“Three hundred thousand?” Horhell asked back in disbelief.

Getting such a reaction from him was quite rare when you considered the fact that he usually showed hardly any emotional agitation.

“That was the message sent by Miss Heretia. According to the intelligence she has gathered, Barth Baltic is sending messages throughout the empire to gather troops, and the estimated number of the troops is at least three hundred thousand,” Haild nodded and said with a complicated expression, while pressing at his throat to force out a harsh voice instead of his usual voice.

Horhell was an old man who had been by Hela’s side even before Haild’s birth. Although such a long time had passed that Horhell probably couldn’t remember him, Haild was still concerned that Horhell might recognize his voice.

Fortunately, Horhell didn’t seem to notice Haild’s identity.

“Isn’t the total number of troops in the Imperial Army only about a million? I can’t believe that almost one-third of the Imperial Army agrees with that bastard.”

At that moment, they heard a familiar voice.

“The military is always conservative and follows a strict system,” Hela Henna said as she approached them.

“Your Grace! You should be resting!” Horhell stood up from his seat and shouted.

“You have far worse injuries than I do, but you are walking around without any problem. So why should I be stuck in my sickbed when the only injury I have is a sprained ankle? Do you think I’m that weak just because I’m old?”

Hela limped into the room, prompting...