Northern Realm Sovereignty #1-50
Author: 卧听山竹
Date: 2025-09-06T16:46:08+00:00

Chapter 1: Ryan Clayton

The Empire’s Northwind Province was located in the far northeastern corner.

It was far from the prosperity of the West Coast and close to the biting, wintry cold of the Northlands.

Poverty and cold were some of the few words used to describe this land.

If it weren’t for the connection provided by the Flying Wing Canyon, the province would almost be an exclave on the map.

The radiance of the Lord of the Dawn spilled over the lush mountain forest, dispelling the cold and allowing the disheveled, handsome youth leaning against a large tree to recover from the shock of his transmigration.

Ryan Clayton. That was his name.

“This is my name.”

The youth struggled to his feet. He looked down at his chest, where his fine clothes had been torn open. He could feel a corresponding damp patch on his back.

It was the mark left after an assassin’s rapier had pierced through his chest and back.

A pale hand braced against the tree as the youth from Blue Star gradually accepted all the memories in his mind.

“This is my name.”

In this magical world of gods, sorcery, and mages, Ryan Clayton resolutely accepted it all.

He had transmigrated, becoming Ryan Clayton—a young baron on the verge of reaching his fief, who had died by an assassin’s sword.

Shaking his head, Ryan felt his limbs trembling slightly. It seemed he had lost too much blood.

And not far away, a pair of hungry eyes had already locked onto him.

“No way. I just got here, and now I’m going to die?”

Ryan felt he might just be the most miserable transmigrator ever, because he had just sensed the existence of his cheat ability.

I’ve transmigrated, I have a cheat, but I’m about to die.

Was there anything more despairing than having hope snatched away right as it appeared?

Fortunately, a call from deep within the forest gave Ryan renewed hope.

“Young Master Ryan!”

“Young Master Ryan!!!”

“Baird, I’m over here.”

Ryan looked toward the source of the voice and saw an old man with scattered, graying hair leading eight squires stained with blood, all running hurriedly toward him.

It was his steward and his knight escort.

Seeing that he was safe and sound, Ryan could clearly see the old man sigh in relief.

“Young Master Ryan, it’s a relief you’re alright.”

“If you were hurt, we couldn’t atone for it even if we died a hundred times,” Baird said, reaching out to check Ryan for any wounds.

“Baird, I’m fine.”

Pushing aside the old steward’s rough hand, Ryan didn’t mind the gesture. After all, the man had practically raised him.

“By the way, what happened with those bandits?”

Ryan said, changing the subject.

At his words, Baird’s face filled with rage, and the eight squires’ expressions shifted from shame to anger.

“Those mud-legs dare call themselves bandits? To think they’d ambush the Lord Baron.”

Knight-Captain Delun said through gritted teeth, as if only this could cover up his dereliction of duty in letting Ryan get separated from the group.

Ryan fell silent. It seemed that the bandits, formed from displaced commoners, were just a front to hide the real assassin sent to kill him.

If a noble were to die at the hands of an elite assassin, it would be no small matter for the entire Empire.

That was because it would signify that certain political players were beginning to act without scruple.

Moreover, the very reason he was in the remote and freezing Northwind Province was the result of a political game.

“It’s fine. I’m not dead, am I?”

“Let’s get moving. We have to reach the Frozen Soil Fief before noon.”

Ryan was still young. At only fourteen, weakened by his blood loss, he had to be carried on a squire’s back.

As they traveled through the pathless mountain forest, he felt mentally and physically exhausted, but he didn’t dare to let himself fall asleep.

He was sorting through the dozen or so years of memories and knowledge that had abruptly appeared in his mind.

Those flashy displays of magic and knightly combat skills filled him with longing.

This world had gods, and one hundred thirty years ago, many of them had met their twilight, sparking a pan-planar war.

The War of the Gods lasted for thirty years, during which many gods fell or went into slumber.

But the disasters brought by that war were far from over. On the continent of Norris, which some gods called the Prime World, two-thirds of the land had fallen into an eternal winter.

Since then, the frigid north had been called the Northlands by southerners.

Wind and snow covered the entire region. The constant cold winds and the depths of the glaciers could even form never-melting True Ice.

The Northlands were no longer suitable for human habitation, and all who survived the war had fled south.

The Flore Empire, originally an obscure southern power, had instantly become the hegemon of the Norris continent, conquering a great deal of territory in the last few decades.

Northwind Province, where Ryan now found himself, had been conquered over a decade ago by Duke Mayers, one of the four Grand Dukes of the Flore Empire, leading his tens of thousands strong Nightmare Knight Order.

However, Northwind Province was not currently under the Grand Duke’s rule.

Clearly, this was yet another disgusting political struggle.

Northwind Province was far from the warm breezes and prosperity of the West Coast, making it the Empire’s territory closest to the Northlands.

Coupled with the fact that various imperial factions had previously ruined Grand Duke Mayers’s plans, the place was an absolute mess. The bandits his predecessor had encountered were actually just commoners who had turned to banditry, unable to stand the limitless oppression of their own lords and the occasional plunder by others.

This was Northwind Province. In the Imperial Capital, they were even considering abandoning the province entirely, as it drained the Empire of millions of gold coins every year.

And the barony Ryan was heading to, Frozen Soil Fief, was located in the northernmost part of the entire province.

If Northwind Province was practically an exclave of the Empire, then Frozen Soil Fief was essentially an exclave of Northwind Province.

One could only reach Frozen Soil Fief after crossing marshes and forests that were plagued by trouble year-round.

It was his land, a place where no one could interfere with him, but that was definitely not a good thing.

If Frozen Soil Fief had even a shred of value, it would have been claimed long ago. The only reason it remained available was that no one could squeeze even a single silver coin’s worth of value from it.

Too far from the West Coast, too close to the Northlands.

This was all he had to face. But the earlier assassination attempt told him that he had to contend not only with the cold winds of the Northlands, but also with pressure from within the Empire.

Every noble title in the Empire was incredibly precious, and his appointment as a baron was the result of a struggle among the Empire’s higher-ups.

Ryan Clayton, among Count Clayton’s many children, was the most insignificant one.

There were many in the Clayton family more outstanding than him, all of whom yearned for a noble title, even that of a mere Pioneer Knight.

One could only imagine the circumstances behind Ryan’s barony.

However…

“Three months ago, Count Clayton led his thirty-thousand-strong Flame Dragon Knight Order six hundred kilometers deep into the beastmen’s heartland in the Northlands. He slew the Mammoth-kin High Priest atop a snowy mountain and slaughtered over a hundred beastmen tribes.”

“Over three hundred thousand beastmen were enslaved and are now being transported back to the Empire.”

“An income of tens of millions of gold coins, and that’s just what’s known. There are even rumors that Count Clayton obtained the wisp of divine radiance treasured within the Mammoth-kin tribe.”

“Within the Empire, the Clayton family began maneuvering, attempting to make Count Clayton the Empire’s fifth Grand Duke!”

“Thus, a silent political struggle erupted before the Count had even returned to the Empire.”

“The cake is only so big. No one—not the Imperial Family nor the four Grand Dukes—wanted another person to share it.”

“The result was that an insignificant Ryan Clayton was made a baron—and a baron of Northwind Province at that.”

“And so, a single barony canceled out the merit of the Count’s grand expedition against the beastmen.”

Just from these few memories, Ryan could sense what a mountain of blades and a sea of fire the Imperial Capital of Roer, thousands of kilometers away, truly was.

“If it were just Ryan—uh, the original Ryan—he would have already died on the way to his fief.”

“If I were just a simple transmigrator, facing this world of strict rules, I’m afraid I would have been helpless.”

“But I have a cheat.” At this thought, Ryan’s tense mood relaxed a little.

With a thought, a palm-sized, translucent screen of light appeared before him.

【Spirituality: 9】

Chapter 2: Frozen Soil Fief

A group of warriors, looking like refugees, emerged from the forest. Every one of them was covered in filthy snow and mud.

Ryan, lying on a squire’s back, found his eyelids growing heavy. But as they left the forest, the sight before him was staggering.

They were on a mountain ridge, where dense trees had blocked his vision for hours.

And fifty or sixty meters below them, a plain opened up—or rather, a snowfield.

A vast, white world filled his vision, with dozens of houses scattered across the snowfield of several thousand square meters.

Further on stood a mountain peak shaped like a rhinoceros horn, probably two or three hundred meters high. Ryan judged from his past experience that it rose from the ground at an angle of forty or fifty degrees.

The tip of the rhinoceros horn pierced the frigid blizzards of the North, making Ryan feel as if a colossal rhinoceros beast was standing beneath the earth, watching him.

It was shrouded in the vast, swirling snow; mortals could only vaguely make out its silhouette. Even so, the oppressive presence it exuded made the eight squires and Baird gasp for breath.

“This is Young Master Ryan’s fief…”

Despite the old butler’s frail appearance, he showed no signs of fatigue after walking for so long.

The physique of a Knight was still something Ryan deeply envied.

Was this vast, white world the place where I will live out the rest of my days?

Curiosity sparked in Ryan’s heart, but soon, none of the ten of them had the luxury to be curious anymore.

Because… it was cold.

Without the shelter of the forest, the winter winds of the North made their teeth chatter. The snow that occasionally drifted down and landed on Ryan’s neck made him shiver uncontrollably.

“So cold.”

Even the old butler, a Knight, couldn’t help but huddle up. But as he looked at Ryan’s pale face, the fury in his eyes seemed to dispel all the cold.

“Damn it! If the Young Master’s belongings hadn’t been confiscated in the Imperial Capital, how could his precious body be reduced to such a state?”

As he spoke, he looked at Ryan, and tears welled up in his old eyes again.

“When Lord Count returns, he will surely not let those people off.”

Hearing Baird’s words, Ryan, so numb he had even forgotten his exhaustion, fell silent.

As a Baron personally ennobled by the Royal Family, he certainly shouldn’t have only an old butler and eight squires by his side.

At the coronation ceremony, Columbus III had granted him one hundred guards, thirty of whom were knights and the remaining seventy were squires. The three Knight-Captains leading them even possessed the strength of Silver Knights.

There were over a hundred warhorses and three carriages filled with supplies for developing the territory, worth no less than a thousand gold coins.

There were also dozens of slaves to serve him, the young Baron, including cat-girls sent by Columbus III to corrupt him.

But on the short journey from the imperial palace to the gate of the Imperial Capital, his carriages vanished, and his slaves disappeared.

His guards were detained outside the Imperial Capital for various reasons. In the end, only fifty squires followed Ryan out of the Imperial Capital toward Northwind Province.

By the time they reached Northwind Province, only eight squires and the old butler, Baird, remained by his side.

The other forty-two guards and the old butler’s son, young Baird, had been detained at various checkpoints and fiefs along the way. Young Baird was even imprisoned in Flying Wing Canyon, which connected Northwind Province to the rest of the empire.

His predecessor, Ryan, had been filled with anger and resentment, even dreaming that Count Clayton would return to the empire, retaliate, and bring him back to the warm, comfortable South.

But the Ryan of today knew very well that the various obstacles they had faced along the way represented a blockade against the Clayton Family by nearly every major interest group in the Empire.

They intended to settle everything before the Count returned, so that by the time he did, it would be too late.

And even if the Count was powerful enough to set things right, the fact that he was the Baron of the Frozen Soil Fief could not be changed. It was a title bestowed by the Royal Family itself, with absolutely no possibility of being altered.

So even if the Clayton Family could retaliate, those things no longer had anything to do with him.

From the moment he received his title, he was already separate from the Clayton Family.

From now on, the Clayton Family was not behind him; the Frozen Soil Fief was. He was Baron Ryan.

In his name, a new family line would begin.

Thump!

Ryan was completely submerged in the snow. The pristine white powder was no longer beautiful; the bone-chilling cold made Ryan, who had already lost too much blood, feel his consciousness fade.

When he came to, he was on Baird’s back. In front of him, seven guards were kneeling, while Delun, the captain of the guards, was pummeling one of them.

“How dare you drop the Lord Baron! Rosen, you deserve to be sliced into a thousand pieces!”

Delun vented all his fury on the guard named Rosen. There was fear in his eyes, too. A moment ago, Ryan had looked like he was about to pass out, and Delun had imagined his own head rolling across the vast white land, leaving a trail of red.

He drew his knight’s sword, but Ryan’s voice from behind him made his arm freeze mid-air.

“That’s enough, Delun.”

Ryan stopped the guard captain. After all, he only had these nine people left.

He looked at Rosen, whose face was also pale, though it was unclear if it was from fear or the biting cold of the North.

“Rosen, and the rest of you, rise.”

Ryan insisted on getting off Baird’s back. Although he felt a bit unsteady, he felt that, as their pillar of support, he had to show qualities that would inspire hope.

Of course, the main reason was that he had spotted the relatively flat road leading to the village.

“From this day forward, this is where we will live.”

He did not excessively coddle Rosen. In this stern era, that was not necessarily a good thing.

Ryan’s small body trembled slightly as he walked on the dirt path. At this moment, he was immensely grateful for the basic knight training he had.

Behind him, the old butler Baird and the eight guards, their expressions varied, watched Ryan’s figure with some surprise.

And ahead, in this nameless village, a dozen or so men holding pitchforks and other ‘weapons’ had turned to look at him.

Ryan took a deep breath. Looking at the clearly malnourished villagers ahead, his voice, though childish, carried a natural authority.

“I am Ryan, Lord of the Frozen Soil Fief.”

In this era, impersonation was virtually impossible. The nobles of the ruling class were all interconnected; they were all acquaintances in one way or another.

Hearing Ryan’s words, the villagers in front of him instantly dropped everything in their hands and fell to their knees.

“Lord, you’ve finally arrived.”

“Now that the Lord is here, we’ll have food to eat.”

Chapter 3: Spirituality

In the lands of The North, the greatest difficulty is food.

But Ryan never expected that on his very first day in his territory, even before he could start thinking about how to exploit his subjects, he would have to face the problem of food.

I’m a noble lord, and I have to figure out how to get you bread, is that it?

So it seemed.

Ryan sighed, looking at the transparent panel in front of him. The Spirituality on it was increasing, bit by bit.

10… 11… 12… 13…

The final number reached thirty-five. Looking at the twenty-six villagers before him, Ryan began to understand the source of the Spirituality increase.

Twenty-six subjects, eight squires, and one old butler—it was easy to figure out the principle.

Each subject could bring him one point of Spirituality.

But what good was Spirituality? Could it conjure food out of thin air for him?

He didn’t know if it was possible, but it certainly wasn’t now, because Ryan felt he needed more Spirituality to unlock something.

“Go, bring all the villagers of Frozen Soil Village here.”

Whatever this village was called before, after Ryan’s arrival, it was now Frozen Soil Village.

Beside him, Delun instinctively took a step forward. To the villagers, his brawny, imposing figure was practically a fearsome beast.

The crowd of villagers scattered in an uproar, but Delun managed to grab one of them and threatened him into calling everyone over.

Soon, at the center of the village, by a millstone, Ryan saw all the subjects within his barony.

Every one of them was wrapped up tightly, not in fine cotton clothes, but in garments woven from tree hemp.

Only a few wore clothing woven from animal pelts, and their status was clearly different from those around them.

Poverty and cold. Ryan finally realized what his fief was truly like.

Fortunately, seeing his Spirituality rise to over ninety, Ryan decided not to fuss too much with the villagers for the time being.

One hundred and twenty-five people. Among them were thirty-one old folks who looked like they wouldn’t last much longer, and exactly ten children half his size. Added to the twenty-something from before, the village in total had brought him eighty-four points of Spirituality.

“Ninety-three points of Spirituality. Just seven more points needed for a change.”

Feeling a bit helpless, Ryan temporarily set aside the matter of Spirituality and looked at the crowd of Frozen Soil villagers.

“Who is the village head?”

An old man who had lost all his teeth, leaning on a cane and supported by a middle-aged man, came forward and knelt before Ryan.

“This humble one, Hamiti, greets the Lord Baron.”

“Get up first. Is this your son beside you?”

Ryan looked at the middle-aged man next to Village Head Hamiti.

“Yes.”

“From this day on, he is the village head of Frozen Soil Village.”

“Huh?”

Seeing Ryan frown, the middle-aged man beside Hamiti immediately knelt down again, his forehead touching the cold ground.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

An old man who probably wouldn’t even survive the winter—Ryan didn’t see how he could possibly manage things, so he simply appointed a new village head.

It was no big deal. As the lord of the Frozen Soil Barony, he had absolute power. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say these villagers were his private property.

After dismissing the other villagers, Ryan kept only Hamiti. The middle-aged man stood before him, extremely nervous and apprehensive.

“You’re not going to tell me my baron’s fortress is up there, are you?”

Ryan pointed north, to a fortress on a peak shaped like a rhinoceros horn, visible even from here. It was likely built with Imperial funds after the conquest of Northwind Province.

But as Ryan looked at the wind and snow whipping through the sky and the fortress that had been unoccupied for who knows how many years, he couldn’t help but curse the people who built it.

He could tell just by looking how cold it must be up there.

“Those damned parasites, is this how they do their job on the Empire’s payroll?”

Beside him, Hamiti didn’t dare make a sound and could only say softly, “They say… it’s because the view is nice up there.”

A nice view makes it livable? Ryan didn’t think his current body could handle living there.

“Are there no other people in this Frozen Soil Fief besides the hundred or so of you?”

Hamiti shook his head.

“The Frozen Soil Fief hasn’t had a Lord Baron for a long time. The village used to have several hundred people, but gradually, those with skills left. The people here are freemen. As long as they’re careful not to be captured and made slaves, they can survive in other lords’ territories with their crafts.”

“Later, some of the blacksmiths and carpenters left. After they settled elsewhere, the other villagers slowly followed them.”

After hearing this, Ryan said nothing, merely instructing Delun, “Go back the way we came and hunt some game. And look for those bandits made up of slaves we saw earlier. Tell them if they come here, I will grant them the status of freemen!”

Delun was shocked to hear this. “My lord, those mud-legs should be burned to death!”

“Do you not understand my words?!” Ryan stared at him, and his gaze made Delun tremble and fall to his knees.

“I’ll go at once.”

Nearby, the Old Butler, Baird, remained silent, but his gaze toward Ryan grew increasingly approving.

He felt that Young Master Ryan was truly becoming more and more like a noble lord.

For the reasons Hamiti had mentioned, there were many empty houses in Frozen Soil Village. After Ryan declared that all who had left were banished, these houses became his temporary lodging.

“Sooner or later, I will live up there!”

Ryan looked at the fortress on Rhino Horn Peak and stood still, completely focused.

The Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method, the knight breathing method of the Clayton Family. Ryan knew that to establish himself in The North, he absolutely needed extraordinary means.

As a lord, he couldn’t afford to be frail.

One day passed, then two. Delun, who had taken five squires with him, had not returned.

“They… they wouldn’t have run away, would they?” Ryan asked Old Baird, chewing on a piece of hard, black bread.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Baird looked at Ryan, who was emotionlessly eating the black bread, with a pained expression. But when he spoke, his eyes filled with killing intent. “Their families became freemen in the Count’s territory. If they dared to run, their entire families would be turned into slaves. And even if they did flee, other lords would not spare them if they were discovered.”

A man who betrays his lord will be hunted down across the entire continent.

At the first light of dawn on the third day, Delun finally returned to the Frozen Soil Fief with the carcasses of five moose and over thirty vagrants who were bruised, swollen, and had been stripped of a layer of their clothing.

Ryan declared his ownership of these thirty-four people, who had originally been slaves in other territories. His Spirituality subsequently rose to one hundred and twenty-seven.

[Spirituality: 127]

Ryan felt that he could now consume his Spirituality at any moment to open a gateway to the unknown.

Chapter 4: Attendant and Divine Grace

“From this day forward, you are Freemen of the Frozen Soil Fief. I hereby pardon your status as slaves.”

Ryan’s words made the thirty-odd bandits, who had been full of resistance, widen their eyes and stare at him in shock.

They had assumed Delun’s words were a trick. If they hadn’t been outmatched, they never would have ended up here.

Seeing that Ryan didn’t appear to be toying with them, the dozens of men immediately fell to their knees, kowtowing repeatedly and proclaiming their lord’s benevolence.

After accepting their gratitude, Ryan bestowed one of the deer, weighing over sixty kilograms, upon the eight guard squires.

He then bestowed the smallest deer, weighing less than fifty kilograms, upon the more than one hundred and fifty villagers of Frozen Soil Village.

With that, his reputation in Frozen Soil Village, and in the Frozen Soil Fief, reached its peak.

That’s right, it was just that simple. Thinking of it, Ryan couldn’t help but inwardly grumble at this rigidly stratified era.

After eating and drinking his fill, Ryan finally felt a significant increase in his strength.

“So, where exactly do you lead?”

[Spirituality: 27]

With only twenty-seven Spirituality remaining, Ryan, having spent one hundred, looked at the door-sized spatial portal before him. He took a deep breath, then turned and left.

“Delun!”

“My Lord!”

After summoning old Baird and Delun, Ryan’s gaze fell upon Delun. He spoke with a serious tone:

“Are you willing to be my Knight’s Attendant?”

Strictly speaking, Delun and the seven other squires were only his guards, assigned to him by the Clayton Fief to escort him to his own territory.

Therefore, if Count Clayton were to press the issue, Delun and the others were all his father’s soldiers.

But if he became Ryan’s Knight’s Attendant, then from that day on, Delun would have no connection to Clayton.

“I…” Delun, who had been currying favor with Ryan the entire journey, finally bowed his head in shame and struggle.

His family in the Clayton Fief would certainly have a better life than here. He had seen with his own eyes what the Frozen Soil Fief was like.

“If you’re unwilling, then go and call Rosen over.”

Ryan’s voice was calm, yet it made Delun tremble and go weak. He practically scrambled out of the room.

He knew that his position as Knight-Captain was likely about to belong to Rosen.

“Are you willing to become my Knight’s Attendant?”

“I am willing!”

Rosen was also trembling, but his was from excitement and fervor.

A Knight’s Attendant was not a particularly noble station; it simply meant that Rosen was a soldier who belonged absolutely to Ryan.

But typically, only a full-fledged Knight would be called a Knight’s Attendant. To become one with the strength of a squire, Rosen felt there were few in the entire empire who could claim the same honor.

“I shall shed my blood upon sword and shield! Your will is my command, and your favor, my Divine Grace!”

Rosen cut his palm with his sword and pressed his clenched fist tightly against his heart.

He was only a Knight’s Attendant, but at this moment, he was willing to uphold his duties with the devotion of a guardian knight.

“Good.”

Ryan looked at the grim-faced Delun standing nearby. “You and your men will guard this place. Without my order, no one is to enter the house.”

“Yes, my lord. As you command.” Delun’s expression remained respectful. After all, not becoming a Knight’s Attendant wouldn’t change his relationship with Ryan in any way.

Besides, as long as Count Clayton, the baron’s father, didn’t make an issue of it in the future, he would spend the rest of his days here in the Frozen Soil Fief.

His earlier refusal was solely because of his family.

His two sons both had great knightly talent and might become Knights sooner than he had, securing a better future for themselves in the warm South.

Ryan understood this, so he didn’t press Delun, nor did he strip him of his title as Captain of the Guards.

“Baird, you come as well.”

After leading old Baird and Rosen into the house, both men stared in shock at the spatial portal.

“This portal will only last for one hundred hours. We need to hurry.”

“Divine Grace!” Baird looked at Ryan with fanaticism, dropping to his knees at once.

“I swear upon my name as a Knight that I will never reveal Master Ryan’s secret for all eternity.”

Beside him, Rosen duly copied his actions. Then, the two of them stepped back to the doorway and set up some subtle measures.

If anyone entered the house, they would know about it afterward.

A few meters outside, Delun stared at the closed door, feeling as if he had missed something truly significant.

“Let’s go.”

Ryan stepped through the spatial portal, with Baird and Rosen flanking him on his left and right.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the house vanished, replaced by a world of boundless white that stretched before the three of them.

If one could still see a hint of green in the Frozen Soil Fief, the place they were in now was a vast, endless snowfield. Besides the deathly white, there were no other colors.

Everything was covered by the vast expanse of wind and snow, with no sign of life to be seen.

Ryan looked back. The spatial portal was gone, but he could reopen it at any time within the next one hundred hours to return to the Frozen Soil Fief.

Beneath their feet was a faint, almost invisible path, as if someone had walked here not long ago.

“There are people here. That’s good news,” Rosen said. He too was extremely curious about where this place was.

“Let’s go.”

Without needing a signal from Ryan, Rosen was already walking ahead with his longsword drawn. He was cold in his leather armor, but at this moment, he had to shield the baron from the harsh wind.

“Baird, tell me about Divine Grace.”

On the snowy plains, the only sound was the crunch of their three pairs of feet on the snow, and the silence began to feel oppressive to Ryan.

“Yes, Young Master.”

After witnessing Ryan’s abilities, Baird had become even more respectful, no longer taking the liberties an elder might.

His own knowledge of Divine Grace was not extensive.

“The gods instigated an interplanar war. They needed their followers to fight for them.”

“In the middle and late stages of the war, the gods became desperate for victory and personally bestowed Divine Grace upon their followers. Using this Divine Grace, those followers reaped faith for the gods.”

“Once one god started using such methods, other gods had no choice but to follow suit. And so, the number of Bearers of Divine Grace in the interplanar war grew.”

“Later, the war between the gods ended, and the entire North was covered by the Wind of Eternal Winter and snow.”

“The war of the gods made the skies spew apocalyptic flames; the death of the gods plunged the earth into an eternal, silent winter.”

“But the Bearers of Divine Grace did not completely disappear with the gods. Every so often, news of Divine Grace can still be heard.”

“Besides that…” Baird fell silent, as if in fear or awe.

“It is rumored that after the interplanar war ended, one does not necessarily need a god’s personal blessing to obtain Divine Grace.”

“During the interplanar war, many gods died.”

Chapter 5: The Gods’ Interplanar War, the Spirit of the Stag

Listening to Baird, Ryan started to understand.

This world, one possessing the supernatural, was truly marvelous, unlike any fantasy he had encountered in his previous life.

In the Flor Empire, the royal family commanded an army known as the Sacred Hall Knight Order. They had once trampled upon the skeletons of giants and used their skulls to challenge the gods themselves.

The famed Grand Duke Mayers, who had incorporated the Northwind Province into the empire’s territory, commanded a legion of Nightmare Knights that was simply invincible.

The other three Grand Dukes of the empire, in addition to their regular armies, also each possessed at least one renowned legion.

Even his father, Count Clayton, had the Flame Dragon Knight Order. The mounts of the Flame Dragon Knight Order were said to be able to breathe the fire of flame dragons.

Beyond the empire, within the various kingdoms and the fiefs of dukes and counts, the nobles who had migrated south from the North of the continent also possessed their own extraordinary legions.

Elves, dwarves… the other races had them too.

Before the gods instigated the Interplanar War, none of this existed.

The reason for all of this was—Godhood.

Only gods possessed Godhood, but with the start of the Interplanar War, gods also fell. The scattering of their Godhood after death led to the emergence of these supernatural legions.

Beyond that, things like the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method that Ryan practiced were also likely a result of Godhood. Only those of Clayton blood could properly practice this particular breathing method, making it a proprietary art of the Clayton Family.

Thinking of this, Ryan looked at his golden finger.

“Spirituality… what is its connection to Godhood?”

Gods could produce Godhood, while the people in his fief seemed to be able to provide him with Spirituality.

The gods could wage an Interplanar War, plunging one plane after another into an eternal, silent winter. And the Spirituality he now controlled…

Ryan lifted his head and saw the light of a fire in the distance. A village had appeared before him, enclosed by a fence of ice-covered posts, a basic means of defense and a shield against the frigid wind.

It was terribly cold here. With every step, Ryan felt his knees sink into the snow. Compared to this place, the Frozen Soil Fief was practically balmy.

In such an environment, the people of this village had developed better ways to resist the cold than the villagers of the Frozen Soil Fief.

They had followed a set of tracks, which led them right to the village gate. By the time they arrived, a dozen or so brawny men clad in beast hides were already watching them, spears in hand.

But Ryan sensed that after getting a look at his small party, the stout men had relaxed somewhat.

Rosen, however, was on high alert. On their journey to the Frozen Soil Fief, they had encountered far too much malice, and the last incident had even gotten the Lord Baron separated from them.

But he was a bit nervous. He could feel that while these men before him showed no signs of practicing a knight’s breathing method, none of them felt any weaker than him.

This was especially true for the one in the lead, who wore nothing but a simple beast pelt, the rest of his body exposed to the frigid wind.

Didn’t he feel cold?

“Aren’t you cold?”

Ryan asked aloud. He was genuinely curious, as the man showed no signs of any supernatural power.

The young man he addressed looked to be only four or five years older than Ryan, but he was powerfully built, as if only such a physique could survive in this icy wasteland.

“Not cold.”

Brand thumped his chest, as if to demonstrate his strength.

He then looked at Ryan with curiosity. “You’re a noble lord? Why would a noble lord come to our tribe?”

“Don’t you all stick to the underground veins of fire?”

Ryan didn’t answer the question, instead asking one of his own:

“Won’t you invite us in to sit for a while?”

After looking over Ryan and his two companions, Brand nodded and stepped aside. As he moved, the others lowered their spears.

Clearly, the young man held a high position in this tribe.

“He is the child closest to the Spirit of the Stag.”

This was the answer Ryan received when he asked a middle-aged man in the tribe.

The man didn’t say much more, seeming somewhat in awe of Ryan, who looked clean and refined like a noble lord.

“Just a short while ago, Brand hunted a great-horned deer all by himself. Perhaps this time, he will succeed and receive the blessing of the Spirit of the Stag.”

Ryan’s party had arrived at just the right time. It was now clear that the footprints they had been following belonged to Brand.

Two hours later, as night fell, the village, named Stag Spirit, lit over a hundred torches, nearly illuminating the darkness and making the wolf howls from the distant snows shrink back in hesitation.

Ryan saw a group of people surrounding Brand, performing what looked like a ritual dance. Brand knelt in the center, and before him lay a great-horned deer with its four legs bound.

Its horns were indeed massive. Ryan felt that the two antlers could easily pierce through Rosen’s leather armor.

Baird’s eyes were even sharper than Ryan’s.

“Those two antlers could be used to make a very powerful bow.”

Hearing this, Ryan’s interest grew.

Brand drew a matte dagger. It didn’t seem to be forged from metal, but rather honed from the bone at the base of a great-horned deer’s antler.

The dagger moved closer and closer to the deer, whose eyes were surprisingly calm.

Ryan noticed that every villager dancing around Brand wore a white bone mask, also carved from the skull of a great-horned deer. The sight was exceptionally creepy.

“Call the Stag Spirit!”

A dozen or so elder villagers worked together to carry out a deer-head statue three or four meters tall, placing it before Brand, who at that very moment had just pulled out the great-horned deer’s heart.

The villagers who had been dancing all around dropped to their knees.

“Brand, this is the third time. If…”

“There are no ‘ifs’.”

With a resolute expression, Brand pressed the still-beating heart against the forehead of the massive deer head. Blood trickled down its surface.

Time passed. Under the night sky, amidst the flickering firelight, the silence was terrifying.

“It failed. The Stag Spirit fell during the war of the gods. We… have lost our faith.”

Tears streamed down the faces of a group of elders, and Brand, too, fell silent.

Just then, Ryan, who had been on the periphery merely observing, somehow found himself at the center of the firelight.

He looked at the giant deer head, then reached out his hand.

No one in the numb crowd tried to stop him.

Yet, the instant his palm touched the deer head, a cry that pierced the night sky seemed to fall from the heavens. Amidst this cry, all was silent. The countless savage beasts of the winter all trembled and prostrated themselves on the ground.

The massive deer head shattered. Everyone saw a transparent, proud stag leap forth from the fragments of the statue. It met the gaze of the young man who appeared to be a noble, then charged straight toward him.

The stag merged into Ryan’s chest. In an instant, Ryan felt his bones crackle as immense power surged through his limbs.

In that brief moment, his frame even grew slightly taller.

“Did I… just become a Knight?”

Chapter 6: A Knight’s Journey, a Spiritual Blessing

In this world, there were many paths to the extraordinary.

The path of the Knight was undoubtedly one of the most common, yet also one of the most powerful.

It began with day after day of training to become a Squire, and then undertaking the Knight’s Breathing Method, which marked the true start of the journey.

One could say that as long as you were willing to endure hardship, anyone had a chance.

From beginning to end, the stages of a Knight’s cultivation were divided into Squire, Knight, Bronze Knight, Silver Knight, Gold Knight, Sky Knight, Saint Knight, and Legendary Knight.

Excluding the Squire rank, which had no special requirements, the seven stages formed the entirety of a Knight’s journey.

In the earlier stages, the gap between Knights was not absolute. For instance, a regular Knight might not match a Bronze Knight in strength, speed, and physique, but for some talented individuals, such a gap could be overcome.

Furthermore, the differences in Breathing Methods led to subtle variations in base attributes. Some people were naturally born with stronger physiques, so they would naturally be stronger than others upon becoming a Knight.

Of course, the further one progressed, the harder such gaps became to bridge.

There were many legends of Gold Knights defeating Sky Knights, but not a single one told of a Sky Knight triumphant over a Saint Knight.

“Such incredible power.”

Ryan looked at the dead Great-horned deer. He felt he could crush the creature with the strength of a single hand.

And… Ryan looked at his Spirituality panel.

[Spirituality: 27]

[Godhood: Blessing of the Deer Spirit]

“Blessing of the Deer Spirit?”

Ryan came to his senses and saw the villagers staring at him in shock. The elders, in particular, were trembling with excitement.

“The Deer Spirit, the Deer Spirit is still alive! The Deer Spirit has not fallen.”

“Our faith… still endures.”

With that, the group of elders knelt before Ryan.

Ryan looked at Brand. Indeed, this young man before him was the one most likely to receive the Deer Spirit’s blessing. In that brief moment, he had felt an affinity from him.

To be precise, an affinity with the Deer Spirit.

But the Deer Spirit, with only a sliver of its Godhood remaining, had long lost the power to bestow a blessing upon Brand.

“You wish to receive the Deer Spirit’s blessing?”

“Yes. Only by receiving the blessing can I step onto the extraordinary path. Only then can I lead my people through the harsh winter.”

Brand looked at Ryan, his eyes filled with anticipation.

“The Deer Spirit no longer has the strength to bless you. You should know this.”

Ryan’s words made Brand fall silent, but his next words caused the young man’s gaze, as he lifted his head, to burn with intensity.

“The Deer Spirit cannot grant you a blessing, but now, I can.”

With that, Ryan looked at the several hundred people gathered around him and said:

“From this day forward, I will be able to grant you blessings. At the same time, I can lead you away from this land of ice and snow to a… slightly warmer place to live.”

“As you have wished, I am a nobleman. So, are you willing to become my people?”

As Ryan’s voice fell, the circle of elders closest to him prostrated themselves, crying out in celebration.

“The people of Aixneer will be eternally loyal to you!”

The moment he made contact with the Deer Spirit, Ryan had sensed the noble quality of these people.

Loyalty.

The people sheltered by the Deer Spirit were brave and skilled in battle, and they were loyal to what they protected.

