As expected, Charlot Mecklenburg ordered ten barrels of ale. It wasn’t due to a ck of funds, but because he pnned to sample brews from other taverns. Ale had a shelf life, and storing it for too long would inevitably compromise its quality, even if it didn’t spoil outright.

  While Charlot dined with two dies, intense arguments were erupting within the baronial manor of Silver Dove Castle. The baron’s three children were vehemently cursing Charlot, and although the baroness herself remained silent, her discontent was unmistakable.

  The sudden arrival of a military force in Silver Dove Castle, so soon after Baron Fille’s recent death in battle, was enough to arouse deep suspicion.

  The young noble heirs were convinced that Charlot was a puppet of the duke, sent to annex Silver Dove Castle. They failed to grasp the profound panic gripping the Duchess as Grand Duke Ferdinand led his forces far afield, leaving their only ally, Baron Fille, to perish along with his entire army. Their immature minds were incapable of processing more complex or logical scenarios.

  Baron Fille’s eldest son decred decisively, “Mother, Silver Dove Castle is our family’s domain. We must drive this man away. We cannot allow this Charlot Mecklenburg and his worthless West Wind Knights to stay here any longer.”

  “I’ve heard he’s nothing more than a thirty-fourth-rank Chief Clerk. Let’s appoint a steward to issue orders under the guise of an official command, sending him to the front lines to battle those South Seraph restorationists.”

  The baron’s second son shouted in agreement, “Brother is right! Let those scoundrels kill each other off. We don’t have to do anything—just wait for the war to end.”

  The baroness, though not adept at complex reasoning, had enough awareness to realize that within the Empire’s bureaucratic system, higher-ranked civil servants could not arbitrarily command lower-ranked officials, even if their status was superior. The baron’s subordinates might include some Unreachable Css officials ranked twenty-fourth or higher, but they could not issue orders to a Chief Clerk from Strasbourg, regardless of his rank.

  Amid their quarrel, a young man burst enthusiastically into the room. “Sister, guess what I discovered? That Charlot doesn’t even have his own army! His so-called West Wind Knights are all our people.”

  “I found out that he simply rallied our soldiers on the battlefield, thinking he could lead them. It’s ughable! On the first night, three thousand of them deserted, and by the next day, another two thousand had fled…”

  The baroness’s younger brother, Uncle Buller, was evidently poor at mathematics, though he didn’t see it that way. With a conspiratorial air, he added, “Now all we need to do is raise our banner, and his men will return to Silver Dove Castle and fight for us. After all, they were originally part of the Yahoo Knights.”

  This revetion slightly reinvigorated the baroness. She asked, “Is this true?”

  The baron’s eldest son excimed, “Uncle Buller! This is crucial. Are you certain?”

  Buller cpped his hands, and more than ten individuals entered the room. Among them, the baroness recognized a few as soldiers from the Yahoo Knights. They corroborated Buller’s story, portraying Charlot just as he had described.

  By the time they finished recounting their tale, they were on their knees, shouting, “We were ambushed and temporarily defeated by those damned South Seraph restorationists. Later, it was a few brave gentlemen who stabilized the situation and unched a counterattack, only for that Charlot scoundrel to swoop in and steal all the credit.”

  “He forced us to surrender when the Yahoo Knights were utterly exhausted after several battles.”

  “Baroness, as long as you step forward, we’ll return to Silver Dove Castle without hesitation.”

  The baroness, still cautious, inquired, “How many men did Charlot originally have?”

  Buller eagerly replied, “Only two or three hundred, most of whom were said to be prisoners released from imperial jails.”

  The baroness nodded firmly, making up her mind. “We’re going to the camp.”

  The baron’s three children grew excited. They scattered and returned wearing custom armor. The eldest son, only fifteen years old, had yet to complete higher education due to his ck of intelligence and was currently tutored at home. Despite his youth, he wore a sword at his waist, exuding self-confidence. He eagerly climbed into the first carriage, his immature face alight with malice, plotting how best to dispose of Charlot.

  “To kill him with a single sword stroke would be too lenient.”

  “He should be publicly hanged in the camp, as an example to those common soldiers, to show them they must obey our family in Silver Dove Castle.”

  The baron’s family set out in six carriages, accompanied by a retinue of servants, maids, stewards, and the soldiers who had deserted Charlot’s West Wind Knights. They headed enthusiastically toward the camp.

  Buller, even more exhirated than the baron’s family, felt a twinge of satisfaction at Baron Fille’s death. The te baron had held little regard for his wife’s younger brother. Though once a minor noble, Buller had squandered his inheritance on hedonism, selling off his nds and repeatedly borrowing small sums from his brother-in-w. Each loan—never exceeding a few écus—was quickly squandered.

  This time, Buller mused, “If I help my sister’s family regain control of Silver Dove Castle and its army, she’ll surely grant me the title of Treasurer. Then I can draw money from the accounts without needing anyone’s approval.”

  “That Charlot Mecklenburg is truly my lucky star. Without him, my sister’s family wouldn’t have felt threatened, and I wouldn’t have this chance to manipute events to my advantage.”

  “Though Charlot may never understand why my sister is targeting him, let him remain in the dark. He doesn’t need to know that he fell because he blocked my path. Once we’ve executed him, I’ll fabricate a charge of treason, ciming he was a Byron spy!”

  “A mere fourth-level Chief Clerk, lucky enough to lead a knightly corps… Once I seize control, the Yahoo Knights will belong to my sister, and his West Wind Knights will naturally fall into my hands.”

  Lost in his fantasies, Buller spurred his horse ahead, galloping into the camp.

  The West Wind Knights, having endured the siege of Machubi Fortress and fierce battles against Byron’s cavalry, were on edge. When an intruder rushed into the camp, the soldiers instinctively closed ranks into defensive formations.

  Unfortunately, Charlot was absent, as were Dolores Soumet, Dubin Alger, and Frederica. With Yellow Bear cking sufficient authority, the West Wind Knights were like headless chickens—highly reactive but cking coordinated leadership.

  When Buller shouted, “Kneel and submit, you rabble! I’ve come to save you!” a panicked soldier accidentally fired his weapon at the baroness’s younger brother.