The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

Reserve Fleet Holding Zone, Somewhere in the Ancorna Sea, Between the Mainland and Kim Dukedom

"What the hell happened here…?"

Ser Marco Deltan, commander of fleet dispatched under Prince Landon's banner, stood at the prow of his flagship, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Flames flickered in the distance, casting an eerie orange glow over the dark waters. Black smoke curled into the sky like grasping fingers, rising from what remained of a once-formidable battalion: imperial warships and church vessels now reduced to smoldering wreckage.

They had arrived too late.

Marco exhaled, his gloved hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "We were sent to support Princess Ravenna," he said, his tone contemplative, "under Prince Landon's direct orders. But it seems… there's nothing left for us to support."

The ship beneath him glided silently through the water, weaving cautiously past drifting debris and shattered hulls. Bodies, some armored, some not, floated face-down amid the wreckage. The metallic scent of blood and burnt wood hung thick in the air.

"I believe one ship escaped," his second-in-command said, stepping up beside him. He handed Marco a spyglass and pointed toward the northern horizon. "It was an imperial cruiser. Likely someone high-ranking… maybe a noble."

Marco raised the spyglass and followed the faint silhouette retreating toward the mainland. "He's running," he muttered. "A retreat after a defeat. Probably heading back to report, let him go. He's of no concern to us."

"Ser, on the far side of the wreckage," the officer continued, unfurling a rolled parchment, "we spotted several mercenary vessels. They've anchored in a crescent formation. According to this, they were commissioned under the seal of Her Highness Ravenna Solarius."

Marco took the parchment and studied the crimson wax seal with a raised brow. It was authentic, Ravenna's crest pressed into the paper beside the unmistakable signature of an elite mercenary guild.

A small, knowing smile touched the corner of Marco's lips.

"So, these are the ones who did it," he said softly.

"They claim they only just arrived," the officer added, clearly skeptical.

Marco chuckled, a low, amused sound. "Sure they did," he replied with a casual shrug. He turned from the railing, facing the deck as if the matter was already settled. "Maintain our distance from them. No reason to provoke a confrontation. If they don't want credit for this, we're not going to force their hand."

"But, Ser…" the second-in-command hesitated. "Shouldn't we at least confirm? What if?.."

"There's nothing to confirm," Marco said, cutting him off with a calm but firm tone. "It's obvious enough. The mercenaries did this, crippled the imperial fleet, eliminated church support, maybe even killed Prince Nolan himself. But they won't admit it. Mercenaries operate in a different world than us. If word spreads that they assassinated a member of the imperial family, their guild will be hunted down or blacklisted by half the continent."

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The officer's expression slowly shifted from confusion to dawning understanding.

"They're letting us take the credit," Marco continued, his smile widening. "And we'd be fools not to accept it."

He stepped back to the command deck, his cloak fluttering in the sea breeze. "Prince Landon only sent us to repay a debt, to honor Her highness Ravenna's disciple for saving his daughter. Our orders were clear: assist Her Highness, not wage a war she's already won."

The officer gave a brisk nod. "Understood, Ser. A prince's army slaying another prince in battle… That story will go down far smoother than mercenaries doing it."

"Exactly," Marco said with satisfaction. "Prepare to withdraw. Signal the fleet, we're heading back to the mainland."

As the fleet began to slowly pivot away from the burning wreckage, the faint glow of victory still illuminating the smoke-choked sea, Marco cast one last glance at the mercenary ships holding formation in the distance.

They hadn't moved. They didn't fire a signal. They didn't raise a flag.

They simply waited, silent and still, as if allowing history to rewrite itself without protest.

Marco smiled to himself. "Clever mercenaries."

She had one less enemy... and no blood on her hands.

Other side of the Burning Reserve Fleet, Somewhere in the Ancorna Sea, Between the Mainland and Kim Dukedom

Beyond the curtain of smoke and flame that marked the destruction of the imperial reserve fleet, the second cluster of ships stood silently, unmoving, sails lowered, flags barely fluttering in the sea breeze. These belonged to the renowned mercenary company, Azure Vales.

At the helm of their lead ship stood Alfred Ray, a weathered man in his late forties with a short-trimmed beard and a long blue overcoat lined with faded gold embroidery. His eyes, a dull sea-glass gray, remained fixed on the retreating silhouette of Prince Landon's fleet vanishing into the misty horizon.

"Used the chaos of war to clean up a rival…" Alfred muttered under his breath, lips curling into a thin smirk. "Prince Nolan, taken out while everyone else was looking the other way. Convenient."

His second-in-command, a sharp-eyed man named Rael, stepped up beside him, glancing warily between the burning wreckage and the receding ships. "Sir, what are your orders? Do we chase? Investigate?"

Alfred let out a slow exhale, leaning his arms against the ship's polished railing. "If we'd arrived even half an hour earlier… we might've joined the fight with Prince Landon's army. Scored some credit. Maybe earned ourselves a name in the Empire's history books."

"But now?" he gestured lazily at the destruction around them. "The blood's already dried, and the winners have been chosen. Let them have their tale."

Rael gave a hesitant nod, though doubt flickered in his eyes. "So we're just… sailing on to Kim Island?"

Alfred turned and gave him a sideways look, his expression unreadable. "Yes. We continue as planned. Her Highness Ravenna's seal is on our contract, and she's still the client. That's where the job lies."

He glanced back once more at the flames licking up the broken masts of the imperial vessels.

Rael didn't reply. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the gentle slosh of waves and the occasional creak of wood. The two men stood side by side, each drawing their own conclusions, each misunderstanding the situation entirely.

Alfred and Rael believed Ravenna had used the opportunity to orchestrate Prince Nolan's death through Landon's army.

The real culprit's identity stayed buried beneath layers of misdirection and smoldering wreckage, as the Azure Vales fleet slowly adjusted course and began their measured sail toward Kim Island.

With the retreat underway, the untouched fleet of Prince Landon would soon return home. And when they did, news would spread that it was his forces, not mercenaries or a hidden agent in the church's ships who eliminated one of the major contenders for the throne.

For Alfred it was a missed opportunity, For Marco, it was a victory that required no sword. For Landon, it would be a boost in prestige. And for Ravenna?

She had one less enemy... and no idea how.