For Michael, selling substandard weapons was both a business opportunity and a form of civic duty, helping to defend the kingdom. If rowing while the tide is high was ever apt, it was now. In a way, producing these weapons was a noble effort, contributing to national defense and aiding neighboring territories.
A blast of magical energy erupted through the mist, striking the port side of the ship Pavilion with a bright flash. The vessel, tasked with transporting grain from the Radiant Holy Kingdom to the Pamir Empire, reeled as crew members—disguised paladins—screamed and fell to the deck.
While trained as sailors, their lack of experience made it impossible to stabilize the ship under such conditions. Sir Jared, captain of the Pavilion and one of the Radiant Holy Kingdom's Paladin Order leaders, wiped the sweat from his brow, grinding his teeth in frustration.
The fog thickened as the ship swayed precariously once more. Jared's voice thundered across the deck. "Where is the enemy firing from?"
His cry echoed across the sea, but only another volley of magical energy answered. The source of the attack was impossible to discern, as though they were being assaulted by a ghost ship. Hidden in the mist, the unseen enemy seemed to mock them with every strike.
The attack had begun suddenly. Awakened by the deafening sound of cannon fire, Jared had rushed to the deck only to find his ship enveloped in fog. Blue flashes of light pierced the darkness, sending his already disoriented crew into a panic.
Although the Pavilion was a magically armed transport vessel, its weaponry was useless in the face of an unseen enemy. Jared barked orders, urging his men to retaliate, but it was a futile effort. They had no idea whether their counterattacks were even landing.
Some of his subordinates argued that they should fight to the end, insisting they couldn't betray the Radiant Holy Kingdom. But Jared silenced them. As the son of a high-ranking archbishop, he had too much to lose. He had no intention of dying in the middle of the sea at the hands of an unknown foe.
When the crew raised a white flag of surrender, the relentless assault finally ceased. Drake, standing triumphantly aboard his pirate ship, stepped onto the deck of the Pavilion to celebrate their first raid.
He spotted the captain immediately—a man in his underclothes, unarmed and trembling. Meanwhile, the other crew members were fully dressed and armed. A sneer crossed Drake's face. The Holy Kingdom truly has fallen into ruin.
"W-we surrender! Spare our lives, I beg of you!" Jared stammered, his eyes wide with desperation.
Shaking his head, Drake glared at the defeated captain. "Silence, coward. The moment you raised the white flag, you lost all claim to respect. Luka! Throw this disgrace overboard."
Jared protested frantically. "Wait! No captain deserves to be treated this way! This is all my crew's incompetence—"
Luka, grinning wickedly, approached Jared. "You crawled out in your underwear, and you dare call yourself a captain? We're pirates, not the navy! Now, go give the sea a kiss!"
Jared struggled, but Luka's grip was unyielding. As Jared screamed, he was hurled into the ocean, to the cheers of Drake's crew.
Reborn from lives filled with resentment, they now served Michael as devoted followers, their mission focused on plundering the Holy Kingdom's ships.
Drake and his crew explored the ship, inspecting their spoils. The cargo hold and all storage areas were packed with grain—not gold or jewels, which was disappointing, but the quantity was substantial enough to count as a successful first raid.
In the captain's quarters, Drake discovered secret correspondence between the Radiant Holy Kingdom and the Pamir Empire. Smirking, he scanned the letters, which were filled with enthusiastic support for an invasion of the Kingdom of Lania. The documents also revealed detailed shipping schedules and routes for additional supply ships.
"Thanks to our master, we're exacting proper revenge on the Holy Kingdom," Drake muttered with satisfaction.
As he strode out of the captain's quarters, his cape billowing behind him, he erupted into laughter. "Kill them all! Let these so-called holy servants meet their end!"
A month passed in the blink of an eye. Word spread quickly that the massive army of the Pamir Empire was advancing toward the northeastern provinces. Duke Woodrock and Count Charles urgently summoned a high-level meeting of the nobility.
Wyverns soared from Count Charles's estate, carrying messages far and wide. Nobles from across the region, including Dominic and Michael from the Crassus Viscounty, soon arrived. Even lords who had clashed over territorial disputes set aside their grievances to confront their shared enemy—the Pamir Empire's invading forces.
The gathering became a flurry of alliances, with nobles scrambling to secure mutual support. The Crassus family, once overlooked, now enjoyed newfound prestige thanks to Michael's rising prominence. Count Charles's warm smile as he greeted Michael reflected this change in status.
Surveying the assembly, Michael discreetly identified the key figures with his father's guidance. Of the fifteen families represented, seven belonged to Count Charles's faction—an impressive display of the count's influence as the leading force in the northeastern provinces.
"This document is an official decree from the royal court," announced Count Charles solemnly, holding up a scroll. "You may read it, but it must not leave this room."
Behind him stood a mage holding an enchanted seal. "Before we proceed, I must ask you all to sign this confidentiality contract. It is essential for maintaining secrecy ahead of the war."
The kingdom's security measures were stringent, relying on magical contracts rather than mere verbal oaths. Once signed, the contract imposed a faint sense of binding. As long as the agreement was honored, it would remain unobtrusive.
"You've all seen the signs—this war will be no ordinary conflict," Count Charles began. His voice carried across the room, commanding attention. The gathered nobles exchanged uneasy glances.
"The Pamir Emperor has ordered a full-scale mobilization. Even with two allied nations sharing the burden, our kingdom will face the brunt of the assault. As the northeastern provinces are the kingdom's frontline, we will be the first to engage the enemy. I trust that each of you has prepared based on your intelligence."