The princes gathered again for the conference.

Count Belfort had injured his shoulder in the Battle of Rheinkalsen, but fortunately it was a minor wound that didn’t hinder his movement. He had not only crushed the enemy’s surprise unit but even penetrated deep into their ranks.

Count Euz commanded the left wing, keeping the enemy properly in check without falling for their provocations, and instead pinned down the enemy’s right wing, helping Count Belfort fight to his heart’s content.

Count Essenbach commanded the entire Western Lords’ Army on the crown prince’s behalf, fending off the Count of Rheinkalsen’s relentless offensive and minimizing casualties. Everyone acknowledged his solid command.

Befitting the head of a house that had struggled against Burgundy for over a hundred years, he had shown the relatively peaceful southern princes the true skill of a margrave.

At times like this, it was reassuring to have him on our side.

The crown prince, who stood at the head of the western princes, had also changed beyond recognition.

The crown prince, who had shown a somewhat weak side during the Euz-Épinay war, seemed to have matured considerably after weathering the royal family’s conspiracy and the civil war. It was positive growth, the opposite of Fried’s.

Before entering the conference hall, the crown prince turned to me and asked.

"Sir Streit, may I have high hopes?"

"Well, you may. Probably."

The crown prince, who had been irritable over the conference’s lack of progress, had turned into a gleeful prankster after hearing the plan I’d devised.

Count Essenbach frowned and said to me.

"What in the world are you two scheming? This old man has been so curious he couldn’t even sleep."

"My apologies, but it would be hard to explain properly. This is something you have to experience for yourself."

"Hm, is it powerful enough to startle even us, who’ve been through fire and water?"

The crafty old fox seemed to have caught on to some extent. But he didn’t bother asking for details. Either way, he’d find out a little later, so I let him look forward to the pleasant surprise.

The moment I stepped into the conference hall, even the air felt different.

How should I put it, a sense of pressure?

The southern princes who had arrived first and were seated carried the gravitas befitting rulers of their regions. The first to catch my eye was the Count of Rheinkalsen.

After the Count of Basel’s defeat, the Count of Rheinkalsen had led the southern rebels. He was a relatively young lord who radiated considerable strength. A field commander type, similar to Count Belfort.

The Count of Selthausen was an old man who reminded me of Count Euz, though far sharper, and he seemed to favor flashy clothing. The Count of Konstanz was a figure who seemed better suited to be an archbishop than a noble.

Konstanz was a place where the power of religion was so dominant that it once hosted a council. They say they burned quite a few famous figures of that era at the stake. Even the pope of that time supposedly deferred to the council.

"Your Highness, today I do hope we reach an agreement."

"I wish for the same. Shouldn’t you make substantial concessions?"

Tense already.

It was rare for the western and southern princes to gather in one place, and within the menacing atmosphere, complex emotions like mutual tension, wariness, and a battle of wills seemed tangled together like a spider’s web.

Since I was attending in the capacity of an aide, I stood by the wall a little apart from the crown prince.

Most aides stood by the wall like this. They were all village lords somewhere, or regional nobles of high standing, but before the princes they were no more than lesser nobles. The same went for me. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

But what was this intense gaze?

The Count of Rheinkalsen, who had been studying me closely, asked the crown prince.

"That’s a face I haven’t seen before. Could you introduce him?"

"He is none other than Beren’s finest knight, Sir Streit."

"Streit... I see, he did look like no ordinary man."

Not just the southern princes but even their aides focused their gazes on me.

My face grew terribly hot under their scrutiny. I had crushed their detachments and captured the Count of Basel, and on top of that, brought down Baschurten. You could call me the chief culprit who had thoroughly wrecked their strategy.

"That man is the Gale Knight?"

"So there’s the bastard who ruined every plan in the south."

"Quiet! We are in conference! Who dares cause a disturbance in this place?"

At the crown prince’s sharp rebuke, the muttering vanished, but the mood instantly turned cold. In the gazes of the Count of Rheinkalsen and the other southern princes, I could feel anger.

It was a gaze that made my knees weak, but the more they glared, the better I felt.

If they were this angry, wasn’t it proof of just how remarkable my performance had been? In that sense, today too I was ready to thoroughly piss them off.

"If he’s the Gale Knight who dealt us so many humiliations and setbacks, then he’s qualified to attend the conference. Give him a seat."

"Sir Streit! The Count of Rheinkalsen wants you to attend as well. Will you take a seat?"

The bar was high for a village lord to join in, but whatever the Count of Rheinkalsen was thinking, he offered me a seat. The other princes didn’t particularly object, so I came to sit beside the crown prince.

The crown prince looked at me and smiled meaningfully.

The Count of Rheinkalsen seemed to find that quite irritating.

"Sir Streit, do you know the substance of the conference? We wish to reconcile with Altringen, but His Highness the Crown Prince keeps rejecting the conditions we’ve presented, so we’re merely wasting time."

"I know. As rebels demanding the status of victors, of course he refused."

My words and manner must have been a touch too strong, because the southern princes’ expressions grew even fiercer. The Count of Rheinkalsen wore a twisted smile. His expression betrayed clear derision.

"It’s quite common to quarrel for a moment when opinions don’t align. We merely rose up for our own interests and rights; we have no intention of opposing Altringen."

"You say something strange. Attacking the Grand Duke’s army, and you call that no intention to oppose?"

"The Duke’s army is Altringen too, Sir Streit."

So regardless of which side wins, the south supports Altringen? This fellow finds a way out with astonishing skill. Whatever suits the moment becomes his argument—even the devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. Naturally, it was nothing but sophistry.

"That’s how he justifies their not being rebels. Truly creative, isn’t it?"

"More brazen than creative, these fellows. It’s the first time I’ve seen anyone more shameless than myself."

Count Essenbach, who’d drawn the Duke and the Altringen royal family into the matter of Strasbourg, was a man of remarkable political skill and resourcefulness, yet even he had to hand it to them, saying the south had gone one step further.

Of course, no one was fool enough to take that as genuine praise.

The Count of Selthausen slammed the table and growled.

"Don’t be mistaken, Your Highness! The south has not been defeated."

"Basel and Baschurten have fallen, yet you refuse to admit it to the very end! It’s you who shouldn’t be mistaken!"

When the crown prince fired back fiercely, the conference was soon overrun with shouting. Yet the fact that they never went so far as to call for war was perhaps evidence that room for negotiation remained.

The south was thrashing about to avoid surrendering the initiative to the west at any cost. With the Duke’s army’s support it might be different, but they didn’t have the strength to divide their forces against the Grand Duke’s army.

If negotiations completely broke down here, fighting with no end in sight would resume. The south would suffer immense damage, and the west would lose just as much time.

So that’s why no end to the conference was in sight.

By the way, how long had it been since the conference started? About an hour, I thought.

Boom! Bang! Bang!

Hm, exactly an hour.

As planned, six cannons spat fire.