As night fell, Charlotte arrived at the Governor's Office alone.
She rarely came here of her own accord. This magnificent yet cold building always stirred complicated emotions within her.
It was connected to her mother.
Charlotte's mother was, without a doubt, Count Rochfort's legally wedded wife. That was why the Count doted on Charlotte so much.
Yet the relationship between the Count and his wife had long since fallen to freezing point. The cause was not some ordinary aristocratic romantic entanglement, but a deep political disagreement.
Back then, when Count Rochfort was appointed governor of the Northern Territory, the higher-ups in the kingdom had explicitly required him to leave his eldest legitimate son in the Royal Capital before taking office.
This was not directed at him personally. It was a long-standing practice for important ministers stationed on the frontier: the most important heir was left behind as a "hostage" to prevent border officials from colluding with foreign powers or even committing treason.
It was a cold but necessary political check and balance.
However, Charlotte's mother had been completely unable to accept it.
In her eyes, they could send one of the Count's mistresses' bastards to the Royal Capital as a hostage. Why should her precious son have to endure the risks and separation?
Because of this, the couple had engaged in a fierce argument. In the end, Charlotte's mother chose to remain in the Royal Capital to accompany her son, while her father came alone to the bitterly cold Northern Territory.
Deep down, Charlotte could understand her father's difficulties and helplessness. It was a sacrifice that an important minister had no choice but to make.
At the same time, she could not completely agree with her father's seemingly "cold" choice, and she deeply sympathized with her mother and elder brother, who had been left alone in the Royal Capital.
Being caught in the middle left her with an indescribable sense of alienation and guilt whenever she faced her father.
Yet her father's boundless affection for her also filled her with gratitude.
This contradiction made her feelings especially complicated every time she entered the Governor's Office.
She cast aside her tangled thoughts and went straight to the office door. After knocking, she pushed it open and entered.
Inside, Count Rochfort was checking several lists with the clerk, confirming the supplies and personnel that needed to be dispatched the next day.
When he saw his daughter enter, a genuine smile immediately appeared on his stern face. He waved for the clerk to leave first.
"Charlotte? What a rare visitor. Is something the matter? Why have you come to see me so late?" the Count asked with a smile, his tone gentle.
Charlotte walked to the desk and did her best to make her voice sound natural. "Father, it's about tomorrow's escort mission. I don't think bringing only thirty cavalrymen is particularly safe. I'd like to request two more cavalry units from you, just to ensure nothing goes wrong."
The smile on Count Rochfort's face faded slightly, replaced by a hint of suspicion.
He knew his daughter too well. Charlotte might have a strong sense of responsibility, but she would never suddenly care so much about those spoiled young nobles she looked down on, let alone take the initiative to request additional guards. It simply was not like her.
"Oh? Why are you suddenly being so cautious?" The Count leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze scrutinizing his daughter. "This doesn't sound like you. Given your temper, not finding an excuse to beat up those most-hated fellows halfway there would already count as restraint."
Charlotte felt a little guilty under her father's gaze. She was not good at lying, and her eyes instinctively drifted aside for a moment before she forced herself to remain calm. "It is the kingdom's Pioneering Decree, after all. It concerns the stability of the Northern Territory... And the group is large, so it would be easy for something to go wrong. Bringing more people is always better..."
The Count said nothing. He merely watched her in silence, his gaze seeming capable of seeing through everything. A subtle silence settled over the office.
How could her clumsy disguise possibly fool the seasoned Count? Looking at his daughter's eager attempts to explain herself, Rochfort already understood.
He had known for some time that Karl had been repeatedly visiting his daughter's residence over the past few days. Very few things in Fran City could be completely hidden from him. He simply had not wanted to interfere too much in his daughter's friendships.
The Count slowly spoke, getting straight to the point. "Lord Karl asked you to come, didn't he?"
Charlotte's heart leaped. A flash of panic crossed her face, and she instinctively wanted to deny it. But under her father's eyes, which seemed able to see through everything, she knew that her little secret could not be hidden.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she muttered, "...He was the one who said it, but he wasn't doing it for himself. He thought..."
"What did he think?" the Count pressed, his tone calm but carrying pressure.
Charlotte took a deep breath, raised her head, and met her father's gaze. She decided to tell the truth. "He said... he had a very strong, very bad feeling. He thought we might run into Sauron troops tomorrow who were late returning—or who had never intended to withdraw on schedule at all. He couldn't provide any specific evidence, but he insisted that the area around Blackwater Creek was especially dangerous. He insisted that I bring more men, just in case."
She paused, then added, her tone carrying a hint of defense she herself did not notice. "He said that if his feeling was wrong, he would accept any punishment, but he begged me to believe him this once."
Silence fell over the office once again. Count Rochfort lightly tapped his fingers against the desk, his expression unreadable.
That boy Karl was indeed a little uncanny. He had reached Carnford safely, discovered the mineral vein, and always seemed to possess either extraordinary luck or... a hint of foresight?
As a veteran who had struggled through the Northern Territory for many years, he had witnessed too many things that could not be explained by common sense. Sometimes, old soldiers' "instincts" were more accurate than scouting reports.
He looked at the mixture of worry, pleading, and inexplicable trust in Karl on his daughter's face, and sighed inwardly.
He knew that although his daughter was independent and stubborn, she was actually very perceptive when judging people. Her insistence was probably not merely the result of her favorable impression of Karl. To some extent, she had also believed in that "feeling."
"Nonsense!" The Count suddenly hardened his expression and scolded her. "How can military operations rely on some vague and intangible feeling? If every officer mobilized troops based on premonitions, wouldn't everything descend into chaos?"
Charlotte's heart leaped into her throat, and she thought her father was going to refuse.
But the Count changed his tone, softening slightly. "However... there's nothing wrong with being cautious. No one can predict what will happen in the Northern Territory. Those Sauron Barbarians certainly don't always act according to common sense."
He pondered for a moment before finally nodding. "Very well. For the sake of your... and Lord Karl's 'caution,' I'll have the clerk arrange it and assign two more of the finest cavalry units to your command. That makes ninety men in total. It should be enough for you to deal with any 'accidents.'"
Charlotte immediately relaxed, a smile appearing on her face. "Thank you, Father!"
"Mm." The Count gave her a meaningful look. "Go. Tell Karl that I'll remember his 'premonition.' Let's hope it's accurate enough, and that my extra investment won't be wasted. Also, be sure to stay safe. If anything goes wrong, your first priority is preserving yourself and the cavalry. Understood?"
"Understood!" Charlotte nodded solemnly, then left the office with light steps.
Watching his daughter's departing figure, the expression on Count Rochfort's face gradually grew solemn.
He did not entirely believe in so-called "premonitions," but he chose to trust his daughter's judgment, as well as the possibility that Karl possessed some kind of "special luck."
Sending more soldiers would do little more than increase the expense. But if they really ran into the Sauron... then the investment would be well worth it.
Boy, did you truly sense something, or... do you have another source of information?
The Count's fingers tapped unconsciously against the desktop, and a deep, wary light flickered in his eyes.
Regardless, he had given them the troops. Now, all that remained was to see what would happen tomorrow.
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