Reincarnated as the Descendant of a Fallen Noble

Chapter 132: Buying Time (1)

Inside the defensive position established at the trading port of Mudside.

Watchtowers, wooden palisades, and more. In these rows of defensive structures, Daphne's conscripts tightly gripped their weapons, faces filled with tension.

“Damn it, what the hell is going on? Why haven't the reinforcements arrived yet? Squad leader, have you heard anything?”

“Well, I... I haven’t received any orders either.”

Grumbling voices erupted from all directions.

Their opponent was none other than the Tread County, the ruling power of Luden Shire.

However, the reinforcements promised by the imperial princess were nowhere to be seen.

By now, everyone felt it in their gut.

That perhaps… they might have to face the Tread County on their own.

‘Then it’s over.’

‘There’s no way we can fight them.’

Just as their anxiety swelled and the murmurs grew louder—

“Everyone, move aside! Make way!”

Former Commander Mulgybson, who was leading the conscripts, shouted while waving his arms wide.

As he did, the conscripts in the rear stepped aside, creating a path.

“Is that...?”

“Isn’t that the Young Master and the knights?”

“The Lord and the Third Young Master are here too.”

Right in the center, the core figures of the house marched forward in unison.

While the conscripts tilted their heads in confusion, the group reached the very front of the defensive line.

At that moment, Mulgybson shouted loudly.

“Conscripts! From 1st to 5th Unit! Step forward!”

“Y-You mean us?”

“Why us all of a sudden…?”

As they hesitantly stepped forward with puzzled expressions, Mulgybson spoke.

“From now on, you’ll leave the defensive line and assist the Young Master.”

“Assist him? What exactly does that mean?”

When a few squad leaders asked, Hardin clapped one of them on the back and said,

“You’ll find out when you get there. It’s nothing too hard, so don’t worry.”

“Ah… yes, sir.”

The squad leader nodded reluctantly, still wearing a confused look.

Just then, Cobalt approached Hardin with a heavy expression and said,

“Please come back safely, Hardin.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Hardin shrugged and then declared,

“Alright, let’s go! Everyone, follow me!”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, they moved forward, leading the knights and conscripts.

Their destination was the dock, where five ironclads modified (?) by Hardin were stationed.

As Cobalt and Malion watched their retreating figures, serious expressions lingered on their faces.

‘Anyway, we need to buy time, so it’s not a bad choice.’

‘Ughhh, it’s a gamble. But at this point, it’s the only option…’

They would launch the ironclads into the nearby sea.

By forcing the enemies to waste their shells and delaying them as much as possible.

Even if the ironclads ran aground on the coastline, it would still narrow the entry route into the harbor—so it wouldn’t be such a bad outcome.

It was a rather absurd method, but with the imperial princess's reinforcements yet to arrive, there were no alternatives—this was the best they could do.

"Alright, get on board quickly!"

At the dock.

Knights and soldiers scrambled up onto the ironclads, and multiple sails unfurled with a snap.

Then, the oars beneath the ships began to move relentlessly, and the massive lumps of steel slowly started moving forward.

If those ships dropped anchor and came to a stop in the outer sea as planned, everything would go according to...

“Huh? Father, that ship looks like it’s going a bit farther than it should.”

“W-Well, it’ll stop soon.”

“...It’s not stopping though.”

“Uh… huh?”

The metal hunk—no, the warship—that should have stopped offshore continued sailing forward.

Surely it was just a mistake. Surely it would stop soon?

They blinked and waited, thinking that—but it just kept going.

Eventually...

“M-Malion!”

“Yes!”

Malion and Cobalt’s eyes widened as they bolted forward past the defensive line and rushed toward the beach.

“Brotheeeeer! Stop! Brotheeeeeer!”

“Hardiiiiin! Where the hell are you gooooing!”

The two of them howled, jumped in place, and even—grabbed a nearby scout and shouted,

“The war horn! Blow the war horn!”

“Uh? All of a sudden?”

“If I say blow it, blow it! Now!”

Pwooooooo!

