The Lord Just Wants to Have Fun

“Kraaagh! Just because he took down a few Lizardmen, that damn blacksmith thinks he can look down on me?!”

Armand roared in fury after receiving Philip’s reply.

All the letter contained was a single line:

[If you have nothing better to do, go skin your own belongings.]

‘In other words, he’s telling me to go f*** myself.’

Armand had heard that Philip had once been a timid boy who dreamed of becoming a mage.

But now, this Baron of Brandel—what exactly gave him the confidence to send such a provocative reply?

Sure, Armand had provoked him first, but still…

As he pondered, his Chief Administrator, Herox, spoke up, his tone composed now that Armand’s initial rage had settled.

“My lord, you have already devised a winning strategy for the war, correct?”

“Of course.”

Herox met his liege’s gaze confidently.

In one-on-one combat, the Brandel knights and soldiers were superior to those of Mirabeau.

However, war wasn’t a tournament.

It was a death match where strategy and tactics ruled.

“If they choose to engage us on open plains, we will crush them with our numerical superiority, utilizing both our cavalry and main forces.”

The plan was simple: use the numerical advantage to strengthen the central formation, then have the Mirabeau knights and cavalry break through either Brandel’s left or right flank, surrounding and annihilating them.

“Good. But what if they retreat behind their fortress and opt for a siege?”

Even a smaller or weaker force could put up a tough fight behind fortified walls.

Armand hated sieges—taking a castle took too much time, resources, and manpower.

“Then, we will use a different approach. We will divide our forces into smaller raiding units and systematically target Brandel’s key villages and supply points.”

Destroying farmlands and burning settlements would lower enemy morale and shake their confidence.

“The moment they can’t endure any longer and rush out, our cavalry will be waiting to obliterate them.”

And if the Brandel forces refused to come out?

No problem.

Herox had already been secretly commissioning siege equipment.

They had ladders, sure, but also trebuchets and ballistae under construction, thanks to engineers from nearby cities.

“Hahaha! Now this is war! Those backwater blacksmiths and country knights wouldn’t understand true strategy even if it hit them in the face!”

Armand smirked and slammed his armrest in satisfaction.

Herox added one more thing.

“My lord, to ensure absolute numerical superiority, we should hire an additional 1,000 mercenaries.”

“Agreed. Hire every last one of them before that damn blacksmith gets his hands on them first.”

Armand had made up his mind—he would spend every last coin on this war.

If he had to go into debt, so be it. He’d win and pay it all back later.

The Brandel territory had plenty of potential revenue sources.

‘The hot springs, that damn lighter he invented—I’ll take them all for myself!’

Armand grinned wickedly.

Killing Philip would be too easy.

Instead, he’d enslave him—make him suffer for the rest of his life.

That would be far more satisfying.

*****

The very next day, Viscounty of Mirabeau formally declared war against Barony of Brandel.

Their proclamation read:

[We sought an amicable resolution after suffering devastating losses. However, the arrogant ‘blacksmith baron’ heartlessly rejected our goodwill. Thus, we have no choice but to bring him to justice!]

Armand had not only sent this declaration to Brandel but also to neighboring territories and the royal capital.

Of course, the news quickly spread to the nobles currently vacationing in the hot spring village of Silon.

“Have you heard? There’s going to be a territory war.”

“Yes, I heard. Honestly, Armand is ridiculous. He should be grateful to Baron Brandel for solving the drought, not picking a fight with him!”

“Should we consider evacuating? The fighting could spread here.”

Even though the hot spring village was some distance away from the conflict, there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t escalate.

“Why would we? Armand would have to be insane to attack us nobles.”

“True. Even if he wins, he’d have to pay back everything he destroyed.”

The nobles relaxing in Silon were neutral parties—they had nothing to do with this war.

If it were a war against a foreign power, things would be different.

But a territorial war?

To the nobles, it was nothing more than watching someone else’s house burn.

For some, it was even an entertaining spectacle.

“Who do you think will win?”

“The Brandel forces are fierce, but Mirabeau has more troops…”

“Armand once served in the Central Army. When it comes to tactics and mercenary warfare, he’s a step above Lord Philip.”

“Still, I’ll bet on Lord Philip’s victory.”

“Then I’ll put my money on Armand…”

As some nobles began wagering on the outcome, others sought to offer Philip aid.

Two envoys arrived—one from Countess Adrienne and another from Delpharos’ trading company.

“The Countess is willing to discreetly send knights to aid you.”

“Our leader is prepared to provide funds or even lend you a mercenary company…”

However, Philip politely declined both offers.

He was confident in his ability to win, and he knew one thing for certain—there was no such thing as a free favor.

‘If I accept their help, I’ll have to pay the price later.’

< But Apostle, wouldn’t their support make victory easier? >

‘Of course. But if we don’t win on our own, no one will respect us.’

Even if the Barony of Brandel won, if it was seen as a victory only possible through external help, the significance of that triumph would be greatly diminished.

Philip refused to let that happen.

