vision.

[System Alert]

[You have received the temporary buff [Conception of New Life] from Sebek.

No similar registered skill can be found. The temporary buff will be maintained.

By Sebek’s power, the magic skill [Ghoul Creation] has been changed to [Radiant Ghoul Creation].]

The temporary buff [Conception of New Life] increased fertility for one day.

I had no idea why he had given me something like this.

I was an unmarried man who had already married three times in my previous life, so I ignored it.

It almost felt like the God of the River was mocking me.

The prefix “Radiant” had been added to [Ghoul Creation].

Leaving aside how completely unsuitable that word sounded for a ghoul, was it really okay for Sebek to modify a skill granted by Hela, God of the Dead?

Maybe I was just biased because humans tended to avoid Hela.

Anyway, after [Ghoul Creation] became [Radiant Ghoul Creation], the number of ghouls I could create increased to three.

Four would have been nice. But is that the only difference? Nothing else changed?

Later, I would summon Ramita and Lorian and ask what else had changed.

The canal itself had also been blessed.

It would take time to discover what had changed.

Even when Benedikta was blessed, it took quite a while before we discovered all the effects.

The canal opening ceremony ended with a performance in which fishermen from the Rhone River presented me with fish.

We quickly discovered another change caused by [Radiant Ghoul Creation].

“Yah, yah, yah.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Chloe was beating Lorian with a club again.

“Why does the ghoul look like that?”

“I don’t know. She suddenly changed.”

Both Lorian and Ramita had lost their tall bodies, blue skin, and yellow eyes.

They had returned to their original human appearances.

The differences were that their dagger-like long and powerful nails remained, and the symbol of Hela had appeared on their cheeks.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Now that Lorian looked human again, Chloe seemed even more eager to hit her.

Forget warnings about excessive revenge, even I was starting to feel annoyed just looking at Lorian, so I understood.

“Should I replace her with another corpse? Chloe, what do you think?”

“I don’t mind. This is not Lorian. It is a ghoul created by divine power.”

That actually sounded reasonable.

I could keep using her roughly and replace her if she was destroyed.

Chief of Economy Diego did not know what Lorian had been like, so he watched Chloe’s behavior with confusion before giving his report.

“My lord, an envoy has arrived from Catalonia. They want to know when we will stop handling wheat from Ronalp.”

Catalonia’s liaison officer had gone to Veneto to receive the canal vessels.

Since he was unavailable, they had apparently sent a separate envoy.

“When Ronalp begins its harvest. From that moment onward, turn away every wagon carrying wheat.”

“...That is rather cruel.”

If we stopped handling their wheat, not only the nobles of Ronalp and Ferrand, but farmers and merchants would suffer enormous losses.

Their entire economy could be damaged.

Diego was merely saddened by that fact.

He was not blaming me.

“This is war.”

“Understood. I will tell them it will begin in twenty days.”

Karin Ronalp probably believed only sword fighting counted as war.

But the war had already begun.

The Long-Armed Blue Trolls were heading toward Ronalp.

And I was about to stop handling their wheat.

Karin Ronalp, you picked the wrong opponent.

You will regret your greed for a long, long time.