I Stole The Duke - Chapter 97

“What is it?”

Reluctantly, Michalis pushed himself up and walked to the door, opening it.

“Your Grace, urgent news!”

Even Eliana, still resting in bed, could clearly hear Iadis’s urgent voice.

“What happened?”

Eliana instinctively perked up. Whatever it was, it had shaken Iadis enough for his voice to tremble.

“I’ll explain on the way to the office.”

“Very well.”

But before she could learn more, Michalis had already closed the door and disappeared down the hall.

“What’s the message?”

Their conversation only resumed after they’d moved a good distance from the bedroom.

“We’ve received word that the Hestia, which was returning from the Eastern Empire carrying saltpeter, was caught in a storm and sank.”

“What?!”

“The Hestia has gone down.”

Michalis stopped dead in his tracks. The Hestia was a cargo ship directly managed by the ducal house.

“Were there any survivors?”

He asked with a tight voice, trying to remain composed. The financial loss was substantial, yes—but the loss of life among the veteran sailors, all trained under his family, was immeasurable.

“None. All hands were lost.”

“……”

The faces of the captain and the first officer—men he had known since childhood—flashed before his eyes one by one.

“We’ll sort this out… Damn it… Let’s discuss it in the office.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

This wasn’t a conversation to be had in the hallway. Michalis quickened his pace once more. There was no time to rejoice over the joyful news Eliana had brought earlier—this was the prelude to something far more tragic.

One week later

At the Port of Flencia, a joint memorial service was held for the crew of the Hestia.

“…Let us remember their noble dedication, and may they rest peacefully under the protection of the sea god, Neptunus.”

As the High Priest’s prayer came to a close, Michalis and Eliana each placed a single flower on the water.

“……”

Watching the bereaved families step forward one by one to lay their own flowers, Michalis could only swallow a deep, silent sigh. Holding a funeral without any bodies was unbearably painful. For sailors, there was no crueler end than a burial with an empty coffin.

I can’t let this happen ever again…

His responsibility as the Duke of Ascher weighed heavily on him. He could not allow even a single person bearing his name to die at sea again.

The new ships must be built with safety as the top priority.

Stronger, more stable ships—nothing less would be acceptable now.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His folded arms tensed slightly as his fingers tapped against his sleeve.

Michalis had returned to his office, but he didn’t sit. Instead, he stood before the map on the wall, his gaze sharp and focused.

Was it really just a storm?

The thought had haunted him for days.

A captain who had commanded the Hestia for over thirty years… lost to a storm?

The Eastern Empire route was known to be especially treacherous. That’s precisely why he had entrusted it to the most seasoned crew aboard the most experienced vessel.

“Sigh…”

The moment the Hestia came to mind, a heavy sigh escaped him once again. The dead could not speak, and neither the ship nor its cargo had left any wreckage behind. Since it had all happened in the middle of the open sea, they could do nothing but rely on the testimony of the last known observer—at least until the intelligence division’s report arrived.

The Kingdom of Jaiphen’s navy has started to move?

To reach the Eastern Empire via sea, one had to pass through the waters of Jaiphen.

Thirty-one years had passed since the end of the war.

Jaiphen still acted like a defeated nation on the surface, bowing low—but perhaps now, they were finally beginning to test the waters.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock at the door pulled Michalis out of his thoughts.

“Come in.”

“You summoned us, Your Grace.”

Puelini, Alejandro, and Cedric entered the office and stood in line. This was the first time all three top-ranking members of the Azure Knight Order had been summoned together since Michalis became the head of House Ascher.

“Sir Puelini, Sir Alejandro. I am assigning you both to long-term overseas missions.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Puelini and Alejandro immediately dropped to one knee.

“Sir Alejandro. Take command of the whaling vessel and sail to the Eastern Empire’s Port of Sangun to procure saltpeter.”

At present, the only ship capable of carrying such a large quantity of cargo and ready to sail immediately was the whaling vessel.

“I’ve spoken to Baron Pawell already. He will accompany you. Leave the negotiations with the Eastern Empire to him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Two years’ worth of saltpeter—the key ingredient in gunpowder—had been lost to the sea. With backorders piling up, securing new supplies was an urgent priority.

“Sir Puelini. You will command a frigate and serve as escort. Follow closely behind Sir Alejandro’s vessel.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

If the Hestia’s sinking had not been caused by a natural storm, then an escort ship was absolutely necessary.

