The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

Eastern Beach, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

The silence was unsettling, an oppressive quiet that pressed against the ears like a weight. The wind whispered through the sparse dunes, carrying the distant scent of salt and war. Even the soft lapping of the waves against the shore felt muted, like the island itself was holding its breath.

John rode slowly at the head of his unit, his horse's hooves kicking up soft sand as he led a column of armored knights toward the shoreline. Each movement was careful, practiced. The terrain was familiar, yet today it felt hostile, charged with the invisible pressure of looming conflict.

The eastern beach was bathed in the pale glow of early dawn, the first rays of sunlight stretching across the sea like fingers searching for the truth. But John's thoughts weren't on the sun or the waves. His mind was elsewhere.

"Katrina…"

The thought of her—of leaving her behind gnawed at him more than any enemy blade. He had survived countless skirmishes, but this was different. Now he is married. And the cost, should he fall, would reach far beyond himself.

"Set up the quicklime sacks here," he ordered, pulling his horse to a halt near a shallow embankment overlooking the beach. "I want them hung just above the waterline. When the time comes, they need to drop cleanly."

His men dismounted with efficiency, already unpacking bundles of pale, powder-filled bags. Sacks of quicklime were hoisted on ropes, their purpose clear, creating a thick artificial fog to blind the enemy at sea.

All around him, the preparations continued in earnest. Artisans positioned flamethrower rigs behind makeshift palisades, while others worked on small boats fitted with steam engines, their sides disguised with crude but convincing silhouettes of larger weaponry. False artillery structures were being erected along the dunes to give the illusion of different locations of the firepower.

John stepped away from his horse and looked toward the horizon. The morning haze began to burn away under the rising sun, and that's when he saw them.

Small black dots. Far away, but closing in.

His breath caught.

"Messengers!" he barked to his second-in-command. "Send word to Her Highness immediately, the fleet is coming!"

The knight saluted and dashed off with a pair of messengers on horseback, galloping toward the command tower inland.

John remained where he stood, his eyes locked on the growing formation in the distance.

So it begins…

Western Beach, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

On the opposite side of the island, the scene was no less tense.

Dame Aisha stood at the edge of the shallows, her boots sunk into wet sand as her sharp eyes tracked the movement of her team. The beach here was narrower, flanked by jagged rock formations that offered some natural cover. Caves carved by centuries of sea erosion now served as makeshift storage for their most critical weapons: quicklime, oil barrels, and reinforced ballista bolts.

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"Move your hands faster! We don't have much time left!" she barked, pacing along the line of workers hauling quicklime sacks toward the hanging rig system.

Teams of militia and workers, drenched in sweat and dust, moved back and forth from the caves like ants. The sacks were suspended above the water by thick ropes, waiting for the moment of release that would unleash thick, suffocating fog.

Aisha stopped beside a ballista team and scanned their equipment.

"Have all weapons been checked?" she demanded.

Her second-in-command, a young but capable officer snapped to attention. "Yes, Dame Aisha! All ballistas are primed, bolts stacked, tension cords reinforced. Triple-checked."

"Good," she muttered, but there was no time for relief.

As she turned her eyes to the horizon, she felt her breath catch. The sky was lightening by the second and within that light, the silhouette of an advancing fleet began to form. One by one, black shapes emerged from the misty sea, like giants waking from slumber.

Aisha clenched her jaw. "We're cutting it close…"

She turned on her heel and shouted to the workers. "Forget breaks! You can rest when we're all still alive! Move!"

The workers doubled their pace.

As the dots on the sea sharpened into the shapes of imperial warships and enchanted vessels, the beach crews worked feverishly, securing sacks, igniting pilot flames, adjusting rigging. Every heartbeat echoed with urgency.

Southern Port, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

Unlike the chaotic flurry of labor elsewhere, the southern defenses stood silent and finished.

The usual bustle of fishermen and dockhands was gone; civilian vessels had long since been evacuated inland or hidden in rocky coves. The harbor was stripped bare of all signs of daily life. In their place stood lines of armored knights stationed along the high port walls, their forms silhouetted against the orange glow of dawn.

Dozens of steam-powered unmanned boats floated in narrow mooring channels below, their engines dormant but primed. barrels of oil and false weaponry, they lay in wait like sleeping wolves, ready to surge toward the enemy on command.

Above them, enormous hot air balloons hovered tethered in position beyond the enemy's line of sight. Their canvas surfaces were painted in sea-gray tones to blend with the sky. Hidden by the cliffs, their payloads: iron boulders, burning tar, awaited only the ignition of their launch flames.

The quicklime mist traps had been fully set along the southern coastline, positioned to release a veil of choking fog the moment the signal was given. The entire port had become a trap, silent, precise, deadly.

Upon the highest section of the southern sea wall, Ravenna stood flanked by Hughes, Alice, and Sarah, the early morning wind tugging at their cloaks. Together, they watched as the sun began its slow ascent over the waves, painting the horizon in gold and crimson.

Ravenna's expression was unreadable, her eyes locked on the coming light. Then, without turning, she spoke.

"This marks the beginning of my second campaign for the throne," she said, her voice low and clear. "From this moment forward, there will be no more rest. Not until I wear the imperial crown."

Hughes and Alice exchanged glances, then looked back at her. A soft, knowing smile tugged at both their lips.

"We've always been ready, Your Highness," Hughes said.

"And we always will be," Alice added, stepping beside him. The two of them clasped hands for a brief moment, fingers tightened in mutual resolve.

Still facing the sea, Ravenna asked, "Did you hide Aurora's ship properly? I don't want anyone realizing she's here."

"We had it sail north," Hughes replied.

"They'll never spot it," Alice added. "Not unless someone for a weird reason sails around to the northern shore."

"Good," Ravenna murmured.

A few beats passed. Then Sarah, standing quietly nearby, pointed toward the horizon.

"There," she whispered. "They're coming."

From the edge of the rising sun, shapes began to emerge, first as shadows on the light, then as solid forms. Sails. Masts. A fleet, imposing, countless, creeping across the sea like the jaws of a great beast.

Ravenna's expression didn't change. She simply straightened her posture, eyes sharp with fire.

"Well then," she said, a wicked smirk beginning to curve her lips. "Our guests have arrived."

She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over her companions.

"Let's give my dear brother's visitors a welcome they'll never forget."