Magic Caster of Destroy

If the king was not personally present, command authority would undoubtedly fall to Marquis Bowlrob. But since the king was here, it would only be natural to have King Ranpossa III as the supreme commander, though the nobles would probably not accept that.

Gazef’s expression hardened as Marquis Bowlrob placed pressure on the King, but Marquis Bowlrob remained unmoved even as he saw Gazef’s expression. To Bowlrob, Gazef was merely a commoner who was good with a sword, and allowing one not of noble blood to remain here was nearly intolerable.

“…Marquis Raeven.”

“Yes, your Majesty!”

“I’ll leave it to you. Conduct the army safely to the Kattse Plains. From there, you will also be in charge of the encampment and entrenchment.”

“Understood.”

Raeven nodded in acceptance of the royal decree. Although the spot Bowlrob wanted had been snatched away from him, if it was Raeven, Bowlrob could not complain. He knew the man was talented, and as a result, criticizing him would be very difficult. More importantly, Raeven had broad connections, and many of Bowlrob’s men owed him favors. If he tried to criticize Raeven in front of them, they would only doubt him instead. As such, Bowlrob had no choice but to grin and bear it.

“Marquis Raeven, my troops will be in your hands. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Many thanks, Marquis Bowlrob. I will be counting on you in that event.”

Gazef was as happy over the King’s brilliant decision as though it were his own.

“Is there anything else?”

The King waited for a while, but nobody replied.

“…Then let us begin the preparations to move out. We shall leave tomorrow. It will take us two days to reach the battlefield, so do not grow lax in your preparations. Then, you are dismissed.

Marquis Raeven, carry on.”

“I understand, your Majesty.”

The nobles steadily filed out of the room to begin their marching preparations, leaving only the King and Gazef.

Ranpossa III slowly turned his head. A cracking sound reached Gazef’s ear. He must have been very stiff. After stretching, an expression of relief bloomed on the King’s face.

“Thank you for your hard work, your Majesty.”

“Ahhh, it was hard work indeed. I’m tired.”

Gazef smiled wryly to his king. ‘Tiring’ was a capsule summary of managing the Royal and the Noble factions. However, there were still people who were more fatigued than Ranpossa III.

“It’s about time―”

Just as Ranpossa III was about to continue, several knocks came from the door. Then the door slowly opened, and the waiting guest entered.

He was a plump, piggish man who seemed otherwise unremarkable. His hair was sparse to the point of nonexistence, and what little remained was snowy white.

His body was round, his belly was fat, and his chin and jowls were flabby.

Yet, the light of intelligence sparkled within the eyes of this otherwise unimpressive man. Ranpossa III smiled amiably to him.

“Welcome, Panasolei.”

“Your Majesty,” said the Mayor of E-Rantel as he bowed to his liege lord. Then, he shifted his gaze.

“It’s been a while, Stronoff-dono.”

Panasolei was a noble, but yet he was exceedingly courteous to Gazef, a commoner. It was precisely because he was a man like that which resulted in him being posted to this place.

“You took care of me back then, Mayor. My thanks for arranging to heal my subordinates. I was in a hurry to report to the capital, so I rushed off without properly thanking you. Please accept my apologies.”

“Ah, no, no, think nothing of it. I understand the importance of the Warrior-Captain reporting about the ambush. How could I be so inflexible as to hold a grudge against you for that?”

Seeing that both parties were bowing to each other, the King laughed in joy.

“Panasolei, aren’t you doing that wheezing thing with your nose?”

“Your Majesty… There is no need to do so around people who do not patronize me. Or perhaps his Majesty and Stronoff-dono feel I am a jester who trades on that particular act?”

“Sorry, sorry, it was a joke. Please forgive me, Panasolei.”

“Ah, no, your humble servant overstepped his bounds. It is I who must beg your forgiveness, your Majesty. Then… shall we begin?”

“No…” The King hesitated, and then replied, “No, there’s still one more person who’s yet to arrive.

Let’s wait for him.”

“Is that so. Then, may we discuss the issue of food costs within the city? After that, I shall report the projections on our national power for the next year, based on the data collected by the Marquis.”

“Umu. The sooner we get these headaches out of the way, the better.”

As Panasolei began to speak, even Gazef, who was unused to managing domestic affairs of state, ended up frowning.

His report concerned the alarming state of the country’s present and future expenses. The collection of food throughout the territories was making the shortages of food even worse. Of particular note was the fact that the country would continue declining even after the citizens here were released from their conscription.