The moment everyone swore their allegiance to Ryan, becoming his people, his Spirituality surged to a peak.

[Spirituality: 488]

The four hundred and sixty-one villagers had brought him a tremendous amount of Spirituality.

Ryan looked at Brand again. “Will you be my guardian knight?”

The young man knelt on one knee, his gaze incomparably resolute.

“Brand, I pledge my loyalty to you.”

[Spirituality: 498]

He provided ten times the Spirituality of the others. At that moment, Ryan’s expression was incredibly solemn as he placed his palm on Brand’s forehead.

In an instant, one hundred points of Spirituality vanished, and in its place, a tiny deer spirit entered Brand’s forehead.

With the Blessing of the Deer Spirit, Brand’s power increased significantly. His aura, visibly strengthening, became nearly identical to Ryan’s.

The blessing had given him the power of a Knight, and the young men in the surrounding circle watched with feverish eyes.

Their gazes toward Ryan now held a reverence far greater than before.

“Stag Knight Breathing Method.”

A sharp light glinted in Brand’s eyes. When Ryan looked at him again, he instinctively perceived several terms.

[Constitution Boost] [Breathing Method Cultivation Boost]

[Brave] [Fearless] [Loyal] [Passionate] [Noble] [Leader]

The Blessing of the Deer Spirit was the same for all, but what one gained from it was entirely up to the individual.

The constitution and breathing method boosts were likely enhancements to the Stag Knight Breathing Method brought by the blessing, allowing Brand to gain more attributes during his breakthroughs and training.

But the subsequent words representing virtues—brave, fearless—were entirely due to Brand’s own character.

Ryan believed that for someone like Brand, receiving the blessing was merely the cherry on top, not a lifeline. Of course, in their current circumstances, Ryan’s arrival was certainly the latter.

If the others around him were but commoners, craftsmen, and soldiers to Ryan, then Brand was a hero unit.

Under Brand’s leadership, soldiers could face any war without fear, and the lord’s subjects, upon seeing such a knight, would be filled with positive confidence.

But for Ryan, the most important thing was the word “Loyal.”

[Loyal] was not a simple measure of Brand’s loyalty to Ryan; it was not a statistic, but a moral quality.

He was loyal to his charge, loyal to his own heart, loyal to the lord he served, loyal to his every word and deed, and loyal to the duties bestowed upon him.

For instance, Ryan knew he could not ask Brand to do anything that went against his conscience.

At this moment, Ryan’s heart was pounding with more excitement than old Baird the steward’s, but he suppressed his emotions and looked at the crowd of eager faces around him.

“Are you willing to become my retainer knights?”

“I pledge my loyalty to you!”

One by one, the young and middle-aged men knelt, while their wives and mothers watched from a distance with anticipation.

He glanced at his Spirituality. Brand had provided ten times the amount of others, and likewise, the blessing for him had cost ten times as much.

This meant that for others, a blessing would only cost ten points of Spirituality each.

With three hundred and ninety-eight points remaining, Ryan looked at the hundred or so expectant faces, hesitated, then turned to Brand.

“There are only thirty spots. Brand, do you have any good suggestions?”

“As you command.”

Brand, now a full-fledged Knight, stepped forward and selected thirty men from the crowd of over a hundred.

Ryan granted him his trust. Three hundred points of Spirituality flowed out, and in an instant, he had thirty new Squires.

On each of them, Ryan could feel the effects of the constitution and breathing method boosts.

They also possessed the [Loyal] and [Passionate] traits, which, though much fainter than Brand’s, were still present.

“This is like enchanting, but the target of the enchantment… is a person.”

Chapter 7: The Story

“Those of you who did not receive the blessing, do not worry.”

“If you are willing to become my soldiers, you will have the chance to practice the Stag Knight Breathing Method through training.”

Ryan’s words put the others at ease.

His gaze fell back on the elders who held authority, and Ryan continued:

“My fief is not yet well-established. It lacks everything. If you are coming with me, bring everything you can carry.”

“Do it as quickly as possible. Finish within a day.”

The leading elder bowed respectfully. He was the leader here.

“We will obey your will.”

After hearing Ryan’s description of the Frozen Soil Fief, the village—or rather, the tribe—began to prepare all sorts of supplies.

“I believe every one of them will be a rare treasure for you,” Brand said from the side.

“Oh?”

Ryan naturally wanted to grow closer to this guardian knight, and the best way to do that was through stories.

“May I hear the story of this place?”

“As you command.”

After bowing, Brand brought Ryan an old man who had some difficulty moving. Ryan noticed that beneath his trouser cuffs were a pair of crafted wooden lower legs.

Seeing not the slightest hint of disdain in Ryan’s eyes, both the old man and Brand felt their respect for him deepen instinctively.

“Father Arno lived through the Divine War. He was the one who found me. He lost his legs because of me,” Brand explained from the side.

“The Lord wishes to hear our story.”

“Our story…” A look of remembrance filled Father Arno’s cloudy eyes.

Old men do love to talk about the old days.

“For the past eighty years, we have lived like this—as you have seen, my Lord. So, let me tell you about what happened eighty years ago.”

Father Arno’s voice echoed in the wind and snow, and Ryan stood perfectly still, listening quietly.

“Our world is called the Aixneer Continent. The vast majority of its people revere the Spirit of the Stag.

We pursued the Spirit of the Stag with ardor, and so the people of the Aixneer Continent were full of passion.

We also emulated the Spirit of the Stag’s valor and dexterity, and the world it had seen. Thus, the Aixneer Continent was filled with bards and skilled artisans.

The Aixneer Continent may not have had a large population, but it was exceptionally prosperous. Every person was wealthy and happy.

But just over one hundred years ago, the gods ignited an Interplanar War, and with it came the Twilight of the Gods.

Aixneer, too, was plunged into the flames of war. The divine conflict set the skies ablaze, and the Spirit of the Stag was drawn into the battle.

As children of the Spirit of the Stag, the people of the continent fought for it. The war raged for twenty-five years.

The Spirit of the Stag fell. Though we firmly believe the Deer Spirit still lives, all traces of it vanished from the continent.

At the same time, the death brought by the Interplanar War plunged the continent into an eternal winter. Icy snow and frigid winds ravaged the land.

Forests were buried in snow, marshes turned to frozen soil, and rivers froze solid. A perpetual, silent cold covered everything. Perhaps only in the far south do a few warm corners remain.

In a war of gods, the faith of the masses is their army. In just twenty-five years, a small portion of the people on the Aixneer Continent perished.

But that was not the end. Death from the direct slaughter of war is often only a small part of the toll.

After the war ended, the continent was gripped by famine. Hunger and cold claimed most of the population in the first ten years. In the time that followed, chaos caused the population to dwindle even further.

Those who managed to survive the sudden descent into eternal winter were exceptional, in a way.

However, with the Deer Spirit gone, no matter how exceptional they were, they were still just mortals. Without supernatural power, facing the biting frost and ever-increasing pressure to survive, the population could only continue to shrink.

This was especially true for children. In the first few decades, many newborn infants died young.

Unable to replenish our people, our fate was sealed.

The war of the gods ended. We lost everything. And in this perpetual, silent winter, we will lose all that remains.”

As he spoke, Father Arno drifted off to sleep. Before he did, he told Ryan that he would not be going with them to the Frozen Soil Fief, to another world.

He had witnessed the former prosperity of the Aixneer Continent, and he would watch over its final silence and cold.

He gave Ryan a name—a young man to whom he had passed on all his carpentry skills.

“Father Arno won’t survive this winter. But being able to see his people get a chance to live on before he passes… he must be happy.”

Brand carried Father Arno back to his wooden hut and then returned with another young man.

“Anor. Father Arno also found him in the snow.”

“Anor pledges his loyalty to you.”

The young man knelt before Ryan. Ryan realized he was not one of the thirty squires Brand had chosen.

“He yearns for the stories of bards that Father Arno spoke of. Besides, he is not suited for combat.”

Brand explained, sticking to his duties even though he and the young man were close.

“Mm, rise.”

Ryan looked at Anor. “Even if you are not suited for combat, you can still practice the Knight’s Breathing Method. Whether you want to be a great carpenter or a bard, a strong body is the foundation.”

“I will obey your will,” Anor said respectfully. If the Lord said so, it must be right.

Brand also needed to pack his belongings, and he left with Anor. Once again, only Ryan and his two servants remained in the village.

“With the help of these people, we’ll finally have the manpower to develop the Frozen Soil Fief,” old Baird said with relief.

He hadn’t spoken a word at Ryan’s side from the very beginning, because he felt that Young Master Ryan’s every decision was correct.

As a butler, his silence was all that was needed.

Beside them, Rosen had a conflicted expression. Finally, he couldn’t help but look at Ryan.

“My Lord, that Blessing of the Deer Spirit… can you give it to me, too?”

He felt his face flush, mainly because he had come to a profound realization about his own problem.

He was too weak.

Not counting Brand, even among the thirty squires, he felt there were at least ten who could surpass him—perhaps even more, since they hadn’t even undergone training in knightly skills yet.

As Young Master Ryan’s first Knight’s Attendant, he felt he shouldn’t be so weak. Otherwise, he would bring shame upon his lord.

“The blessing? Of course. But from now on, you will only be able to practice the Stag Breathing Method.”

Ryan said. After receiving Rosen’s determined gaze, he pointed a finger, and ten points of Spirituality vanished.

Aside from the two buffs, Ryan did not see the traits of [Loyalty] and [Ardor] that Brand and the others possessed. Instead, Rosen had [Unyielding].

Obviously, this was related to Rosen’s life experiences. He had never yearned for the Deer Spirit of the Aixneer Continent, nor had he grown up listening to its many stories.

Stories and bards, fine wine and the world—these things had forged the many noble virtues of Brand’s people.

From stories, they formed their understanding of the world; from wine, they drew their passion.

Chapter 8: Northgal Fortress

“My Lord, we have finished packing.”

Brand led thirty squires before Ryan and announced loudly.

Ryan glanced at the bundles made of animal hide but didn’t scrutinize them. As long as nothing was larger than the spatial gate, it was fine.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he miraculously summoned the spatial gate before them.

He looked at Rosen and old Baird, who understood and stepped through immediately. They needed to make sure Delun, who was guarding the Frozen Soil Fief, wouldn’t be too shocked.

“Let’s go. While it’s not warm on the other side, it’s a great deal better than here.”

Brand and the thirty soldiers guarded Ryan as the four hundred-odd villagers passed through the spatial gate to the Frozen Soil Fief one after another.

Gradually, only an empty expanse remained before Ryan.

His gaze fell upon the few remaining wooden huts, their torches still lit. This winter, those few elders would be buried here along with this place.

“I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to return.”

Thinking this, Ryan also stepped into the spatial gate.

…

His body instantly felt much warmer. Looking at the dismantled wooden huts, even exposed to the cold air, Ryan found this place surprisingly warm.

The weather he had just been in was simply too harsh. One would probably have to venture from the Frozen Soil Fief deeper into the north to experience such a biting cold.

“Thinking of it that way makes it much more bearable.”

Everything is relative. The empire looked down on Northwind Province, yet the people of the Aixneer Continent were ecstatic to be there.

This contrast was perfectly illustrated by the dumbfounded expressions of the Frozen Soil Fief’s original dozens of villagers and Delun’s seven squires.

They could rack their brains and still not figure out where their Lord had brought so many people from.

But everything in the Frozen Soil Fief belonged to the Baron Lord; no one dared to question or be curious.

There were no slaves in the Frozen Soil Fief yet, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be.

In this world of rigid rules, silence and apathy were the noblest qualities of a commoner.

…

Rhino Horn Peak.

With the physique of a Knight, Ryan could finally face the cold wind at the summit. He had thought about moving into the Baron’s Fortress, but he didn’t expect to achieve this small goal in less than two days.

“I misjudged that construction mage. The view here is truly excellent.”

Before him lay an incredibly open world. He could even imagine that, when there was no ice and snow, a wide river would flow beneath his feet. On both banks would be towering mountain foothills, and the meandering river would wind through the mountains toward a low, flat area. The water would be clear, the foothills lush with trees, and hares or elk would hide among the green shrubs, along with cunning, predatory wolves.

And upstream on the river, visible from Rhino Horn Peak, was a lake—a great lake formed by a waterfall plummeting from a higher mountain range, where countless lively fish and birds foraged.

From here, one could see the beauty of the lake at a glance. The roar of the waterfall, softened by the distance, became as pleasant as a harp, echoing day after day on Rhino Horn Peak.

But now, all of it was gone. The majestic foothills were covered in white snow. He had heard that the green would only return for two or three months during the summer of the following year.

The winding river was frozen solid, forming a glacier, creating a smooth, icy plain at the base of Rhino Horn Peak. Everything in sight was covered by a vast expanse of white. The lake had become an ice-covered lake, and the rushing waterfall had turned into a series of sharp, pointed icicles.

Viewed from above, the Frozen Soil Fief looked like a large, lumpy bowl.

Even so, the view from Rhino Horn Peak was still magnificent.

Draped in silver, it possessed a different kind of beauty.

“Does that lake have a name?” Ryan asked, pointing at the frozen lake.

Old Baird spoke up at just the right moment, “It is called Northgal Lake.”

“A beautiful name.”

Ryan turned to look at his Baron’s Fortress. To be honest, it was just a cluster of less than ten buildings, hardly worthy of being called a fortress.

He looked at his residence. “From now on, this place will be called Northgal Fortress. Frozen Soil Fortress… it sounds awful.”

“As you will.”

Only master and servant stood on Rhino Horn Peak. Even Brand, who was supposed to be at Ryan’s side, had been sent to help the villagers build their houses. A Knight’s strength was quite useful in that regard.

Turning back to look at the fief he was building, Ryan said with some boldness:

“I will build a city here. It will be called Northgal City, and its name will surely resound throughout the entire empire—no, the entire South!”

The vast plain at the foot of the mountain was certainly large enough to hold a great city.

In the empire, typically only a viscount’s fief would have a small city, capable of housing eight or ten thousand people at most.

Ryan’s ambition was far greater than that.

“Young Master Ryan has grown up,” Old Baird said, smiling with gratification. He believed in this future even more strongly than Ryan did.

The imagined future had not yet arrived, but the immediate problems of the Frozen Soil Fief were now before Ryan.

Brand led Hamiti to Ryan. The Village Head, who had only been in charge of his own hundred or so people, looked as if he was about to cry.

“My Lord, we’re really running out of food.”

The population of the fief’s subjects had now surpassed six hundred, with the four hundred-odd people from Deer Spirit Village making up the majority. Although they had brought their families and dry rations, it would not last long.

In the lands of the North, during the depths of winter, food was an ever-present topic.

Furthermore, it was currently winter. Even when spring arrived, the planting season in the Frozen Soil Fief would be more than two months later than in the South, and a month and a half later than in the other fiefs of Northwind Province.

Farming was not realistic for now. Hunting? There wasn’t that much prey in the middle of winter. Did he really think the beasts of a fantasy world were so fragile? Hunting couldn’t sustain them for long, and eating too much meat wasn’t a good thing either.

“Then our only option is to buy food,” Ryan said, looking helplessly at Old Baird.

“How much money do we have left?”

The Old Butler looked even more helpless. “On our journey, all our money was confiscated. All that’s left now is…”

The old man’s palm was covered in cracks, but it still allowed a single, glittering gold coin to shine brightly.

“One Gold Punk, fifteen silver coins, and thirty-five copper coins.”

The ratio for gold, silver, and copper was one to twenty and one hundred.

A family of five freemen in Northwind Province earned no more than ten silver coins a year. A single gold coin was enough for them to eat and drink without worry for an entire year, with enough left over for the occasional wine and meat.

As for serfs… they were considered well-off if they didn’t end up in debt to their lord.

Those who couldn’t even manage to be serfs could not be certain they would live for even a few years.

So, Ryan now had no food and no money.

Chapter 9: The Chaotic Northwind Province

No money, no food. What was to be done?

Starving was out of the question, so the only option was to go and “borrow” from the neighbors.

Strictly speaking, the Frozen Soil Fief had no neighbors. To the north was an endless winter, and to the south, one had to cross forests and swamplands to reach the territories of the other nobles of Northwind Province.

But as things stood, they were the only ones close enough.

“Have Delun and Anor come see me.”

Soon, Captain of the Guards Delun and the carpenter Anor appeared before Ryan. He first looked to Delun.

“I will give you twenty men. Take them and the other squires to hunt in the surrounding area. Try to get enough meat before it gets truly cold.”

Then, Ryan turned to Anor. “I know your people have a unique talent for cultivation. My request is simple: plant crops that can mature in a short time. I don’t ask for much—just that it’s edible and can fill our stomachs.”

“As you command.” The two men left, visibly excited, for this meant they had begun to acquire authority within the barony.

Finally, Ryan’s gaze fell upon Brand.

“Brand, go and assemble all the Knight’s Attendants. You’re coming with me to Northwind Province. We’re going to pay a visit to our neighbors.”

Brand was quick. By the time Ryan walked down from Rhino Horn Peak to its base, Brand was already waiting with thirty men.

Looking at the scattered, disorganized Knight’s Attendants, Ryan frowned. He turned and leaped onto a large rock, roaring.

Possessing the strength of a knight, Ryan’s voice was loud and majestic.

“Look at you! Do you look like an army? You look like a bunch of mud-legs!”

“Now! Immediately! At once! Form up! Five men to a row, six to a column!”

As he counted down from ten, Ryan drew the iron sword from Rosen’s waist and walked to the side of his troops.

“From where I stand, I want to see a single, straight file of men!”

Ryan raised the sword. Reaching the third row, he pointed it at a young man whose head was sticking out.

“Renn, Severen…” Ryan called out six names, ordering them to step forward.

“Are you trying to make it look like there are more of you?!”

Ryan pointed at the remaining twenty-four men. “If you can beat them, you each get a gold coin.”

“If you can’t, when we get back, you’ll all be moving rocks for me!”

For a squire, or even a Knight’s Attendant, to do a slave’s work was not a physical punishment but a trampling of their dignity. Instantly, the faces of all six men flushed red.

The Frozen Soil Fief had no slaves yet, but to lose face in front of the commoners was absolutely unbearable.

Unsurprisingly, it was six against twenty-four. The six men had no chance of victory and were quickly beaten to the ground.

“Five… four…” Ryan’s voice echoed in everyone’s ears like a demon’s. At that moment, no one dared to dawdle any longer.

Looking at the newly formed ranks, Ryan didn’t go down to inspect them but nodded in satisfaction.

In an army, nothing was more important than the principle that orders were to be followed without question.

“One man makes a mistake, the whole unit is punished. Remember, you will be going to war one day. If you can’t even coordinate this much, you’ll all die!”

“I don’t want to see you die on the battlefield. What’s more, you are my personal guards. If you die, you will die right in front of me.”

Ryan’s voice was cold, yet it made old Baird’s eyes burn hotter than ever before.

A typical noble lord spent his days in pleasure, exploiting commoners and slaves.

A noble who was discerning, could employ people well, and saw things through to the end was a talented man among the aristocracy—an excellent noble capable of upholding his family’s reputation.

But a noble who could do all that and also understood military affairs was an extremely rare commodity—a top-tier noble capable of leaving his name in the annals of history.

In that moment, he seemed to see the rise of the Frozen Soil Fief and the Ryan family becoming a shining star of the Empire.

Seeing that the Knight’s Attendants finally looked somewhat presentable, Ryan nodded, satisfied.

“Move out!”

The decision had been made not long ago, and the action was just as hasty, but Ryan wasn’t too worried.

The reason was simple: this was Northwind Province. Annexed by the Empire for decades, Northwind had always remained in a state of utter chaos.

How chaotic? Imperial law strictly forbade nobles from attacking one another’s territories. Yet, across the entire Empire, only Northwind Province had seen more than ten open military clashes between nobles.

Although any faction that seemed poised to grow too powerful would be checked by other nobles muddying the waters, this in itself was a testament to the fierce and untamed nature of Northwind Province’s people.

That was what happened in the open; in private, things were even more rampant.

But the strange thing was, despite such wholesome customs, not a single noble had died in these conflicts for decades. Even a baron whose fief was shattered, a man left with nothing but the clothes on his back, had been readily allowed to return home, where he now continued to exploit his serfs.

Besides the conflicts between nobles over resources, there were also the original native nobles of Northwind Province—the many aristocrats from the time when this land was known as the Northwind Duchy.

After the conquest of Northwind Province by that Meyes fellow, the family of the land’s original master, the Duke of Northwind, was taken to the Imperial Capital, destined never to leave it by even a single step for the rest of their lives.

Of the lesser nobles who served under the Duke of Northwind, some had sided with the Empire early on, some became wandering nobles seeking positions and lands in the southern kingdoms, and some died in the war. The final group became rebels, turning to banditry in an effort to reclaim their lands.

Ryan suspected that the assassins who tried to kill him were from this last group—the remnants of Northwind.

It was even highly probable that someone within the Empire had contacted them, promising to help restore their noble status in exchange for his death.

Otherwise, assassinating an imperial noble—a baron personally ennobled by the royal family, no less—was a slap in the face to the entire nobility of the Empire.

Such a massive risk was impossible without an equally immense reward.

“Poor and cold” was the perception of Northwind Province held by the southern provinces of the Empire. But only the nobles in Northwind truly understood that this place was merely cold and chaotic.

The nobles were not poor. They would find every possible way to squeeze their subjects and slaves. Moreover, Northwind Province was rich in minerals, but due to the chaos, the efficiency of their extraction was extremely low.

For the sake of those minerals, many nobles worked their slaves to death in the mines. When they ran out of slaves, they would send in the freemen.

It was for this very reason that so many escaped slaves appeared in the swamplands and forests near the Frozen Soil Fief.

It could even be said that those who escaped were but a small fraction. After all, the vast majority of slaves never dared to even entertain the thought of running away, no matter if their lord forced them to mine with only a few hours of rest a day and gave them a pittance of food.

Chapter 10: The First Batch of Slaves

Ryan even felt that these nobles were draining the pond to catch the fish. It was undeniable that the minds of most noble lords were filled with nothing but thoughts of pleasure, but exploiting the serfs and freemen of Northwind Province so relentlessly was still too cruel.

“Perhaps there are other reasons for this.”

Regardless, a Northwind Province like this gave Ryan immense confidence, which was why he dared to head south with just these thirty-odd men and no plan whatsoever.

Though he only had thirty-one Knight’s Attendants and one knight, this force was already stronger than that of over ninety percent of the Pioneer Lords in Northwind Province.

Ryan even felt that among the Barons, this force could rank in the upper echelons. Brand was the source of this confidence.

One should never overestimate those nobles who simply basked in their family’s legacy; they were far more pathetic than one could imagine.

Hadn’t he seen the way old Baird looked at him? Just that minuscule amount of knowledge and skill had been enough to make the Old Butler see him as a genius. From this alone, one could tell what kind of parasites the nobles of the Empire were.

There were certainly capable nobles, but Ryan was smart. He wouldn’t approach any nobles who looked like they would be trouble.

After passing through dark mountain forests and crossing frozen marshlands, by the time dusk fell, Ryan was followed by over a hundred people.

In addition to Ryan, his servant, Brand, Rosen, and the thirty Knight’s Attendants, there were now seventy to eighty bandits, their hands bound with hemp ropes, forming a long chain of slaves.

These captured slaves wore expressions of utter despair. The very ropes binding their hands were the ones they had prepared to kidnap passing mountain folk.

They looked at Brand and the other guards with eyes full of terror.

Of course, they would never have dared to attack this noble’s party, but their own methods were sloppy. Ryan had noticed their tracks and followed them straight to their lair.

Ryan had also found seventy or eighty silver coins, polished to a brilliant shine. As for Gold Punks, they only circulated among the nobility and the merchant guilds that relied on the great nobles—both of which were far beyond the bandits’ reach.

Seeing the faint outlines of a village and a fortress in the distance, Ryan stopped and turned to face the group of slaves.

“Untie them.”

A group of serfs looked at Ryan in confusion, fear still lingering in their eyes. They thought this noble lord was about to kill them.

Ryan spoke loudly, “I’ll give you two choices.”

“First, I can give you as a gift to my friend, Baron Hutton.”

“Second, from this moment on, you will be my slaves and return with me to the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“Now, everyone give me an answer.”

Hearing Ryan’s words, the group of slaves breathed a collective sigh of relief. At least they weren’t going to be killed.

Seeing no one speak, Rosen, standing beside Ryan, roared. The pressure of a knight made all the slaves’ limbs tremble.

“You have one minute!”

Finally, someone stepped forward, trembling, and said:

“Noble Lord, I want to go to Hutton’s Fief.”

Even when they were fleeing for their lives, they hadn’t chosen to escape to the then-lordless Frozen Soil Fief. They knew all too well that it was simply too cold there; they would probably freeze to death within days.

Ryan looked at the man coldly and began to laugh.

“You’d better think this through. You lot are all slaves who escaped from other lords. If Baron Hutton finds out you’re a runaway slave, do you think you’ll even get the chance to enter the mines?”

Hearing Ryan’s words, the serf’s face paled, and he dropped to his knees before Ryan.

“I am willing to be your slave! I can farm. The fields I used to tend yielded one…”

“You can shut your mouth. The Lord has no need for a blabbering mud-leg,” old Baird said, staring at the man icily.

There was a reason he called slaves mud-legs. Sycophantic, opportunistic, and quick to kick a man when he’s down—slaves, to them, stood at the lowest point of morality.

Moreover, these very slaves had nearly gotten Ryan killed in the forest not long ago, which still angered him greatly.

And so, the rest of them naturally became Baron Ryan’s first batch of slaves.

“What a wicked era.” Ryan looked at the pairs of fearful and fawning eyes and couldn’t help but click his tongue.

“Good thing I started as a noble.”

…

Hutton’s Keep.

A fat man with a barrel waist was voraciously eating a greasy pig’s trotter handed to him by a serving maid. As for his hands?

They were busy under the nearly transparent clothes of two delicate maids. From under the table, one could even see a long-haired maid hard at work.

Just then, the butler walked in with his head bowed, his gaze greedily sweeping over the two maids with flushed, coquettish faces before he lowered his head and said:

“Lord Hutton, there is a Baron outside who wishes to pay you a visit.”

“A Baron? Who?” Hutton said nonchalantly, his large face quivering for a moment.

“He says his name is Ryan Clayton. He is a young man.”

“Baron Ryan? That snot-nosed kid from the Clayton Family? The unlucky bastard who inherited the Frozen Soil Fief?”

Hutton spoke with a face full of disdain, then looked at his butler.

“What do you think this little brat is here for?”

The butler kept his head down. “This… this humble servant does not know.”

Hutton sneered, “An idiot is an idiot. That Ryan probably just arrived at the Frozen Soil Fief in the last couple of days. That godforsaken place has no food at all.”

“And it’s still winter. You can’t grow a single grain in that blasted Frozen Soil Fief.”

“Hahahaha, if that little brat doesn’t want to starve to death on his own land, he’ll definitely come here to buy grain.”

The butler raised his head, a look of shock on his face, taking the opportunity to once again scan the two maids with his eyes.

“Lord Hutton is wise!”

The butler’s flattery was greatly enjoyed by Hutton. He pulled his hands out and waved them dismissively.

“Alright, let’s go meet this Baron Ryan.”

…

From a great distance, Ryan saw a round lump rolling toward him. All around, the serfs and commoners of Hutton’s Fief were either kneeling or standing dumbly.

“Hahahaha, I’ve long heard that the Frozen Soil Fief had a new lord. Baron Ryan, my friend, it is truly wonderful to see you.”

“Baron Hutton, it is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Although he had been full of contempt when he first heard Ryan’s name, Hutton was genuinely happy to see him in person.

It wasn’t false. Given his personality, he wasn’t capable of such good acting. After all, Ryan had specifically chosen to visit him.

In the Empire, and indeed among the nobility of the entire continent, there was a rather well-established pecking order.

Great nobles looked down on minor nobles. Minor nobles from great families looked down on minor nobles with no background. Minor nobles with no background looked down on wandering nobles from fallen families. Wandering nobles looked down on nobles who had married into their titles.

And the nobles who had married in still looked down on former nobles who had been reduced to Pioneer Knights, losing their noble titles altogether.

The Hutton Family was a hereditary barony. By his father’s generation, the old Baron Hutton had made the incredibly bold decision to abandon their previously encroached-upon territory and come to Northwind Province.

Unfortunately, old Hutton couldn’t withstand the cold winds of Northwind Province and died quickly.

Therefore, Hutton felt quite a bit of goodwill toward Ryan. In this chain of contempt, while they were both Barons, Ryan came from a much better background.

Chapter 11: My Neighbor Hoards Grain, I Hoard Guns

Hutton was able to guess that Ryan was here to buy grain because, in the past, the first problem the old Baron Hutton had faced upon arriving in Northwind Province was also grain.

Hutton didn’t know what had happened within the Empire to make Ryan the Lord of the Frozen Soil Fief, nor why he was accompanied by a guard of fewer than ten men.

But that was none of his business. They were both in the same circle of barons. As long as Ryan could afford a high price, he was willing to sell him some food.

“Ryan, my friend, what brings you here with so many men?”

Hutton looked at Ryan and asked with a sincere expression.

Ryan wore a bitter look and spoke in his boyish voice:

“Mr. Hutton, to be honest with you, my Frozen Soil Fief has no food at all. If I can’t find any, I’m afraid I’ll become the first noble in the Empire to starve to death.”

After speaking, he couldn’t help but look at Hutton.

Hutton looked at Ryan, about to name an exorbitant price, when he saw Ryan suddenly grab his hand. The immense strength shocked Hutton; he found he couldn’t break free.

This child from the Clayton Family, cast out from the Imperial Capital, was actually a Knight?

Hutton himself was something of a Squire, so he could feel that the power in Ryan’s hand far surpassed his own.

And he was so young!

Ryan gripped Hutton’s hand and said nervously, “I heard that Baron Hutton has some disagreements with that Walter the Knight?”

At the mention of Walter’s name, the smile on Hutton’s face vanished, replaced by a look of anger.

“How has even Baron Ryan heard of this matter?”

The Walter the Knight Ryan spoke of was a Pioneer Knight.

Pioneer Lords or Pioneer Knights of the Empire required a Pioneering Decree issued by the Empire to claim and govern ownerless land.

Such Pioneer Lords and Knights were especially numerous in Northwind Province. For instance, Baron Hutton’s father, the old Baron Hutton, had sold off his family property and territory just to exchange for a Pioneering Decree to come to Northwind Province.

As for Pioneer Knights, they were a much more complicated matter than Pioneer Lords.

First, because Pioneer Knights were not originally nobles, becoming one meant they now had the possibility of attaining nobility.

This was a leap between social classes, so the number of Pioneer Knights was much smaller than that of Pioneer Lords.

There were only two ways to become a Pioneer Knight. One was for a noble scion without inheritance rights to be particularly favored by his lord, who would then pay a certain price to obtain a Pioneering Decree for him.

The second way was for a Knight—at least a full Knight—to have earned merit in certain battles. He would then be endorsed by a noble and apply to the Empire for a Knight’s Pioneering Decree.

Essentially, both paths relied on nobility itself to get a chance to become a noble.

The second path was especially difficult. A commoner first had to become a Knight, then pledge allegiance to a noble and fight for them. Only then might the Knight’s future descendants obtain a Pioneering Decree through the noble’s influence.

The difficulty for a non-noble Knight to ascend to nobility was a hundred times greater than for a noble’s scion.

The Walter that Ryan mentioned was of the second type.

Walter’s title as a Pioneer Knight came from Grand Duke Mayers.

Yes, the very same Grand Duke Mayers who had made Northwind Province an imperial province.

Walter’s ancestors, for five or six generations, had been Knight’s Attendants to the Grand Duke. An ancestor in the distant past had even been a Gold Knight, making them absolute supporters of Grand Duke Mayers.

It was only in the fifth generation after this Gold Knight that Walter the Knight emerged as a Pioneer Knight. And even then, he had only obtained this ticket to nobility by marrying a woman from the Mayers Family.

In truth, this was a product of the Empire’s internal political struggles and compromises. Back when Grand Duke Mayers conquered Northwind Province, not a single piece of the land belonged to the Mayers Family.

The other nobles of the Empire did not want to see the Mayers Family possess Northwind Province. As compensation, they used a pile of Knight’s Pioneering Decrees to offset the Grand Duke’s merits.

Yes, Knight’s Pioneering Decrees. To a Grand Duke, they were just a pile of waste paper. Furthermore, he was forced to use them to buy loyalty, otherwise his followers would begin to have second thoughts.

So, even the Pioneering Decrees given as compensation were just the other nobles’ way of vexing Grand Duke Mayers.

Ryan’s experience was not so different. His barony was a form of compensation for his father, Count Clayton, amidst the Empire’s political struggles. Compared to Grand Duke Mayers, Ryan was merely one of the countless Knight’s Pioneering Decrees in the Grand Duke’s basket.

Once one became a Pioneer Knight, they no longer fought for their noble lord, but for themselves. When interests clashed, even a former subordinate couldn’t be guaranteed not to betray Grand Duke Mayers in the future.

As for the conflict between Walter the Knight and Baron Hutton, it stemmed from many issues.

There were disputes over territory, money, and resources.

Hutton’s barony and Walter’s fief were adjacent, and they had fought numerous skirmishes, both large and small, over a small iron mine, resulting in the deaths of many serfs.

As a baron coasting on his inheritance, Hutton was actually weaker than Walter the Knight. He also lacked ambition. Compared to Walter, who had arrived with a Pioneering Decree, Hutton was like a sheep.

In their various clashes, Baron Hutton had suffered many losses, which was why he became so enraged when Ryan mentioned Walter’s name.

“Has Baron Ryan come to take advantage of my situation?” Hutton said coldly.

“Nobles cannot wage war against one another. Has Baron Hutton forgotten this?” Ryan said, citing an imperial rule that no noble in Northwind Province ever paid any mind to.

“Walter is a Pioneer Knight. As long as the Empire does not grant him a barony, he remains a Pioneer Knight.”

“There is a difference between a Knight and a noble.”

Ryan looked at Hutton. “Baron Hutton, my friend, I am here to help you.”

Without turning his head, Ryan let out a great shout, so startling that Baron Hutton’s legs nearly gave way.

“Form up!”

Behind Ryan, thirty Knight’s Attendants, holding long spears, fell into neat ranks in a matter of breaths. At their front stood Brand, the guardian knight whose arms were bare even in the dead of winter.

Gulp.

Staring at the thirty imposing Knight’s Attendants behind Ryan, Hutton’s eyes went wide. Because they had all been wearing animal hides instead of imperial leather armor, he had mistaken them for common footsoldiers.

Thirty Squires, and such capable soldiers at that. Where did Ryan get so many elite troops?

The Frozen Soil Fief? You must be joking.

Could it be that Count Clayton was secretly supporting this son of his?

At this thought, Hutton’s expression became wonderfully complex.

Seeing Baron Hutton’s reaction, Ryan knew his plan was working.

He needed grain. He had no money and no land, but so many mouths were waiting to be fed.

That left only one option: to take it.

These neighbors of his surely had grain stored for the winter. When starvation loomed, they couldn’t blame him for being impolite.

My neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns. Faced with the current food crisis, Ryan had never intended to use conventional means.