“Captain Carpenter, have we secured enough supplies?”

Carpenter nodded.

“I sent men to Campania and secured everything we need. But, Lord Philip, are you sure this plan will work?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll work perfectly.”

Philip had already checked the terrain and wind direction of the battlefield.

And even if some unforeseen variable caused the plan to fail, he wasn’t worried.

‘Even if the strategy collapses, I have 100 musketeers. That firepower is more than enough—whether in an open battle or a siege, I won’t lose.’

Just as Philip confidently nodded to himself, a messenger rushed in.

Carpenter read the letter and his face darkened.

“Lord Philip, the Mirabeau forces have already completed their mobilization and have advanced to our border.”

“What?! It’s only been three days since their declaration of war! Don’t tell me they had their troops gathered before the announcement?”

“Even so, this is faster than expected.”

Whether it was war or a monster subjugation, an army needed time to prepare.

Food supplies had to be secured. Equipment needed maintenance. And gathering troops took days, sometimes weeks.

But if Mirabeau had already finished their preparations and arrived at the border, there was only one conclusion—

“They must have been planning to invade long before they declared war.”

“Damn that pig viscount. He’s craftier than I thought.”

It was an unexpected move, but Philip didn’t panic.

He had his own preparations in place.

He quickly summoned his forces and executed the strategy he had planned.

****

“Heh… They never saw this coming!”

Leading the charge, Armand sneered as he rode at the front of the Mirabeau forces.

Typically, even after a territorial war was declared, the actual battle would take one to four weeks to begin.

War preparations took time, and both sides often engaged in negotiations before fighting.

Neither side wanted to suffer unnecessary losses in lives and resources.

Even if they won, if the cost was too high, it wasn’t worth it.

That’s why many territorial disputes were settled through duels between knights or small skirmishes.

‘But I have no intention of playing fair with negotiations or duels.’

Armand’s goal was to completely swallow Brandel.

That’s why he had preemptively prepared his forces—there would be no negotiations, no time for Philip to properly react.

The Brandel border forces, caught off guard by the sudden assault, had no choice but to retreat in disarray.

Within just one day, Armand had seized three villages along the main highway.

*****

“Viscount, shall we loot this village as well?”

A mercenary captain approached Armand after they occupied Angel Village, the third settlement.

“Didn’t I say no looting? Instead, I will reward extra gold to those who bring me the heads of Brandel soldiers.”

“Tch, fine.”

The mercenary leader left with a scowl.

Once he was gone, Armand summoned his knight commander and issued an order.

“Keep the mercenaries in check. There shall be no pillaging or violence against the people.”

“Understood, my lord!”

As the knight left, Herox, Armand’s strategist, took the opportunity to shower him with flattery.

“A wise decision, my lord! The commoners of Brandel will surely be moved by your generosity and pledge their loyalty to you.”

“Hmph, of course. They will soon be mine to rule.”

It wasn’t just about maintaining order.

These people would soon be paying taxes and providing labor for him. If the mercenaries were allowed to run wild, it would only hurt his long-term rule.

That said, there hadn’t been much resistance anyway.

The few soldiers and militia stationed in the villages had simply fled, and the remaining citizens had surrendered immediately.

‘Had they dared to resist, I would’ve crushed them as an example.’

“My lord, the village chief wishes to speak with you.”

“Very well. Let him in.”

Moments later, a sturdy-looking old man approached and gave a respectful bow.

Armand studied him with interest.

“You carry yourself well. Were you once a swordsman?”

“Yes, I served in the Brandel Knight Order over a decade ago.”

“A retired knight, I see. Even if you’ve stepped away from the battlefield, surely it must be shameful to surrender your village without a fight.”

Armand subtly observed his reaction.

Was this old man secretly plotting resistance?

However, the chief’s response was unexpected.

“Hah! Why would I risk my life for that cowardly brat of a baron?”

The disdain in his voice was evident.

According to the chief, the reason the militia and village guards had fled was because Philip had ordered all troops to retreat and fortify the castle.

“He intends to hole up in his castle for a siege?”

“So it seems. He even took all the grain from the village storehouses. I don’t know what he thinks his people will survive on… That fool has no right to call himself a lord.”

“Hmph. No wonder he needed the blessing of some blacksmith deity. Fear not, old man. I will take good care of your people.”

“I place great faith in your leadership, my lord.”

Armand smirked.

So much for that blacksmith baron’s so-called loyal subjects.

If Philip had gained their trust through peacetime successes, he had lost it all in a single moment of poor leadership.

‘They say a person’s true nature is revealed in crisis. If Philip is already this panicked, his men will soon abandon him completely.’

Armand was pleased.

The shock attack had worked perfectly.

As Philip’s panic grew, more leaders like this village chief would switch sides.

Perhaps the war would end sooner than expected.

‘Whether it’s a field battle or a siege… this might be easier than I thought.’

As Armand entertained thoughts of an easy victory, the chief cautiously spoke again.

“My lord, I have prepared some wine and food at my house. Would you care to rest and recover from your march?”