“Sir Alejandro. I grant you authority to freely select two knights from the Second Order as your lieutenants. You are also authorized to take thirty soldiers as crew.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Sir Puelini. I grant you authority to select two knights from the Second Order as lieutenants, and give you command of sixty cannons and two hundred soldiers.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Sir Cedric. You’ll serve as interim commander of the First Order during their absence.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

Cedric immediately dropped to one knee in formal response.

“Departure is set for one week from now. Ensure all preparations are thorough. That is all.”

“To Protect!”

“You’re dismissed.”

With that, the most urgent matter was temporarily resolved. If—by any chance—the Kingdom of Jaiphen had been involved in the Hestia’s sinking and was planning another move, the escort vessel would need to turn back at the first sign of danger.

Knock, knock.

Not long after the knights left, another knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

“Your Grace, have you decided on the direction yet?”

It was Viscount Warren, head of the duchy’s shipyard operations, greeting Michalis with proper formality.

“The vessel will be a galleon—dual-purpose for trade and combat. A 2,000-ton keel. Red pine for the frame and mast. White oak for the deck. As soon as the blueprint is ready, reassign all 80 engineers from the current man-of-war construction to the new Hestia. Prioritize it above all. Can you finish it in 20 months?”

One small blessing amid the misfortune was the duchy’s recent acquisition of the Esrona mountain range, which provided abundant forest resources. This not only eased the supply chain but drastically lowered construction costs.

“Yes, Your Grace. It’s possible.”

With materials and manpower secured, the timeline wasn’t unrealistic.

“I’ll send additional instructions if needed. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll await your orders.”

Once Warren departed, Michalis picked up one of the many documents scattered across his desk. It was now the third day he’d worked through the night. At this rate, there would be no time for rest.

Because of the disruption to gunpowder production, he needed to revise the aquabus delivery schedule and military training plans. On top of that, he had to draft a strategy for mining mana stones in Esrona and appoint managers for the region’s forest assets. Even ten bodies wouldn’t be enough.

Knock, knock.

Frustratingly, just as he tried to focus, another urgent knock interrupted.

“What is it?”

Michalis’s brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Your Grace, documents have just arrived from the Mage Tower. You may want to look at them immediately.”

Iadis’s expression was unusually tense—enough that Michalis set aside his irritation.

<Notice of Rate Increase>

Even the title of the document screamed trouble.

Rustle.

“What the…?”

The moment he turned the page, Michalis’s brow twisted in disbelief.

“This is insane.”

He couldn’t help but curse. The Mage Tower was truly out of its mind.

“Sir Iadis, has this document been verified for errors?”

“I contacted them immediately. They confirmed it’s not a mistake.”

“…Hah.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Michalis’s lips. The Mage Tower had lost its mind—no doubt. They were now demanding not a 3% increase—but three times the previous monthly fee for the magical support spells on their naval fleet.

‘Why now?’

He recalled the mage lord’s strange hostility. Something wasn’t right.

“Shall I attempt to negotiate?”

“…No.”

Michalis crushed the document in his fist, the paper creasing under the pressure.

“Then shall we prepare for formal negotiations with the Tower?”

“…No, not that either.”

Michalis closed his eyes tightly, frustration mounting. The auxiliary spells on the warships were essential safeguards—spells that prevented capsizing or granted time to evacuate in emergencies. Each spell directly increased the crew’s survival rate.

“Damn it all.”

He couldn’t help cursing again. The Mage Tower was practically holding his soldiers’ lives for ransom.

‘How much do they know…’

No—more accurately, it was a threat: pay up, or let Eliana reveal her abilities.

“I need time to think. You’re dismissed.”

“Understood, Your Grace.”

Left alone, Michalis could no longer sit still. He stood and walked over to the window.

Whoosh—

A cool ocean breeze swept across his brow.

‘I cannot allow Eliana’s powers to be exposed.’

But he couldn’t treat the lives of his men lightly either.

‘So in the end, it’s about money…’

He never thought there would come a day he’d be worrying about finances.

The estimated loss from the Hestia disaster was 250 billion Rium—a crippling amount even for a mid-tier noble house. Though the duchy’s finances were typically solid, this had been a hard blow.

‘Revenue from the new mana stone mines won’t cover it. I’ll have to raise prices on salt and firearms…’

But there was a catch: those goods were under a royal monopoly, and raising prices required the Emperor’s approval.

‘There’s no way he’ll say yes.’

Michalis knew better than anyone how displeased the Emperor had become. Though the Emperor got what he wanted politically, it was the duchy that reaped the actual profits—something that surely grated on him.

At this point, pleading would do no good. The Emperor would likely demand a piece of Esrona in return for his approval.

‘But I can’t give up the forests or mana stones… Maybe the farmland…’

Michalis’s thoughts grew heavier.

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