The sound of the war horn echoed across the port.

“HARDIIIIIN!”

“BROTHEEEER! BROTHEEEER!”

Father and son shouted at the top of their lungs, voices cracking, hopping like madmen—but the warship with Hardin aboard only drifted farther and farther away.

Eventually...

Thud!

Exhausted, they collapsed to the ground right where they stood.

“What the hell… what the hell are you trying to pull now, Hardiiiiin…”

“What kind of ridiculous crap are you trying to pull this timeeee!”

The two of them grabbed their heads and let out desperate screams with teary faces.

---

---

At that moment, on top of the ironclad—

Standing on the deck of the lead ship, Mikkelsen glanced back toward the port and said,

"Young Master, it looks like they’re yelling something from over there?"

Hardin, standing with arms crossed and gazing out at the sea, waved it off.

"Ah, don’t mind it. It’s nothing."

The way he said that... made it feel like it was definitely not nothing.

Mikkelsen scratched his head with a worried look and asked again.

"Ughhh... But, I mean, wasn’t the plan to drop anchor in the outer sea? It feels like we’re going a bit farther out."

"That plan changed in the last meeting."

"All of a sudden?"

"Yeah. So we need to go farther."

Mikkelsen looked at him suspiciously and asked,

"Seriously…?"

"I said yes."

...Weird. Since when did plans change on a whim like flipping your hand?

‘He’s not… trying to pull some weird stunt again, is he?’

No matter how eccentric this man could be—surely not now, of all times...

No way, surely not.

Mikkelsen’s face was clouded with deep unease.

---

---

By the time the midday sun hung high in the sky—

Swaaa! Swaaa!

The massive warships of the Tread County, bearing the hammer banner, pushed through the blue waves in a rhombus formation.

At the front of the line—

“How far to Mudside?”

“…At this speed, we should arrive within thirty minutes.”

When Chillas, the brawny man with a large scar across one eye, asked the question, the helmsman responded quickly.

“…Soon, then.”

Chillas licked his lips.

‘Daphne Viscounty…’

He didn’t know what trick they had used or how they had managed to deceive his eyes, but one thing was certain.

‘They’re definitely the ones who grounded the ship.’

It made no sense for a giant hole to suddenly appear in the hull of a ship that had shown no issues for weeks.

Chillas turned his head to look back.

There, on the massive flagship behind him—

Standing on the deck, Count Vernian gazed out at the sea with cold, lifeless eyes.

“……”

In that moment, Chillas’s and Vernian’s eyes met.

An expressionless face paired with an empty stare.

It lasted only for the briefest of moments, yet just locking eyes with him made Chillas’s heart sink.

“Huuuuhhh…”

Chillas turned his head forward again, and with a finger, traced the scar running along his cheek.

The scar inflicted by Count Vernian’s sword. As his hand passed over it, memories of the past surged forth.

—

“Because of you, I got dragged into another damned mess.”

“N-No, Captain Pattinson, I had my reasons…”

“Silence.”

—

After that last failure, how much scorn he had endured from Commander Pattinson and the other unit leaders...

Bitterness welled up in his throat, his brows furrowing instinctively.

‘If not for them…’

Last time, he had been caught off guard and humiliated—but there would be no such mistakes now.

It was the bright midday.

There would be no ambushes. In terms of firepower from the warships and cannons, knight orders, and even conscripts, they held overwhelming superiority in every regard.

Sure, the enemy must have made their own preparations, but even Daphne’s knights numbered fewer than forty.

There wasn’t even a sliver of a chance for defeat.

Which meant that the most important objective now was…

‘Crush them. So completely that it wipes away all memory of past failure.’

Clench.

Chillas tightened his fist.

It was at that moment—

“U-Uh, Commander! There’s something strange ahead!”

The shout came from the lookout post on the ship.

As Chillas turned his head, he saw the soldier lowering his telescope.

“…What are you talking about? Strange how?”

“It’s a ship!”

“A ship? What about it?”

“It's just... you need to see it for yourself, sir.”