Baron Hutton was a typical noble, content to coast through life and wait for death. The moment he heard that these dozens of men were here to help him fight, his mind was cleared of all other thoughts.

“Walter, you swallowed so much of my territory. Now you’ll spit it all back out!”

Chapter 12: Zerodu City and the County Governor

“Hahahaha, Ryan, come! This is mare’s milk, shipped all the way from The South. If it wasn’t so easy to preserve it here in Northwind Province, you might not have gotten the chance to taste it, hahaha.”

Hutton obsequiously poured the snow-white mare’s milk for Ryan. Beside them, several pretty maids stood obediently, holding iron kettles.

Ryan accepted Hutton’s hospitality without reservation. After all, it had been a long time since he’d eaten this kind of food.

What was more, after becoming a knight, his appetite had greatly increased to almost three to five times that of an ordinary person.

It wasn’t just the food. Even the beds in Baron Hutton’s fief were countless times softer than the hard planks in the Frozen Soil Fief. Ryan felt that he hadn’t slept in such a comfortable bed since his transmigration.

“Soon, I will have this too.”

Without lingering in the soft bed, Ryan pushed open the door and headed for the soldiers’ training ground.

There, Ryan saw the sole knight of Baron Hutton’s fief, White Brin.

A knight with a surname. Indeed, his ancestors had been nobles, but their house had since fallen. White became Baron Hutton’s Knight-Captain, harboring the hope that the Baron might one day grant him a fief of his own, allowing him to restore the glory of the Brin family.

But Ryan felt that White’s generation would have no such opportunity. Given Baron Hutton’s character, just managing to hold onto his own barony would be an achievement worthy of being recorded in his family’s genealogy.

Expecting him to strive for greatness?

Ryan glanced at the maids coming and going in the distance and shook his head.

“Sir White, do you know how many soldiers Walter the Knight has?”

“Greetings, Baron Ryan.” White the Knight respectfully performed a standard knight’s salute, seemingly flattered by Ryan’s gentle demeanor.

Glancing at Brand, who stood steadfastly behind Ryan, White began to speak:

“Walter the Knight has a total of one hundred soldiers. Only twenty of them are squires, and the rest are just trained militia.”

Ryan nodded, then asked, “And what about slaves?”

He knew very well that the number of soldiers these lords could muster wasn’t what it seemed on the surface.

Every time there was a war, the lords would press-gang slaves onto the battlefield. When the war ended, the surviving slaves would return to the mines or fields.

In short, it was all about weaklings pecking at each other.

Ryan could guess that of the one hundred men White mentioned, apart from the twenty squires, the remaining eighty militiamen were probably only part-time soldiers.

“One hundred capable soldiers.” Ryan looked around. The situation in Baron Hutton’s fief was much better than in Walter the Knight’s, all thanks to Baron Hutton having a good father.

“Baron Hutton’s fief has a total of one hundred and twenty soldiers, all equipped with armor, and thirty of them are squires.” As White spoke, there was a hint of pride in his voice, for this was all his accomplishment.

Ryan didn’t know why he was so proud. Despite being stronger, they were repeatedly bested by Walter the Knight.

“Go wake Baron Hutton. It’s time for us to depart.”

After a long while, Baron Hutton finally appeared before Ryan, yawning.

The two barons walked at the forefront. Soon, a vast procession of five or six hundred people swaggered grandly toward the heart of the conflict between Baron Hutton and Walter the Knight.

A small iron mine. Though small, it had allowed both the barony and the knight’s fief to earn a fortune.

…

Riding a Highland warhorse from The South, Ryan couldn’t help but enviously stroke the horse’s mane.

Can a knight without a mount be called a knight? Can a noble without a mount be called a noble?

Baron Hutton might lack other things, but he was not short on the ability to read people, a fundamental skill for every noble.

He patted the brown warhorse beneath him with considerable pride and said:

“Ryan, in Zerodu City, where Viscount Miles resides, hundreds of Highland warhorses are brought up from The South every spring. If you’re interested, you can have your servants wait for them then.”

“However, each Highland warhorse is quite valuable. You’ll need several hundred Gold coins for one.”

To put it bluntly, Hutton couldn’t resist showing off his wealth. Hearing this, Ryan couldn’t help but be astonished.

A single warhorse could actually sell for several hundred Gold coins in Northwind Province. It seemed distance truly could create wealth.

According to his memories, the price of an adult warhorse in the southern part of the empire should be between several dozen to one hundred Gold coins. Yet, here on the empire’s frontier, the price could multiply tenfold.

However, as far as he knew, there were indeed no horse-breeding grounds in Northwind Province, despite it having a vast plain.

It was the same old problem: it was too cold.

Distance and the cold were what made the warhorses so expensive.

Precisely because they were so expensive, even a fief like Baron Hutton’s only had five.

Naturally, the two barons, Ryan and Hutton, wouldn’t be traveling on foot. Besides the two of them, the others on horseback were White the Knight and Baron Hutton’s eldest son, Liam Hutton.

Liam Hutton was only a year or two younger than Ryan, but his noble upbringing made him appear mature for his age. Thus, his eyes held a trace of envy when he looked at Ryan.

There was still a significant gap between an heir to a barony and a baron, especially since they both still appeared to be youths.

The last warhorse was ridden by Brand. The guardian knight was the one among them who couldn’t seem to get enough of the horse. Miraculously, the warhorse beneath him also seemed to particularly enjoy Brand’s touch.

Watching this scene, Hutton couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Ryan, it looks like you’ll have to prepare a fine mount for your knight!”

Ryan didn’t argue. Instead, he began to ask about the situation in Zerodu City.

Regarding that city, he only knew that it was the closest one to the Frozen Soil Fief and Baron Hutton’s fief.

Viscount Miles was the owner of that city, and he was also the Governor of Zerodu County, one of the seven county governors in Northwind Province.

Viscount Miles’s viscounty spread out from that city as its center. Within the entirety of Zerodu County, besides Viscount Miles, there was one other viscount, seventeen or eighteen baronies of varying sizes, and roughly the same number of knight’s fiefs.

The entire empire had a very simple administrative structure, from top to bottom: Empire—Province—County—Town/Village. In The South, nearly every place, even towns and villages, was ruled by a noble. But aside from these administrative divisions, there were also fiefs that belonged exclusively to the nobles themselves.

For example, the four Grand Dukes of the empire all lived in their own grand duchies. Some Counts, and even Viscounts, did the same.

These noble fiefs were not part of the empire’s administrative divisions; they were like states within a state. And without exception, they all had one thing in common.

The confidence that came from strength.

You see, for someone like Viscount Miles, if a county-level city like Zerodu City existed within his territory, he could levy taxes from the city every year.

This was also a major source of income for the Miles family, and the Viscount valued the city greatly.

Some nobles coveted such a city, as it would provide their family with a plentiful source of income. Others, due to their own power, looked down on these cities that belonged to both them and the empire.

Thinking of this, Ryan couldn’t help but wonder to himself.

“I wonder… that other viscount in Zerodu County, Viscount Dragon, is he the former type or the latter?”

Chapter 13: Battle in the Iron Mine

As he considered how Northwind Province was far from as peaceful as it seemed, Ryan finally returned to the topic at hand. He asked Hutton, “Mr. Hutton, are warhorses sold in Zerodu City every year?”

“Of course. Every year when spring begins and the weather isn’t so frigid, merchant guilds from the South come to Northwind Province in droves, bringing fine goods.”

“Zerodu City is already considered remote, so not many guilds come, but there are still a dozen or so.”

“The most eye-catching one each year is the Imperial Merchant Guild, which belongs exclusively to the royal family. The Highland Warhorses all come from them.”

Ryan thought for a moment before asking again, “Only one hundred?”

“That’s right, only a hundred.”

Ryan was at a loss for words. Baron Hutton was even less clever than he’d imagined.

So he spelled it out for him. “The grasslands of the Empire’s southern Highland Warhorses are located even further south, near the Imperial Capital. To expend so much effort transporting them all the way to Northwind Province, how could Zerodu County, one of the seven counties, possibly receive only one hundred warhorses? Even if that were the case, Viscount Miles, with his centuries-old lineage, would never agree to it.”

“With so many nobles and knights in Zerodu County, how could one hundred horses possibly be enough to go around?”

“You’re right.” A dazed confusion appeared in Hutton’s eyes. His not-so-clever mind clearly couldn’t come up with any other answer.

“Therefore, there are definitely more than one hundred warhorses. The surplus horses were already divided up before the Imperial Merchant Guild even put them up for sale.”

“Those one hundred warhorses are just what’s left over because they don’t dare to hoard everything for themselves.”

When you consider that a typical barony can field four to five hundred men, including soldiers and serfs, a mere handful of warhorses is nothing.

After he finished speaking, Ryan couldn’t help but glance at Baron Hutton.

“It seems, Mr. Hutton, that your relationship with Viscount Miles and Viscount Dragon isn’t quite so good.”

His words made Hutton’s face flush crimson. He nearly lost his temper with Ryan, but considering the purpose of their trip, he managed to calm himself down.

At the same time, he thought to himself that after this matter was settled, he would need to pay those two viscounts a visit.

Relations between nobles weren’t just about fighting and killing; more often, they were about navigating social intricacies.

But by the same token, a slight dislike for Ryan had also taken root in his heart.

Deceit and pretense were skills a noble was born with, but for Ryan to expose Baron Hutton’s shortcomings in front of so many people meant he was not a qualified noble at all.

Watching the changing expressions on Baron Hutton’s face from the corner of his eye, Ryan was finally satisfied.

He wasn’t keen on having his name spread through the noble circles of Northwind Province so quickly. After this exchange, he suspected Baron Hutton would no longer be singing his praises to other nobles.

For Ryan, this was a good thing. With his Spirituality, he could open a Planar Gate and quietly build his fortune in the Frozen Soil Fief.

With the somewhat unpleasant conversation over, their pace quickened. Around noon, Ryan saw the iron mine hidden among the hills.

After numerous clashes and conflicts, the iron mine had been completely occupied by Walter the Knight. Baron Hutton hadn’t received any income from it for several months.

What left Ryan speechless was that their entire group of several hundred people had appeared two or three hundred meters from the mine, yet no one had noticed them.

It seemed this Walter the Knight wasn’t as shrewd as he had thought, either.

After a wait of more than ten minutes, a mine serf finally spotted the dark mass of people while hauling ore. He immediately began to scream in terror, throwing the entire mine into a panic.

Finally, after the roaring of some squires restored a semblance of order, seven or eight hundred people emerged from the mine without any formation. At the very front stood over a hundred combat-ready soldiers belonging to Walter the Knight.

Hutton stared in shock at the iron-armored figure at the head of the group. “Walter! What are you doing here!?”

“Hahahaha, Hutton, I knew you wouldn’t give up, so I’ve been waiting for you. Your patience is even worse than I thought, but that’s fine. This way, I can get back to my fief sooner. I’ve been sleeping in the mines for days, I feel like I’m about to grow maggots!”

Walter had clearly anticipated that Hutton would be unwilling to let go of the mine’s income. He couldn’t help but rejoice in his own military strategy. However, when he saw Ryan standing next to Hutton, he couldn’t help but frown.

He had never seen Ryan before, but he could recognize the noble bearing about him.

After his initial shock, Hutton also began to sneer. “So what if you’re clever, Walter? You must hand over this iron mine today.”

With that, he ordered White, “Go.”

What left Ryan speechless yet again was that, following the taunts from the two lords, the serfs on both sides charged forward, brandishing pitchforks and wooden spears without any semblance of a plan.

But the grand spectacle of a thousand people clashing was still enough to get one’s blood pumping. Ryan saw that even Hutton beside him had subconsciously tightened his grip on his knight’s longsword, his face flushed with excitement.

“Ryan, you have to help me.”

Hutton looked at Ryan. His repeated failures against Walter the Knight had left him short on confidence.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Hutton. We’re friends, after all.”

Ryan nodded to Brand, who spurred his warhorse toward the battlefield where White the Knight and Walter the Knight were. Behind him, thirty-one Knight’s Attendants formed two phalanxes and charged into the fray.

Ryan was not a commander, and he couldn’t change the way this battle was fought, but it was enough that he could control his own soldiers.

Against soldiers led by squires, the sallow-faced, emaciated serfs stood no chance of stopping them. The soldiers in their phalanxes broke through the serfs’ line like a hot knife through butter and crashed into Walter the Knight’s soldiers.

The soldiers with the Blessing of the Deer Spirit immediately gained the upper hand. Moreover, Walter the Knight’s soldiers fought without any discipline and were simply no match for them.

Of course, the most crucial battle was the one between the three Knights.

White the Knight and Brand were practically overwhelming Walter the Knight. Although Walter wore a suit of expensive, custom-forged knight’s armor, he would likely be defeated soon facing two Knights.

As Walter the Knight was struck from his warhorse, crashing to the ground, the battle between the three moved from horseback to foot.

To be blunt, none of the three were skilled at fighting from horseback. Surprisingly, the one who performed best was Brand, who had only had a few hours of practice.

Walter the Knight was slow to rise after his heavy fall. By the time he got to his feet, White the Knight was already upon him, thrusting his sword down.

In that moment, White’s eyes were filled with excitement. He had to perform meritorious service. Only by accumulating enough contributions could he one day exchange them for a Pioneering Decree from the Hutton Family.

But just as the sword was about to find its mark, Walter the Knight, clad in full plate armor, caught the incoming blade with one hand.

Faintly, both sides could see wisps of black energy flowing across the surface of Walter’s armor.

“A Bronze Knight!”

White’s eyes filled with terror as he screamed.

Chapter 14: Victory and Spoils

“Hahahaha, you didn’t expect this, did you? The three knight potions I spent so much money on finally allowed me to break through.”

“Now that I possess battle-qi, what do you have to fight me with?!”

Smiling ferociously, Walter the Knight even had the mind to poach Baron Hutton’s man.

“White, we’re old acquaintances. How about you come with me? Follow that waste of space Hutton, and you’ll never become a noble in your life.”

From a distance, Ryan was also a little surprised to see the pitch-black battle-qi appear on Walter the Knight.

“Walter the Knight is actually a Bronze Knight?”

“He certainly has guts,” he said in a low voice. To break through from Knight to Bronze Knight, the price Walter paid must have been steep. He might have even bankrupted his fief.

Beside him, Hutton grew completely tense, asking incoherently,

“Ryan, what do we do now? Should we retreat?”

Ryan ignored Baron Hutton’s words and continued to observe the battle-qi on Walter the Knight. After a moment, he relaxed.

“Rest assured, Mr. Hutton. Walter doesn’t practice the Mayers Family’s Nightmare Knight’s Breathing Method. Even as a Bronze Knight, his strength is limited.”

A Knight facing one hundred serfs could probably kill them all, but against one hundred soldiers, he would only meet his end. The gap between low-rank knights isn’t that large.

“But…” Baron Hutton gritted his teeth. As incompetent as he might be, he didn’t want to see the few soldiers of his barony worn down here.

But in the next moment, his eyes widened as he stared at the scene over a hundred meters away.

Brand had appeared before Walter at some point. He dropped the iron sword he’d borrowed from Baron Hutton and, wielding a dagger ground from a stag’s horn, thrust it heavily toward Walter.

The battle-qi coated it, and the armor was tough, but at that moment, Walter’s face showed fear. He could feel that Brand’s strength was even greater than his own.

After a brief moment of resistance, the sharp dagger pierced through the armor. Walter the Knight grabbed Brand’s hand in disbelief, but his strength was fading.

He met the gaze of a somewhat bloodshot-eyed Brand. Faintly, the roar of a stag echoed in Walter’s mind.

Thud!

The heavy knight’s armor crashed to the ground, and a pool of blood spread out from beneath it.

The first to react wasn’t White the Knight, who was nearby, but Walter’s surrounding soldiers. They were on the periphery, but the thirty Knight’s Attendants from the Frozen Soil Fief were holding them back, preventing them from rushing in to save their lord.

Now, with Walter the Knight’s fall, some soldiers dropped their weapons in despair and knelt, while others who hadn’t reacted were mobbed and killed by the surrounding soldiers.

“The Lord Knight is dead!”

Following cries of terror and despair, the entire battlefield came to a halt with incredible speed.

The serf-soldiers on both sides stopped fighting almost simultaneously upon hearing that a knight had died, even if they didn’t understand which Lord Knight it was.

“Dead… He’s dead?”

Baron Hutton’s eyes widened. Even with his Squire-level eyesight, he could see Walter fall.

“Hahahahahaha!” Hutton burst into laughter, but he soon grew flustered.

He looked at Ryan. “Ryan, this…”

Although he would never admit it, deep down, he acknowledged that Walter the Knight had the potential to become a true noble. Once the empire’s internal political struggles ended, with his fief and his own strength, plus a few bribes, a barony was all but guaranteed for him.

But now, this future baron had died here, and during a war with his own fief.

Even for Lord Baron Hutton, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy, worried about being denounced by other nobles.

“What are you worried about, Mr. Hutton?” Ryan smiled.

“As long as Walter is a Pioneer Knight, he is only a Pioneer Knight. A Pioneer Knight died in a war—who could use that to condemn the two of us? Plenty of Pioneer Nobles have died over the past few decades.”

He emphasized the words “the two of us.” Sure enough, Hutton calmed down after hearing this. There is strength in numbers; that’s a timeless truth.

“That’s right. Walter was just a Pioneer Knight. Even the Mayers Family can’t make an issue of this.”

“Exactly. Walter the Knight just married a woman from the Mayers Family, whereas I, Ryan, am a scion of the Clayton Family.”

Ryan once again bolstered Hutton’s confidence.

“So now, shouldn’t we consider another matter?” Ryan’s voice was like the devil’s tongue, tempting Baron Hutton.

The latter’s breathing quickened.

In a war between fiefs, what does the victor do?

Plunder. Plunder everything from the loser—money, women, slaves—it was all fair game.

“Let’s go, quickly! We have to get to Walter’s Knight Fief.”

With that, Hutton couldn’t even be bothered with the battlefield anymore and rushed toward Walter’s Knight Fief with his men.

The iron mine and the serfs from the war couldn’t run away, nor did they have the ability to. But the people in Walter’s Knight Fief were another story.

The village in Walter’s Knight Fief was closer to the iron mine than Baron Hutton’s town. Furthermore, in their excitement, Hutton and Ryan only brought Squires with them, so they quickly arrived at the place called Rota Village.

Walter had given the village a name, which showed that his ambitions were not small.

Rota Village could become the future Rota Town, or Rota City.

But now, everything here belonged to Ryan and Hutton.

The soldiers charged into the village, with White the Knight being the first to shout.

“Walter is dead! From now on, everything here belongs to Lord Hutton… and Lord Ryan!”

The villagers who heard this were a bit slow to react, but no one dared to question it.

It seemed there was no precedent on the entire continent for lying about such matters.

Taking the lead, White kicked open the gate to Walter’s knightly manor. Soon, the entire village was in an uproar.

As barons, Ryan and Hutton naturally didn’t have to do the dirty work themselves. They just had to wait.

…

“Gold Punks? Why are there so few?”

Hutton roared, questioning if the soldiers had pocketed some for themselves.

But soon, his attention was completely captivated by two female beast-slaves with cat ears.

His eyes were practically glued to the two female slaves, as if to tear off their scant clothing.

In the end, the harvest wasn’t as great as the two barons had imagined.

There were only seven to eight hundred Gold Punks in a pinewood box, seven or eight sparkling gems, over three hundred silver coins, and more than twelve thousand copper coins.

For a knight who was almost certain to become a baron, such a fortune wasn’t particularly wealthy.

Baron Hutton’s few warhorses were worth more than all of this.

“It seems the price Walter paid to become a Bronze Knight was greater than we imagined.”

Of course, “wealth” wasn’t limited to just this. In this regard, Hutton seemed more experienced than Ryan.

“Dismantle them! That tree is a Wintermist Pine, dig it up for me! It’ll be planted in my manor! And those houses—they’re built with magically carved oak. Tear them all down for me too!”

Real estate was also a large part of a noble’s wealth. If the fields and forests could be dug up and taken away, Hutton probably wouldn’t have spared them either.

Besides these…

Hutton looked at the several hundred commoners and serfs and waved his hand grandly.

“From now on, you are all Lord Hutton’s slaves!”

Upon hearing this, most people were numb, a few turned pale, and an even smaller number stepped forward with fawning expressions.

“Lord Hutton, my family are all Freemen. Look, this is our Freemen’s charter.”

Hutton didn’t even glance at it. “Walter stole my iron mine, and I haven’t even settled the score with him yet. He owes me several thousand gold coins, and I have to get it back from this fief somehow.”

“Selling you all will help me break even.”

The commoners who heard this didn’t panic too much. Their expressions remained fawning as they produced some silver coins from somewhere and offered them to Baron Hutton.

Seeing this, Hutton finally smiled.

“It seems you are indeed commoners.”

He ordered the soldiers beside him to collect all the silver coins in a box, and the commoners’ eyes couldn’t help but dim.

Freeman or slave—much of the time, it was merely a noble’s one-sided declaration, especially for the commoners of a fief whose lord had died.

Nobles had many ways to exploit commoners and turn them into slaves.

“Since you managed to become Freemen, you must have some skills. How about following Lord Hutton to my barony to live?”

Hutton asked nonchalantly.

Instantly, a crowd of people pledged their allegiance.

There wasn’t much choice, but quite a few people saw the opportunity in Walter’s now-lordless knight fief and planned to stay behind to try and accumulate wealth.

Gold, silver, jewels, houses, trees, commoners, and slaves—anything that could be scraped clean was scraped clean.

After this, Ryan and Hutton could finally divide the spoils.

Chapter 15: Returning Home with Grain

When it came to profit, no noble would be frivolous.

“There’s nothing to discuss. I must take all the grain. This is what I came for.”

“Your Frozen Soil Fief… can it really consume this much grain?”

“You’re aware that I’m the Baron of the Frozen Soil Fief, aren’t you? If I don’t prepare more, what will we eat next year? Or should I rely on raiding like this again?”

After speaking, Ryan shot a glance at Hutton, sending a chill down the baron’s spine.

The closest fiefs to the Frozen Soil Fief were his and Walter’s. Now that there was nothing left to take from Walter, was Ryan planning to raid his barony next?

Hutton clutched the newly plundered bearskin coat around himself and took a step back.

“Even so, you don’t need that much grain. This is enough to feed two thousand people for half a year.”

“Which is why I’m also taking a group of slaves.”

Ryan said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“No! I’ve already split the gold coins with you. Ryan, you’re too greedy.”

“Baron Hutton, don’t forget, without me, it might have been your Knight-Captain who was killed today. Besides, with a Pioneer Knight of a Bronze Knight’s strength right next door, you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep well, would you?”

“I helped you eliminate a serious threat. From now on, your barony is the only one that can expand into Walter’s Knight Fief.”

This did seem to be a huge benefit. After hearing Ryan’s words, Hutton decided not to argue any further.

Ryan didn’t mention the iron mine, which now naturally and completely belonged to Lord Hutton. At this thought, Hutton could almost see thousands upon thousands of gold coins raining down from the sky.

Compared to an iron mine, what did these other things matter?

“Then it’s settled. But I’m keeping those two cat-girls.”

“Fine.”

Although Ryan was also a little curious about the anatomy of those cat-girls, he thought of his fief, which was in shambles and waiting to be rebuilt, and chose to let it go.

After the simple division of spoils, Ryan couldn’t be bothered with how Hutton handled things there. He directly ordered the slaves to load all the grain onto the oxcarts and carriages.

Hutton didn’t say much about Ryan indirectly taking the oxcarts and carriages as well.

He knew what the Frozen Soil Fief was like; he even suspected that half the grain would be consumed on the journey.

…

Ryan felt a sense of relief. The marshland between the Frozen Soil Fief and the other parts of Northwind Province was frozen solid due to the winter. Otherwise, just as Hutton had suspected, the oxcarts and carriages would have likely gotten stuck in the swamp, and most of the grain would have been consumed.

The frozen marsh greatly reduced the loss of grain, but they ran into considerable trouble while crossing the mountain forests.

There was no proper road to the Frozen Soil Fief; much of the journey consisted of steep mountain paths.

“Go and help them get the grain up.” In the end, Ryan had to use his Knight’s Attendants. Their strength far surpassed that of the slaves; Brand alone was able to physically carry an ox across a ravine.

The vast mountain forest was draped in silver, but what Ryan hadn’t expected was that the loss of slaves was even greater than the loss of grain.

“We’ve traveled such a short distance, and more than twenty slaves have already died?”

Ryan couldn’t help but question Rosen, who looked apprehensive and didn’t know how to explain.

Before long, Ryan understood what was happening.

The nobles’ exploitation of the slaves in their fiefs was endless. These slaves were barely fed, and now, in the dead of winter, for only twenty-odd to have died on such mountain paths was, frankly, a low number.

Realizing this, Ryan’s anger subsided. He could only instruct that the slaves be told that once they reached the Frozen Soil Fief, everyone would receive black bread to eat.

This promise gave the slaves a small flicker of life.

But in the dead of winter, amid the vast white snow, the more they walked, the more people vanished. The group gradually fell silent.

Amid the silence, the Old Butler, Baird, finally couldn’t help but speak up.

“Young Master Ryan, you should have fought for more.”

He didn’t quite understand, but he assumed Young Master Ryan simply had no concept of the value of these things.

“If it weren’t for us, Baron Hutton would never have been able to take that mine, or all the wealth in Walter’s Knight Fief.”

“Young Master Ryan, you only asked for grain and slaves. It’s too great a loss. Even Walter the Knight’s armor and warhorse are worth a fortune, not to mention that iron mine. You should have claimed a share of it, Young Master Ryan.”

“Haha, Baird, you finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. I thought you were going to say something back when we were in the marshland.”

Ryan laughed.

“Baird, the things from Walter’s Knight Fief, including that iron mine, are not so easily taken.”

“Have you forgotten? Walter the Knight has an heir. Even if Walter is dead, the fief does not belong to Baron Hutton.”

“Walter the Knight married a woman from the Mayers Family, and it was only with her family’s help and his ancestors’ merits that he received that Pioneering Decree.”

“But for that Pioneering Decree to fall into Walter’s hands, his wife, and even his son, played no small part.”

“His sixteen-year-old son isn’t in Walter’s Knight Fief, and that’s the best proof.”

“I’m afraid that boy is currently studying in the Mayers’ Duchy.”

“Now that Walter the Knight is dead, his son must come to inherit the fief. Otherwise, it will soon end up just like the Frozen Soil Fief once did.”

“I left so many things for Baron Hutton. Tell me, when Young Walter returns, will he go looking for trouble with Baron Hutton, or with me, a baron separated from him by a swamp and a mountain forest?”

“Actually, I’ve figured it out. Although internal political struggles within the Empire prevented Grand Duke Mayers from seizing territory in Northwind Province, it seems that Grand Duke has no intention of giving up on this place.”

“Don’t worry, Baron Hutton will come begging for my help. And when that time comes, satisfying my appetite won’t be so easy.”

Baird stared at Ryan in shock. He never imagined that Young Master Ryan possessed such foresight.

Instantly, the old butler’s gaze was restored to what it had once been.

Young Master Ryan will surely become a great noble of the Empire.

“Besides, Baird, these slaves… they’re actually the most important thing.”

Ryan said, but didn’t explain further. Instead, he looked at his own status panel.

【Spirituality: 788】

【Godhood: Blessing of the Deer Spirit】

Over seven hundred Spirituality—that was Ryan’s greatest reward. And even putting that aside, a population was essential for developing a fief. What’s more, developing the Frozen Soil Fief would cost many lives.

Ryan would need a lot of slaves.

For the Frozen Soil Fief, what it needed most was people.

If he hadn’t been worried about the grain supply, he would have wanted to bring back every single slave from Walter’s Knight Fief.

Moreover, the thirty-five to forty thousand kilograms of grain he had taken wouldn’t last the half-year that Hutton had mentioned.

Did Hutton really think that he, Baron Ryan, was just like Baron Hutton, completely disregarding the slaves?

To develop the fief quickly, certain incentives were indispensable, and grain was the most crucial resource in the North.

Warmth and food could make these slaves work twenty hours a day for him.

Snow swirled before his eyes, flakes like petals drifting down from the sky. Ahead, Rhino Horn Peak was in full view.

At the end of this December, Ryan returned to his loyal Frozen Soil Fief.

Chapter 16: Developing the Fief

“Compared to the Frozen Soil Fief, the cold winds of Northwind Province are nothing.”

In the fortress on Rhino Horn Peak, Ryan wrapped himself in a deerskin cloak, feeling much warmer.

He gazed down at the thriving village at the foot of the mountain. Since he had brought back grain, a celebratory mood had swept over the entire Frozen Soil Fief.

The grain was crucial, but more importantly, they hadn’t expected their lord to so magnanimously give them half of it with no payment required.

“Sometimes, what’s free is the most expensive.”

“My Lord, the food is ready.”

A maid’s soft call came from behind him. Soon after, Ryan was seated at a large wooden table, enjoying the service of several maids.

He was finally living this kind of life. These wicked customs… Ryan absolutely loved them.

The steaming venison, so tender it melted in his mouth, and especially the fragrant jam, made Ryan want to call for Brand.

“Brand, this jam-making skill of yours could sell for a fortune in the Imperial Capital.”

Brand replied respectfully, “Sir Ryan, every follower of the Deer Spirit is a master bard and winemaker. Jam is just a side-product.”

“Winemaking…” A look of longing appeared in Ryan’s eyes.

“But that would consume a great deal of food.”

He knew this all too well. He had tasted the Stag Wine, aged for a century, that the Deer Spirit villagers had brought. That wasn’t just wine; it was countless Gold Punks.

But winemaking required grain, and grain—even in the South—was a strategic resource of the utmost importance to the nobility. As for here in the North?

In a place where simply having enough to eat and drink was a miracle, it was impossible there would be surplus grain for making wine.

Even the most debauched and ruthless noble wouldn’t dare to produce wine on a large scale, because more slaves would die from the resulting famine than from working fourteen-hour days in the mines.

Best to take it one step at a time.

“How is the cultivation of the Azureberries going?”

Ryan looked at the old butler, Baird. The white-haired old man was currently filled with the vitality of an eagle.

“The Azureberry seeds brought from the other plane are growing very well. According to Anor’s projections, we should be able to harvest a batch of berries in just three months. If you wish to make wine, Young Master Ryan, fruit wine also sells quite well in the Empire.”

Old Baird suggested. As a butler, he couldn’t care less about the lives of slaves; his lord’s pleasure was his top priority.

“One harvest every three months means at least two or three harvests a year—four in the first few years wouldn’t be a problem. Add to that the meat from hunting… for more than two thousand people in the Frozen Soil Fief, it’s still not quite enough.”

“We still need proper fields.”

As a transmigrator, Ryan had a deep-seated obsession with farming. He couldn’t just go around ‘borrowing’ forever, could he?

After the meal, Ryan had the old butler summon a group of villagers from Deer Spirit Village, along with Brand and the Knight’s Attendants, and set out for the surrounding foothills.

The Frozen Soil Fief was surrounded by mountains on all sides, with only a few gentle slopes for entry and exit, like a large bowl with many chips in its rim.

Heading south, of course, led into Northwind Province. But as long as he didn’t go south, the Empire’s nobles wouldn’t care which direction Ryan chose to expand.

Strictly speaking, every lord on the Empire’s frontier was considered a pioneering lord, free to develop any unclaimed territory.

If Ryan wanted fields suitable for growing wheat, he would have to find a solution in the surrounding foothills.

“The lands of the North, starting from Northwind Province and heading northward, are filled with vast amounts of frozen soil. The further north you go, the deeper the permafrost becomes. In the northernmost regions, even the surface soil is permanently frozen, making it impossible to grow any food.”

“My demands aren’t high. Find me one plot of arable land, and I’ll give you a silver coin. For every additional plot, I’ll add another twenty-five copper coins.”

Ryan announced loudly. He understood clearly that rewards were essential to motivate his subjects.

And his reward was quite generous. The only problem was that, for now, money was useless in the Frozen Soil Fief.

But that was a detail the villagers obviously hadn’t considered. Upon hearing the promise of silver coins, they all became wildly energized, as if they’d been shot full of stimulants.

They even ignored the fact that the true masters of these foothills were the ferocious beasts, driven by gnawing hunger to venture out in search of food.

Watching the energized crowd depart, Ryan turned to Rosen.

“You take some men and patrol the area. Drive away any wild beasts.”

This was all he could do to offer some measure of protection to these commoners.

For commoners who lacked even the strength of a Squire, surviving in these primordial foothills was a testament to their adaptation over a century of harsh winter. Finding land suitable for wheat, however, would not be easy.

Otherwise, the Frozen Soil Fief wouldn’t have been so thoroughly overlooked by other lords. Even when it was unclaimed, no one had bothered to develop it.

Baron Ryan’s silver coin reward would not be so easily earned.

“Birch trees.”

As their lord, Ryan didn’t join the search himself. He walked over to a tree whose bark was as white as wind-blown snow and couldn’t help but marvel.

The birch was a treasure from top to bottom. Even its naturally shedding bark was a valuable commodity—it could be used in medicine, not to mention crafted into various ornaments that were no worse than leather.

For the nobility, it even served as a high-end material for writing and sending messages.

As he looked around, he could see many white birch trees throughout the foothills. All of this was Ryan’s wealth.

The entire North was a treasure trove, just waiting for him to develop it.

Thinking of this, Ryan began to feel a sense of anticipation for the North’s potential.

“When you get back, tell everyone that for trees like this—birch trees—they are not to burn even the bark, much less chop them down for firewood or construction.”

Ordinary trees would suffice for building houses. For firewood, they could use pine if they wanted to be extravagant. The value of the birch trees lay in his future commercial empire.

“As you command.”

Old Baird replied. He didn’t quite understand why Young Master Ryan placed such importance on these white trees, but all he needed to do was obey.

At this thought, Old Baird couldn’t help but feel a deep resentment toward the commoners and even the slaves.

Young Master Ryan was kind enough to let them cut down trees belonging to the nobility to build their houses, and he didn’t even charge them for it. It was outrageous that these people showed not a shred of gratitude.

“You must understand: free does not mean without a cost.”

Ryan repeated this sentiment every time to the old butler, whose thinking had been rigidly shaped by the Clayton Family’s education.

Exploitation? As far as Ryan was concerned, the Empire’s nobles were far too uncreative.

About an hour passed before someone returned, shouting in excitement from a distance.

“My Lord! We’ve found a large stretch of arable land!”

Chapter 17: The Amount of Farmland

Following behind a few commoners, Ryan soon arrived at a mountain ridge. The winter winds and snow seemed to be blocked by the high mountains on either side, granting this place a hint of warmth.

Without needing much guesswork, Ryan identified the land that could be used to grow food, as it was dotted with berry bushes and wild wheat.

But it was precisely in a place like this that many reindeer, red deer, yaks, antelopes, and goats could be found.

In some dense shrubs, Ryan even found a den of sleeping foxes.

Perhaps because they hadn’t seen humans in a long time, these herbivores weren’t very alert. Maybe they thought that in the dead of winter, the carnivores wouldn’t be out either.

