I Am Being Mistaken for a Genius Strategist - Chapter 10

“Welcome, Sir Kael. I am truly grateful that you have accepted my invitation.”

“Hahaha! There is no need for gratitude. It is your birthday, Count. I had to attend.”

Events unfolded first with a banquet arranged to celebrate the Count’s birthday at the capital.

There were no close family ties between us. However, as he was a cousin of my father’s acquaintance, I decided to visit him.

Fortunately, I received a warm welcome, courtesy of the Count’s pro-war affiliation and his circle of mid-ranking officers.

“Ah, so you’re the eldest son of the Bertie principality. Haha! My friend’s raised his son astonishingly well.”

“Indeed. Last I saw his retired self, he lamented with concern over his son.”

“I’m humbled to have such praise. I’m far from reaching even the shadow of my father’s achievements.”

“Come now; you sell yourself short. You are already doing exceptionally well.”

Next came a party hosted by a senior figure in the military. Upon attending, I discovered he had once been my father’s direct superior.

Of course, in terms of nobility, they were equals, if not with my father slightly outranking him. However, the hierarchy within the military operates differently.

After all, a military career supersedes mere titles, in the realm of the empire’s military arm. 

“While others speak at length about my accomplishments, I hold steadfast to the belief that the Corps Commander’s role was paramount. After all, he was the one who trusted and supported every one of my strategies.”

“Hahaha! I knew there was something about you—an indescribable spark that I could feel in my gut!”

The Corps Commander, under whom I had served during the recent campaign, invited me to his manor.

I accepted without hesitation. It was the least I could do for someone who had actively supported me.

Moreover, the Corps Commander wouldn’t treat me as an adversary. My achievements were directly tied to his own.

As a soldier, he could not deny the truth of this. Thus, the Corps Commander was, without question, on my side.

Ensuring my allies maintained their dignity was not a choice—it was a necessity.

“Correct me, but don’t pro-peace nobles gather here?”

“Yes, my master.”

“They must be keen on setting me straight to invite me to their home turf.”

Among the invitations I received was one from the pro-peace faction. I dismissed it without a second thought.

Does sanity evade them? Did they expect me to waltz into enemy territory with a cheerful smile, saying, ‘Ah, a banquet! Surely it’s harmless fun!’?

There’s a saying that a soldier hides a blade in their scabbard, while a politician hides theirs behind a smile.

Why, then, would I willingly walk into a den of grinning vipers?

I could see them now, words dripping with venom and nobles hissing like snakes in a lair.

If I were to extend my hand to them, I might as well bear a lightning-shaped scar on my forehead as a badge of foolhardy bravery.

“What should we do, master?”

“Decline with some vague yet plausible excuse. For now, reject all invitations from their side without exception.”

After directing Alexei to handle the matter, I turned my attention to the tasks at hand.

In any case, this phase wouldn’t last much longer. By my estimations, it would take no more than a week to conclude.

Of course, even that time seemed interminable to Kaya, who expressed her impatience vividly.

“Master, her lady keeps asking when you will come to see her….”

“Tell her I’m sorry. Her brother is feverishly busy at the moment.”

“She has also sent word that she wishes to come to the capital herself.”

“Stop her. At all costs, stop her.”

Some siblings are said to be at each other’s throats, but that is not the case with us.

We get along well. Our bond is strong. The problem lies in how extreme Kaya can be.

‘She undoubtedly acts more like my bodyguard than my sister.’

The family sees it as no issue. But to outsiders, it would appear peculiar.

Keeping Kaya by my side? In times like these, with the spotlight increasingly on me, it would be an unwise choice.

“Master… my lord!”

Then, one day, as Alexei was sorting through invitations as usual, he suddenly gasped in alarm.

“Judging by your stammering, it seems the inevitable has finally arrived.”

“You were aware of this?!”

“I had my suspicions.”

“What… what are we to do with this?”

Though visibly trembling, Alexei respectfully handed over the invitation with both hands.

At that moment, I was reminded once again of the unrelenting professionalism demanded by Alexei’s role as steward.

“On the surface, this invitation comes from a neutral noble unaffiliated with any faction.”

“But… but look at the guest list! If you check here….”

“My, what a distinguished guest we have. Yes, it’s His Highness, the First Prince.”

Gaius Heldenberg, the First Prince. A key pillar of the pro-peace faction.

