"Marshal, another message has come from the King." His aide-de-camp, Viscount Wei Lan, walked into the conference room.

Marshal Grantham’s conference room was clearly a bit different from those in other places.

The entire ceiling of the conference room was a gigantic map of the border.

It wasn’t just the ceiling; the front and back walls of the conference room were the same.

This was Grantham’s peculiar hobby. During wartime, every place the Marshal stayed would have a war map. Even when he went out for reconnaissance, he would have his aide-de-camp carry several copies.

It was often joked among the troops that the Marshal even carried a map in his dreams.

"What is it?" Grantham was currently in bed—yes, in bed—staring up at the ceiling.

Because meetings were held at all hours, Grantham had always used the conference room as his bedroom.

"Prince Samon... Marquis George wants us to send Prince Samon back at once," said Viscount Wei Lan.

The matter of Prince Samon was an old problem.

The King had previously ordered Prince Samon to return to the capital immediately, but Grantham had put it off with various excuses.

Grantham knew the reason for this, and he knew his own current predicament.

It wasn’t about the war, but rather his political situation within the kingdom, which was extremely difficult.

The main issue was that Grantham’s prestige within the army was too high, especially among the Northern Nobles. Even Marquis George needed Grantham’s support when he wanted to command the local forces.

Especially at this critical juncture, with Louis III’s health worsening by the day, it would be exceedingly difficult to ensure a smooth transition.

It wasn’t just the King who wanted Grantham dead; Marquis George was no different.

After all, as soon as Grantham was gone, the Northern Nobles would truly become Marquis George’s personal domain.

’Grantham considered himself a man of some pride. Throughout the continent’s history, those who had risen so far from such a meager background either broke through all obstacles to achieve a meteoric rise, becoming figures who could dominate kingdoms, and even the fate of humanity...’

’...or they were washed away by the tides of the era, crushed by various powers and becoming fodder for the old guard.’

’Of course, there were other paths. For instance, if the old interest group was still young, one could simply wait for them to die. Before the might of time, all mortals are equal.’

’Unfortunately, while Marquis George was young, Louis III was not. Moreover, the King had long ago reached the Legendary realm, although his power was limited due to past injuries. But his lifespan remained, and if things were to proceed naturally, Louis III would surely die before him.’

Therefore, Grantham really only had one choice: to lay his cards on the table, establish his own faction, and confront the true holders of power in the kingdom.

In fact, this was precisely what Grantham had been doing all these years.

The one thing Marshal Grantham valued was the army.

Even before becoming Marshal, Grantham had been cultivating his own power base within the military, choosing mostly the second sons of nobles—men with no other recourse.

The results were obvious. His promotion to Kingdom Marshal was in no small part due to the efforts of this merit-based faction.

This also led to his relationship with Louis III growing increasingly tense, and his relationship with Marquis George wasn’t great either.

Louis III could not tolerate the army being controlled by someone outside the royal family, and Marquis George could not tolerate Grantham’s "reckless behavior" within the northern faction.

After all, military merit requires war, and where were the wars being fought? Only in the lands of the Northern Nobles.

Most of the generals Marshal Grantham had promoted in the past came from the Northern Nobles.

Strictly speaking, this merit-based faction was not the core of the Northern Nobles. But after the faction grew powerful, Marquis George grew covetous and wanted to bring them under his heel.

Originally, Grantham had hoped to get Marquis Oscillate to enter the fray and support him, creating a counterbalance to the King’s faction.

Unfortunately, he had underestimated that old fox, Oscillate. To put it simply: he took all the benefits and did none of the work.

On reflection, it was easy to understand. As the leader of the southern faction, Marquis Oscillate had no irreconcilable conflicts with the King or Marquis George. Even with their various disputes over interests, they had been bickering and battling for hundreds of years and had long since established their own ways of getting along—such as how each was currently responsible for their own war front.

Fortunately, while Marquis Oscillate didn’t openly support Grantham, he constantly made small moves behind the scenes to annoy the King and Marquis George.

Take, for instance, the death of Count Offman. That was a joint move by the two of them, an attempt to monopolize major decisions within the army.

As the Commander of the Sunset Race, Count Offman was, in principle, supposed to answer to the King. This was a way of slowly probing the King’s bottom line. The result was also clear: Louis III had yielded.

"Just say Prince Samon has had a relapse of an old illness and it’s inconvenient for him to travel," Grantham replied airily. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

The connection to Prince Samon was a key piece in Grantham’s own bid to become a Marquis.

As the saying goes: when the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked; when the birds are all gone, the good bow is put away...

Although this particular proverb didn’t exist in this world, there were many similar sayings.

Marshal Grantham was beginning to understand and feel this truth firsthand.

Back when he was just rising through the ranks, the King had wanted to use him to counterbalance the Northern Nobles. He’d treated Grantham with utmost courtesy, giving him money when he asked for money and men when he asked for men. Even the very Viscount Wei Lan standing before him now had originally been recommended by the King.

As for now? The King probably wished he could use Grantham’s skull as a bowl.

The war wasn’t even over, yet the King was already targeting him on all fronts. Grantham could already foresee his fate once the war ended.

Marquis George, who wanted to unify the Northern Nobles; Louis III, who wanted to leave no loose ends for his successor...

To break the deadlock, the only way was to have Prince Samon accumulate enough merit and then take power as a representative of the army’s interests.

Even if he couldn’t take the throne, he had to become a voice of influence within the royal family, preventing them from using their full force against Grantham.

If he sent Prince Samon back now for Louis III to deal with, the chess piece would be lost. Finding another way to break the deadlock in the future would not be so easy.

When it came to such a crucial figure, Grantham would not yield an inch. He would protect him even under pressure from the King.

Viscount Wei Lan said no more and turned to the next page of his report.

"Marshal, about that message Marquis Oscillate sent us earlier... what should we do now?" Viscount Wei Lan asked.

"Message?"

Hearing this, Grantham rolled over and got out of bed.

"Hmph! He never thinks of me until he’s stirred up a hornet’s nest. Now he remembers to ask for my opinion?" Grantham sneered.

Clearly, the Marshal was not too pleased with the Marquis.

"So, we..." Viscount Wei Lan frowned, looking at Grantham.

"We? What can we do? Is there any part of the front line that doesn’t need men right now?

Tell them I can spare a Guard Corps at most. That old wolf Kemal’s attacks have been getting fiercer lately. How can I divide my forces at a time like this?

Let them figure it out themselves. If Thermopylae falls, worst-case scenario, I’ll just play it safe and slowly retreat to the plains.

We’ll see if Louis can bear to part with his two royal provinces. Let them figure it out," Grantham said.

Thermopylae was a key point on the Western Front connecting to the heart of the kingdom. Past Thermopylae lay the territories of the inland Northern Nobles and the King himself.

At that point, there would be little room for the current tactics of grand advances and sweeping retreats. The nobles had a duty to defend their lands; they were bound to live or die with their territory.

Grantham could simply take his army and slowly withdraw from the central battlefront.

After all, his fight against the Beast Emperor was currently a 40-60 split—with Grantham being the 40, meaning he was at a slight disadvantage in some local battles.

He could retreat to the rear completely safely.