Since even wild wheat could grow here, it would naturally be no problem to clear the land and plant barley or wheat. He might even be able to plant berry bushes in the mountain forests beyond the farmland.

Ryan turned his head and could even see the peak of Rhino Horn Peak.

“Very good.”

Ryan looked at the fiefsfolk before him, who were clearly organized by family. These were the people he had brought back from Deer Spirit Village.

“Based on the scale of this area, we could develop at least ten acres of land. And since it’s at the foot of the mountain, if we develop it downwards in the form of terraces…”

Ryan swiftly calculated in his mind that if they built terraces down the southern slope, given suitable soil, they could create between fifty and one hundred acres of land.

In the southern lands of the empire, one acre of land could yield around fifty to seventy-five kilograms of wheat. Here in the Northwind Province, in the Frozen Soil Fief, it was normal for that figure to be halved.

You couldn’t grow as much wheat or barley in the permafrost.

So, probably between twenty-five and forty kilograms?

Ryan possessed a great deal of knowledge. He was confident that the wheat yield he could achieve in The North would not be inferior to the lowest yields in The South.

When he returned to his territory, he planned to recall the specific properties of permafrost. After all, “permafrost” was just a name; it didn’t mean the land was completely unproductive. Unless one dug down to the permanently frozen layer, it was still possible to grow food.

According to his current estimates, it should be possible to achieve a yield of fifty kilograms per acre once this land was developed.

If they could really develop one hundred acres of farmland, that would mean five thousand kilograms of grain.

Was that a lot? Not at all. But for the Frozen Soil Fief, it was a giant leap forward.

In the foothills surrounding the Frozen Soil Fief, Ryan was confident he could claim any suitable farmland discovered within ten to fifteen kilometers. Any farther… and it wouldn’t be feasible. Serfs facing the beasts of The North would only end up as food. Only soldiers or strong hunters could deal with such beasts.

But the problem was, becoming a hunter or a soldier required more food. Only by eating more could one build strength.

This had become a vicious cycle. Therefore, the ten-kilometer radius they could protect was effectively the safe zone for farming.

In reality, even this distance wasn’t secure enough. He only said so because he had his own Spirituality to bestow blessings.

Thinking of this, he looked at the family before him.

“I personally estimate that we can develop over fifty acres of land here. According to the rules I’ve set, I can give you thirteen silver coins and twenty-five copper coins.”

“If the final amount is more than fifty acres, you can go to Baird to collect the remaining silver coins.”

Looking at the villagers, who were now breathing heavily, Ryan paused for a moment.

“As the first to find this farmland, I am willing to give you an additional opportunity.”

“First, I will grant you the Blessing of the Deer Spirit.”

“Second, once the farmland here is developed, your family will move here to live and manage it.”

“Eighty percent of the harvest will belong to me. The rest is yours.”

“Of course, you can also bring some serfs from the main territory—by buying or leasing them—to help you with the work.”

Eighty percent. If anyone in his past life had heard of such a split, they would have cursed him out. But when Ryan announced it, the family before him showed almost no hesitation.

In the fiefs of the empire’s nobles, the exploitation of commoner farmers was typically between eighty and eighty-five percent.

As for the fields managed by serfs, there was no talk of a split at all.

Giving them two meals a day was already considered an act of great benevolence from a lord.

Besides, to them, the Blessing of the Deer Spirit was something money couldn’t buy.

With an eighty percent share going to the lord, a family could, at best, avoid starvation.

This was a common phenomenon among farmers in The South. If a family wanted to save money, they had to take on other work outside the busy farming season just to have a surplus of grain.

But this was different. According to the lord, there was at least fifty acres of land.

Twenty percent of fifty acres was a different story. They could easily use half of their share as rations and still have enough left over to sell a portion.

With ten acres, they could only just survive. With fifty, they would dare to call themselves farm owners.

Although the land would still belong to the lord, since they were responsible for it, then in the future—even if they themselves didn’t have enough money—their descendants might be able to buy the entire plot. Then they would truly be rich.

Thinking of this bright future, all five members of the Bain family grew excited and dropped to their knees.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

As people of the Aixneer Continent, this group’s ancestors had also been nobles. In fact, for decades before Ryan arrived at their village, they had been ruled by nobles, until those nobles gradually moved south, abandoning them and leaving them displaced.

Don’t think that their lives improved without the rule and oppression of nobles. After losing the protection of nobles and their supernatural powers, only a few people in the village, like Brand, were even able to go out and hunt.

The death rate had only quickened.

Ryan smiled. He generously bestowed the Blessing of the Deer Spirit upon one of the young men. With the physique of a Squire, the youth would now be able to hunt on his own and might even become a knight in his fief in the future.

The Bain family would become the standard-bearer for the Frozen Soil Fief, the object of everyone’s envy and jealousy. With an example like them, the others would see a path forward and work even more desperately for him, their lord.

Faced with such intense competition, their demands might even lessen. When that time comes, any conflicts would erupt and be resolved among themselves.

Imagining this wonderful future, Ryan couldn’t help but smile, but he sobered up the next moment.

Discovering the land was one thing; actually being able to develop it was another.

“Arrange for three hundred slaves to come here and develop this farmland. Tell them that the ten who perform the best will become freemen of the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“Baird, you will be in charge of this. And you…”

Ryan looked at the Bain family before him.

“You will be responsible for supervising the work.”

Ryan was confident that the Bain family, for the sake of their own future farmland, would never cut corners.

Chapter 18: This Will Be a Fiery Winter

Besides the foothills suitable for farming discovered by the Bain family, two other similar locations were also found. Ryan estimated that nearly five hundred acres of farmland could eventually be developed.

The three locations were all about two or three kilometers from Rhino Horn Peak, which wasn’t too far.

And so, once the sites were confirmed, the entire Frozen Soil Fief plunged into vigorous development under Ryan’s command.

“Don’t even think about slacking! My Lord has already told you, the ten best-performing slaves will become citizens of the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“There are only ten spots! This will be the only chance in your lives to shed your status as slaves, and you won’t even have to work in the mines!”

“And I’ll tell you something else: the five best workers each day can get an extra piece of black bread from me!”

“The single best worker of the month will be gifted five jars of jam by my Bain family.”

On the foothills, thankfully, it wasn’t snowing today. One by one, the slaves, wrapped in thick linen clothes, swung their hoes and shovels. In the distance, standing on the white snow, Bain roared loudly, while the other members of the Bain family and a few villagers close to them acted as overseers.

“What are you doing? That’s the terrace ridge! If you break it, the next terrace will have to be moved back. This is the lord’s land! Are you looking to die, you mud-leg?”

“And you there! My Lord said that for every palm’s depth you dig, you have to let the Bain family inspect the soil personally. Don’t you know how long a palm is? You want me to chop off your paws and measure them?!”

“And you lot, you’re here to turn the soil! Not a single speck of dirt is to fly outside the terrace. Why are you swinging so high? Are you trying to fling all the soil away?”

The worksite thrummed with activity. Numerous bonfires had been lit in the fields, warming the surrounding area.

“The Lord is kind, even letting you mud-legs warm yourselves by the fire so you don’t get sick! Remember to spread the wood and plant ash from the fire evenly over the fields, and have the tillers mix it into the soil.”

“And you over there! That’s manure! Do you know that’s manure? This stuff is more precious than your lives! Do you have any idea how little manure we have in the entire Frozen Soil Fief right now?”

“My Lord said that burying this manure in the ground can maintain the soil’s temperature and increase its fertility.”

“Do you know what fertility means? It means for every acre, My Lord can harvest an extra ten catties of wheat! Ten catties! Your lives aren’t even worth ten catties.”

At the very top, Bain listened to the overseers’ roars and nodded in satisfaction. The Bain family was on the verge of making a fortune. All these people were now desperate to curry favor with them.

Even the slaves were the same, because My Lord had given the Bain family the right to nominate candidates for those ten spots.

With such a great favor bestowed upon them, it would be difficult for the Bain family not to rise.

Unable to contain his excitement, Bain’s gaze fell upon the slaves in the distance who were cutting down trees to help his family build their house. In an instant, his pupils contracted to pinpricks!

“Who told you to cut down the trees here?!”

Like a snake whose tail had been stepped on, Bain roared and charged forward. His squire’s physique made his tall frame incredibly intimidating.

“My Lord said these trees cannot be cut down! Every winter, their trunks must be wrapped with hemp rope. In ten years, the soil beneath them will become suitable for farming.”

“Besides, these trees block the cold northern winds and heavy snow! Are you trying to turn these fields into permafrost?”

“Get lost! Go cut trees at the foot of the mountain instead. That area’s going to become terraced fields anyway.”

Bain stared fearfully at the two or three large trees that had been felled. If word of this reached My Lord’s ears and he became displeased with the Bain family, everything would be over.

As for how the slaves were supposed to haul the timber from the foot of the mountain up here, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

…On second thought, he had to care. These weren’t his Bain family’s slaves; they were My Lord’s slaves, here to develop the Frozen Soil Fief.

“Oh, well. As a future farm master, it’s not shameful to do a little work myself during the start-up phase.”

So Bain simply rolled up his sleeves and got to work himself. In truth, upon seeing this, many of the slaves and commoners felt their hearts lighten.

The Bain family hadn’t instantly become high and mighty lords. The gap between them wasn’t so great yet.

Thinking of this, a portion of the commoners also became filled with motivation, because My Lord had also said something.

Anyone participating in this development project would be exempt from next year’s taxes. Furthermore, if anyone demonstrated special skills in certain areas, they would have the opportunity to become a steward in the Frozen Soil Fief.

What did “certain areas” refer to? Skilled labor, of course. For example, someone skilled in management, someone skilled in blacksmithing, or someone skilled in carpentry. In short, if you were proficient at something, you could become an important figure in the Frozen Soil Fief.

As for taxes, it was impossible to be exempted this year. But if My Lord were to be strict, many commoners would become slaves for being unable to pay their taxes. A year-long tax exemption was an enormous boon for the commoners.

If it was like this for the commoners, it was even more so for the slaves.

If they could become commoners, they too would enjoy the tax exemption. They would have an entire year to accumulate wealth and seek better housing and food.

At this thought, the minds of many slaves drifted to the town being built at the foot of Rhino Horn Peak.

About seven or eight hundred people would be developing the fertile land on the three foothills this winter, while the rest were at the foot of Rhino Horn Peak, building houses.

Centered around a crossroads, rows of houses and courtyards began to take a simple shape. In just half a month, many people’s hands were weak from chopping trees and covered in blisters, but they were still happy and tireless.

Because the Baron Lord had said that for this winter, the houses built according to the grids on the blueprint would be theirs to keep. Firstly, they wouldn’t be charged for the timber they cut. Secondly, all the houses would belong to them.

These two points alone were enough to ignite a flame of determination in everyone’s hearts.

They wouldn’t have to pay for the land their houses stood on, nor for the trees they cut down, not even for the firewood they stockpiled for themselves.

Add to that the one-year tax exemption for participating in the construction, and they couldn’t even imagine how comfortable their lives would be in the coming year.

Although the Lord had also said that they had to build three identical houses to receive one for themselves, was that really a problem?

Because of this, a burning flame shone in the eyes of the slaves as well.

Because in the Lord’s plan, there was also a slum area. The shacks were simple, but they could provide warmth and shelter from the wind and rain. And since they would be built entirely by the slaves themselves, they naturally wouldn’t cut corners.

In this, the slaves saw a future where they wouldn’t freeze or starve to death. The words the Lord had spoken when he brought them to the Frozen Soil Fief were actually coming true.

In that case, could freedom and becoming a commoner be far away?

For a time, the entire fief was buzzing with feverish activity.

Chapter 19: Ryan’s Development Plan and the Second Opening of the Planar Gate

The winter in Northwind Province lasted for four months, but in the Frozen Soil Fief, it was half a month longer.

Of the four and a half months, Ryan had already wasted about half a month. He had four months left to complete a great deal of construction.

First were the three plots of farmland, which had to be ready before the arrival of spring so there would be time for planting.

Second was mapping the entire area surrounding the Frozen Soil Fief.

So far, all he knew was that his fief was in the northernmost corner of Northwind Province. Beyond that, he knew nothing, which was definitely not a good thing.

He knew that the arrival of winter also meant the arrival of danger.

The empire was located in the northernmost part of the warm southern world. While powerful, it also faced threats from other races.

Those Beastmen, starving in the winter, would surely head south.

Although Northwind Province wasn’t the only one that would be attacked, it was certainly the province that would be least affected. The Frozen Soil Fief, it seemed, had never been raided by Beastmen because it was so poor that even they didn’t think there was any food or spoils to be had.

But Ryan was unwilling to leave everything to experience and inertia.

That was why he needed to understand the general environment around the Frozen Soil Fief.

This was the second matter, second only to farming.

The third matter was the Frozen Soil village and town currently under construction. It was the prototype for the future Northgal City and a crucial step in stabilizing the entire fief.

With houses, they could consider raising chickens and goats. The more affluent could even raise a cow.

They would even have their own plots of fertile land a little farther from the base of Rhino Horn Peak, and most of the grain from them would belong to them.

Once they had these things, the Frozen Soil Fief would have unprecedented cohesion. Ryan was well aware that his primary source of population would be the other plane, and these people from afar needed a sense of belonging to the fief.

Once they had a sense of belonging and cohesion, Ryan could take the next step: creating more needs for them.

That’s right, Ryan had thought it through clearly. He had already written a great deal of his plan on birch bark.

If he wanted his subjects not to muddle along aimlessly, he had to create needs for them—things they would desire, like better houses, more livestock, even a shop or a workshop, as well as the Blessing and the Knight’s Breathing Method.

By creating these needs, the development of the Frozen Soil Fief could continue to advance rapidly as Ryan required.

Besides these three matters, the fourth was the army.

Ryan never believed that kingdom-building was a peaceful affair.

After all, his first bit of capital had come from the contribution of Walter the Knight. Without powerful military strength, even farming couldn’t be done in peace, especially here in the North, a place that lacked food.

It could even be said that in the North, the military was the most crucial thing.

But why had Ryan placed this matter fourth?

Because his current territory could not yet support more knight’s attendant soldiers.

To get soldiers of the required standard, Ryan had to bestow his Blessing. The Spirituality needed for the Blessing wasn’t a major issue in his eyes; at worst, he would just have to make another trip to the other plane.

The key was still the first point.

Food.

A slave consumed less than half a Catty of grain a day, sometimes even less.

A commoner consumed close to one Catty, and commoners often went hungry.

It was just like when Ryan first arrived in the Frozen Soil Fief. The villagers then were sallow and emaciated from not having enough to eat.

But a soldier, one with the physique of a Squire, how much did they need to eat?

Ryan had asked Brand, and the answer he received was three Catties.

Under normal circumstances, with two to three hours of training per day, each of his soldiers had to consume three Catties of food daily.

From time to time, the soldiers also needed meat. Ryan was very generous; even without much in storage, he ensured they had meat once every three days.

If he wanted his soldiers, his army, to maintain peak combat effectiveness, he had to provide these things.

Therefore, the consumption of the forty-odd soldiers under him was already not a small number each day.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bless more attendants. After all, with a light touch of his finger, he could give someone the results of two or three years of training. For such a good deal, he wished his army numbered in the tens of thousands.

With the seven hundred and seventy-eight Spirituality he had on hand (it had decreased by ten because he had blessed the Bain family), if he could create an army of one hundred Squires, he would dare to claim everything within a radius of thirty li from Rhino Horn Peak as his own.

But alas, the food supply did not permit it.

If he really did that, the slaves would have nothing to eat in a few days, and in a month or two, the commoners would start starving to death.

In short, in a place like the North, food was the foundation of everything.

Even if a dragon came, it would have to eat its fill first.

These were the four most critical matters. Besides them, there were many secondary ones.

For instance, the Frozen Soil Fief still needed a lot of warm clothing to withstand the cold. His soldiers needed standard-issue iron swords and armor, as well as warhorses.

For the fief’s development, the farming households needed chickens, ducks, geese, goats, cattle, horses, and salt.

He also wanted to build a road that could go directly from the Frozen Soil Fief through the southern mountains and marshes, instead of having to cross mountains and ridges every time.

Finally, the Frozen Soil Fief needed its own economic development. After all, even the nearest fief, Baron Hutton’s Barony, was much wealthier than his own.

He was so focused on these plans that he hadn’t even had time to tend to his own Baron’s Fortress.

Ryan was truly poor.

In his current development plans, there wasn’t a single item that could be considered a cash crop. In other words, even after completing all these primary and secondary plans, Ryan would still be moneyless.

Completing all this would only bring him a little closer to bridging the gap between his fief and those of other barons.

“The North, as it is now, probably won’t support me expanding much further. So, the destination still has to be the other plane.”

He looked at his Spirituality panel.

【Spirituality: 778】

【Godhood: Blessing of the Deer Spirit】

“It’s still one hundred Spirituality to open the Planar Gate and keep it open for twenty-four hours. The destination is still the Aixneer Continent, the plane where the Deer Spirit is worshiped.”

“If I can find one or two villages on this trip and bring people back, it will be a gain.”

Thinking of this, Ryan called for Brand, who was outside.

“Brand, take ten soldiers and come with me.”

One hundred Spirituality vanished, and the Planar Gate opened. Even though Brand and the others had experienced it once before, they couldn’t help but feel amazed.

This time, Ryan did not bring Baird along. The old butler had recently become the busiest person in the Frozen Soil Fief, as Ryan had entrusted him with supervising everything.

Chapter 20: The Migrating Caravan and the Fallen Viscount

Stepping through the Planar Gate onto the Aixneer Continent, Ryan felt it was even colder.

“The winters here seem to be getting colder and colder.”

Wrapping the deerskin cloak tighter around himself, Ryan passed through the Planar Gate after his eleven attendants. In the swirling snow that filled the sky, he couldn’t make out any direction.

In any case, upon arriving again, he hadn’t appeared in the same village where Brand and the others were from.

The opening of the Planar Gate had a spatial variance.

Including Ryan, all twelve men were wrapped in deerskin cloaks. They formed two lines, walking through the knee-deep snow. Brand was at the very front, and Ryan was in the very middle.

“How is it, Brand? Can you get your bearings?”

“My Lord, this direction should be the South.”

Brand pointed ahead, then gestured toward the falling snow.

“In the old days, every winter, the blizzards always blew from the north to the south.”

“But I don’t know where there might be people around here. The heavy snow has buried all traces. In my experience, even if a village were just a few dozen meters away, we’d have a hard time spotting it in a snowstorm like this.”

Brand held a deer antler with a rope tied to it, which he kept throwing ahead to test if the snow could bear their weight.

In snow this deep—so deep it came past their knees even in the shallowest parts—one could plunge through into the vast expanse of white at any moment.

This was all experience Brand had gained from hunting alone. Besides him, a few other soldiers around Ryan were doing the same.

The people of the Aixneer Continent had learned how to travel in such a world through bitter, hard-won experience.

Not long after, however, Brand stopped. The twelve of them were already covered in snow, blending into the white landscape.

They looked ahead at a long procession. Many people were holding torches, their faltering flames flickering in the wind and snow.

The lowing of the Great-horned deer couldn’t travel far in the blizzard. They seemed to have been domesticated, carrying bundles on their backs as they walked in the middle of the caravan.

“Ah!!!”

A scream rang out. A commotion erupted at the head of the caravan; it seemed someone had lost their footing and fallen.

The scream brought the entire procession to a halt. Many of the torchbearers looked around in terror.

Because they didn’t know if their surroundings were safe.

“Why have you stopped?”

From the center of the crowd, a roar emerged from a palanquin carried by six men. A moment later, a man wrapped completely in furs emerged, but in an instant, he ducked back into the palanquin and shouted.

“Get a move on! Where are the soldiers?! Go kill two slaves and keep moving.”

Immediately, soldiers in beast-hide armor, longswords in hand, went out and cut down two people. After blood stained the snow, the caravan began to silently advance once more.

“A noble?”

“Follow them,” Ryan ordered.

Brand led the way, moving slowly because the migrating caravan ahead was also moving very slowly.

Along the way, people died continuously. Some lost their footing and fell into the snow, never to get up again. Some had their legs freeze solid, unable to move forward. And some were executed on the orders of the increasingly irritable noble.

After walking for about five or six hours, nearly thirty people had fallen on the path.

Finally, the caravan of over five hundred people arrived before a cave.

The pitch-black mouth of the cave in the blizzard somehow gave off a feeling of warmth. Arriving here, everyone in the caravan breathed a sigh of relief. If the journey had been any longer, they really wouldn’t have been able to hold on.

The noble in the palanquin finally stepped out, along with a delicate-looking woman and a young boy.

“Soldiers! Take this fortress! We will no longer suffer the cold!”

The group of no more than twenty or thirty soldiers roared in response. They then began to urge the slaves at the front to charge into the cave.

Soon, Ryan and his men outside heard what sounded like the roar of a beast from deep within the cave.

The roars grew more intense, and then, at a certain moment, they turned into wails of agony.

“Let’s go in,” Ryan said. All the Knight’s Attendants moved to his front, following Brand as they approached the cave.

“If there’s any trouble, get My Lord out of here immediately,” Brand ordered, and the ten attendants acknowledged with low grunts.

The snow outside was white, but the initial downward path of the cave was devoid of light. Two soldiers had to take out and light torches.

Only then did Ryan get a clear look at the tunnel.

“This is… a mine?”

He looked at the surrounding stone walls and could still see some sparse ore embedded within. Its jet-black luster reflected the torchlight, giving off a sharp, cold glint.

The ore had been deliberately carved to look this intimidating.

As the view ahead widened, Ryan gradually began to notice some corpses.

Most were human. A smaller portion were half the size of a man, their ink-green skin bare, with pointed ears and countless, incredibly sharp teeth.

“Goblins?”

As Ryan spoke the name of this other race in surprise, someone else spotted them.

“Who are you?”

In the darkness, numerous torches illuminated the cavern. The noble from before walked over, his eyes glaring fiercely at Ryan’s group. Behind him lay the corpse of a much larger goblin.

It was more massive than two strong men combined, and in its hand, it held a wooden mace studded with iron spikes.

It was dead, a bloody hole in its head.

“A great goblin.”

Ryan moved past the wall of men shielding him and took off his deerskin cloak.

At that moment, everyone saw him clearly: a young man with jet-black, shoulder-length hair, neatly combed and tied back.

He had ruby-like reddish eyes, and his fair skin showed no trace of having ever endured the elements.

A noble. The moment they saw Ryan, everyone understood. Even the man who had been shouting subconsciously lowered some of his guard.

“I am Viscount Wittman. Who are you?”

The man looked at Ryan and held out his hand, upon which was an emerald ring carved with a mountain peak.

It was the family crest of Viscount Wittman’s family. Seeing this, Ryan realized he hadn’t yet designed a crest for his barony.

“Ryan Clayton. You may call me Baron Ryan.”

“The Clayton Family?” Viscount Wittman looked a little puzzled; he had never heard of this family name.

But it didn’t matter. He had the soldiers beside him move to drive them away.

“I have claimed this place. Now, leave at once.”

“I have no interest in this place.”

Ryan looked at Viscount Wittman, then at the surrounding slaves who had clearly endured the elements for a long time.

“Though you are a viscount, such a title seems to have lost its meaning now. A viscount with only five hundred slaves, twenty or thirty soldiers, and no domain of his own.”

“Viscount Wittman, your family has fallen.”

Standing in the cave, Ryan’s voice was calm and filled with confidence.

Chapter 21: Can’t Take Care of the Viscount, But Can Take Care of the Viscountess

Viscount Wittman was incandescent with rage at Ryan’s words.

There was an unwritten rule among nobles: to call a noble family fallen was to declare that you no longer considered them part of the aristocracy, but rather wandering nobles.

And what were wandering nobles? They were people who possessed nothing but the ancient, highborn blood in their veins. They could only wander, relying on their noble status to grift and swindle their way through the territories of other nobles, waiting for a day they might acquire a domain of their own.

This was the one fate Viscount Wittman could not accept. He would never allow his family to fall into ruin on his watch.

If that happened, he would become a laughingstock, the most incompetent master in the history of the Wittman family.

“You dare insult a Viscount!!!”

Killing intent filled Wittman’s eyes. Just as he was about to order everyone to swarm forward, kill Ryan’s soldiers, and subdue Ryan himself, Ryan spoke again.

“Perhaps I’m not insulting you. A noble, a Viscount, reduced to fighting with goblins over a cave. If word of this got out…”

Ryan’s words made Viscount Wittman’s face burn. He had reached the absolute limit of his fury.

“However, I can lead you away from here, to a relatively warmer place. At the very least, the snow there won’t cover your knees, and for three to five months each year, you won’t have to suffer the biting winds of winter.”

“There, you can survive.”

“Ryan, you dare insult me—”

Viscount Wittman’s roar died abruptly in the dim cave.

His eyes were locked on Ryan. Not just him, but every single person in the cave was staring at Ryan.

“Snow that doesn’t go past your knees, and three to five months a year without wind and snow?”

“Does a place like that really exist?”

Many people began to whisper amongst themselves. Viscount Wittman also stared at Ryan.

“Is what you’re saying true?”

“Of course, it’s true.”

Ryan nodded, but he wasn’t about to do a good deed for another noble for free.

“I can lead you away from here, but on one condition: all of these slaves of yours will belong to me, including the soldiers by your side.”

“All that will still belong to you is yourself, the lady beside you, and your child.”

Viscount Wittman grit his teeth. If he agreed to that, he truly would become a wandering noble.

Negotiation and compromise were fine, traditional virtues of the nobility. Viscount Wittman was unwilling to lose everything just like that.

“Leave me three hundred slaves, and you can have the soldiers. Then, give me a piece of land to establish myself. No, it doesn’t need to be too big, just a manor with some fertile fields will do.”

Ryan refused.

“Viscount, I have already stated my terms. You can either accept or refuse.”

“I am a Viscount, a Viscount! And you are merely a Baron!”

“It is precisely because you are a Viscount that I am willing to lead you away for free. This is a sign of respect between nobles.”

“Hmph!”

“You’d have me become a wandering noble, a disgrace to the Wittman family, and you call that respect?”

“Baron Ryan, I only ask for one hundred slaves and a manor. That is my bottom line.”

“A manor…”

Ryan sighed. He himself didn’t even have what you could call a manor.

“It seems Viscount Wittman is choosing to refuse, to continue eking out a miserable existence in this goblin cave?”

“Hmph, Baron, this is my territory. You should leave!”

He couldn’t possibly give up his property.

Wittman looked down at Ryan condescendingly, and the soldiers at his side stepped forward once more, preparing to drive Ryan out.

“Viscount, right now, I’m the only one who can save you.”

As Ryan spoke, he glanced at Brand.

Brand took a step forward, and the image of a roaring stag appeared in his pupils.

“A Knight?!”

Viscount Wittman roared in shock.

“How can there still be Knights in Aixneer?”

“No Knights can exist on the Aixneer Continent, but I am the exception. Because I can grant you the knight’s blessing and allow you to awaken your life seed.”

Ryan looked at the others. Perhaps some of them had been freemen once, but under Viscount Wittman, they had all gradually become slaves.

“You all should know the legend of the Deer Spirit. And I am now the only one who can grant you the Blessing of the Deer Spirit.”

“Are you willing to become citizens of I, Baron Ryan?”

As Ryan’s voice fell, the cave became dead silent. A moment later, Ryan realized why.

It was simple. These people were all slaves, Viscount Wittman’s slaves, his private property. They didn’t dare make such a decision for themselves.

Besides, no noble on any plane would trust a man who betrayed his master. Under normal circumstances, only freemen had a certain right to choose.

If a slave abandoned their master to join another noble, they would remain a slave. Their treatment would not change in the slightest, and they would forever lose any chance of shedding their slave status.

“Hmph, Baron, you think too highly of yourself.”

Wittman looked at Ryan with cold indifference.

Ryan looked back at him.

“It seems we can only resolve this in the way of nobles.”

Ryan’s expression turned solemn. “Since you want a war, then I’ll give you a war.”

“From this moment forth, the Barony of Ryan declares war on Viscount Wittman, until the gods themselves bring it to an end.”

The instant his vow fell, Brand and the eight Knight’s Attendants charged. The troop of well-fed, well-rested soldiers crushed the Viscount’s slaves and soldiers with the ease of snapping dry twigs.

Boom!

A longsword struck a transparent barrier, and Ryan finally understood how that great goblin had died.

It made sense. Since one could no longer practice the Knight’s Breathing Method of the Deer Spirit on the Aixneer Continent, the only path left to continue wielding extraordinary power was magic.

“However, Viscount, it seems you are merely a mage apprentice.”

As Ryan finished speaking, Brand’s longsword swung down again. The magical barrier shattered in an instant, and the blade came to a stop right before Viscount Wittman’s eyes.

At that moment, the Viscount finally felt fear. He stammered, “Baron Ryan, it will be as you said. The slaves are all yours.”

Ryan walked up to Wittman. He took the longsword from Brand and, without the slightest hesitation, thrust it forward into the Viscount’s neck.

Blood sprayed forth, splashing across Ryan’s face and his deerskin cloak.

“A pity, Viscount. Through our repeated exchanges, I’ve found you to be far too greedy.”

“You seem to have forgotten that you are a viscount who has to fight goblins for territory. You have no right to negotiate with me,” Ryan whispered. He then flicked his wrist, and the youth at the Viscount’s side, who was about the same age as him, also collapsed into a pool of blood.

As the longsword swung toward the graceful woman, it was once again blocked by a magical barrier.

“I… I am Viscountess Wittman. No, I am the daughter of Baron Yazhe.”

“I am also a mage apprentice. I studied magic weaving. I can be of use to you.”

“He was my husband, but that one was from his previous wife.”

Sarah Yazhe, the Viscountess, her beautiful face pale with fear, spoke in a trembling voice. After she finished, she stiffly puffed out her chest and tried to force a coquettish look onto her naturally beautiful face, her intention clear.

My lady, please have some self-respect. I’m still a child.

Ryan retracted his longsword and reached for the area below the Viscountess’s chest.

At that moment, the lady’s body trembled slightly once more.

Chapter 22: The Viscountess’s Value

“I, I…”

The Viscountess’s teeth were chattering.

Ryan’s guess was correct. She was indeed a few months pregnant.

“He won’t know.”

The Viscountess pleaded through her tears.

Sigh, I’m still too soft-hearted.

Ryan pinched the Viscountess’s fair, tender skin, glancing at the dead Viscount Wittman beside him.

“I hope he never finds out.”

“He won’t, he won’t.”

Ryan had already turned his head to look at the surrounding slaves.

“According to the rules between nobles, you are all my slaves now.”

Groups of people knelt. They had a new master, and that included the soldiers.

But the next moment, Ryan looked at Brand and the others. After giving them a look, Brand walked toward the soldiers, longsword in hand.

Ryan didn’t want to leave any potential trouble for himself. These soldiers had been loyal to Wittman and tyrannized others. Besides, if he didn’t kill them, they might try to use Viscount Wittman’s heir to get revenge on him in the future.

In contrast, the slaves were safe.

Slaves didn’t even have the right to pledge loyalty. They were mere property, objects. They only had a master, and loyalty wasn’t a factor.

Some soldiers tried to resist, but in the end, they still died. Another twenty or thirty bodies littered the ground.

Fortunately, the Spirituality they gave Ryan had not disappeared.

After that, Ryan could finally look at his new assets.

Five cows, thirty-two mules, ten Great-horned Deer, and a glittering two thousand five hundred gold coins.

Although they were slightly different from the Empire’s gold coins, bearing the image of a stag’s head, it didn’t matter.

The key to a gold coin was its weight. As long as the weight was the same, the value was the same. This was because gold also served as a magical medium, making it an inherently precious metal.

If he was worried, he could just have them remelted and recast after returning to his fief. In any case, their purchasing power wouldn’t be an issue.

The silver coins were similar. Among Viscount Wittman’s assets, there were nearly fifty thousand silver coins.

The exchange rate was one gold coin for twenty silver coins, and one silver coin for a hundred copper coins.

The reason for this huge difference in value was their supernatural properties. Both silver and gold possessed attributes that made them useful as magical mediums, but copper did not.

In total, their value was nearly the same as the two thousand five hundred gold coins.

As for copper coins, there were only a mere one hundred thousand.

After a moment’s thought, Ryan understood why.

In this plane, the frost of a harsh winter covered everything, and countless people had died. The distance between nobles, in particular, was vast. Gold and silver coins were currency that circulated within the upper echelons.

Among commoners and slaves with a little money, almost all transactions were conducted with copper coins. This was especially true for slaves; if one was found with silver or even gold coins, it would be a death sentence.

No one would believe a slave should possess such wealth.

Since gold and silver coins were difficult to circulate, they were naturally saved up. Copper coins were still in use, so the Viscount wouldn’t have had many on hand, nor would he have cared about them.

A single gold coin could be put in a pocket, but the equivalent value in copper coins would have to be carried on one’s back.

The choice was simple.

In any case, Ryan had profited from it all.

“These Great-horned Deer… did the Viscount control them using magic?”

After ordering his men to bury the bodies, Ryan walked over to the ten quiet Great-horned Deer.

“He studied the branch of magic related to command. As a Mage Apprentice, he spent six thousand gold coins to purchase the most expensive item available to apprentices: the Beast Taming Sigil.”

“Branding the sigil onto the heads of the Great-horned Deer allows them to understand simple human commands and become accustomed to humans. With long-term training, they can reach this level of obedience.”

“So, you’re saying I’m out six thousand gold coins?”

Ryan looked at the Viscountess. The more he looked, the younger she seemed. Perhaps it was because he had just asked; she was only five or six years older than him, making her around nineteen or twenty.

“What about that ‘magic weaving’ you learned? How much is that worth?”

The Viscountess lowered her head. “Magic weaving is just an ordinary magical path. My talent isn’t very good.”

Seeming to feel she needed to show some value, the Viscountess quickly added:

“However, I can weave garments. As long as the materials are sufficient, the clothes can have the effect of an enchanted item with solidified magic.”

“Sounds mediocre.”

“Later, teach me the meditation technique you learned. I’ll give it a try.”

As Ryan finished speaking, he didn’t notice the blush on the Viscountess’s face. He saw a soldier running toward him from a distance.

“My Lord, we’ve found the iron ore the Goblins were hiding!”

“Oh?” Ryan’s eyes widened.

Soon, he saw basket after basket of refined iron. At that moment, Ryan couldn’t stop smiling.

Seven or eight thousand catties of refined iron! With a blacksmith, it could be forged into armor or knight’s longswords. This trip to the other plane was just too profitable!

“Move it! Everyone, carry some! Take everything, don’t leave a single bit behind!”

With his command, Ryan began the journey back with his large group of slaves.

They returned to the Frozen Soil Fief amidst gasps of amazement. Ryan brought the Viscountess back to the Baron’s Fortress on Rhino Horn Peak.

A widow and her unborn child… Ryan didn’t know where he could send them where she could survive, so he decided to let her live in the Frozen Soil Fief. In any case, a mage wasn’t a Knight; they didn’t eat much in a day.

…

Late at night.

“Do I really have no talent for meditation?”

“Hiss~ What is this position? Why does it hurt so much? I’m a Knight!”

Ryan looked at the Viscountess, who was dressed in a skintight suit. He had to admit he’d been a bit hot-blooded.