Previously, a noble aligned with him had attempted to undermine me but failed spectacularly.

Naturally, this left the relationship between us in an ambiguous state. It seems the prince now seeks to mend it.

‘This is somewhat unexpected.’

If the First Prince had sent this invitation under the banner of the pro-peace faction, it would have been a declaration of opposition in the political arena.

However, by using the name of a neutral noble, he was extending an olive branch instead.

It appears my calculated strike—a whirlwind of eggs thrown into chaos—had been unexpectedly effective.

I had assumed they would dismiss me as nothing more than a fortunate young man from a pro-war family.

Yet my efforts to circulate through the capital and make my presence known had evidently borne fruit.

‘This is going to be a headache.’

I had thought the pro-peace faction would be eager to summon me to their table, only to tear me apart.

However, the First Prince—one of their central figures—was now bowing first.

Outwardly, he disguised the invitation as a coincidental meeting under a neutral host’s banner.

“What shall we do, Alexei?”

“How could I possibly know, master? I am but a humble steward who happens to do his job well.”

“You are also the steward of the so-called ‘Young Strategist,’ are you not?”

“…Didn’t you say you disliked that title, master?”

At Alexei’s remark, I nodded firmly. Indeed, I am no strategist. I merely spout what little knowledge I have.

Should I be exposed as a fraud, who knows how far I might fall?

Yet disliking the title and outright rejecting it are two entirely different matters.

“I may dislike it. But if it can benefit our family, I will endure it.”

“My word, master! You’ve truly become a noble of the Empire.”

“What’s this? Are you saying I wasn’t one before?”

“If you interpret my words that way, then I, Alexei shall feel deeply wounded!”

—

Meanwhile, at that very moment:

“Say that again.”

Isabel’s displeasure was palpable, radiating through every fiber of her being.

Her discontent was far from baseless.

“Where, exactly, has my brother gone?”

“…His Highness, the First Prince, is reportedly attending a banquet at the Marquis Robgon’s estate. Furthermore, it is said that Sir Kael has also received an invitation to this gathering.”

“Are you certain?”

“The information comes directly from the Royal Household.”

At Sir Lyle’s words, Isabelle let out a deep, exasperated sigh.

She had been blindsided. Complacency born of recent good fortune had lulled her vulnerable.

Kael, who had shown a clear disdain for the pro-peace faction, was a young, brilliant figure she had come to rely upon.

His presence, combined with his deliberate appearances at various banquets in the capital, had been reassuring.

Yet the First Prince’s decision exhibited that Kael was someone he could and must win over.

‘There’s no other explanation. Why else would he attend a banquet hosted by a neutral noble? Why would an invitation be sent to Kael at the same time?’

Isabel knew better than anyone how persuasive her brother’s silver tongue could be.

Having endured it firsthand as one of his siblings, she was all too familiar with his power.

Of course, she did not believe for a second that Kael would succumb to his honeyed words.

It was the pro-peace faction that had provoked him first—so blatantly that no one could deny it.

And while the current Count Bertie had never openly declared allegiance to the pro-war faction, he was widely regarded as such.

Kael, as his heir, had shown no signs of deviating from his father’s path.

It was only natural, then, that Isabel had no reason to doubt Kael’s loyalty.

Her anger was reserved entirely for her brother, the First Prince.

‘That man! I tolerated him ruining the atmosphere at the last banquet, but now he dares to snatch away the finest talent I’ve discovered?’

Stealing people was a step too far. How many had already been ensnared by his accursed rhetoric? And now this?

“Sir Lyle.”

“I have already sent a letter to the Marquis Robgon. I conveyed that, given His Highness the First Prince’s attendance, the presence of Her Highness the Second Princess would undoubtedly enhance the occasion.”

“Oh?”

“Additionally, I have prepared the carriage and assembled the escort.”

This is why Lyle has been her steadfast companion since gaining permission for independent activity.

Pleased by his initiative, Isabel praised him and awaited a response.

She was concerned that the Marquis might reject her request to attend, but the likelihood was slim.

Were he aligned with the pro-peace faction, things might be different. But as a neutral, he had no reason to refuse.

If anything, he would welcome her attendance to balance the First Prince’s presence and avoid sending the wrong message.

Exactly an hour later:

“Let us go, Sir Lyle.”

With confidence, Isabel stepped into the carriage.

Her mission was clear: to keep her brother from laying claim to Kael.