#35
“From Martu? Is this a support request sent directly by the lord?”
Medo asked, surprised. When Mark confirmed it, his expression darkened.
Baberi frowned at the mention of a lord.
“So, when he didn’t want to play with us, he ignored us, and now that he’s in a hurry, he wants our help?”
“Vaslui is indeed being petty,” Mark said, noticing Baberi’s displeasure, and tried to reason calmly.
“Still, if we lend support now, we might be able to resume trade under favorable conditions later.”
“Why Martu? There’s Babana.”
“Honestly, the magic stones from Babana are expensive. For someone like us who regularly consumes large quantities, Martu is the best option,” Mark said, glancing at Kur. Kur was flabbergasted.
Mark had still only given them enough magic stones to prevent collapse—large quantities were a ridiculous notion.
“I see.”
Baberi glanced at Kur and sighed in irritation.
“Fine, I’ll help, and get some magic stones while we’re at it.”
“But there’s a problem with accepting the proposal outright.”
“What else is there?”
Baberi frowned. She had thought naming the plan was the last step, but now there was more.
“Prince Duran is gathering troops. I expected any movement next year, but it’s happening sooner than anticipated.”
It was a headache of the worst kind. Judging by the scale, it was far beyond the temporary lending of troops by Glock to Rob.
“We might lose our position here if we go to support Martu.”
“Then we’ll deal with Duran first, and support Martu afterward.”
“But Your Majesty, isn’t the timing too perfect?”
It was suspicious that they moved simultaneously. Perhaps this was part of a deception involving Vaslui and Prince Duran.
“The mere fact that a rebellion has occurred might be a trap.”
“The rebellion is real,” Medo said, keeping a dark expression. He hesitated, then confessed.
“I actually received a letter from an old comrade asking for help with the rebellion.”
He had received letters from Pumpkin, a diplomat who had been close during Vaslui’s knightly days—one a month ago, and another two days ago.
He knew Pumpkin wanted to return home even after exile, and the letters asked for help to make their return possible.
“Why are you telling us now, after a month?”
Mark asked incredulously. Medo had no excuse.
If he explained, it was a personal request, not something directed to Babarania or Baberi.
“I was going to refuse anyway, and I didn’t think it would be proper to trouble Your Majesty.”
Medo apologized to Baberi, bowing slightly.
Baberi crossed her arms, deep in thought. Her head was spinning.
“So, Duran is gathering troops to capture me, there’s a rebellion in Martu, and both the lord and the rebels are asking for help?”
Baberi let out a wry laugh. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad news. Somehow, she had become popular without realizing it.
“So what do we do?”
Baberi looked directly at Mark. Kur bit his lower lip in frustration. Baberi always asked Mark first, and the plan always followed his opinion.
Kur didn’t like it. Mark already seemed to have a plan, and he spoke without hesitation.
“Rumor has it the Princess of Lancaster will soon ascend to the throne.”
Baberi recalled what the Lancaster princess looked like. She was slightly shorter than Baberi, with short black hair.
Two years ago, Baberi met Princess Sisel for the first time in the Rose Dale rallying point.
At that time, Rose Dale was chaotic, filled with Lancaster soldiers who had arrived earlier.
“I just want some food first.”
Baberi plopped onto the ground, tired and hungry, her temper crooked. She had been forced to hurry by a prince somewhere, leaving her with no proper meal.
Mark, helping Baberi set up the camp, noticed someone and approached her.
“That must be Princess Sisel of Lancaster,” he said, pointing.
Among the Lancaster knights, a woman in dark navy stood out.
“She has fierce-looking eyes.”
Prince Duran was known for his gentle eyes and charming smile, but the princess’s eyes were sharp and glaring.
“Who’s more annoying, Duran or Sisel?”
Mark shushed her, but suddenly Sisel spun around toward Baberi.
“My voice was too loud, I guess!”
Mark panicked, stomping his feet. Sisel approached Baberi steadily.
“Are you Baberi Rance, the heir to Ballista?”
Sisel stood in front of Baberi and asked.
Hmm, those eyes are really irritating.
Baberi nodded sullenly. The knights around her raised their eyebrows.
“Unlike others, I won’t make my soldiers bleed just because someone claims to be an heir,” Sisel said, looking Baberi up and down.
“If you can really defeat a dragon, prove that power to me.”
She nodded to her knight, Blake. Blake stepped forward. Baberi blinked slowly.
“I’ll pass.”