But the pain between his bones soon made him forget the delicate fragrance wafting around him, and he kept sucking in sharp breaths of cold air.

“The very nature of magic weaving requires you to manifest your body’s most perfect state to be able to weave the most comfortable and best-fitting clothes.”

“The first thing a Mage apprentice must learn is awareness of their own body. Knowledge is power.”

“It took me three days to master the basics of the meditation method.”

“Three days?!”

Ryan cried out. Even when he was learning the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method with the Clayton Family, he had never felt such a deep, bone-marrow pain during training.

“Is it that difficult?” The Viscountess was a little puzzled, but to show her own value, she was still teaching him as best she could.

She even demonstrated it herself, but the sight of her chest becoming even more pronounced in that instant only added to Ryan’s agony.

Why am I only fourteen?

In the Baron’s Fortress, old Baird, who had rushed back after hearing the news, tiptoed away, feeling both apprehensive and gratified.

One thing the Clayton Family was envied for by the entire Empire’s nobility was their flourishing family line.

“Young Master Ryan is only fourteen. He should practice some restraint.”

Half a month later.

Ryan completely gave up on practicing the meditation technique.

At his pace, becoming a novice mage was a distant, if not impossible, dream.

He looked at his Spirituality panel.

“I’m sure there will be a Godhood blessing specifically for magic in the future.”

Chapter 23: The Beastmen Head South

There was another reason Ryan ended his meditation: his fifteenth birthday was approaching.

This winter, the Frozen Soil Fief welcomed its first joyous festival.

The Lord was celebrating with his people.

On this same day, one of the three plots of land, the Bain family’s terraced fields, was officially completed. The next step was to continuously improve the soil’s fertility.

One hundred and ten acres of farmland drove the Bain family nearly ecstatic. When they saw Ryan, they were practically falling to their knees every other sentence.

The Bain family’s sudden rise into the fief’s upper class made the others burn with envy. Ryan believed the remaining two plots of farmland would be developed very quickly.

“Young Master Ryan, congratulations on turning a year older.”

In the Baron’s Fortress on Rhino Horn Peak, only a handful of people could truly sit at the same table as Ryan.

Outside the Baron’s Fortress, Delun couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. He should have been the one in Rosen’s place inside, but now he could only stand guard.

Gazing at the many flickering lights of the village at the foot of the mountain in the night, he thought that perhaps he shouldn’t have refused back then. The Frozen Soil Fief was becoming more and more prosperous, and there was a warmth to this place.

This day would likely be remembered by many. Even the slaves’ lives in the Frozen Soil Fief were not much different from the commoners’. After all, with no way to spend money in the fief for now, everyone ate the grain bestowed by the Lord.

Today, even those mud-legs could have some meat soup. With Young Master Ryan’s order, the cooks wouldn’t dare to cut corners.

Hopefully, today’s celebration would make those mud-legs remember Young Master Ryan’s kindness and hurry to finish preparing the farmland tomorrow.

The grain from Walter’s Knight Fief was of mixed quality and was starting to taste bad.

Who but Young Master Ryan could have thought of carving farmland out of the mountains? He had even attracted birds to leave their droppings, which was said to fertilize the soil.

The method of terraced fields was unheard of in the South, but it could increase the amount of farmland several dozen times over. It was amazing.

There was probably no one guarding the mountain today, but the wild beasts likely wouldn’t go and destroy the farmland.

Delun looked into the distance, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

Today was a big day, Young Master Ryan’s fifteenth birthday, a celebration with the people. Everyone was within the fief’s grounds, but…

Why were there lights on the mountain?

Delun hadn’t become Captain of the Guards for nothing; he was highly competent.

He looked into the distant darkness, summoned a few soldiers, and gave them some orders.

…

“Young Master Ryan, we have been in the Frozen Soil Fief for almost two months now. By this time, Lord Count should have returned to the Empire.”

The Old Butler’s quiet reminder made Ryan fall silent.

He wondered what sort of storm Count Clayton’s return to the Empire would stir up in the Imperial Capital, and whether it would affect his Frozen Soil Fief.

In two months, he had come to accept his current life.

Everything was going well.

Baird handled the internal affairs, Brand the army, and Rosen the patrols and guards. Even the Viscountess was adept at managing the maids in the Baron’s Fortress, saving Ryan a great deal of effort.

Except for the food problem, which was becoming a greater pressure as the population grew, everything was going well.

The Beastmen, just as always, hadn’t bothered the barren Frozen Soil Fief.

However, it was as if fate had heard him.

Delun came jogging in from outside, saying in a panic:

“Young Master Ryan, the patrol guards have discovered traces of Beastmen.”

In the cold night wind, Ryan rushed out of the Baron’s Fortress and immediately saw the fires in the distant mountain forest.

“Which Beastman tribe is it?”

Delun said from the side:

“The men I sent didn’t dare get close. According to them, the Beastmen have horns on their heads that look like long, thin scimitars, about the length of a forearm.”

“It’s very dark in the forest, and the Beastmen have a keen sense of smell. They were right not to get closer.”

“As for the type of Beastman…”

“Many Beastmen have horns. With that description, and being so close to Northwind Province… could it be the Black Goat-men tribe?”

Ryan’s expression turned grim, and he immediately ordered the surrounding soldiers.

“Have all the fires in the fief extinguished.”

The soldiers hurried down the mountain.

From Rhino Horn Peak, they could see the fires on the distant mountain, but the foot of Rhino Horn Peak was obscured. The Beastmen might not have noticed them.

The Black Goat-men, a Beastman tribe.

In many legends, the black goat is synonymous with death and a symbol of evil. Similarly, the Black Goat-men tribe of Beastmen are equally cruel and evil.

Other Beastman tribes head south because they lack food and their populations are too large. They only resort to eating people when they haven’t plundered enough grain. But the Black Goat-men…

This tribe loves to eat humans, especially their children.

Besides human children, they also favor tender-fleshed women.

In short, the younger and more well-cared-for, the more they like them.

To make matters worse, they were also very powerful, said to have received the blessing of a god.

Hearing Ryan’s description, the Viscountess and several maids standing nearby turned pale.

“Don’t be afraid. The Black Goat-men tribe wouldn’t appear in such large numbers so suddenly. It’s not the dead of winter yet. These must be their scouts.”

Ryan’s expression was calm. If worst came to worst, he could still take his people and hide in another world. With this escape route, his confidence was reasonably firm.

…

In reality, while Ryan thought the Black Goat-men hadn’t noticed the fires of the Frozen Soil Fief, they had actually spotted them even before Delun had spotted theirs.

As scouts for the Black Goat-men tribe, they certainly didn’t lack professionalism. It was just… they didn’t care.

“Boss, there’s a human noble’s fief here. Why don’t we rush in and raid it? It would be perfect if we could find a few children.”

A Black Goat-man with palm-length, jet-black fur and a pair of curved horns spoke greedily. But as soon as he finished, a massive hand slapped him, knocking out several of his teeth.

“Idiot! Have you forgotten what we’re here for?”

After the slap, the much larger Black Goat-man pointed to the distant lights.

“Do you know what this place is?”

“No.”

“This is the Frozen Soil Fief, a poor and pathetic place.”

“Over a decade ago, a hyena tribe came to raid this place in the winter. Do you know what happened?”

“No.”

“Idiot! Do you know that after that hyena tribe raided this place, thirty percent of their tribesmen starved to death upon returning? Of the remaining seventy percent, half starved to death over the winter. The rest only survived by eating the corpses of their comrades.”

“From that day on, that tribe became a laughingstock.”

“Do you know why our Black Goat-men tribe was chosen to lead the great Beastman army south to plunder the human provinces this year?”

“No.”

“Idiot. Because we have wisdom.”

“Wisdom, you understand? Wisdom! We became the leaders because we can guide the great Beastman army to plunder more food and more children than ever before.”

“Do you know what wisdom is?”

“I still don’t know, Boss. I don’t think I’m very smart,” the Black Goat-man lowered his head dejectedly.

“That’s why I’m your captain, and you’re just an idiot who only knows how to eat.”

“Wisdom is knowing where it’s richer, where we can plunder more grain, and where we can snatch more human children.”

“Wisdom is amazing.”

“Alright, as long as you understand your boss’s wisdom. In short, if we are cautious now, we can be bold later.”

Chapter 24: Viscount Miles

“The Black Goatmen are cruel and evil.”

“But at the same time, to many of the less intelligent beastmen tribes, they are a symbol of wisdom. The goat itself symbolizes wisdom, and the Black Goatmen certainly don’t lack it.”

“This is trouble.”

“The Empire is not afraid of a large-scale beastman invasion from the north. Every year, the beastmen of the North invade the warmer South to escape the harsh winter, and the Empire serves as humanity’s first line of defense.”

“But if the beastmen invade with intelligence, the Empire’s nobles will also suffer heavy losses.”

“Northwind Province… I wonder if it can hold them back.”

“This should be the first time the Black Goatmen tribes have appeared in Northwind Province, right?”

In the darkness, Ryan could already imagine the looks of terror on the faces of the Northwind Province nobles when they heard the news of the Black Goatmen’s appearance.

“Brand, get ready. We head to Zerodu City tomorrow.”

After speaking, Ryan returned directly to the Baron’s Fortress.

The next morning, when Ryan awoke, Brand was already training the new Knight’s Attendants.

That’s right, the appearance of the Black Goatmen had given Ryan a sense of urgency. Although food was scarce, he still chose to bless fifty more men, bringing the army of the Frozen Soil Fief to about ninety soldiers.

Any more than that, and the food supply would be impossible to sustain.

“On this trip, I’ll bring back some blacksmiths. Letting those few thousand catties of refined iron just sit there isn’t a solution. Forging it into armor and knight’s longswords could increase Brand and his men’s combat effectiveness tenfold.”

“I also need to purchase a batch of grain. The population of the fief is growing, and we need to at least make it through this winter.”

“I’m leaving the fifty new soldiers with you in the Frozen Soil Fief. If you really encounter a large-scale beastman attack and plunder, abandon everything outside and defend Rhino Horn Peak. If you can’t even hold that, then find a way to escape.”

Baird meticulously adjusted Ryan’s formal baronial attire. Hearing Ryan’s words, the old man couldn’t help but shed tears.

“Rest assured, Young Master Ryan. This old servant will defend your territory even if it means death.”

“If we truly cannot hold it, this old servant will take the beastmen down with me and send someone to escort the Viscountess to Northwind Province.”

“Huh?”

Ryan looked at Baird, wondering what had gotten into the old man.

“I’m leaving this place in your hands. In the entire fief, you’re the only one I can trust completely.”

Ryan walked out of the Baron’s Fortress and glanced at the world of ice and snow. After the abrupt end of yesterday’s revelry, the citizens of the fief had once again thrown themselves into passionate development. They all wanted to become the next Bain.

As for Ryan, he set out for Northwind Province once again with the great-horned deer and ten ox-carts.

Thirty soldiers, Brand, and about twenty slaves traveled light.

As they journeyed through mountains and forests, the news of the beastmen’s southern march lingered on Ryan’s mind.

“Perhaps not building a road for now is a good thing. This way, even if the beastmen come, they can only appear in the Frozen Soil Fief in small numbers.”

He thought about his Frozen Soil Fief, which was relatively easy to defend and hard to attack. Its bowl-like shape, surrounded by high ground, was a natural defense. If things got dire, there was still Rhino Horn Peak, a place where one man could hold off ten thousand. If Brand were a bit stronger and they built a low wall on the mountainside of Rhino Horn Peak, those beastmen might not seem so terrifying after all.

Besides, beastmen had been attacking the warm South every year for many years, and the Empire showed no signs of decline. Perhaps his worries were unnecessary.

After spending a day crossing the mountain forest, they reached a frozen swamp where the road gradually flattened out, and the party’s speed increased considerably.

Passing by Baron Hutton’s Barony, Ryan greeted the baron, then couldn’t help but wonder what choice this baron would make when the beastmen marched south.

He didn’t tell Hutton about the Black Goatmen; their relationship wasn’t that close. Besides, Ryan planned to sell the information for a good price.

“Ryan, my friend, is that bearskin rug really not for sale?”

Hutton couldn’t resist asking again. He had his eye on the flawless bearskin blanket in Ryan’s possession. A bearskin of a single, pure color would fetch a sky-high price, even in the heart of the Empire.

Hutton wanted to snatch it up first because having such a rare collector’s item would give him a great deal of prestige in his circle of barons.

Hutton had recently wised up and started mingling in aristocratic circles, which was why he coveted it so much.

“Mr. Hutton, I plan to sell it to the merchant guilds in Zerodu City. What price can you offer?”

Hearing Ryan’s words, Hutton deflated. He knew he couldn’t possibly offer more than a merchant guild.

“Next time you have something good, you must sell it to me first.”

“Next time, for sure.”

The party continued toward Zerodu City. At sunset on the second day, Ryan saw the only city in Zerodu County. Its walls, as high as a two or three-story building, had allowed the city to remain safe through many beastman attacks.

As for the exquisite collectibles in the convoy, they were, of course, Viscount Wittman’s property. Items from another plane, combined with the collection of a viscount, were sure to be of exceedingly high value.

Now, before the news of the beastmen’s southern march was revealed, no one had any reason to lowball his price.

Of course, upon arriving in Zerodu City, Ryan’s first task was not to play merchant, but to pay a visit to Viscount Miles.

This was a custom among nobles. Moreover, by visiting the viscount, the value of his goods could be elevated even further.

However, Ryan hadn’t expected Viscount Miles to be even more pompous than he had anticipated.

At noon the next day, while staying in a manor in the city—the property of another baron—Ryan finally received Viscount Miles’s steward, who informed him that the Viscount would grant an audience to the Baron of the Frozen Soil Fief at midday.

“Please give my regards to Baron Barnes.”

Ryan handed a valuable quill and its case to the manor’s steward, then continued.

“I will be sure to convey Baron Ryan’s sentiments to my lord.”

Zerodu City had a population of only a few tens of thousands, yet Viscount Miles’s own estate and residence occupied nearly one-fifth of the city.

The rest of the city was packed with the properties of other nobles and the headquarters of merchant guilds. In other words, those tens of thousands of people were essentially living on a patch of land the size of a town within the city itself.

After passing through a tall, iron estate gate, walking over a hundred meters down a stone-paved road, entering an ancient and historic doorway, and then winding through three or five smaller doors, Ryan finally met the white-haired Viscount Miles and the seven heirs of the Miles Family before a massive dining table.

“You are Ryan Clayton?” the aged Viscount Miles asked, looking at Ryan’s young face.

Ryan’s smile, as pleasant as a spring breeze, immediately won the favor of the ladies present. He slowly performed a standard noble’s bow, then lowered the hand he had held in a fist over his chest.

“Ryan pays his respects to Viscount Miles. I have long heard that the Miles Family descends from the ancient Falcon Warrior. Seeing you today, I finally understand why the Miles Family is truly a noble house with a history stretching back three hundred years.”

“Hahahaha, the Clayton Family is not to be underestimated either, being the descendants of the Dragonslayer. Come, Ryan, sit here beside me.”

Clearly, this friendly exchange of flattery between nobles was very much to Viscount Miles’s liking.

Chapter 25: The Troubles of a Viscount’s House

“To be a baron at such a young age… The Clayton Family has produced another noble.”

“Mark, look at him, and then look at yourself.”

As he spoke, Viscount Miles turned to a middle-aged man at the dining table with a murderous glare.

Mark Miles was Viscount Miles’s second son. The Miles Family had a lineage stretching back several hundred years, and Viscount Miles himself had fought for his life in his youth. He had been one of Grand Duke Mayers’s top generals during the campaign to conquer Northwind Province.

After the victory, the declining Miles Family relocated from the South of the Empire to Northwind Province. By seizing control of the revenues of the entire Zerodu County, they rose once more, and Viscount Miles became the County Governor.

His contributions were great, but due to the political struggles between Grand Duke Mayers and the other imperial nobles, his rewards were a case of much ado about nothing.

Apart from Zerodu County, Viscount Miles only had a couple of Pioneering Lord and Pioneer Knight grants to his name.

He had given one of the Pioneering Lord grants to his second son. After all, the viscounty was to be inherited by his eldest son, so he wanted to give his second son a chance.

The problem was that this Mark Miles was utterly incompetent. In less than ten years, he had shamefully abandoned his fief and returned to Viscount Miles to live an idle life.

Having wasted one ticket to the nobility, he would naturally not get a second chance.

However, Ryan had heard yesterday at Barnes Manor that the fief Mark Miles had chosen was located right next to that of the youngest son of Zerodu County’s other viscount, Viscount Dragon.

The man was inextricably linked to Mark Miles’s utter failure.

The steward had accepted a few gold coins from him to tell this story, but Ryan understood the implication: the relationship between the two viscounts in Zerodu County was far more severe than he had imagined.

The young Viscount Miles had possessed great courage, allowing the declining Miles Family to rise again in Northwind Province. But the rest of the family had long since become decadent. Apart from Viscount Miles himself, no one was capable of supporting the family enterprise.

As Viscount Miles grew older, this viscount’s family was once again heading toward decline.

This was the source of Viscount Miles’s anger. He saw no one outstanding among his descendants. Furthermore, the Miles Family was large; besides his immediate kin, there were many other members of the Miles clan. They all clung to this great tree, sucking its blood, utterly oblivious to what their fate would be if the Miles Family fell.

Still, Ryan didn’t know whether Viscount Miles was growing senile or if he was being deliberate.

After all, Ryan’s own barony was hardly the result of a harmonious process; it, too, was a product of the Empire’s political struggles.

It was hard to say whether the Viscount’s intentions were good or ill in bringing this up.

“Lord Miles, I’ve actually come today on business.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Ryan, seeing you reminds me of seeing Count Clayton in the Imperial Capital back in the day. The Count once achieved the feat of completely annihilating an entire pirate crew while fighting them on the West Coast.”

“I know of your situation in the Frozen Soil Fief. If you need to borrow grain, my Miles Family has some in storage.”

Ryan looked at the Viscount, puzzled. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the man didn’t like him very much.

Moreover, had he not been a youth, Viscount Miles surely wouldn’t have been so direct. But seeing how young he was, the Viscount had let his guard down, assuming he wouldn’t sense the slight malice in his tone.

As for what reason this somewhat hostile viscount had for still being cordial, Ryan guessed it was because his father, the Count, had returned to the Empire.

No matter his location, a viscount of the Empire would never fail to keep an eye on its noble circles.

As a noble with a centuries-old lineage, Viscount Miles must still have considerable connections and relationships in the South.

If Northwind Province had one thing in abundance, it was all kinds of mineral resources. Over the years, the Miles Family had undoubtedly deepened its ties with nobles in the South through the iron ore trade.

Although becoming a noble meant Ryan had essentially branched off from the Clayton Family to establish his own House Ryan, he was, after all, still the Count’s son.

Ryan had no intention of bickering with Miles about these things. The Beastmen were marching south. One moment of carelessness and everyone would die.

“Lord Viscount, I am not here for grain,” Ryan said, his tone now formal.

“In fact, I have a very important piece of news I wish to convey to the County Governor of Zerodu.”

Ryan’s use of the Viscount’s official title made Viscount Miles sit up a little straighter.

“Oh?”

Ryan smiled. “This information is quite valuable. I just wonder what price Viscount Miles is willing to pay for it.”

When profits were at stake, Ryan naturally had to secure sufficient benefits.

Viscount Miles stared at Ryan, his aged eyes unreadable. Beside him, the Viscount’s youngest son, Lager Miles, who was four or five years older than Ryan, suddenly shouted.

“Baron Ryan, you are in the presence of Viscount Miles, the County Governor of Zerodu! If you possess important intelligence concerning the safety of the Empire, please state it at once!”

Ryan glanced at Lager Miles with some surprise, then his eyes swept almost imperceptibly over the others. He saw gratification in Viscount Miles’s eyes, and confusion and shock on the faces of the other Miles family members.

Ryan had used the title of County Governor to force the Viscount to take his information seriously, and now this Lager was using the same tactic, invoking the security of the Empire, to try and force Ryan to back down.

After all, a southward march of the Beastmen concerned the safety of the Empire’s entire border, and no noble could bear the responsibility of withholding such information.

“I didn’t expect the house of Viscount Miles to have such an heir. It seems the Viscount has a worthy successor.”

Ryan was speaking to Viscount Miles from the standing of a noble, a baron. And so, even though Lager was older, Ryan held the superior position.

At this dinner table, there were only two true nobles present: Baron Ryan and Viscount Miles.

However, after Ryan finished speaking, his glance towards Mark Miles and Viscount Miles’s eldest son, Kristan Miles, was deeply thought-provoking.

The power struggles within a noble family… Ryan smiled as he looked at Viscount Miles. Would this man, who had once followed Grand Duke Mayers, have a solution for this?

“Baron Ryan, since this is a matter of great importance to Zerodu County in the Empire’s Northwind Province, it is not convenient for others to be present. Come with me to my study.”

“Kristan, you come as well.”

Hearing this, Ryan understood. This Viscount Miles was incapable of handling his own family affairs.

Remembering how Viscount Miles had used his own family to mock him earlier, Ryan subconsciously glanced at the youngest Miles child, Lager.

“Is Mr. Lager not joining us? A moment ago, it seemed Mr. Lager was the only one who understood the news about the Beastmen coming south.”

Ryan’s voice was still as boyish and tender as ever, yet it caused the expressions of many present to change.

Chapter 26: A Transaction Between Nobles

“What? The Beastmen are coming south?”

The exclamation came from Mark Miles, whose political acumen truly seemed lacking; he had no understanding of how nobles confronted one another.

The others also showed varying degrees of shock and fear. Even Kristan’s breathing quickened slightly.

Viscount Miles sighed.

“Lage, you come too.”

Surprisingly, Lage gave Ryan a friendly glance. It was obvious that Ryan’s retort to the Viscount had made Lage the biggest beneficiary of this noble conversation.

Viscount Miles still had a few Pioneering Decrees in his possession; perhaps one was now destined for this man.

There were only interests between nobles. Though Lage had been berating Ryan just moments ago, the two now nodded to each other as if they were old friends.

If Viscount Miles’s manor exuded a sense of ancient, inherited grandeur, then his study was a complete and total witness to history.

“This study was moved here in its entirety from the South by a Saint-rank mage I hired. Not a single detail was disturbed in the process.”

Viscount Miles sat before a desk, while Ryan naturally took a seat on a nearby leather sofa. As for Miles’s two sons, they could only stand.

“Baron Ryan, if you have something to say, say it here.”

Viscount Miles was old. He was unwilling to see any mishaps in his territory now, wishing only to pass the winter in peace.

At this point, Ryan stopped beating around the bush.

“The Beastmen are indeed moving south. My soldiers have discovered their scouts.”

“Scouts?”

Viscount Miles’s gaze was sharp. “Beastmen scouts?”

“That’s right.”

“The Beastmen have scouts?” Beside them, Kristan, seemingly trying to prove his relevance, spoke up with an astonished and doubtful tone.

Ryan smiled at the Viscount’s eldest son, the future Viscount Miles.

“Among the Beastmen tribes, the powerful and intelligent ones possess their own military knowledge. Even if their fighting style remains largely unchanged, they will still have eyes like scouts.”

Kristan’s face darkened. He felt as though Ryan was implying he was not intelligent.

“Baron Ryan, why don’t you tell us which Beastmen tribe it is,” Lage said. He knew he had already burned his bridges with the other contenders in his family. For the sake of that Pioneering Decree, he was not about to fall a step behind.

“What does the Lord County Governor believe this information is worth?”

Ryan looked at Viscount Miles.

“I will give you enough grain to feed one thousand people for two months. That should be enough for your Frozen Soil Fief to survive the winter.”

Viscount Miles looked at Ryan and added, “Furthermore, you are not to tell this information to a single other person.”

Ryan shook his head.

“Not enough.”

“Twenty-five thousand catties of grain. Your Lordship, don’t talk to me about how many people it can feed for how long. Are you going to factor in the slaves, who can eat once every three days?”

“In addition to that, I want warhorses. One hundred warhorses from the South.”

“Baron Ryan, you are too greedy.”

Viscount Miles stared coldly at Ryan.

“No. My information is worth far more than the price.”

“Twenty thousand catties of grain and fifty warhorses. As for the other fifty, I can arrange for the Imperial Merchant Guild to set them aside for you when spring comes.”

“Not enough, Your Lordship. Twenty thousand catties of grain and one hundred warhorses. Not a single one less.”

Ryan was unwilling to make any more concessions, because the price of buying warhorses from the Imperial Merchant Guild had already soared to the heavens.

“Baron Ryan, I hope you can correctly assess the value of one hundred warhorses.”

If not for the divine interplanar war, the price of warhorses would not have been so high. In many fiefs, “warhorse” was just a name used during wartime; in times of peace, they were even used to pull carts and plow fields.

But after the divine interplanar war, the term “warhorse” became distinct from other horses.

This was because after the Divine War, a large number of extraordinary military legions emerged, and the quality of warfare rose dramatically. The standard for a soldier was, at a minimum, the physique of a Squire.

These Squires wore metal armor. The more powerful official Knights and Bronze Knights were clad head to toe in metal, horse included.

Such weight was simply impossible for a horse not specially trained for war to carry.

Take the empire’s Heavy Knight Legion, for example. It had only ten thousand men, but the weight of each rider, including their armor and equipment, pressed down on their warhorse with a weight of over a thousand catties. An ordinary horse wouldn’t even be able to run, let alone walk more than a few steps before being crushed.

For this reason, the price of a warhorse had skyrocketed from being just one or two times more expensive than a draft horse to its current price of several dozen gold coins in the South, a price that multiplied tenfold in Northwind Province.

The lifetime earnings of an ordinary peasant family were only comparable to the value of a single warhorse.

“A single Highland Warhorse sells for as much as five to six hundred gold coins in Zerodu County, and after what’s left over from the Imperial Merchant Guild, this price might continue to rise.”

“But I know that the price at which Your Lordship purchases warhorses from the Imperial Merchant Guild is certainly not that high.”

“In the South, a warhorse costs no more than seventy or eighty gold coins. When they reach Northwind Province, the merchant guilds would at most triple or quadruple the price for you, Your Lordship. Any higher and they wouldn’t be able to withstand a noble’s wrath.”

“Two to three hundred gold coins each, for a hundred, that’s twenty to thirty thousand gold coins. This sum shouldn’t be much of an issue for a Viscount, should it?”

In the other plane, due to the winter brought on by the interplanar war, even Viscount Wittman’s family, who had wandered for a century with only four or five hundred people, still possessed several thousand gold coins.

And in Northwind Province, for Viscount Miles, who controlled an entire county and had no one knows how many mines under his authority, was twenty or thirty thousand gold coins really that much?

One had to remember that the empire had a policy of a ten-year tax exemption for nobles in Northwind Province.

“Seventy. I can only give you seventy warhorses. That is the number. If you cannot accept it, I will arrange for my own men to find these Beastmen scouts.”

In the end, the transaction between the two nobles was settled at twenty thousand catties of grain and seventy warhorses.

Ryan was confident that this information would allow Viscount Miles to earn back several times that amount in gold from other nobles and the whole of Zerodu County.

Later, upon hearing that the tribe was the Black Goatmen, Viscount Miles’s expression turned impossibly dark.

Kristan, standing to the side, had the same reaction.

This Viscount, it seems he’s had dealings with the Black Goatmen before, Ryan thought to himself, but he was tactful enough to rise and take his leave.

As a proper noble, even if Viscount Miles were to drop dead at this very moment and half of the other Mileses were to perish, the Miles Family would never default on the wealth promised in their deal with Ryan.

Leaving the Viscount’s manor, Ryan led his men to the street where the imperial merchant guilds were located.

Aside from the street of Viscount Miles’s manor, this was the widest street in all of Zerodu City, as it was constantly traversed by various oxcarts and carriages.

Of course, that was not a sight one could see in winter.

Nowadays, these merchant guilds weren’t selling, only buying.

Chapter 27: The Blade and Rose Merchant Guild

Every winter, the major merchant guilds in Northwind Province would only purchase goods, never sell them.

The items acquired during winter would be transported to the South to be sold when their caravans arrived from there in the spring, reaping enormous profits from the price difference.

Although the guilds operated on their own terms, no one in Northwind Province dared to provoke them. Even the nobles were unwilling to earn the enmity of a powerful guild over such matters.

…

Before the Pan-Planar War of the Gods, merchant guilds were a relatively niche entity.

They rose to prominence, reaching a point where even the nobility had to take them seriously, because of war.

After the Pan-Planar War of the Gods concluded, the northern part of the continent was blanketed in snow and ice. Countless nobles migrated south, fleeing the cold.

With too many nobles crammed into the warm, southern third of the land, conflict was inevitable.

Furthermore, the quality of warfare was improving. The emergence of Transcendent Legions meant that the scale and ferocity of battles far exceeded those of the past.

It was during this period that the merchant guilds emerged. They followed their respective masters, marching with the armies on faraway campaigns. If a campaign was victorious, most of the spoils of war would be handed over to these guilds for sale.

When merchant guilds became intertwined with war, it was impossible for them to remain insignificant.

Of course, it was still true that behind every merchant guild, there was a noble.

The more powerful the merchant guild, the more powerful the noble family backing it. Only a noble could protect a guild’s vast interests.

Otherwise, the tariffs in each territory alone would be enough to bankrupt them.

The most powerful merchant guild in the Flor Empire was naturally the one directly under the royal family. However, it was not called the Royal Merchant Guild but the Imperial Merchant Guild.

This was because the guild’s largest profits all came from trade with kingdoms and noble fiefs outside the southern empire.

The royal family was not the sole shareholder; they simply held the absolute majority stake.

The Imperial Merchant Guild’s branch in Zerodu City was, as expected, magnificent, more luxurious than the properties some Pioneer Knights owned in the city.

They naturally did not dare to outshine the Baron, and the Baron, in turn, would not stoop to comparing himself with a merchant guild.

“Welcome to the Imperial Merchant Guild. How may I help you?”

As soon as Ryan stepped into the spacious hall, a serving girl’s eyes lit up, and she walked over.

“I am Baron Ryan. Have your steward come out and speak with me.”

No matter who they were, everyone was humble before a noble. Naturally, if a noble was too polite to a commoner, it would be counterproductive.

The serving girl’s expression dimmed, but she hurried off to fetch the steward.

——

“This humble one, Chandler, pays his respects to Baron Ryan.”

A pot-bellied, middle-aged man came before Ryan, his face a mask of sycophancy.

“I have some goods. Take a look and tell me what they’re worth.”

With that, Ryan had the soldiers behind him bring out the bearskin blanket that Baron Hutton had once treasured. In an instant, a glint appeared in Chandler’s eyes.

He was a merchant. He could naturally see the item’s value in a single glance. The noblewomen in the South would absolutely pay any price to get their hands on it and show it off in their circles.

But the price he offered made Ryan’s brow furrow.

“Three hundred gold coins, Baron Ryan. I am willing to pay three hundred gold coins for this bearskin.”

Ryan said nothing. He simply stared at Chandler until the merchant before him shrank his neck, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Lord Baron, is something not to your satisfaction?”

Chandler still had some confidence. After all, if the Imperial Merchant Guild had to bow to every single baron, how could they possibly do business?

“Let me guess. Viscount Miles must take a considerable sum from you every year, doesn’t he?”

Ryan looked at Chandler and said calmly.

This price wasn’t just below market premium; it was low even for a standard acquisition price.

Chandler smiled and used the Viscount’s name as leverage, saying, “His Lordship the Viscount has exempted the Imperial Merchant Guild from taxes within Zerodu County. In return, the Zerodu County branch of the Imperial Merchant Guild provides His Lordship with a remuneration of ten thousand gold coins annually.”

So that was why the Imperial Merchant Guild learned of the beastmen’s southward advance right after he left and began to suppress the prices of various goods?

Ryan turned to leave, but Chandler, behind him, grew anxious.

Even if they bought this bearskin blanket at a premium, they could sell it in the South for three to five times the price.

“Lord Ryan, we are willing to purchase this bearskin blanket for six hundred gold coins—no, seven hundred!”

“I’m not selling.”

Ryan didn’t even turn his head. Chandler, of course, did not dare to brazenly obstruct a noble.

Turning around, Ryan walked into the guild opposite the Imperial Merchant Guild: The Blade and Rose Merchant Guild.

“Welcome to the Blade and Rose.” A smiling woman greeted Ryan. On her chest was an embroidered emblem of a thorny rose entwined around a sharp blade.

That was the crest of the Blade and Rose family, a design created by the empire’s most dazzling female Countess herself.

“These things, how much will you pay for them?”

Ryan had the soldiers behind him bring out all the goods. He was confident that the Blade and Rose Merchant Guild, having watched him walk out of the Imperial Merchant Guild across the street, wouldn’t try any funny business.

The female steward, who introduced herself as Irina, beckoned a few merchants forward. They took barely two or three minutes to give Ryan a figure.

“Lord Ryan, our guild is willing to purchase these goods from you for the price of six thousand gold coins.”

In just two or three minutes, this guild had already learned Ryan’s name.

Irina’s smile was intoxicating. When tinged with the gleam of gold coins, even Ryan found himself captivated.

But he still retained a sliver of composure.

This inheritance from Viscount Wittman, by his estimation, should be worth between four thousand five hundred and five thousand gold coins. The price offered by the Blade and Rose Merchant Guild was considerably higher.

He looked at the woman before him with some curiosity.

“Is this how you always do business?”

“Of course not. If Lord Baron had come at any other time, we could only have offered four thousand two hundred gold coins.”

“The extra gold coins are for a request, or perhaps, a deal with you, Lord Baron.”

“Oh? Go on.”

“Not long ago, the Imperial Merchant Guild made a deal with Baron Kendra, purchasing one hundred sets of armor and three hundred longswords for one thousand eight hundred gold coins. They also signed a contract to buy thirty thousand catties of grain within half a month.”

“I presume that Lord Ryan knows the reason.”

After speaking, Irina moved a little closer to Ryan. A faint, pleasant fragrance wafted from her.

“One thousand eight hundred gold coins for a piece of information. You people are truly generous.”

Ryan was not the least bit intimidated by the woman’s boldness, and he met her gaze directly.

“But I promised Viscount Miles I would not tell a second person.”

Irina began to laugh.

“Baron Ryan is truly the lord who made the Frozen Soil Fief flourish. You are indeed different.”

“In that case, six thousand gold coins. It’s a deal.”

Although Ryan had said nothing, Irina had actually understood everything.

The Blade and Rose didn’t need to know the complete truth. Ryan’s words had already told them that if they simply did what the Imperial Merchant Guild was doing, they certainly wouldn’t lose out.

Chapter 28: The Two Sides of a Noble

“To think this woman has been asking about the Frozen Soil Fief.”

Truth be told, Ryan was quite surprised. After all, his Frozen Soil Fief was far away on the border of Northwind Province, separated by a stretch of forest and marsh. No one was willing to go to such a place, especially in winter.

“Lady Irina is certainly well-informed.”

Ryan smiled. This woman could not possibly know the true situation in the Frozen Soil Fief; after all, his territory didn’t even have roads.

That meant it could only be Baron Hutton.

With that baron’s wits, this woman must have run circles around him.

