The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

[ Reputation System Log ]
+19 Points: Former Duke Edward Jola dreading your counter response.

"Huh?" Ravenna blinked at the sudden notification, her gaze flicking to the glowing interface that hovered just to the side of her vision. With a thought, she expanded the log, her brows furrowing.

[ Reputation Log – Detailed Entry ]
Title: Former Duke
Name: Edward Jola
Reason: Subject is experiencing severe anxiety upon learning of Prince Nolan's death. Dreading your inevitable political retaliation if the war ends in your favor.
Background: Once held the title of Duke of Jola before being reassigned to the capital by Imperial decree. Known for masking cowardice beneath layers of calculated pragmatism. Currently motivated by maintaining a life of luxury, far from the burdens of frontier rule.

Ravenna's lips parted slightly. "Nolan… died?" she whispered, confused. She hadn't received any report yet, no magical transmission, no bird, no signal from the sea. And yet the system had already reacted. Her mind moved quickly, turning gears behind her bright amber eyes.

If Nolan was truly dead, the entire balance of the battle could shift. Power vacuums. Panic. Repositioning. Betrayal. All possible.

She snapped her head toward the wall and raised her voice with sudden authority.

"Release the hot air balloons: now!" she shouted, voice sharp and cutting through the wind like a blade.

Her command was received instantly. Hughes, standing at her side in full armor, gave a short nod and turned on his heel.

"Balloon teams!" he bellowed, projecting his voice down the stone staircase. "Deploy at once! Confirm winds and initiate the launch sequence!"

From behind the defensive wall, mechanical sounds began echoing, cranks turning, valves hissing, silk unfolding as a team of artisans and tacticians prepared the balloons. Each one was marked with Ravenna's sun-and-flame crest, their pale fabric glinting faintly in the late afternoon light.

Ravenna remained at the vantage point, her fingers tightening slightly around the rail of the outer tower. She turned back toward the Ancorna Sea, eyes scanning the horizon through the thinning edges of the enchanted fog.

And then she saw them.

Multiple boats, sleek and dark, broke through the mist in synchronized formation, rushing in from the flanks, not the center. Their movements were desperate, their speeds reckless. Water surged behind their hulls in violent sprays.

Ravenna murmured, narrowing her gaze. "They're making a final push… to reach the port."

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Before the last word left her lips, Hughes had already reached the lower stage, his voice thundering across the rows of assembled knights and soldiers.

"To arms! All units to battle stations! The enemy is making a full-speed approach!" his voice cutting through the rising winds like a thunderclap. Without waiting for a reply, he broke into a sprint, his boots pounding against the packed earth as he rushed toward the beach.

Then, a shift.

The wind, already strong, suddenly howled through the air with unnatural force. It ripped across the battlefield in a single sweeping surge, carrying with it the thick wall of artificial fog that had blanketed the shoreline for hours.

BAAM!

With a booming burst, the mist vanished in an instant, like a curtain torn down before a stage.

And now, the entire battalion stood fully exposed.

From her position, Ravenna's eyes widened. "The fog…" she muttered, almost stunned. "It's gone…"

What lay before her was not the image of a retreating or even a bit of damaged fleet.

No.

What she saw was a calculated formation, one that contradicted everything they had assumed. Dozens of warships had formed a defensive wall across the sea, interlocked and sturdy. Behind them stood the magic ships, barely touched, still glowing, humming quietly with mages on-board.

From her elevated position atop the wall's tower, Ravenna's eyes scanned downward, narrowing as she focused on the movement along the shoreline.

The imperial landing boats had reached the port.

In waves, like a tide surging from the sea, knights in imperial armor began pouring onto the sand in the hundreds, storming forward with raised weapons and battle cries. The clash of steel against wood echoed from the dock as they disembarked in disciplined formations, every step forward carrying the weight of invasion.

Ravenna's fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her dagger, the cold metal biting into her palm. The blade gleamed faintly in the light.

She turned her gaze briefly toward behind the wall, where the hot air balloons were now rising, graceful silhouettes against the sky, guided by ropes and steam-pulse stabilizers. Operators in leather vests worked feverishly, feeding the flame chambers and adjusting the balance cords.

Without hesitation, Ravenna reached into the pouch at her side and drew a single jasmine flower.

She held it to her lips and whispered a quickly lightly crushed it, and when she spoke, her voice was amplified, powerful, and commanding, booming across the battlefield with unnatural clarity.

"Get the fog back up! They can't sustain large-scale spells for long—we'll suffocate their range and visibility again!"

The message reached instantly.

Below, knights stationed along the shoreline sprang into action. They opened canvas sacks filled with quicklime, hurling them into the shallow sea with practiced precision again. As the chemical touched water, thick plumes of white-gray smoke erupted violently, choking fog rising once more to mask the battlefield. The sharp, acrid scent of the lime began to fill the air, mixing with the salt of the ocean and the burning oils from earlier bombardments.

Within moments, the coastline began to vanish again beneath the ever-growing wall of fog.

But the enemy was already on them.

Dozens, then hundreds, of Imperial knights were swarming the beach like ants, armor clanking, boots thundering against sand and stone as they pressed deeper onto the island.

Ravenna's heart thumped with tension, but her eyes were sharp. Her orders had been given. The fog was rising. The plan was active again. She took one final glance at the battlefield, then turned from the tower, the wind tugging at her sheer robe as she descended the stairs. Every step echoed with urgency.

It was time to put an end to this!