“……”

Chillas furrowed his brow.

Thud!

He grabbed hold of the net leading to the lookout post and swiftly climbed up.

“Hand it over.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

He immediately snatched the telescope and looked forward—and his jaw dropped wide open.

“W-What the hell is that?”

In the waters leading toward Daphne, where the route narrowed slightly due to scattered floating reefs—

Five ships floated in the middle of that path.

Their size, the material of the anchors, and the overall shape of the hulls were all too familiar.

They were unmistakably the same warships Chillas had used when he blockaded Daphne’s waters.

And on top of that—

“What the hell… did they do to those ships?”

Had they repainted them?

The entire vessels were now covered in a dark gray hue.

They looked bizarre, almost like ghost ships.

Chillas frowned and shifted the telescope’s view to the deck of one of the gray warships.

There, a familiar face appeared.

“Hardin Daphne.”

The Grand Young Master of Daphne—Hardin Daphne.

He was standing there, waving enthusiastically in their direction with a broad grin on his face.

“…Mocking us, are you.”

Seeing that they had gone out of their way to turn the stolen ships into those grotesque monstrosities and sailed them all the way out here only confirmed it further.

He was certain now that it had been Hardin who had grounded their ship in front of Mudside.

Chillas scowled for a moment but then curled his lips into a sneer.

‘Digging your own grave, huh.’

There was no chance of winning even with a ground defense… and now they thought they could wage a naval battle with those repaired ships?

They had only five—barely a third of what he brought. His ships were bigger, faster, and had far superior cannons.

Chillas touched the hilt of the sword at his waist and exhaled from his nose.

‘Well, it’s a shame... I sharpened my blade for this day.’

But they’d soon wish they had died by his sword instead.

Chillas immediately turned his head to look at the flagship behind him.

There, Count Vernian, arms crossed, raised a hand.

A silent command.

Smirk.

Chillas raised one corner of his mouth and shouted without hesitation.

“Artillery crew—load the cannons!”

“He says to load the cannons!”

“Move fast!”

“Reel in the sails!”

The sailors on the deck echoed the order and began moving in perfect unison.

To reduce the ship’s speed, the sails were furled, and powder was packed into the forward cannons. Massive iron shells were then loaded.

Two newly developed cannons fresh from the forge.

With those, even at this distance, they could turn those ships into scrap metal.

“Commander! Cannon No. 1 is ready!”

“No. 2 is ready too!”

As the shouts rang out from across the deck, Chillas slammed his arm downward and roared,

“Fire!”

“FIIIIIIIRE!”

Chiiiiii!

The fuse caught fire, and moments later—

KWAHHHHHHHHNG!

Like the thunder god unleashing his fury, two fiery blasts erupted in a cloud of black smoke.

The projectiles moved so fast that they seemed like long red streaks cutting through the sky.

Those two shots of fury flew directly toward the warship carrying Hardin—without even the slightest deviation.

‘Direct hit.’

KWAANG!

As Chillas clenched his fist, eyes gleaming—

CLANG!

“Huh?”

Instead of the explosive crack of wood shattering, a crisp metallic screech echoed out.

Splash!

Both shells dropped straight into the sea.

“…W-What was that?”

“Didn’t… they just hit?”

“Huh?”

Chillas, along with the sailors on deck, stood frozen, mouths agape, blinking in disbelief.

“W-What are you doing?! Reload!”

“Reloadingggg!”

As Chillas shouted again, the sailors hurriedly reloaded the cannons.

BOOM! BOOMBOOM!

This time, even the other warships joined in, spitting out dozens of shells across the water.

But...

TANG! TANG! TADADANG!

Once again, metallic screeches rang out—and not a single shot pierced the enemy ships. Every last shell splashed harmlessly into the sea.

Chillas began to tremble, muttering to himself.

“Did that bastard... reinforce the ships with iron plates?”

He did that in the meantime?

In that moment, the mystery behind the gray coating on the ships became clear.

And the faces of Chillas and most of the Tread soldiers turned pale with shock and disbelief.