Ryan understood that Irina had likely used a few cheap tricks to get some information out of him. After all, when dealing with commoners, nobles were under no obligation to follow any rules.

“We merchants rely on information gaps to make a profit. A deal with a lord might just be enough to land me a position as a senior Steward in the guild.”

Irina gave Ryan a woeful, heart-rending look, then handed him a card forged from silver.

“With this card, Baron Ryan, you can enjoy a five-percent discount at our Blade and Rose. Please do take care of my business in the future.”

She was confident that handling a young baron would be a piece of cake.

After all, the Baron Ryan before her looked completely captivated.

Looking at that face that could make countless women swoon, Irina didn’t mind making their interaction a little more intimate.

“A five-percent discount? Isn’t that just perfect?”

Ryan shook the silver card in his hand. “I plan to purchase two hundred thousand catties of grain from the Blade and Rose.”

“Two hundred thousand catties?”

Irina’s eyes widened, and this time, she wasn’t pretending. Could that broken-down place, the Frozen Soil Fief, really consume so much grain?

“Not just grain. I also need to buy three hundred slaves. If you have any slaves who know how to do smithing, I’ll take them all.”

“If you don’t, figure something out. Help me find a group of blacksmiths willing to return with me to the Frozen Soil Fief. For every one you find, I’ll give you a gold coin as a reward.”

“If you can handle this for me, I’ll give the Blade and Rose priority for any future trade from the Frozen Soil Fief.”

Most of the time, the Imperial Merchant Guild was the first choice for many nobles. Under such circumstances, if other merchant guilds wanted a piece of the pie, they had to offer more benefits.

From Ryan’s words, Irina had already figured out which commodities would appreciate in value soon, but she gritted her teeth and decided to sell them to Ryan at the original price.

“We’ll need a few days to gather two hundred thousand catties of grain from other places.”

“The grain will be a total of two thousand gold coins. Lord Ryan, you must not go back on your word.”

“Three hundred slaves are easy enough to procure. Northwind Province has no shortage of slaves. Besides, the batch our Blade and Rose Merchant Guild has are all capable of farming and resilient to the cold. That will be one thousand two hundred gold coins in total. But as for slaves who know blacksmithing…”

Irina gritted her teeth again. “Five hundred gold coins… no, six hundred. I will go to the other merchant guilds and acquire ten of them for you, Lord Ryan.”

Finally, after all the transactions were settled, Irina had someone bring out two thousand two hundred gold coins. The glittering contents of the chest made everyone unable to resist staring.

But this belonged to Baron Ryan, and no one dared to entertain any ideas.

The grain and slaves would take some time. Ryan gave Irina three days, as he also needed time to transport the goods back to the Frozen Soil Fief. He didn’t know when the beastmen would appear in Northwind Province, and he didn’t want to run into them on his way back.

This also showed how powerful Viscount Miles was. A steward had come to inform Ryan that the items from their trade had been prepared and were ready for pickup after only half a day.

“Rosen!”

Having completed one transaction, Ryan was naturally invited to stay at The Blade and Rose Merchant Guild. He didn’t intend to just sit around and wait.

Calling for Rosen, Ryan handed him a warhorse he had obtained from Miles.

“Take this letter, and go to Viscount Dragon’s fief at once to visit him. Say nothing. Just give the Viscount my letter, and then bring back his reply.”

“Once you’ve done that, return directly to the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“As you command!”

Rosen clutched the letter tightly, treating it as more precious than his own life.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s nothing major,” Ryan said with a smile.

A noble must possess virtues like integrity, fearlessness, and dignity. But by the same token, every competent noble must also possess cunning, deceit, and greed.

There was something that couldn’t be sold to others, and in Zerodu County, only two nobles were qualified to know about the beastmen’s southward advance ahead of time.

He had gotten twenty thousand catties of grain and seventy warhorses from Viscount Miles. Now, he intended to get even more from Viscount Dragon.

After all, there were only two viscounts in Zerodu County, and they were rivals—both the viscounts themselves and the families behind them.

In a calamity like the Black Goatmen invasion, even a slight information advantage could lead to the downfall of many nobles.

After giving Rosen his instructions, Ryan began chatting with Irina about where in Zerodu City he could buy enchanted armor. At the same time, Ryan also tactfully inquired about the relationship between the Black Goatmen and Viscount Miles.

“Fifteen years ago, there was a large-scale beastman invasion of Northwind Province. Back then, it was led by a Bearmen tribe that didn’t have much intelligence, but they still caused immense losses to the province. During that invasion, there was a Black Goatmen tribe among them.”

“They took advantage of the fact that Viscount Miles was leading his main army to fight the Bearmen and launched a surprise attack on the Viscount’s fief. They plundered all of the Viscount’s wealth and even ate his eldest son.”

“The Viscount’s first wife was so distraught over the incident that she couldn’t eat for days and eventually passed away.”

“The current eldest son, Kristan, and the children after him were actually born to Viscount Miles’s second wife. It is said that back when the first wife was still alive, this one was merely Viscount Miles’s mistress.”

“As for the true eldest son, I heard he was once said to be the one in the Miles Family who took after the Viscount the most. He had displayed astonishing political and military talent at the tender age of ten.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Ryan sighed. No wonder the Viscount became so enraged after hearing news of the Black Goatmen.

With his true heir dead, Viscount Miles’s heart must have been filled with despair.

After all, the current Kristan didn’t even measure up to the younger son, Lage.

“So, is Viscount Miles on bad terms with the Count Clayton family?”

Ryan was discovering that these merchant guilds were truly well-informed.

Irina looked at Ryan inquisitively. Over the course of the day, she had gathered more information about this young baron.

“Back then, Grand Duke Mayers conquered Northwind Province, but not a single member of the Mayers family ended up in the province. It’s said that Count Clayton had a hand in it.”

“What?”

Chapter 29: Bronze Knight

Ryan never could have imagined such an answer.

Thirty years ago, the Clayton Family had been one of those who blocked Grand Duke Mayers from obtaining dominant authority and status in Northwind Province. They had even prevented any of the Mayers Family’s heirs from being enfeoffed as nobles in the province.

Because of this, the nobles who followed Grand Duke Mayers had also, naturally, not received the full merit and wealth they deserved.

So, Viscount Miles’s malice toward Ryan was well-founded.

“If that’s the case, then when they sent me to Northwind Province to become a landed baron, they never intended for me to live.”

In that instant, Ryan seemed to have finally found the trail of the assassins who had tried to kill him back then.

Although Grand Duke Mayers hadn’t obtained a single piece of territory in Northwind Province, was there any noble in the province today who didn’t have some connection to him?

Most of the Pioneer Knights had even been his soldiers in the past.

“Could I have been pushed forward by those imperial nobles to appease Grand Duke Mayers’s wrath?”

Ryan thought with a grim expression. He now felt as if the entirety of Zerodu City was filled with treacherous people plotting his demise.

What noble could remain unscathed? If the original owner of this body hadn’t died back then, would he have transmigrated?

Others might be safe, but as a baron of the Clayton Family, it was now absolutely impossible for him to integrate into the circles of Northwind Province.

Everyone looked like the mastermind behind the assassination attempt.

Even Viscount Miles, the closest noble to him, was a strong possibility.

He had the power to arrange for assassins in the mountain forests on the way to the Frozen Soil Fief.

With this thought, Ryan found Irina and asked if she could speed up her preparations.

Running was the safest option.

Despite the frantic rush, it still took two and a half days. Ryan even spent more gold coins to purchase a batch of ox- and horse-drawn carts. Finally, the group of several hundred people set off on the journey home, a vast and mighty procession.

This time, however, Ryan and his soldiers were all mounted on warhorses, completely separated from the others.

“How are these warhorses?”

Ryan asked Brand and the remaining Knight’s Attendants.

“So much better than those draft horses.”

Brand joyfully stroked his warhorse. After obtaining these mounts, Ryan had immediately bestowed the best one upon his guardian knight, making it completely and utterly his own.

As for the others, the warhorses they rode still belonged to Ryan. They would only truly become theirs after being awarded as a gift in the future. For now, they only had the right to use them, but that was enough to make them ecstatic.

Could a knight without a mount even be called a knight?

There was even a saying on the continent that a knight with a mount had a much greater chance of breaking through.

This saying was… not wrong at all. On the third day, as the party reached a frozen marshland, Brand’s aura became much more profound.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Ryan looked at Brand seriously. “You only have one chance.”

“My Lord, Brand will not fail to live up to your expectations.”

Brand knelt before Ryan on one knee. The surrounding soldiers stood in solemn silence, watching their surroundings with vigilance while also keeping their eyes on Ryan.

With a point of a finger, three hundred Spirituality points vanished, replaced by a miniature, blood-red deer that disappeared into Brand’s forehead.

At the same time, Brand began to surge the blood and qi within his body. The aura emanating from him grew especially terrifying.

The second blessing could cost a hundred Spirituality points or three hundred. Ryan had chosen the highest tier without hesitation.

The Blessing of the Deer Spirit couldn’t directly make Brand break through to Bronze Knight; that was a leap he had to make himself.

However, the blessing’s effect was equivalent to the life potion Walter the Knight had taken before. No, it could even be said to be better than a life potion.

In Ryan’s view, this Blessing of the Deer Spirit was tantamount to the best possible potion for a formal Knight’s breakthrough to Bronze Knight. At this stage, there was no more valuable method than this blessing.

Coupled with how attuned Brand was to the Deer Spirit Breathing Technique, Ryan didn’t think failure was a possibility.

Sure enough, half an hour later, rings of blood-red airflow swirled around Brand. Tiny cracks even began to appear on the frozen ground.

Knight’s Battle-qi, the mark of a Bronze Knight. Having reached this stage, Brand was no longer limited to simple techniques. He would be able to use his Battle-qi to power formidable battle techniques.

For example…

“Fearless Guard!”

A faint trace of blood-red airflow appeared around Ryan’s body. It wasn’t just him; the soldiers around him experienced the same thing. At the same time, they all felt their vitality and strength gathering towards Brand.

But what truly held nothing back were the warhorses. A warhorse’s vitality was far more vigorous than a human knight’s.

This would have normally been a battle technique with a huge cost, but with the help of the warhorses, Brand was able to maintain it with ease.

“Agile Steps.”

Phantoms appeared beneath Brand’s feet. Ryan even saw him use a falling leaf as a foothold before it touched the ground.

Boom!

Finally, his knight’s greatsword slammed into the hardened ground, creating a crater about a meter in diameter.

The northern marshlands of Northwind Province, with their ground frozen solid in the deep winter, were incredibly hard. The surrounding soldiers and slaves couldn’t imagine how they would die if such force were to land on them.

“My Lord, I have not failed my mission.”

Brand knelt before Ryan on one knee, his gaze resolute.

“Good! Hahahaha! My fief finally has a Bronze Knight!”

Ryan was overjoyed as well. He immediately announced that the first suit of armor they forged upon their return would be gifted to Brand.

In his eyes, a baron ought to have at least one Bronze Knight at his command. A Silver Knight was what would truly be considered top-tier.

Spending so much time around a baron like Baron Hutton, he’d almost forgotten what kind of power a real baron should possess.

Thinking of this, Ryan looked at his soldiers.

“Among you, the first to break through to a formal Knight will also be granted a suit of armor, a longsword, and a knight’s lance.”

“In the Frozen Soil Fief, the first ten to break through will all receive armor, as well as their own houses and land.”

“Long live the Lord!”

The soldiers’ cheers also infected the slaves. Perhaps going to the Frozen Soil Fief wasn’t such a bad outcome after all?

After more trekking through mountains and forests, Ryan finally decided he absolutely had to build a road next year. Otherwise, leaving all else aside, that well-endowed Irina of the Blade Rose merchant guild would certainly not bring her caravan into the Frozen Soil Fief.

As for this year? He’d worry about it next year.

Chapter 30: The Northwind Province Military Conference

When Ryan returned to the Frozen Soil Fief with the grain and warhorses, Rosen had already been back for two days. He brought with him a message from Viscount Dragon.

“Done.”

Just that one word, signifying that the Viscount had agreed to Ryan’s request for warhorses and grain.

“Well done. This warhorse is yours from now on.”

Ryan patted Rosen’s shoulder in satisfaction. Rosen had gone alone to see a viscount on behalf of Baron Ryan, representing Ryan’s honor and the Frozen Soil Fief. If his performance had been poor, the Viscount would never have fully met his demands, but would have haggled just like Viscount Miles.

Rosen looked deeply honored. It seemed a pat on the shoulder from Ryan was considered a high reward.

With the grain secured, Ryan’s anxious heart was finally at ease. The Frozen Soil Fief could at last accelerate its major development and transformation.

“Next year, when we build the roads, we can transport the swamp soil to the fields to enrich the farmland. We can also develop orchards in the southern mountain forests. Since the trees here can survive tenaciously in the cold wind, fruit trees should be able to as well.”

Standing at the site of the future Northgal Fortress, Ryan held a hot water pouch made of birch bark, gazing contentedly at his fief. At the foot of the mountain, Brand was training over a hundred soldiers.

He was teaching them the basic techniques of the Battle Technique comprehended from the Blessing of the Deer Spirit, which would be very helpful for these soldiers in breaking through to become Bronze Knights in the future.

Even if they couldn’t, Agile Steps would still dramatically increase their combat effectiveness on the battlefield.

On a distant mountain, more than a thousand slaves were working hard to reclaim farmland. After Ryan returned, he announced an increase in the number of slots for slaves to become commoners. The original ten who were chosen would receive an eighteen-month tax exemption.

As for tax exemptions, Ryan wasn’t concerned. As a new Baron in Northwind Province, his fief was exempt from imperial taxes for ten years.

Of course, this applied to the lord’s personal demesne, which was inherently tax-free. The ones who paid taxes were the commoners within the fief and for various miscellaneous things.

It was just that the freemen paid their taxes to the lord, who then passed them on to the Empire.

But this was still considered the fief’s tax. The Empire’s tax exemption policy didn’t extend to the commoners; they always had to pay. It was just that during the exemption period, the lord simply kept the taxes for himself instead of handing them over to the Empire.

Therefore, whether or not to take this meager profit was entirely up to Ryan’s mood. Taxes would only become meaningful once the fief had more citizens.

What lords and minor nobles truly had to pay out of their own pockets was, in fact, tribute.

Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, Baron—the five noble ranks. The noble lords of the lower ranks were all required to offer tribute to the royal family and the high nobility. This was considered a tradition of the Empire.

Take Ryan, for example. As the lord of the Frozen Soil Fief, a Baron, he hailed from the Clayton Family, which was a comital family. He was expected to pay an annual sum to the Clayton Family. This served to deepen the connection between them; although his was a branch family, they were still one family, and would take the same side in the Empire’s political struggles.

When trouble arose, they could pull strings for each other; when things were calm, they could boast of their connections.

The amount of this tribute was not fixed; it depended entirely on the wealth of the fief.

Some lords could only offer a few hundred gold coins, while others could lavishly part with tens of thousands.

Ryan figured the Clayton Family had surely never thought of collecting money from him, so he decided not to give any.

As for what the Frozen Soil Fief was once like, Ryan, as its lord, was probably the last one to find out the situation.

“I’ve also asked Irina to inquire about Count Clayton, but I’m afraid I’ll have to wait until spring for any news.”

After the arrival of the grain, the peace in the Frozen Soil Fief deepened.

But half a month later, the atmosphere in Northwind Province grew increasingly grim.

Many lords had already received the news: the Beastmen would be marching south this year, and the force invading Northwind Province would be led by the notorious Black Goatmen.

Northwind City.

As the only major city in Northwind Province, it was home to over four hundred thousand commoners. Outside its walls lay vast expanses of fertile fields, arguably the most productive land in the entire province.

The Provincial Governor of Northwind Province belonged to the Winter noble family. The current Count Winter was the only count who, after following Grand Duke Mayers to conquer Northwind Province, had emerged victorious from the subsequent political struggles and remained. Every year, the tax revenue from Northwind City alone earned the Winter family an untold amount of gold coins.

Not to mention, the Winter family also controlled the largest iron and copper mines in Northwind Province. They had even built a manor and an indestructible fortress deep within the mountains where the mines were located.

At this very moment, in the governor’s hall of Northwind City, Count Winter, who still looked to be in his middle years, watched the nobles take their seats and spoke:

“Alright, settle down.”

Everyone quickly fell silent, and the count spoke again.

“Have all the nobles of the province arrived?”

The nobles in the hall glanced at one another. The aristocratic circle wasn’t large; a province only had so many nobles, and most of them knew each other.

They didn’t seem to notice anyone missing.

Just then, with Kristan’s help, Viscount Miles stood up.

He was not only a viscount but also the County Governor of Zerodu County, one of the most powerful nobles in Northwind Province.

“Your Excellency,” he addressed the governor, “Baron Ryan Clayton of the Frozen Soil Fief in Zerodu County has not yet arrived. Perhaps he is not coming.”

Upon hearing the surname Clayton, many nobles exchanged glances, surprise evident in their eyes. Some of the more powerful nobles, however, looked toward Count Winter and Viscount Miles, their thoughts unreadable.

“The Frozen Soil Fief is such a godforsaken place, even Beastmen would starve if they tried to raid it. What difference does it make whether the Frozen Soil Baron comes or not?”

The speaker was also seated in the section for Zerodu County. He was a middle-aged man—Viscount Dragon, the other viscount from Zerodu County.

“Arakel, this is a military conference for all the nobles of Northwind Province. No one can stand aside. With the Beastmen marching south, we, as nobles, should be courageously charging forward, not hiding behind others. Otherwise, on what grounds can we call ourselves noble?”

Viscount Miles was old, but his voice was resonant. His words, backed by a lineage hundreds of years old, indeed earned the approval of many present.

For someone to skip a military conference for the entire province—were they trying to isolate themselves?

“Hiding behind others? Among everyone present, is there a single fief closer to the Beastmen than the Frozen Soil Fief?”

Viscount Dragon showed no fear of Viscount Miles, and he had his own supporters by his side.

As the two viscounts argued incessantly, the military conference, which should have been about planning the resistance against the Beastmen, quickly split into two factions.

Anyone who knew their history could clearly see that these two factions consisted of, on one side, nobles native to the lands of Northwind Province who had submitted to the Empire, and on the other, nobles who had come north from the Empire’s South to put down roots.

“Enough!”

Finally, seeing that nothing was being accomplished, Count Winter shot a dissatisfied glance at Viscount Miles before his gaze fell upon two other men.

There were three counts in total in Northwind Province. These two were counts who had ruled in this land before the conquest. Grand Duke Mayers couldn’t possibly have killed all the local nobles; many of them were connected, to some extent, by marriage.

Chapter 31: Nobles Divided by Interest

“This military council is to discuss how to deal with the Beastmen, not for you to form cliques. Since Baron Permafrost isn’t coming, then we won’t consider the defense of his territory.”

Then, Count Winter spoke to the other two counts in a somewhat amicable tone.

“Lov, Miuya, you should be more familiar with the Black Goatmen. Tell us what you think.”

Lov Weiss was the current heir of the Weiss family, while the other, Miuya Soron, was an old man, a veteran who had personally experienced the Battle of Northwind Province years ago.

Normally, in a meeting like this, one would only address others by their titles. It was unexpected for Count Winter to be so familiar with these two.

The nobles who didn’t know any better speculated about the relationship between the three counts, while those who knew the history sneered.

In the past, Count Winter was the most vocal advocate for stripping the native nobles of Northwind Province of their titles.

“Count Soron, you are my elder. Please, you speak first.”

Count Weiss looked toward Count Soron, showing the old man a measure of respect.

“Then let an old fellow like me tell you.”

Miuya Soron, far more hale and hearty than he appeared, walked to the rough map of Northwind Province pinned to the wall.

“Fifty-three years ago, I personally took part in a war against a million-strong Beastman army led by the Black Goatmen marching south into Northwind Province. In that war, Northwind Province lost half of its military strength.”

“The fortress on the Fragrant Mountain Plains was destroyed. The Grand Duke of Northwind’s Frost Wolf Cavalry Legion lost twelve thousand elite soldiers. They hadn’t even recovered by the time the Empire went to war with Northwind Province.”

Hearing this, many nobles wore sorrowful expressions.

“Indeed. If not for that battle, it wouldn’t have been so easy for Grand Duke Mayers to conquer Northwind Province.”

Someone sighed, but was quickly reminded by a friendly noble beside him that they were all nobles of the Empire now and should not dwell on the past.

Over by the map, Count Soron continued in a solemn voice.

“The last time the Beastmen marched south, the fortress on the Fragrant Mountain Plains was breached from underground. A fortress that had stood for a hundred years couldn’t even stop the Beastmen. The Black Goatmen are far more cunning than we imagine.”

“Because the fortress was lost, the entire Northwind Province lost more than a third of its population. I dare say, even today, the population has not fully recovered.”

“When facing Beastmen led by the Black Goatmen, my advice is to take the initiative and attack. We cannot afford to be defensive.”

“The Black Goatmen will devise countless ways to break our defensive lines. Only by taking the offensive, by slaughtering the Beastmen until their numbers are reduced to a point where they can survive the winter, will they naturally retreat back to The North. Not even the Black Goatmen can force them to continue attacking.”

Hearing Count Soron’s words, many lords nodded in agreement.

Why? It was simple. If a million Beastmen were to rampage through Northwind Province unchecked, who would suffer the greatest losses?

It would be them, the lords of these territories. Their strongholds were, after all, just strongholds, not sturdy, fortified cities.

“Miuya, if we are to take the offensive, where do you think is the best place to engage the Beastmen?”

Count Winter asked, looking at Count Soron.

“On the Fragrant Mountain Plains. A vast forest of Fragrant Mountain Trees once grew there. After decades of recovery, it has mostly regrown. We can use the dense forest to split the Beastmen apart, which will be very effective for killing those unarmored ones.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

Someone stood up. It was Viscount Hogg, the County Governor of Silver Stream County in Northwind Province, widely recognized as a powerful viscount with a strong army under his command.

“We still don’t know the number of Beastmen. If there really are a million of them, the Fragrant Mountain Plains won’t be enough to stop them. It wasn’t enough back then, even with a fortress. Now that there is no fortress, it’s even more impossible.”

“The dense forest can split the Beastmen, but it will also obstruct our cavalry charge. Are we to abandon our cavalry advantage and fight the Beastmen with infantry?”

Count Winter turned to Viscount Hogg and asked, “Then what is your suggestion for our defense, Viscount Hogg?”

Viscount Hogg stated proudly, “We should use each county as a unit to construct its own defensive line, while concentrating our forces to await the Beastmen’s arrival.”

“Count Winter’s Flying Wolf Cavalry can serve as liaisons between us. If any county is not attacked by the Beastmen, it can send troops to reinforce the others.”

“We will substitute defense for offense. Since the Beastmen will have to assault strongholds and cities, they will surely suffer immense casualties. Once enough of them have died, they will naturally retreat back to The North.”

As soon as the viscount finished, someone else stood up.

“I agree with Viscount Hogg’s method. A defensive battle will inflict more casualties on the Beastmen than fighting on the Fragrant Mountain Plains.”

“Ridiculous! Defense? Our territories are in the northern part of the province, directly facing the Beastmen. Even if we hold our ground, what then? Our lands will have already been plundered and stripped bare.”

“So a brainless charge into the Fragrant Mountain Plains will stop the Beastmen? Our cavalry can’t even utilize their advantages there.”

“Cavalry? A single warhorse costs three hundred gold coins in Northwind Province. How much cavalry do you have?”

“Having few doesn’t mean we have none! Only cavalry can crush the Beastmen. Infantry is at a disadvantage against them.”

“The Fragrant Mountain Plains is the only passage south for the Beastmen. It’s flanked by mountains on both sides. As long as we put enough pressure on them there, they will naturally retreat.”

“The last time the Beastmen marched south was five years ago. Five years! Considering the life they’ve led in The North, how could they possibly retreat so easily?”

In the meeting, the group of nobles once again split into two factions. One comprised the nobles from the northern parts of Northwind Province, whose territories would undoubtedly be the first to be hit. The other faction held lands relatively to the south; by the time the Beastmen broke through, their numbers would be greatly diminished before reaching their territories.

Silver Stream County, in particular, was in the southernmost part of Northwind Province, near Flying Wing Canyon.

At this moment, the clear dividing line between the two factions shifted from native versus southern nobles to a geographical split between the northern and southern territories of the province.

In the end, it was all about interests.

“Enough!”

Seeing the endlessly quarreling nobles, Count Winter roared. The aura of a Saint Knight pressed down, making the hall feel suffocating.

“Since you cannot come to an agreement, we’ll put it to a vote. The minority will yeild to the majority.”

“Who agrees with the plan to take the offensive?”

Count Winter said, glancing at the number of raised hands. Then he smiled and asked again.

“And who agrees with Viscount Hogg?”

After speaking, Count Winter raised his own hand. More than sixty percent of the nobles present chose to agree.

This result was, in fact, not surprising.

When Northwind Province was conquered, the vast majority of its lands were re-divided. Given a choice, these nobles naturally opted for the warmer territories in the south, further from the Beastmen. Only those with no other choice would select fiefs in the colder, northern part of the province, where there was less fertile land.

Chapter 32: Acting

In truth, as the Provincial Governor of Northwind Province, Count Winter had the authority to make unilateral decisions. He could order all the nobles’ armies to assemble, and it was his call how the battle would be fought.

But it was obvious that this Count Winter had no intention of bearing the responsibility for the aftermath of the Beastmen’s southern advance. He had called out two scapegoats.

Once the Beastmen returned to the North, the lords whose fiefs had been ravaged would naturally resent the one who proposed the plan—Viscount Hogg, for instance. At that point, Count Winter could step forward to mediate the conflicts and profit handsomely from the situation.

It was just like thirty years ago. In the political struggles of the empire, not even Grand Duke Mayers could gain a foothold in Northwind Province, yet Count Winter had ultimately become its Provincial Governor.

“Since a plan has been decided, go back and prepare. The sooner the defensive line is established, the more Beastmen we can kill.”

Count Winter spoke with a smile. He wasn’t the least bit worried about the Beastmen’s advance. His own stronghold and Northwind City were both rock-solid. If worst came to worst, he could still exercise his authority as governor and have the surrounding nobles come to his aid.

In fact, there was one thing no one mentioned during this meeting.

…

“If I remember correctly, doesn’t the empire allocate one million gold coins to Northwind Province every year for the nobles to rebuild the fortresses on the Fragrant Mountain Plains?”

“Back when Grand Duke Mayers conquered Northwind Province, he even proposed moving the garrison from Flying Wing Canyon to the Fragrant Mountain Plains, saying that the canyon was no longer the empire’s frontier—the plains of Northwind Province were.”

“But thirty years have passed… and there isn’t so much as a dirt mound on the Fragrant Mountain Plains.”

In the Frozen Soil Fief, even though Ryan had been excluded, Viscount Miles of Zerodu County still sent him a report on the outcome.

Viscount Dragon had also sent a man, just in case Viscount Miles failed to do so.

“Thirty million gold coins, and not a single thing to show for it.”

“This Count Winter… he has quite the appetite, doesn’t he?”

Of course, Ryan knew it couldn’t have been just Count Winter who had swallowed the gold. Every last one of those nobles had likely taken a share.

In Ryan’s view, neither a proactive strike nor a passive defense was a good option. Those lords were all prioritizing their own interests first and only then thinking about how to fight the war.

But what did any of this have to do with him, the Baron of the Frozen Soil Fief?

Ryan put down the missive. Viscount Miles wanted him to send five hundred soldiers to Zerodu City to help with the defense.

Ryan walked out of his study, looked at the man from Viscount Miles waiting for him, and said with a helpless sigh, “Go back and tell Viscount Miles… it’s not as if his lordship is unaware of the situation here in the Frozen Soil Fief. When I came here last year and passed through Zerodu City, I only had ten soldiers and a steward too old to walk.”

“With what am I supposed to defend Zerodu County?”

“Baron Ryan, I am acting on the orders of the Lord County Governor. Every lord in Zerodu County is required to dispatch troops to establish the defensive line.”

The messenger was not overly intimidated by Ryan; he had clearly received his orders before coming.

“The Lord County Governor issues this command in the name of Zerodu County of the empire’s Northwind Province. No noble may shirk their duty to fight the Beastmen.”

“But it’s not that I don’t want to. The Frozen Soil Fief simply doesn’t have that many people.”

Ryan said, then grit his teeth.

“How about this? I’ll send three hundred—no, two hundred slaves…”

Before Ryan could finish, a panicked Delun burst through the main gate, his clothes stained with a good deal of blood.

“My Lord, it’s terrible! We’ve discovered a Minotaur army to the north! There are a lot of them, we can’t hold them back for much longer!”

“What?”

Ryan’s face paled, and he turned to Delun with a furious expression.

“Then what are you standing there for? Get the stronghold’s soldiers—no, take all the slaves and stop the Beastmen! What are you waiting for?”

“If a single Beastman breaks into my territory, I’ll have your head!”

“Yes, my lord! I’ll go right away!”

Delun scrambled out, and just then, Ryan saw Rosen rush in.

“My Lord, we’ve spotted a group of Hyena-men in the western foothills, about five hundred of them! It looks like they’re heading for us.”

“Go find Brand.”

This wasn’t one of his arranged actors, so the news must have been real.

After saying this, he turned to Viscount Miles’s man.

“You’ve seen for yourself. The Frozen Soil Fief is the closest to the Beastmen. I request that the County Governor send troops to help me defend my land.”

Ultimately, the man returned to Zerodu City with five hundred gold coins, Ryan’s contribution in lieu of soldiers.

After seeing the man off, Ryan turned to the other visitor.

Wulf Dragon, a man from Viscount Dragon’s family, though only a distant relative.

“Viscount Dragon wishes for me to send troops to support him?”

“That is what the Viscount said,” Wulf replied respectfully.

“The defensive line Viscount Miles is building in Zerodu County is centered on Zerodu City, connecting the surrounding strongholds. The Viscount’s fief is not directly behind the line, so his lordship was thinking of establishing his own.”

“My lord said that Baron Ryan is a friend of the Dragon family.”

Friend? Ryan laughed inwardly.

“But as you’ve seen, my own fief is hardly at peace. We see signs of Beastmen almost every day.”

“The Fragrant Mountain Plains are still some distance from the Frozen Soil Fief. Even if the Beastmen advance south, not many will appear here.”

“That’s not for you to decide. You should know, scouts from the Black Goat clan have appeared in the Frozen Soil Fief. Who knows if they’re planning a sneak attack or have found a second route?”

In the end, Wulf also returned to Viscount Dragon’s fief with five hundred gold coins from Ryan.

“What a joke. Asking me, the one in the most danger, to send troops to support you?”

There was nothing wrong with nobles offering each other mutual support, but Ryan genuinely couldn’t be sure that a large force of Beastmen wouldn’t appear in the Frozen Soil Fief. For days now, they had been finding traces of Beastmen on a daily basis, scaring away even the wild animals.

“Kobolds?”

Ryan walked out of the baron’s fortress and saw seventy or eighty soldiers in the distance escorting over a hundred spotted Kobolds toward Rhino Horn Peak.

Hyena-men were a branch of Kobolds. Soon, at the foot of the mountain, Ryan saw the otherworldly Beastmen with their dog-like heads, furry bodies, and canine paws.

“Why have you appeared here?” Ryan asked.

The soldier holding the dog-headed creature down landed three quick punches, leaving it dazed.

“The Lord is asking you a question. Speak up!”

After a bustling exchange, Ryan roughly understood the whole story.

Years ago, a group of Hyena-men had come to raid the Frozen Soil Fief. Not only did they fail to plunder anything, but more than half of them starved to death on the way back, becoming a laughingstock among the Beastmen and a disgrace to this Hyena tribe.

This time, they had come to wash away that shame. They hadn’t expected to be taken down by Brand and his soldiers in a matter of moments.

Over a hundred of the dog-headed creatures had escaped; this group was the unfortunate few.

“Perfect. The road construction starts in two months. This is about all these Beastmen are good for.”

“As for now, put them to work carrying logs.”

Chapter 33: Battle of the Transcendent Legions (Part 1)

In the first month of the new year, during the season of flying ice and snow in the dead of winter, the Beastmen of the North could truly hold out no longer.

The biting cold needed the fire of fresh blood to be dispelled, and the hunger in their bellies made the Beastmen wish they could devour the southern humans’ grain stores right then and there.

And so, led by the Black Goatmen, a mighty tide of Beastmen appeared in Northwind Province.

“Plunder all their food!”

“I’m starving! I want meat! I want that fragrant barley!”

Amidst the chaos, countless Beastmen charged toward the warm fiefdoms, rampaging through the territories and throwing them into utter chaos.

“Damned Beastmen! Soldiers, raise your longswords! Charge!” a noble roared, mounted on his warhorse, commanding his soldiers and slaves to charge the Beastmen.

Fear was in his eyes. He hadn’t expected the Beastmen to come so soon. Based on experience, shouldn’t they have waited until half a month after their food had completely run out?

“Damn it, I should have listened to them and arranged to move my assets sooner.”

The noble had just finished speaking when he heard his soldiers up ahead continuously falling back. The one giving the order was, of all people, his own Knight’s Attendant.

“Retreat! Fall back!”

“Everyone, fall back to the stronghold and defend!”

The panicked voice carried across the field from horseback, and the attendant saw his lord glaring at him with fury.

“Costa, what do you think you’re doing? That’s my stronghold, my lord’s stronghold! What are you trying to do? I’ll have all your heads chopped off and stuck on the fence!”

The noble bellowed, and the surrounding soldiers and slaves dared not bypass the Baron to reach the tall, lavish stronghold.

“Lord Berna, run! There are too many Beastmen,” Costa said, riding his warhorse up beside Baron Berna, his voice filled with terror.

“There are too many to count. There must be at least ten thousand.”

“Lord Berna, we can’t win. We only have a few hundred soldiers, but the Beastmen are endless.”

By this time, Baron Berna could finally see the dark, teeming tide in the distance, and his face went pale.

“Quick! Quick, get back to the stronghold and defend it to the death!”

The noble was trembling all over. He had never seen so many of those running monsters before—baring their fangs and claws, savage and terrifying, looking as if they meant to devour his Barony like a loaf of bread.

But by the time he gave the order, it was already too late.

The soldiers were fleeing, the slaves were fleeing, and no one was there to stop the Beastmen’s charge. In that moment of hesitation, the closest Black Goatmen had already crashed into the crowd.

“Kill all these humans! Everything is ours!” a Black Goatman roared before goring a human before him, running him clean through.

The warm blood flowing over their bodies drove the Beastmen into a frenzy, their eyes filled with nothing but pure slaughter.

“Kill them all!”

A dark light flowed over the horns of the Black Goatmen; they too possessed their own transcendent system.

In their cloven, hoof-like hands, they clutched two curved blades that looked as if they had been hewn from the heads of other Black Goatmen.

In an instant, the screams and wails, the despair and bloodlust within the human territory reached a crescendo.

Tens of thousands of Beastmen flooded the fief in a moment, beginning a plunder unique to their kind.

In Coldmountain County, the closest county to the Fragrant Mountain Plains, the nobles, facing a crisis of life and death, had spared no effort in setting up a defensive line. They had already received news of the Beastmen’s appearance.