Hungry and unwilling to bother with such nonsense, Baberi raised her hands.
“What if I exhaust myself trying to impress you and can’t fight the dragon?”
Baberi thought she had made a good excuse. But Sisel didn’t back down.
“Don’t worry. My knights know their limits.”
At that moment, Duran appeared behind Baberi with his knights.
“Seems someone wants to stir up trouble.”
He flashed a dazzling smile, exuding a ruler-like charisma.
“A man pretending to be the Commander-General has arrived late.”
Sisel glanced at Duran, smirking. The knights of Tyres protested, but Duran waved them off.
“Pretending, you say? Not a very polite remark for a princess.”
“I’m not a fool who only says pleasing words, unlike those by your side.”
“A flower with thorns everywhere is not beautiful.”
“Enough nonsense. How about settling the Commander-General position here?”
Duran smirked at the unruly girl.
“Does the princess really covet the Commander-General post?”
“I simply can’t stand seeing someone unqualified holding it.”
Duran laughed loudly at the word “unqualified.”
“If you insist, then so be it. How do you intend to determine who is qualified?”
“Through a duel. The winner becomes Commander-General. I recommend my knight, Blake.”
Baberi planned to escape while the two fought, hearing the call for meals.
“Where are you going?”
As she tried to slip away, Sisel called her back.
“I said prove your strength to me.”
So she wants me to fight for that irritating prince? No way!
Baberi protested with a plausible excuse.
“I am not a knight. Fighting for the prince would only tarnish my honor.”
“Who said you fight for the prince? Fight for yourself.”
There was a peculiar greed in Sisel’s eyes as she looked at Baberi.
“Let’s make it a three-way fight.”
“What a joke, princess?”
Trying to sound calm, but Duran’s face stiffened.
“Not confident in your own skill, prince?”
Sisel provoked Duran with a sly smile.
In the end, Baberi won the duel and unexpectedly became Commander-General.
The Tyres nobles protested, but Duran’s orders forced them to comply.
Sisel seemed satisfied with the result, as long as it wasn’t Duran.
“You really didn’t get along with Duran, huh?”
Baberi recalled the incident. Mark nodded.
“Then how about teaming up with her to deal with Prince Duran?”
“Good idea. But what about Martu?”
“Put it on hold for now.”
Martu was secondary compared to Duran. Mark apologized to Medo for putting hometown matters on the backburner.
“I agree, it’s the right thing to do.”
Medo, looking down, raised his head. Though it was his homeland, it was the land of exile. Babarania had accepted him.
“Protecting this place is far more important to me.”
Medo said resolutely. Baberi poked fun at him.
“Look at him. Becoming a dad made him serious.”
Amused, she sought Kur’s agreement, but he scowled and didn’t go along.
“What do you want me to do?”
Baberi was puzzled by his annoyed expression.
“Why ask my opinion? You’ll do as you please anyway,” Kur muttered.
Baberi snapped her fingers.
“I have a good idea, ministers. Prepare paper and pen.”
Kur scoffed internally. In his experience, her “good ideas” were never truly good. Still, he wrote the letter as instructed.
[Thanks to my efforts winning the duel and becoming Commander-General, I survived, right?
I’ll give you a chance to repay your debt. Keep Prince Duran in line while I visit Anapol.]
Kur doubted Sisel would destroy or burn the letter immediately. But a few days later, a reply came.
[Your demands are excessive. Return and repay your debt to me.]
“How did she accept that?”
Kur read the letter for Baberi, incredulous.
“I can’t stand seeing Duran succeed.”
With the plan successful, Baberi’s pride soared. Though Kur found her arrogance irritating, he didn’t mind too much—Mark had decided to put Martu aside for now.
Three days later, the Babaranian army boarded ships for Martu, responding to Vaslui’s request for support.
Baberi’s pride from the alliance with Lancaster had yet to fade.
“You said it would never work, but I knew it would. Is this the difference between a king and his ministers?”
Kur, who thought a bit of arrogance was acceptable, was utterly exasperated by her lack of moderation.
“I request a vacation—until you stop acting so conceited.”
He stomped his foot on the deck, as if ready to leap into the sea.
“You’ll be stepped on if you jump.”
Baberi gestured for him to come down. Kur laughed scornfully. Who could step on him?
Even though she was temporarily “king,” he wasn’t about to tolerate that.
“Try it if you can.”
Baberi advanced, radiating hostility. Kur would regret that reckless bravado for the rest of his life.