Along with it came news of noble deaths.

“Baron Berna’s Barony is completely gone. Everyone is dead, including the Baron himself. Not a single person escaped.”

“It’s not just Baron Berna. Knight Yannis, Knight Sacco… their Knight Fiefs have all been overrun by the Beastmen.”

The defensive line of Coldmountain County was essentially formed by Coldmountain City and a few strongholds built halfway up the slopes of several perennially glacier-covered mountains. Eighty percent of the lords in the entire county had already sent their wealth into the city and rushed over with their entire families.

But war was not a game; it was a true matter of life and death. So even with easily defensible strongholds and cities, these nobles could not feel at ease.

“Viscount Landa, the Beastmen are almost here. What are your thoughts? Are we just going to wait like this?”

Many nobles subconsciously looked toward Viscount Landa in the center of the crowd. He was the County Governor of Coldmountain County and the only Viscount here.

“We…”

“We are not going out.”

Viscount Landa was also on edge. He gazed at the sky outside the city, where the Beastmen seemed to be visible in the far distance, and didn’t dare to take the initiative.

“We only have fifty thousand soldiers. We can only fight from our defensive line. It’s impossible for all the Beastmen to pile up in Coldmountain County.”

That night, while all the nobles were sound asleep, the roars of countless Beastmen echoed from outside the city.

The nobles, startled awake, were panic-stricken. They hastily dressed and rushed to Viscount Landa’s manor.

Viscount Landa spoke with a helpless expression, “There were only two or three thousand Beastmen in the attack. They were dealt with by our cavalry before they could even reach our walls.”

“So… we’re fine?” a noble asked, finding it hard to believe.

“We’re fine.”

Early the next morning, the nobles who climbed the city walls saw a teeming horde of Beastmen. At the very center of the horde was a large contingent of Black Goatmen, mounted on magnificent Black Goats—their steeds.

“Cavalry? How do the Black Goatmen have cavalry?” a noble from a family with a centuries-long legacy in Northwind Province cried out in terror, his eyes filled with despair.

“Back then… it was because the Black Goatmen had cavalry that Northwind Province suffered such devastating losses.”

“But at that time, the Black Goatmen’s cavalry army only numbered five thousand.”

Hearing this, Viscount Landa’s heart grew heavy as he looked outside. The Black Goatman army here… no matter how he looked at it, there were no fewer than five thousand.

“We’re doomed…”

One noble scrambled down the city wall and ran toward his own manor. He had to flee, flee to the South.

Just as some nobles were panicking and thinking of escape, the Beastman army outside Coldmountain City split into two groups. One part headed east, the other west. All that remained were roughly seven or eight thousand Black Goatman cavalry and fifty thousand Black Goatmen foot soldiers.

They were a mass of black, with even their eyes being pitch-black, instilling an immense, baseless fear in all the soldiers within the city.

“They’re not planning to attack us?” a Knight wondered aloud, observing that this group of Black Goatmen showed no signs of the mindless冲锋 characteristic of other Beastmen.

“Where are those other Beastmen going?” someone else asked, puzzled that they too had bypassed Coldmountain City.

Suddenly, a noble began to tremble. He pointed at the departing Beastman armies.

“They… they’re going to our fiefs.”

Within the defensive lines of Coldmountain County lay the fiefs of many Barons and Pioneer Knights. Although they themselves had fled with their armies and wealth to the relative safety of the city, their lands could not run away.

Nor could they leave behind all their serfs and some relatives. After all, noble families rarely consisted of a single direct line; they had kinsmen who helped them manage their vast territories.

While the nobles had run to the city for refuge, these people had to remain with some soldiers and slaves to resist the Beastmen’s harassment and plunder on their own lands.

Otherwise, even after the Beastmen left, their fiefs would be beyond saving.

Chapter 34: Battle of the Transcendent Legions (Part 2)

Viscount Landa panicked at that moment.

As a Viscount and the County Governor of Coldmountain County, he commanded a force of two thousand three hundred soldiers. After the Beastmen invasion began, many slaves were conscripted, raising the number of soldiers under his direct command to ten thousand.

With the defensive line established, all the nobles in Coldmountain County sent their troops into the city. A single Baron or Pioneer Knight could muster four or five hundred soldiers. Although the vast majority of these were slave armies, the total number of soldiers within Coldmountain City reached fifty thousand.

With an army of fifty thousand, Viscount Landa was confident he could defend the city. As long as Coldmountain City was safe, he had already decided that he would absolutely not send troops out as reinforcements, regardless of whether other counties were in trouble.

But now, facing an army of tens of thousands of Black Goatmen, along with several thousand Black Goat Cavalry, he no longer knew if his city was still safe.

“In past Beastmen invasions, they only ever plundered the lands around the cities. It should be fine, right?”

A noble voiced Viscount Landa’s own thoughts, articulating the fear that gripped them all.

Previously, they had been worried about their own fiefs, but now, having abandoned them, they began to wonder if they were even safe within the city walls.

At that moment, many nobles wanted to flee. To hell with Coldmountain County and their fiefs. As long as they survived, their lands would still be theirs. If they died, who knew who their lands would belong to.

“It won’t happen. Even the Black Goatmen can’t just assault the city like this. No matter how skilled their cavalry is, they can’t ride up the city walls,” Viscount Landa said confidently. He wanted to keep these nobles here; otherwise, the fewer troops they had, the more uneasy he would feel.

But he suddenly realized that as soon as he finished speaking, a deathly silence fell around him.

He gulped and looked at the native nobles of Northwind Province.

“The Black Goatmen cavalry… they can really climb walls,” one noble said with utter despair, recalling historical records and legends.

“The Black Goatmen tribes are scattered across the steepest mountain crags in The North. The magnificent Black Goats they raise are bred to find moss on sheer cliffs, and they even prey on antelopes of a similar size.”

Just as the noble finished speaking, the Black Goatmen army outside the city began to move.

Watching the frenzied charge of the Black Goatmen army, Viscount Landa’s eyes filled with despairing terror.

…

Within just three days, eighty percent of the lord’s fiefs in the entirety of Coldmountain County had been overrun by Beastmen. This news reached the Frozen Soil Fief on the eighth day.

The twenty Flying Wolf Cavalry that Count Winter had dispatched to Coldmountain County were originally meant to relay messages, but they ended up becoming the last straw for Viscount Landa and the others to grasp.

News of the Black Goatmen cavalry, the Goat Cavalry, had thus spread throughout Northwind Province.

“Legend has it that in the Black Goatmen Beastman tribes, only the most valiant Beastman warriors receive the blessing of Baphomet, the god they worship. Their strength is greatly enhanced, enabling them to ride the magnificent Black Goats and become warriors.”

“In a tribe of a thousand, it would be impressive to have thirty to fifty Black Goatman Warriors.”

“Ten thousand…”

Ryan was also starting to panic now. Could it be that all the Black Goatmen tribes in The North had been unified?

The infighting among Beastmen was far more primitive and savage, largely because many of them were linked by the food chain.

For example, when the Beastmen invaded Northwind Province from the south, Ryan believed their numbers were around seven or eight hundred thousand, nearly a million strong.

But as they marched south, the number of these Beastmen would plummet. The lowest among them, like the Ratmen or the Honey Pot Tribe, would often be eaten completely along the way.

These Beastmen races could potentially become very powerful, but they all had a fatal flaw.

In a land perennially covered in wind and snow, they lacked sufficient food. Without food, it was impossible to form massive tribes.

This was also what Ryan couldn’t understand. How on earth did the Black Goatmen unify from scattered, individual tribes into a great one?

But there was no point in exploring that now, because ten thousand Black Goatman Warriors had already appeared in Northwind Province.

“Sigh.”

Ryan discovered that he was, it seemed, still not powerful enough.

Throughout all of Northwind Province, Ryan knew of only two forces—likely the only two—that could deal with this army of Black Goatman Warriors.

One was the Flying Wolf Cavalry under the command of Count Winter, the Provincial Governor of Northwind Province. This cavalry consisted entirely of Great Horned Flying Wolves, each with a pair of fleshy wings, paired with three thousand Knights who rode them. They were said to be invincible throughout Northwind Province.

The other was Count Soron’s five thousand Dragon’s Blood Warriors. Legend said that the ancestor of every Dragon’s Blood Warrior had bathed in the blood of a great dragon, creating a special Dragon’s Blood Warrior bloodline. They were renowned as heavy infantry throughout the entire empire.

According to the old legends of Northwind Province, the Soron family had even venerated a dragon several hundred years ago.

After so many years, the Dragon’s Blood Warrior bloodline should have thinned, but regardless, they were still a Transcendent Legion.

Without relying on these two families, dealing with the Black Goatman Warriors would require paying a price at least ten times as great.

And the most terrifying part wasn’t even that. The Black Goatmen were intelligent. Their army of warriors would certainly be protected by a vast number of Black Goatmen on foot.

“If that’s the case, then Count Soron was right back then. We should have taken the initiative to attack on the Fragrant Mountain Plains.”

“Aside from Northwind City, none of the other county seats in Northwind Province will be able to stop the Black Goatmen’s advance.”

Just as Ryan suspected, once the ten thousand Black Goatman Warriors appeared in Northwind Province and the various nobles gradually learned about such a Transcendent Legion, they all began to curse Viscount Hogg.

If they had listened to Count Soron back then, the Transcendent Legions of the two Counts could have fought together. Combined with the military strength of the entire province, they might have been able to bury the Black Goatman Warriors in the Fragrant Mountain Plains.

But was that still possible now?

The Beastmen had already appeared all over Northwind Province. How could they possibly think of gathering their forces now?

No matter where they gathered, another group of lords would be forced to abandon all their wealth and territory.

“Governor Count Winter, say something!”

In Northwind City, Viscount Landa glared angrily at Count Winter, slamming his palm on the table and leaving two large handprints.

He didn’t care about offending Count Winter right now.

Many people from his fief had escaped the Beastmen’s pursuit and were now hiding in the strongholds of Coldmountain County. Only if Count Winter dispatched the Flying Wolf Cavalry to deal with the Black Goatman Warrior legion could Coldmountain County be reclaimed.

“Viscount Landa, mind your station!”

Count Winter looked coldly at Viscount Landa, but he also indicated that he would not sit idly by.

After all, he would ultimately bear a great deal of responsibility for this matter. With so many nobles dead or injured, their complaints could pile up high enough to form a mountain in the Imperial Senate.

“I will send the Flying Wolf Cavalry to intercept the Black Goatman Warriors. At the same time, I will dispatch fifty thousand soldiers to follow them.”

“But Miuya Soron, that old fool, still hasn’t given me a reply.”

Count Winter’s eyes held a vicious glint.

“That old fool is unwilling to let the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion follow and protect the Flying Wolf Cavalry. How many of my soldiers will have to die to eliminate that Black Goatman Warrior legion?” Count Winter roared in a low voice. Compared to helping Viscount Landa and the other nobles reclaim their lands, he was far more concerned about his own military losses.

Viscount Landa looked at Count Winter, and suddenly, the Viscount calmed down.

He wants to be paid?

He understood Count Winter’s meaning. Among nobles, everything was a transaction of interests, even when it came to driving out the Black Goatmen and reclaiming the empire’s territory.

“I will go persuade Count Soron to dispatch the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion,” Viscount Landa said through gritted teeth. He knew that Count Soron was probably waiting as well, waiting for lords like him, whose lives were threatened, to offer up sufficient benefits.

Chapter 35: The Battle of Transcendent Legions (Part 2)

Hearing Viscount Landa’s words, Count Winter shook his head.

“It’s not enough.”

“That old codger is as greedy as a dragon. It won’t be easy to move him.”

He was speaking of Count Soron, but he was also telling Viscount Landa that he would not accept a single coin less than what Count Soron received.

“One million gold coins, plus three hundred thousand catties of refined iron,” Viscount Landa said, staring at Count Winter. One million gold coins was as much as the Empire allocated to Northwind Province for its development fund each year.

Three hundred thousand catties of refined iron was also incredibly valuable, but for the mineral-rich Northwind Province, this part of the deal seemed more reasonable.

Count Winter looked at Viscount Landa. “Do you have any idea how many gold coins my Winter Family spends on the army each year, especially on the Flying Wolf Cavalry?”

“Do you know how many Gold Punks I lose for every one that dies?”

Count Winter was genuinely furious. Viscount Landa was only willing to offer a million gold coins and three hundred thousand catties of refined iron.

“Six hundred thousand gold coins, plus one hundred fifty thousand catties of wrought iron.”

Viscount Landa’s offer had paradoxically decreased. He stared intently at Count Winter.

“For each county, we’ll give you six hundred thousand gold coins and one hundred fifty thousand catties of wrought iron. I’ll go and persuade the other counties, but as for Viscount Hogg in the southernmost Silver Stream County, I can’t say whether he will agree or not.”

There were seven counties in Northwind Province. That meant a total of at least four million gold coins. The number made even Count Winter fall silent.

Although the Empire gave them a development fund of one million gold coins every year, that million had to be distributed among every noble in the province. The amount that ended up in his hands as the Count and Governor was not that much.

Combining the taxes from the Winter Family’s own territory and Northwind City, his annual income in gold coins was only around one million. He might get a bit more in a good year, but in a bad year, he would have to buy grain from the South.

And that was only because he was the Governor. Without that title, his income would drop by at least two or three hundred thousand gold coins.

Over four million, split between himself and Count Soron, was a huge sum. It would allow him to upgrade his Flying Wolf Cavalry legion again. Those Life Potions from the Imperial Merchant Guild were frighteningly expensive.

On the frontiers of the Empire, strength was the only law.

“I’ll give you three days. Go and have those lords sign the pacts. As for Viscount Hogg… you don’t need to worry about him.”

Count Winter knew a great secret: Viscount Hogg’s ancestor was an illegitimate child of the Grand Duke Mayers’s family.

If it meant sixty thousand fewer gold coins, so be it.

“I will have them sign. But the Black Goatmen warriors must be completely annihilated. I have no desire to be sending you millions in wealth again next year.”

“Rest assured,” Count Winter said confidently. “A noble’s honor will guide us to victory.”

Three days later, Count Winter’s Flying Wolf Cavalry and his fifty-thousand-strong army, along with Count Soron’s Dragon’s Blood Warrior heavy armor legion and three thousand cavalry, marched towards Golden Spike County. The Black Goatmen’s warrior legion had already arrived there.

Another half a month passed. Just as the beastman army began its assault on Golden Spike County’s capital, the two counts’ armies finally reached the battlefield.

The war, with over three hundred thousand beastmen against nearly one hundred thousand human soldiers, made many new recruits tremble uncontrollably on the battlefield.

But such soldiers were destined to die there.

Three thousand Flying Wolf Cavalry soared through the sky like ferocious giant birds. Five thousand Dragon’s Blood Warriors, clad in crimson heavy armor, formed a phalanx and charged toward the Black Goatmen legion at the center of the beastman army.

“Hahahaha, these foolish humans! They’ve fallen into our trap!”

In the center of the beastman army, a Black Goatman leader, three meters tall and seated on the most formidable goat mount, laughed aloud. The fine teeth beneath his savage face glinted coldly.

“Charge! Kill all these humans! Northwind Province will be ours!”

Tens of thousands of Black Goatmen and seven or eight thousand Black Goatmen warriors charged toward the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion. They had no formation; no matter how intelligent beastmen were, they were uncontrollably driven by bloodlust in battle.

In just under a minute, the dark tide of the beastman legion crashed into the Dragon’s Blood Warriors. The collision of flesh and blood made roaring dragon cries echo through the sky.

Under the Dragon’s Aura, the regular Black Goatmen following behind their warriors were overcome with terror. The black goats ridden by the warriors trembled violently, and many collapsed to their knees.

On both sides of the battlefield, the beastmen were most affected by the Dragon’s Aura, but there was also considerable unrest among the human forces.

In that moment, the power of the Transcendent Legions was on full display.

“Kill!”

The cold light of spear tips pierced the bodies of the Black Goatmen warriors. Yet, many of the bleeding warriors did not lose their ability to fight. Instead, the sight of blood made them lose their minds, trading it for even more berserk strength.

They tumbled from their mounts, but even standing on the ground, the two goat horn scimitars in their hands stabbed sharply into the gaps of the Dragon’s Blood Warriors’ armor.

A black aura began to emanate from many of the Black Goatmen, and the Dragon’s Blood Warriors on the human side grew equally frenzied. Squires erupted with power comparable to that of official Knights.

The Black Goatmen warriors outnumbered the Dragon’s Blood Warriors, and those further back still had their mounts. They rapidly moved to encircle the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion. But just at that moment, the Flying Wolf Cavalry in the sky shook off the negative effects of the Dragon’s Aura.

The Great Horned Flying Wolves descended from the heavens, carrying immense momentum. Their sharp claws easily tore through the flesh of the Black Goatmen.

The knights on the flying wolves’ backs wielded lances one or two times longer than their own bodies, the immense force directly impaling the Black Goatmen warriors.

A few breaths later, the flying wolves carried their riders back into the sky. This was their greatest advantage: those who flew decided when the battle began.

One could say the Flying Wolf Cavalry was a fatal counter to the Black Goatmen warriors. No matter how agile the beastmen were, they couldn’t match humans in dexterity. The beastmen who were bitten and carried into the sky by the flying wolves needed no further attacks; simply dropping them was enough to kill them.

They couldn’t catch the Flying Wolf Cavalry.

Count Winter knew this well, which was why he had been willing to dispatch his troops directly. He was confident his Flying Wolf Cavalry would suffer few casualties.

On the battlefield, the clash of the three Transcendent Legions was undoubtedly the most eye-catching event. Their strength, several times that of ordinary soldiers, made the surrounding common beastmen and human slave soldiers afraid to even approach. The sight made the blood of many nobles boil with excitement.

“If only I had a Transcendent Legion like that…”

Every noble’s mind was filled with this thought.

However, just as everyone was lost in their fantasies, the members of the Flying Wolf Cavalry, who had flown back into the sky and hadn’t yet prepared for their second dive, began to fall one by one. Pained cries echoed from the backs of the flying wolves.

The more powerful nobles saw faint blue shadows leaping nimbly between the falling wolves, then darting away toward the far side of the battlefield.

Those figures had the heads of blue cats, but their four limbs were more coordinated than those of any beastman. On their backs, they even carried slender rapiers.

“Assassins? Cat-people?” one noble exclaimed in shock. Cat-people assassins had appeared among the beastmen of Northwind Province. How could this weak race of Cat-people possess such terrifying transcendent assassins?

Chapter 36: The Count and the Assassin

Thundercloud County was home to the highest mountains in Northwind Province. Every autumn, thunderclouds would gather above their peaks.

It was hard to imagine that an ancient castle stood upon a peak three to four hundred meters high.

This was the fief of Count Lov Weiss. The Count was also the only noble in Northwind Province who served as a County Governor but did not reside in the county seat of Thundercloud.

He much preferred living in his ancient ancestral castle, a place virtually impossible for any enemy to assault.

But a greater reason was that Count Lov Weiss had secrets that no one could know.

At this very moment, Count Weiss stood against the mountain’s wind and snow, gazing toward the distant north, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“How many years has it been? Who still remembers that the Weiss family were the true masters of this land?”

Before the Pan-Planar War of the Gods, Northwind Province had been part of a realm called the Kingdom of Northgar, a land where it was spring year-round.

And the former royal family of the Kingdom of Northgar was none other than the Weiss family.

But when the Pan-Planar War of the Gods arrived, the Kingdom of Northgar, having followed the Lord of the Dawn, fell into decline after the war ended. The members of the royal family were wiped out completely.

Later, the winds of a harsh winter blew from the north. Nobles migrated south one after another, and in this process, the Kingdom of Northgar bore the brunt of the great armies pressing southward.

The kingdom fell into utter ruin, and even Northwind Province was occupied by the then-Grand Duke of the Northwind.

Lov Weiss was not a direct descendant of that kingdom’s royal line; he was merely from a distant collateral branch of the family.

But even as a member of a branch family, bearing the Weiss name still earned him recognition as a noble.

Years ago, when Grand Duke Mayers attacked Northwind Province, Weiss saw his chance. He was the first to pledge allegiance to the Empire. Riding the Empire’s coattails and using the soldiers he was granted, Lov Weiss became one of the three counts of Northwind Province.

But what no one expected was that on his path to becoming a count, Count Weiss had crossed the Fragrant Mountain Plains into the North, where he found the inheritance left behind by the former Kingdom of Northgar.

The kingdom’s legacy consisted of only two things. The first was a crown, which held the Godhood of a Thunder Giant—a being infinitely close to a god—that the Kingdom of Northgar had slain during the Divine War.

That battle had cost the Kingdom of Northgar over seventy percent of its army, which led to the series of events that followed.

The second part of the inheritance was the training method for the Cat-people assassins, a favorite of the royal court of Northgar.

During the Pan-Planar War of the Gods, the internal strife within the various kingdoms of the continent was brutal, and assassination was the most efficient and least costly method of conflict.

Count Weiss was clever. Perhaps he was the first to use a disreputable group like assassins on the battlefield.

But the results were remarkable.

“With the help of the Cat-people assassins, the Black Goatmen Warriors should inflict heavy casualties on those two, hahahahaha.”

Count Weiss held a glass of red wine, a product of the Empire’s South. It was said that a great deal of grain was needed to produce it.

“The Empire truly has so many fine things.”

“A pity…”

A flicker of conflict crossed Weiss’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by unwavering determination.

“A count is, after all, just a count. I will become the king of Northwind Province.”

His eyes grew fanatical, and the crown on his head was a clear testament to his ambition.

He wanted Northwind Province to suffer a total collapse while fending off this year’s Beastmen invasion, allowing the Beastmen to ravage the land.

That way, he could use the network he had cultivated within the Empire over the years to push that matter forward once again.

Within the Empire, many nobles saw no value in Northwind Province. They had proposed carving it off several times.

In truth, Weiss understood the motives of those nobles. They were acting for the benefit of Flying Wing Canyon. As long as Northwind Province remained imperial territory, the existence of Flying Wing Canyon was largely redundant. A faction of imperial nobles, such as Grand Duke Mayers, had even proposed dispatching the troops from Flying Wing Canyon to garrison the Fragrant Mountain Plains in Northwind Province.

This was the political struggle within the Empire over its northeastern corner, but clearly, Grand Duke Mayers had lost.

However, the other faction of nobles had not won either. Their repeated proposals to sever Northwind Province had come to nothing. As one of the Empire’s four Grand Dukes, Mayers also possessed a powerful network.

This situation did not serve Count Weiss’s interests at all. He wanted to restore his kingdom; he wanted Northwind Province to become his own realm, the Kingdom of Weiss.

As long as Northwind Province was imperial territory, he wouldn’t dare make a move. The first step, therefore, was to make the Empire abandon Northwind Province, turning it into a no-man’s-land. At that point, how could two counts whose Transcendent Legions had been decimated possibly be a match for him?

At this thought, Count Weiss couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Faint sparks of lightning crackled around his body.

“Once Northwind Province suffers a major defeat, the Empire will see a million gold coins a year washed down the drain. They will see that rebuilding Northwind Province would require even more money. One million gold coins a year would be far from enough—it would take at least three million, or even five million. The great nobles would never agree to that, and even the Royal Family would hesitate.”

“And when Northwind Province is cut off by the Empire, this land will belong to me, to Lov Weiss.”

Count Weiss laughed heartily. For the sake of his dream of a kingdom, he was even willing to have his Cat-people assassins aid the Beastmen.

But he couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. Count Winter’s Flying Wolf Cavalry was an exceptionally rare aerial unit. Even the Empire had few legions capable of flight.

“Apia, your Cat-people assassins won’t disappoint me, will they?”

Count Weiss murmured. From the shadows of the mountain forest behind him, a blue-furred Cat-people assassin leaped out.

“My Lord Count, once we Cat-people assassins lock onto a target, we never fail.”

“Never? You failed just last year.”

Count Weiss snorted coldly.

“You couldn’t even kill a child, yet you dare claim you never fail? If that baron from House Clayton had died in Northwind Province, would I, the Count, even need to make deals with those idiotic Beastmen?”

“If the Clayton boy had died on his fief, the Empire would have had to re-evaluate the worth of Northwind Province by the end of the year. It would have also dragged Count Clayton and the Royal Family into the mire.”

“Then, even if Grand Duke Mayers didn’t want to give up Northwind Province, he would have faced immense pressure and been forced to compromise.”

Apia lowered his head. He didn’t know why the mission had failed either. The assassin who returned had clearly told him the boy was as dead as could be.

“Then, my Lord, should we make another attempt? I guarantee it will not fail this time.”

An immense force, crackling with lightning, struck the slender cat-person. Count Weiss stared down at the Cat-person slave with a grim expression.

“Count Clayton has already returned to the heart of the Empire. Do you want to drag a powerful count into the affairs of the North?”

“It’s too late to kill him now.”

“You had better pray that your Cat-people assassins’ transcendent training methods don’t steer this war in a direction I do not wish to see.”

“As you command.” Apia knelt on the ground in terror.

Chapter 37: Terrifyingly Strong

“Assassins.”

When Ryan of the Frozen Soil Fief received the news, it came alongside the rout of the Flying Wolf Cavalry and the over fifteen hundred casualties suffered by the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion.

Fewer than two thousand of Count Winter’s Flying Wolf Cavalry survived. If not for their ability to fly and the Knights’ quick reactions, the casualties would have been even higher.

As for the Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion, their losses were greater due to their lack of mobility.

The Black Goatmen Warrior legion also lost more than half its number, but the remaining three to four thousand Beastmen warriors were still enough to strike fear into the hearts of the nobles in Northwind Province.

His eyes narrowed as he read the description of the assassins in the letter.

They were blue-furred Cat-people who wielded rapiers like humans, hid in the shadows, and struck with fatal precision.

“So, I’ve finally found you.”

Ryan hadn’t forgotten that his predecessor had been killed by assassins.

“The Cat-people are so weak that any other Beastmen could bully them. How could they possibly possess such powerful transcendent abilities? Who is behind this?”

Ryan’s mind first ruled out the Cat-people themselves, as well as Count Winter and Count Soron.

Both Counts’ Transcendent Legions had suffered heavy losses; it was impossible that they had staged it themselves.

It couldn’t be the Beastmen either. If those Beastmen had such cunning, they could have been self-sufficient in the North. Why would they bother invading the South?

Among the remaining possibilities, the nobles from the southern Empire were also unlikely. It would be impossible to send so many assassins to Northwind Province without any word getting out. Therefore, it had to be a noble from within Northwind Province.

“Count Lov Weiss is the most likely suspect. As for the viscounts, it probably isn’t Viscount Miles. If he had such a group of assassins, Viscount Dragon would have been dead long ago.”

“The possibilities are narrowing.”

Ryan considered the possibilities, viewing all nobles with suspicion. In the end, his suspicions fell squarely on Count Weiss.

This Count was the most suspicious.

“If it really is Count Weiss, then he might have a Transcendent Legion under his command as well.”

Returning his thoughts to the situation in Northwind Province, Ryan knew that many people would likely not survive the winter.

But what Ryan hadn’t expected was that the first to fall would be Viscount Miles.

After fighting Count Winter’s and Count Soron’s Transcendent Legions to a standstill in Golden Spike County, the Black Goatmen Warrior legion surprisingly led tens of thousands of Black Goatmen to Zerodu County.

It had to be said that the Miles Family, as befitted a noble house with a lineage stretching back several hundred years, still had deep reserves. At a critical moment, they produced a dozen or so magic scrolls, inflicting over a thousand casualties on the Black Goatmen Warrior army.

Viscount Miles himself was surprisingly an Archmage, just one step away from becoming a Magus.

This stunned many in Northwind Province, especially Viscount Dragon, who was incredibly relieved that the old codger was on his last legs.

In the subsequent attacks, the Black Goatmen ravaged more than half of Zerodu County, and over half of the local nobles suffered heavy casualties.

Fortunately, Zerodu City was not breached, so the nobles themselves were in no danger. It became the only county in Northwind Province where not a single noble died.

But the Beastmen’s rampage continued. After their Transcendent Legions suffered heavy losses, Count Winter and Count Soron had already withdrawn them to their own fiefs, completely unwilling to send them out again to deal with the Black Goatmen Warrior legion.

However, thanks to Viscount Miles, this transcendent Beastmen army had also suffered severe losses. The remaining Black Goatmen stopped targeting cities and instead scattered to plunder the castles and manors of minor nobles.

Speaking of which, Ryan was actually partly responsible for Zerodu County being besieged by the Black Goatmen army.

The Black Goatmen, confident in their own great intelligence, had sent out scouts to head south and find which noble had the most grain.

And it just so happened that at that time, Ryan had sold this piece of information to Viscount Miles.

This led Viscount Miles and the merchant guilds following his lead in Zerodu City to start buying up massive quantities of grain, stockpiling all the surplus in the city to profit from the war. Naturally, this could not be hidden from the Black Goatmen scouts who were specifically looking for it.

And so, the Black Goatmen tribes ended up attacking Zerodu City.

In short, the supposedly mutual defense line of Northwind Province had become a joke, with everyone fighting for themselves, county by county.

Then, half a month later, news arrived that another county’s city had fallen to the Beastmen. This time, there was no Flying Wolf Cavalry to evacuate anyone. Everyone in the city, including dozens of nobles and Viscount Skinner himself, was completely wiped out.

Once this news spread, all the nobles in Northwind Province could no longer sit still.

With so many nobles dead—not to mention the fact that they were all in this together—they would be utterly unable to answer to the Empire.

Count Winter’s Flying Wolf Cavalry and Count Soron’s Dragon’s Blood Warrior legion assembled once more to hunt down the Black Goatmen Warrior legion. In reality, however, it was the ordinary cavalry who did the actual fighting against the Beastmen warriors.

Only the cavalry could keep up with the Black Goatmen. The Flying Wolf Cavalry had too little stamina; by the time they reached the battlefield, the fight was already in its middle or late stages.

Fortunately, after a pursuit lasting more than twenty days, the majority of the remaining two thousand-plus Black Goatmen Warriors were killed or wounded. Of the nearly one hundred thousand Black Goatmen in Northwind Province, at least half were dead.

Other Beastmen suffered even worse losses. But for the Beastmen tribes, population was a burden to begin with; they had come south to plunder grain and cull their numbers.

The ravaged lands of Northwind Province finally saw the arrival of February of the new year.

The Beastmen began to gradually retreat, and the human lords began to counterattack, hunting them down.

It wasn’t out of anger or for honor. It was because the Beastmen, on their retreat to the North, had taken too much wealth that should have been theirs. They wanted to reclaim their riches.

During this pursuit of the Beastmen, Ryan’s Frozen Soil Fief finally had a chance to participate.

However, unlike the other nobles who gave chase, he chose interception.

“I absolutely will not allow a single threatening Beastman to enter my territory! Brand, assemble the troops! Find every last Beastman in these mountains. Kill any who resist, and enslave the ones you capture!”

Ryan rode his warhorse across the plain at the foot of Rhino Horn Peak. As the temperature rose, the snow here began to melt, and he could finally see a touch of life’s color in his domain.

With nearly a hundred soldiers, plus seven to eight hundred serfs, Ryan’s self-proclaimed thousand-man force began to sweep through the surrounding mountains.

He also took the opportunity to map the areas in every direction.

However ferocious and cruel the Beastmen had been during their invasion south, they were now timid and weak with their bellies full and grain on their backs. Faced with the humans’ encirclement, their first thought was not to fight to the death, but to flee and hide.

This left Ryan rather speechless, but he continuously took advantage of the situation. The number of Beastmen slaves in the Frozen Soil Fief gradually grew from three or four hundred to eight or nine hundred, and then to over a thousand.

Another half-month passed. By the time the snow across Northwind Province had mostly melted, Ryan found it difficult to spot any more Beastmen heading back to the North near his fief.

By this point, the number of Beastmen slaves under his command had exceeded two thousand.

So many Beastmen caused a sense of panic to spread through the Frozen Soil Fief, so much so that Ryan couldn’t even find time to visit the other plane.

With the thought that their food should not be wasted, Ryan waved his hand and put the Beastmen slaves to work on the routes he had previously surveyed.

“Send them to build roads! Remember to find a place to pile up the excavated soil. Since we can’t find suitable farmland, we’ll create our own!”

“Don’t go easy on those Beastmen. Work them to death.”

Beastmen ate more than humans to begin with. Ryan dreaded to think if his granaries could even last a month if none of these Beastmen died.

Thinking of granaries, Ryan’s gaze fell upon the tall silos at the foot of Rhino Horn Peak, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased.

He also had to thank the Beastmen for retreating through his territory, which had not only allowed him to gain over two thousand slaves but also more than twenty thousand gold coins, over two hundred thousand catties of grain, and other luxury goods like handicrafts and gems.

In an instant, Lord Ryan’s pockets were full again.

As he patrolled his territory on his warhorse, Ryan was, in fact, waiting.

He wanted to see if the assassins who had tried to kill him before would make another attempt now that their mission had failed.

That was why he was completely alone right now, without even Brand by his side.

Because Ryan had discovered he was now terrifyingly strong.

His hand holding the reins tightened slightly, and the warhorse beneath him couldn’t help but shudder for a moment, even though it had endured this terrifying aura many times over the past few days.

Scorching air exhaled from Ryan’s nostrils, hot enough to soften leather upon contact. If dry firewood were in front of him, it could even be ignited directly.

Ryan had tested it. His strength was such that he could easily lift a millstone over his head with one hand, feeling almost no pressure.

The reason for all this was rather miraculous: the Clayton Family’s Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method he practiced had broken through to the level of a formal Knight.

It was strange. His physique was already that of a formal Knight, yet he had managed to break through a second time.

It was as if the physique enhancement from the Blessing of the Deer Spirit on his Spirituality panel, and the Deer Spirit Knight Breathing Method he could also practice, didn’t overlap at all with the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method. He could even cultivate both breathing methods simultaneously.

But after experimenting for a few days, Ryan discovered something different.

It seemed his body still instinctively cultivated the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method, but the supplementary effect from the Spirituality panel allowed him to practice a second one.

The two methods didn’t conflict at all. It was just that because Ryan’s physique was already at the level of a formal Knight, this breakthrough didn’t provide much of a physical enhancement.

Most of the enhancement came from the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method on a spiritual level.

After the breakthrough, Ryan felt like an apex predator. Anyone who faced him would feel a deep-seated fear welling up from within.

In battle, this effect could significantly reduce an enemy’s performance, allowing for an easy victory.

In short, the five or six other Knights in his territory, excluding Brand, were no match for Ryan even if they ganged up on him.

Chapter 38: An Inheritance, a Winter Late

The weather was gradually warming. Standing on the summit of Rhino Horn Peak, Ryan gazed into the distance. Snow had already vanished from many places.

There were currently no soldiers in the fief, as they had all been dispatched to supervise the slaves building the road.

Cutting through mountains to forge a path was an extremely dangerous task, and many beastmen had died or been injured over the past month.

But the more who died, the faster the road was built. The rebellion Ryan had anticipated had not once occurred.

He didn’t know if it was because the soldiers’ whips were painful enough or because the grain he gave the slaves was considered plentiful.

“I wonder if we can finish a complete road before this batch of beastmen dies out.”

Ryan stood on Rhino Horn Peak and looked south. He could already see large clearings in the mountain forest, marking the way towards Northwind Province.

As Ryan stood watching on the mountain, Viscountess Wittman’s figure slowly approached. In the still somewhat chilly wind, the Viscountess, whose belly had begun to swell, shivered slightly.

“Why have you come, my lady?” Ryan asked. Considering his own talent for meditation, the Viscountess’s value had plummeted. He had arranged for her to teach the maids literacy and arithmetic.

“Lord Ryan, I would like to move down the mountain.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You still have to teach them. Living down the mountain would be quite inconvenient.”

As a fellow noble, Ryan still respected the Viscountess. The heat-of-the-moment fantasies he once had had gradually cooled during his time managing the beastmen slaves.

Now, looking at her slightly bulging belly and her enhanced charm due to her pregnancy, Ryan almost instinctively wanted to refuse.

The Viscountess didn’t quite know how to explain. The weather had warmed recently, and she had gone down the mountain a few times, always catching wind of embarrassing rumors.

“My staying on the mountain is not good for your reputation, Lord Ryan.”

Before Ryan could say anything, the old steward, Baird, who was walking over from nearby, spoke in a slightly hoarse voice.

“The Viscountess is right. Young Master Ryan still has to marry. With spring here, the merchant caravans from the South will gradually head north. It’s best to avoid rumors.”

“I will have a small manor built at the nearest spot at the foot of the mountain. The Viscountess can live there then. If the Young Master wishes to practice magic meditation, it will still be a short trip up the mountain.”

Hearing Baird’s words, the Viscountess’s face flushed. Ryan, for his part, had nothing more to say.

After the Viscountess left, Ryan looked at the old steward.

“How are those children? Are they able to learn?”

Baird nodded. Ever since the fief’s population had started to grow, the old steward had found himself increasingly overwhelmed. Ryan had directly told him to select a group of clever youths and teach them how to read, write, and especially do arithmetic. After Ryan personally reformed the lessons, those youths had been advancing by leaps and bounds.

“Sigh, this sort of thing should have been left to members of the Clayton Family willing to follow the Young Master to the North. Only they can be trusted. Now, we’re letting this bunch of mud-legs get off easy.”

“You don’t know, Young Master Ryan, but every time this bunch of mud-legs finds out they’re going to be taught something new, they look as if they want to carve the words onto their own hands.”

“Eagerness to learn is a good thing,” Ryan said with a smile, unconcerned about knowledge spreading to commoners.

“This way, you can also have it easier. Spring is here, and your old bones aren’t what they were when we first arrived in the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“Sigh,” Baird lamented.

“I’d rather work myself to death than have those mud-legs get a chance to meddle in the Young Master’s fief.”

“Don’t worry. They’re very loyal to me, and they can’t become my steward anyway. That position belongs to Baird.”

Ryan smiled. They were indeed very loyal. No one in the entire Frozen Soil Fief, including the slaves, was disloyal. Over the past month, Northwind Province had been an utter mess. In times like these, the amount of grain Ryan provided was enough to make the slaves weep aloud.

The clever youths Baird had selected were chosen from among the most loyal of the loyal.

Hearing Ryan’s words, Baird was somewhat moved, but then his eyes couldn’t help but fill with worry.

“That boy of mine, detained at Flying Wing Canyon… I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“Flying Wing Canyon has been safe for so many years; people don’t die there that easily.”

Ryan patted old Baird’s shoulder.

“I’ve already sent someone to look for him. If your son is alive, they’ll definitely bring him back.”

When Ryan had traveled from the Imperial Capital to Northwind Province, his money and manpower had dwindled along the way. The old steward’s son, Young Baird, had been detained at Flying Wing Canyon.

As the road construction continued, the time for spring planting arrived. Fewer and fewer people remained in the village at the foot of Rhino Horn Peak. The commoners were already spending their nights in the fields, ready to fight over a single bird dropping that fell from the sky.

In Northwind Province, countless displaced people either became slaves or returned to their homes only to find nothing left.

For a time, the entire province was filled with wails of misery. It was likely that in the days to come, more and more people would become slaves.

The more slaves there were, the lower their price. The merchant guilds of the Empire, like vultures spotting a rotting corpse, arrived in Northwind Province a full half-month ahead of schedule.

As chance would have it for Ryan, a group of people connected to him arrived in Northwind Province along with these merchant caravans.

“Young Master! Young Master Ryan, I’ve finally found you!”

In the Frozen Soil Fief, a youth a year or two older than Ryan, his hair looking as if he hadn’t had a chance to wash or comb it, came running towards him, sobbing. He had been brought by Rosen.

It was the old steward’s son, Young Baird.

“You’ve… been released?”

Ryan was a little surprised, as by his calculations, the people he had sent should not have reached Flying Wing Canyon yet.

“Thanks to you, Young Master Ryan, the lords of the Clayton Family brought me out with them.”

Only then did Ryan see the procession behind Baird.

Over a hundred magnificent warhorses, their manes flowing like a lady’s silk hair ribbon. These were not Highland Warhorses but prairie steeds from further south, not native to the Empire.

There were also twenty carriages, each loaded with seven or eight oak chests. Judging by the strain on the wheels, they were likely filled with metal goods. Of course, one of the carriages was not for cargo but was a luxury vehicle meant for nobles. Its tall wheels were actually rimmed with a layer of silver, and the surface of the carriage itself was inscribed with expensive magic arrays, glowing like a red rose, yet with a restrained light.

The two white steeds pulling the carriage made Ryan squint—they were demonic beasts.

Demonic beasts, no matter how weak, controlled magic and were at least comparable to a Bronze Knight. Even official Knights needed to form a party to hunt one.

Besides these, there were one hundred and fifty soldiers in full armor, holding longspears, guarding the convoy. They were led by five scions of the Clayton Family.

These were the very people the old steward had spoken of, those who could be truly trusted to help him manage the fief. But these few clearly seemed more suited for the army.

All five of them were Bronze Knights, and they practiced the Clayton Family’s Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method.

“Young Master Ryan, the Count has ordered us to deliver your soldiers and fortune into your hands.”

“In total, there are fifty thousand gold coins, ten sets of enchanted mithril armor, one hundred knight’s lances, one hundred sets of knight’s armor, five hundred catties of grain seeds, one thousand five hundred bolts of linen cloth, a mammoth-down cloak that the Count brought back from the depths of the North, a Clayton Family carriage, one hundred and fifty knight’s attendants, and five Clayton Family knights.”

Chapter 39: Brand Establishes His Authority

Hearing Harrington Clayton’s voice, even Ryan couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

The wealth he had painstakingly amassed over several months was less than half the value of this convoy.

Was this the terrifying fortune held by the most powerful noble families of the Empire?

Ryan believed that these provisions were standard for any baron from the Clayton Family, enough to surpass ninety percent of the barons in the Empire, yet they were insignificant to the Clayton County family as a whole.

With resources like these, even if a baron was corrupt and wasteful, his barony would still be powerful at the time of his death; decline would be virtually impossible.

Goods worth two hundred thousand gold coins were laid out before Ryan, but he did not feel much excitement.

He would have been able to obtain all of this on his own, sooner or later.

But it had to be said, doing it himself would have taken a considerable amount of time, which was a far cry from having it all appear before him in an instant.

Moreover, the moment he saw these things, Ryan knew his status had changed.

Not just in the circle of the Empire’s nobility, but especially among the nobles of Northwind Province.

The appearance of these resources in Baron Ryan’s fief meant that Count Clayton, now returned to the Empire, was accepting the way the other nobles had quashed his achievements in his absence.

For his deeds—marching thousands of kilometers into the North, shattering a Mammoth-kin tribe, and bringing back Godhood—he had been awarded a mere barony, and a barony in Northwind Province at that. It was now clear that Count Clayton did not intend to dispute this.

In that instant, the status of Ryan Clayton, once an ordinary and overlooked figure among Count Clayton’s children, was no longer the same.

He was not just a baron; suppressed beneath that title was a sky-high pile of merit.

At this thought, Ryan suddenly looked up and laughed, gazing at the brilliant sunlight.

He would show those nobles that making him a baron would be the greatest mistake of their political struggle.

…

Harrington Clayton was somewhat shocked, and so were the other four Claytons beside him.

Before they arrived, they had learned that Ryan Clayton was the most obscure of the Count’s dozen or so children. His fief, the Frozen Soil Fief, was on the Empire’s northernmost frontier, a land in the North perpetually covered by winter and snowstorms, with no room for development whatsoever.

They had prepared for the worst. After all, within the Clayton Family, no one dared to defy the Count, let alone people like them who merely bore the Clayton name but were essentially the Count’s servants.

But it seemed the Frozen Soil Fief was developing much better than they had imagined.

Moreover, the barracks’ training ground was made of the finest timber. The paddocks for the Highland Warhorses used carefully selected soil, painstakingly gathered bit by bit, rather than just being some random patch of land that would cause severe wear on the warhorses’ hooves. The iron training equipment was also clearly made with great care, likely the product of strict supervision.

What astonished Harrington the most was the suit of iron armor hanging right in the center of the wall.

The armor was more exquisitely crafted than his own. With an eye educated by his noble family, he could discern that each joint was composed of numerous small parts, allowing a Knight greater flexibility in battle. Then there was the chainmail inner layer over the chest, which resembled a fine fishing net; it provided defense without the constricting and oppressive feeling of other armors.

A Knight’s heart was his most active organ, and a design like this was more suitable for a Knight than any other armor.

The helmet’s visor featured a narrow, cross-shaped slit that didn’t extend to the edges, instilling a sense of awe in Harrington the moment he saw it.

It was as if a majestic, solemn Knight was standing right before him.

“There can’t be many suits of armor like this, can there?” Harrington said, a little stunned.

“Of course not. It took ten blacksmiths a month and a half of hammering just to make this one.”

A voice suddenly came from behind them. Harrington and the others spun around, startled that they hadn’t noticed anyone approach.

Brand stood with his arms crossed, looking at the five of them.

“My Lord said you’ll be the soldier commanders under me from now on. I’d like to see what you’re made of.”

“What?”

Hearing Brand’s words, Harrington’s face flushed crimson. He had come to the Frozen Soil Fief, yet under a baron from his own Clayton Family, he wouldn’t be the supreme commander of the army?

In an instant, humiliation and his knightly dignity became unbearable. He drew the longsword from his waist.

“I challenge you to a duel, a duel to the death!”

“Let’s skip the duel to the death. You’re a Clayton, and My Lord certainly wouldn’t want you to die.”

With that, Brand walked outside. “The five of you. If any one of you can beat me, the position of Legion Commander is yours.”

On Rhino Horn Peak, Ryan watched with intrigue the fight in the barracks below, which was now surrounded by the one hundred and fifty newly arrived soldiers.

“You think they can win?”

Old Baird and Young Baird stood behind Ryan. The old steward smiled without a word, but Young Baird hesitated.

“Mr. Harrington and the others are Knights trained by the Clayton Family, and they practice the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method. They shouldn’t lose, right?”

He had no idea where this Brand fellow had come from.

“Is that so?” Ryan said with a smile, his eyes fixed on the battle below.

—

“Come!”

The Spirit of the Stag roared. Crimson Battle-qi erupted from Brand’s body, showing no fear of the blazing, flame-like Battle-qi. He threw his fists toward Harrington with tremendous force.

Flame Dragon Breath. A faint wisp of air, like a dragon’s breath, escaped Harrington’s lips.

His skin took on a dark luster. He was confident he could withstand not just fists of flesh and blood, but even a great metal shield.

The two immense forces collided. Both men were surprised. Brand was surprised that someone could match his strength, but Harrington’s shock was of a different kind.

He was stunned that Brand’s strength could equal his own.

The Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method, after all, had the ultimate goal of forging a Knight into a human dragon.

And now, some unknown fellow before him was his equal.

The next moment, Harrington realized he was wrong.

Because in that next instant, he saw Brand retreat a dozen meters, then roar and charge back toward him. In that moment, it was as if he saw a ferocious stag ramming into him, a sight completely unlike that of a grass-eating deer.

The world spun, and Harrington was being helped up from the ground. Everyone stared in shock at Brand, who stood in the distance, his vital energy and blood seething with wild power.

Was the Deer Spirit Breathing Technique that powerful? Ryan didn’t think so. It was Brand himself who was powerful.

Any other Knight who practiced the Deer Spirit Breathing Technique would have been no match for Harrington.

“As expected of my guardian knight.”

Chapter 40: The Dying Plane

With over two hundred soldiers now under his command, Ryan found the pressure on his food supplies had grown. But so too had his courage.

In the Baron’s Fortress, Ryan donned the mithril armor with the help of both the elder and younger Baird. In an instant, a majestic and powerful knight stood in the room, completely encased in gleaming metal with not a single gap showing.

Ryan’s vision wasn’t obstructed in the slightest.

Mithril possessed a powerful magic-dampening effect, yet it was also a potent magical material in its own right—the two properties were not at all contradictory. It could block ninety percent of spell damage from anyone less powerful than an Archmage. As a material for enchantments, spells carved and set into mithril would be twice as effective.

This suit of mithril armor had three enchantments: Eagle Eye, Strength Boost, and Aura Burst.

The effects were simple yet powerful. Eagle Eye allowed him to see a moth from a thousand meters away. Strength Boost gave him, a Knight, power comparable to that of a Bronze Knight. Aura Burst allowed a Bronze Knight or higher to unleash their battle-qi with one hundred and twenty percent of its normal power.

This one suit of mithril armor was worth one hundred thousand gold coins.

The remaining nine suits only had the Eagle Eye and Strength Boost enchantments and were valued between five and seven thousand gold coins. But that was the price in the Imperial Capital, a city teeming with powerful mages, alchemists, and all manner of other extraordinary individuals.

So when Ryan said the assets sent by the Count were worth two hundred thousand gold coins, he was actually referring to the price for the Clayton Family. For other nobles, the cost would be anyone’s guess.

As for the carriage, there were no records of it ever being sold, as the Clayton Family had made it for their own nobles. Its manufacturing cost was only a few thousand gold coins, significant because the Clayton Family produced most of the materials themselves.

“Give the remaining suits to Brand and those five from the Clayton family, one for each of them.”

Ryan’s casual generosity shocked the old steward.

“Young Master Ryan, you absolutely cannot do that!” the old steward said, breaking out in a cold sweat. “A suit of mithril armor is something they couldn’t afford even if they sold their lives for it! How can you just give them away?”

On second thought, Ryan realized he was being too casual with these gifts. His last trip to Zerodu City, where he sold all his valuables, had only netted him a little over four thousand gold coins.

Mithril armor was indeed far too precious for Bronze Knights; it was something only Silver Knights would normally aspire to own.

“I was getting ahead of myself,” Ryan muttered, chastising himself. With this sudden windfall, he really didn’t know how to handle it. He would have to be more introspective in the future.

“In that case, never mind,” he said. “Tell them that at the end of the year, we will hold a military tournament. The most powerful knight in the fiefdom will be awarded a suit of mithril armor.”

Despite his self-reflection, Ryan had no intention of keeping such crucial war assets as mere collectibles.

“By the way, Baird.”

Ryan looked at Young Baird.

“I have a mission for you. Northwind Province is in chaos after being pillaged by the Beastmen. I’m giving you a force of one hundred soldiers and three hundred serfs. Go to Northwind Province and purchase slaves for me.”

“Prioritize craftsmen who can raise horses or forge iron. Next, serfs who can farm or tend to orchards. Last are the jacks-of-all-trades, masters of none. Most importantly, do not buy a single slave who has spent years in the mines.”

“Also, we’re currently building roads, and there should be plenty of Beastman slaves in Northwind Province, so buy some of them as well.”

“Here’s thirty thousand gold coins. You have full authority on how to spend it.”

As an afterthought, Ryan handed Baird the discount card from Irina, the steward of Blade Rose.

“As you command,” Baird replied, trembling all over. He had never managed so much gold before and felt a bit dizzy, but he was also filled with determination. He vowed to make every coin he spent yield the value of two.

After Young Baird had left, the old steward hesitated. He, too, was a little agitated, for even he had never managed such a large sum of gold. “Young Master Ryan, I’m afraid the boy won’t be up to the task.”

“I believe he can do it.”

Ryan’s faith was in the training that nobles provided for their stewards and servants, which undoubtedly began in childhood. Beyond that, he wanted to test Young Baird, his future steward, to see if he was truly capable. After all, his own future—the future of Lord Ryan—was destined for far greater things.

What were a few tens of thousands of gold coins? If Baird made a mess of this task, then he would prove himself unfit to be the future steward of the Frozen Soil Fief.

“Go find Brand,” Ryan ordered. The old steward knew what this meant: the Young Master was going to open the Planar Gate again.

Brand brought with him ten soldiers, as well as Harrington and the other four Bronze Knights. Their expressions were identical to those of the first group to make the journey, with Harrington and his men visibly thrilled.

Ryan had never intended to hide his power. It was simply thanks to the unique circumstances of the era and the remote location of the Frozen Soil Fief that his secret had remained completely unexposed.

“We made the right choice coming to the Frozen Soil Fief,” Harrington and his men exchanged glances, a fanatical gleam in their eyes.

For men like them, who could never become nobles themselves, their only path to a limitless future was to follow a lord with a bright one.

The next moment, however, a biting cold wind extinguished the fire in their eyes.

“Hiss… How did it get so cold? Shouldn’t it be warming up?”

The moment they arrived on the Aixneer Continent, Ryan was bewildered. He clearly remembered this plane’s climate being similar to the spring and autumn of his own world. The snow in his Frozen Soil Fief was already melting, yet here, the cold was still bone-chilling.

“The war of the gods has plunged this plane into the dead silence of an eternal winter,” Brand said, his mood heavy. This was his homeland, after all, a world filled with countless stories familiar to him.

“It seems this world is not far from its end,” Ryan sighed. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had absorbed the Deer Spirit, but for whatever reason, the world had been plunged into a deathly, eternal winter.

Even a knight like him, who practiced the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Method, could barely endure such a harsh winter. How could ordinary people possibly survive?

The food stored away in their tents, villages, and ancient fortresses probably marked the limit of their remaining time.

“There are lights in the building up ahead.” Wearing the mithril armor, Ryan could see a great distance; not even the wind and snow could obstruct his vision.

He spotted a tall tower that appeared to be part of a noble’s domain, its lights flickering in the blizzard.

Facing a world on the brink of death, Ryan cast aside all his reservations. He controlled the path to survival for the people here—perhaps the only path.

Chapter 41: So Many Nobles

A group of a dozen or so people walked through the wind and snow and soon arrived in front of a tower. It was a manor.

Lights flickered in the windows, a clear sign that someone had spotted them, but it was too cold outside for anyone to be willing to come out.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Brand slammed his fists hard against the heavy wooden door. It was impossible to tell how long it had been since the door was last opened; under the force of the blows, shards of ice scattered across the ground.

“No need to shout. Let’s just go in.”

As Brand broke down the door and they entered, they were met with no attack.

They walked into the courtyard of this somewhat Gothic-style manor stronghold. When they faced the inner gate, even the Bronze Knight’s strength was of no use.

“What an ingenious design. With just a few latches, a door weighing thousands of catties can be locked tight.”

Just as Ryan finished speaking, he heard a voice from behind the door.

“We have no more food. Go away.”

“We’re not here for food. We’ve come to bring you warmth and food.”

Who would have thought that upon hearing Brand’s words, the people inside would have their expressions change drastically.

“Are you cultists?”

“What cultists?” Brand was a little confused.

“We’re not cultists. Open the door. There are only a few of us, what are you afraid of?”

Ryan stepped forward and said in a grave voice, “I am Viscount Wittman. Open the door!”

Then, after only a few breaths, the door opened.

Seeing Ryan’s figure, the person who opened the door’s face changed drastically. “You are not Viscount Wittman.”

In an instant, more people came forward, weapons in their hands. But it was clear they were not very skilled, as they seemed to be holding their weapons unsteadily.

“While I may not be Viscount Wittman, I am a noble.”

Ryan placed a hand on his faceplate and, in the next moment, removed a diamond-shaped mithril faceplate, revealing a face that was clearly not that of a commoner.

“You…”

The young man who had spoken hesitated, but then said:

“I’ll take you to see the barons.”

Passing through several closed doors, Ryan noticed that the surroundings were much brighter, and there were even soldiers on guard, though they looked listless.

Finally, in a dining hall, Ryan met the local… many nobles.

Yes, there wasn’t just one noble here, but eight of them. They were impeccably dressed, their hair meticulously arranged, but the mush in the exquisite silver plates before them didn’t quite match their status.

“Mashed potatoes?” Ryan was surprised. He had actually seen potatoes. In that instant, he felt a surge of warmth.

This crop should be quite frost-resistant, right?

Sensing Ryan’s fervent gaze, these people thought he was here to steal their food, and one by one, they all quickened their pace.

Only after they had finished everything on their plates did these noble barons finally look at Ryan.

“Who are you? I’ve never known any of the surrounding manors to have a noble like you.”

“I am Ryan, Baron of the Frozen Soil Fief.”

“It seems you gentlemen aren’t faring too well.”

Ryan looked at these barons. Clearly, under the eternal winter, they could only huddle together for warmth.

“Hmph. As if you’re doing any better. In this godforsaken weather, can you even light a fireplace?”

A fireplace? That’s a good suggestion. How did I forget about that?

“Perhaps, I really can.”

Ryan looked at these nobles and asked directly, “How many people do you have here?”

“What do you mean by that?” a baron asked.

“I can take you away from this deadly weather, but let me be clear: once you leave this place, you will lose all your noble titles. From now on, you will be mere commoners.”

However, it was as if the group hadn’t heard the second half of his sentence. One by one, their eyes widened, and they crowded around Ryan.

“Can you really take us to the cities of the magical furnaces in the South?”

“Take me with you, quickly! I’ll give you gold coins—ten thousand gold coins!”

“I have jewels here! They’re all yours, as long as you take me to the South.”

“Stop!”

Ryan cut off everyone’s chatter.

“One at a time. What price are you willing to pay? But first, won’t you introduce yourselves?”

After Ryan spoke, the nobles before him seemed to regain their composure.

“I am Baron Yazhe.”

“Yazhe? What is Viscountess Wittman to you?” Ryan asked.

“Shala? You’ve seen Shala? How is she now? Is she doing well?”

“She… is doing well. She has a courtyard where she can plant flowers and herbs, and she doesn’t have to endure the biting cold winds.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Baron Yazhe relaxed, a little more trust for Ryan growing in him.

After hearing all the barons’ introductions, Ryan continued:

“The place I intend to take you is not the South, but another world. It is my fief.”

“Once you are there, all your titles will be meaningless. No one will recognize you as nobles, even if you do look the part.”

“At best, you’ll be considered wandering nobles. But wandering nobles are not much better off than commoners. So you must understand: if you want to survive, you will no longer be nobles.”

“Everyone here will become my Citizens, including the soldiers who originally belonged to you.”

After hearing what Ryan said, the nobles here were stunned into silence for a long time.

In the end, it was Baron Yazhe who was the first to come to his senses.

“What you’re saying… is it true?”

“I have no reason to lie to you. Besides, your daughter is also in my fief. You’ll be able to see her.”

“Fine. I agree. I will live as a commoner in your fief, but you cannot strip me of my family name.”

“Agreed.”

Ryan nodded, but he couldn’t just trust them on their word.

“Then, swear an oath in the name of the Lord of the Dawn.”

He didn’t know if the Lord of the Dawn’s power extended here, but in the world where the Empire existed, in any place touched by the Lord of the Dawn’s radiance, the price for breaking an oath was absolutely more terrible than death.

Hearing Ryan’s words, one baron couldn’t help but object.

“You can’t strip us of our right to be nobles! I demand that you preserve our status as wandering nobles.”

“My fief has no need for wandering nobles.”

Wandering nobles represented a potential to rally support. What if the commoners believed they could rise again and decided to follow them? That was something Ryan was unwilling to see.

“We are all mage apprentices. How could we possibly become commoners like those mud-legs?”

“We are noble by birth.”

Ryan looked at them with a sense of helplessness. “Fine, let’s each take a step back. I will not allow you to live in my fief as nobles, so you must still swear the oath.”

“However, if you can pay a sufficient price, I can give you a plot of wasteland in the fief and permit you to build your own manors and cultivate the land. But you will have to pay taxes on your manors and harvests.”

“This is my bottom line. I can allow you to become wealthy men. As for your unwillingness to abandon your noble status, have you considered that in another world, who would even know of your nobility?”

“Besides me, who knows your origins, no one will care where you came from. If you claim to be nobles, no one will believe it’s true.”

“Furthermore, allowing you to become manor lords means you will have the right to hire servants, guards, and slaves. In the future, through your own family’s efforts, you will have more opportunities than commoners to obtain a noble title.”

Hearing Ryan’s words, all eight barons fell silent. But as Baron Yazhe took the lead in swearing the oath, they all agreed to Ryan’s proposal.

Chapter 42: Potatoes

After everyone had sworn to renounce their noble status, Ryan looked at them with a sudden thought.

“Now, swear the same oath to the Spirit of the Stag of the Aixneer Continent.”

Although they didn’t quite understand the reason, Baron Yazhe and the others did as they were told.

Ryan checked his Spirituality panel. Well, there was no reaction.

With an oath witnessed by the Lord of the Dawn, it was impossible for these people to have the power to resist him within his territory.

Ryan looked at the surrounding soldiers and maids.

“You all should have heard. You are now my soldiers and slaves.”

The soldiers exchanged glances, then dropped to one knee one by one, swearing their loyalty to Ryan.

“Very good.”

Ryan found a leather stool and sat down, but this time, the former nobles all remained standing, not daring to overstep.

“Are you all Mage apprentices? That makes sense. There’s no longer any possibility of becoming a Knight here.”

“Tell me about the situation here. Are there other noble territories nearby? I’m in great need of people right now.”

“Well… where should I start?”

The others all looked at Yazhe, as if he was the only one with some semblance of a connection to Ryan.

Yazhe paused for a moment before speaking.

“Ryan… My Lord must want to know what else is out there besides us.”

“Then let’s start… from a month ago.”

“A month ago, we were quite prosperous here. We had over eight hundred slaves and more than two hundred soldiers. Besides us, there were five or six other baron lords at the time.”

“There were also four or five other noble territories nearby. Several kilometers to the south, there was a mage tower. They taught us a meditation technique in exchange for gold coins.”

“We don’t know what lies further south, but the mages from the tower said that on the southern coast, there is a Furnace City burning with earthfire, untouched by the ravages of winter.”

“But all that changed one day, a month ago.”

“A cult of evil devil worshippers came to our door. They invited us to make sacrifices to devils in exchange for food and fire. But in reality, they wanted to burn the slaves and even the commoners, then eat them. The fire burned so brightly only because of the rendered fat from the corpses, which drove away the cold.”

“When we refused, they threatened to attack. And among us, those other barons were tempted.”

“They incited all the slaves to open the gates. After eating human flesh, they left with those cultists.”

“We were not willing to eat people, not even if we starved to death. We hid deep within the stronghold, and only came out after they opened the granaries and took all the grain.”

“We tried to seek help from the mage tower, but the place where it stood had been reduced to ruins. A golem had taken it over.”

“So we hid back in the stronghold, until today.”

It was a straightforward tale of apocalyptic survival. Hearing that these people hadn’t resorted to evil deeds even when they ran out of food, Ryan couldn’t help but think more highly of them.

It seemed these people still possessed the pride and beliefs of nobles, even the faith of a Knight.

In a way, those cultists had done the selecting for him.

Even in the face of extreme desperation and hunger, these people had maintained their reason.

“Where did these potatoes come from?”

Ryan asked, gesturing to the clean plates on the table.

“Potatoes? You mean those berries?”

“When we went to the mage tower for help, we didn’t find the mages, but we found these… potatoes. There were a few hundred kilograms of them, all stored there.”

Yazhe pointed behind Ryan. Ryan turned and saw a massive stag statue with a cabinet underneath.

He opened it and took a look. They were indeed potatoes, but he didn’t know what method these people had used to keep them from sprouting when they should have.

Was this normal? Or was it not?

Ryan didn’t know. He only knew from his past life’s memories that in a place called Siberia, potatoes were even more resistant to the cold than people.

To be safe, looking at the potatoes that had clearly been treated somehow, Ryan asked for the location of the mage tower.

“Assemble the soldiers here and set out with me.”

Ryan looked at a soldier standing nearby, then back at Yazhe.

“Use this time to gather your belongings. Don’t forget that you exchanged all your property for this chance. You won’t have an opportunity to return here, so don’t leave anything behind.”

The few of them nodded silently, seemingly not yet recovered from losing both their noble status and all their property.

In the blizzard, Ryan and his Knight’s Attendants followed behind thirty soldiers. What set these soldiers apart was that they were all tied together with ropes.

“Looks like the group back there has these men to thank for having anything to eat.”

Brand said softly. He knew full well what such proficient movements meant in a world where a normal person’s visibility was less than fifty meters.

“They are good soldiers.”

Harrington also spoke up, wanting to compete with Brand in everything.

After walking for about two and a half hours, Ryan finally saw a field of collapsed ruins. A month of biting wind and snow had covered the uneven terrain, and one could only faintly make out the magnificent structure that once stood here.

“This is where we found the potatoes back then.”

A soldier pointed to a corner of the ruins. “The snow wasn’t this thick at the time. There was a furnace over there that seemed to ward off the cold. The potatoes were right there.”

“What about the golem you mentioned?”

Ryan looked around. He couldn’t find any trace of a monster here.

“We… we don’t know.”

A month of relentless snow and wind had drastically changed the place.

“Perhaps it left. Spread out and search carefully, but don’t go too far.”

As soon as Ryan finished speaking, the soldiers dispersed. Their search method was primitive: they probed the depth of the ground beneath the snow bit by bit, then used their bare hands to feel around.

In comparison, the methods of the Clayton Family’s five Bronze Knights were far more convenient. The Flame Dragon Breathing Technique gave them scorching energy, easily melting the surrounding snow.

“My Lord, this seems to be a cellar.”

Harrington called out in pleasant surprise soon after.

After confirming there was indeed a hidden space, Ryan gathered everyone. As the cellar was opened, the pitch-black entrance was somewhat intimidating.

This was a mage’s territory; no one knew if there were any terrifying spells or traps inside.

In the end, it was the soldiers who went in first.

“My Lord, it’s safe down here.”

Once safety was confirmed, Ryan and the others also began to enter the cellar.

An oil lamp was surprisingly still lit in the cellar. By its light, Ryan saw a table with a notebook on it, and in the corner, three chests brimming with sprouted potatoes.

Chapter 43: The Mage’s Notes

After seeing the potatoes, Ryan didn’t pay them much more mind. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

“A mage’s notes are often their greatest treasure. All of their knowledge can be found recorded within.”

“And a mage’s notes aren’t like those of a warlock. A warlock’s notes might be filled with curses, but a mage’s notes are their life’s work, meant to be passed down as a legacy.”

“On the Aixneer Continent, the bards’ favorite tales are of protagonists who find a mage’s notes and become an archmage. Often, just starting such a story is enough to earn a large mug of fragrant fruit wine.”

Ryan picked up the mage’s notes from the table. The first page he opened was filled with scrawled handwriting, and the very first line revealed the mage’s name.

“My name is Melania Luna, one who reveres magic beneath the stars. If a fated person is able to read these notes, it likely means I have already become a failure.”

The female mage, named Melania Luna, recounted her life in a very gentle tone. But the vast majority of it was about her days studying in the southern Furnace City, which were exceedingly dry and dull.

Perhaps every mage went through such a process, one that allowed them to transform the violent essence of magic into their own gentle mana.

The notes also recorded this female mage’s first-ever spell, along with her understanding and experiences in controlling magic. A mage who practiced the same type of magic would likely be ecstatic to read it.

Then came more dry, tedious daily routines, followed by the gradual learning and experimentation with more powerful magic.

The most exciting part of the notes began with the first and only time this Mage Luna left Furnace City.

“I have already become a Grand Magus. To take the next step and become an Archmage, I must have my own mage tower.”

“But the cold and snow brought by the winds of the Great Winter have buried everything. Furnace City relies on geothermal fire to maintain the last vestiges of warmth on this continent, and there are no longer any spare resources to support the construction of my mage tower.”

“But to the north of this southernmost city, within the boundless North, a great deal of wealth must still be buried beneath the wind and snow. Those nobles who didn’t escape to the South in time still possess large amounts of gold that can be used as a medium, and even treasures like mithril and adamantine.”

“This is the only way to become an Archmage, but I have never left Furnace City…”

“I have made my decision. I will go to the North. Only then can I build my own mage tower and have my own magic academy. If I have the chance to become a Saint-rank mage in the future, perhaps I can try to open a Planar Gate, leave this doomed world, and travel to a warm plane without this cold.”

“They all said I was docile and meticulous, but this time, I’ve disappointed them. I am a girl full of adventurous spirit. I wasn’t panicked after leaving Furnace City; on the contrary, I was excited.”

“Perhaps my story will be written into a book, and bards will carry my tales to distant lands.”

“But that’s not what I should be thinking about now. I’ve left Furnace City to search for the countless buried treasures in the North, but first, I must survive in this frozen, snowy land.”

“…”

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t get very far. I returned to a place near Furnace City with the treasures I had found. I cannot go back, lest those people in Furnace City try to take a share of this wealth.”

“I will build my own mage tower here in the North and become an Archmage.”

“In truth, my idea was very naive. Perhaps this is what I’m like, having never experienced things firsthand. I overlooked the fact that one person’s strength is limited. No wonder no one tried to stop me when I left. They knew I would return with treasure, and then they could take a cut.”

“Those damned people, they’re so clever. It took me so much to understand this, yet not a single one of them told me.”

“So, I don’t plan on going back.”

“Furnace City is indeed very warm, but perhaps I am not suited for interacting with people. To build my mage tower here, I must compromise with those nobles on certain things, such as teaching them magic.”

“On a continent where the Spirit of the Stag has disappeared, the power of Knights has also gradually become a thing of the past. The once-renowned Order of the Stag Knights are all buried in the Great Winter.”

“If the nobles want to maintain their status, they must possess other forms of extraordinary power. So, they too are aware of how cruel their exploitation of their own Citizens and Slaves is.”

“In the end, I reached an agreement with those nobles. They arranged for Slaves and soldiers to help me build the mage tower, and in return, I would teach them a meditation technique.”

“Actually, I was also thinking that if I could find a suitable apprentice, perhaps I could take them on as my disciple.”

“But these nobles are all so untalented. It takes them several days just to barely sense the free-floating magical essence, and that’s only because I’ve set up a magic array where the mage tower is located.”

Reading this, Ryan felt a profound sense of malice.

He continued to read.

“The mage tower is built. I will achieve the rank of Archmage here. It will be a long process, but I have long grown accustomed to solitude.”

“I still kept the cellar from back then, which I used to shelter from the snowstorms before the mage tower was built. In those days, the potatoes that could grow in the frozen permafrost sustained me for a long time.”

“…”

“Archmage… it’s so difficult. I think I’m going to fail.”

“I overlooked the fact that the eternal winter of the North causes the magical essence to become dormant. The once-active magical essence now seems almost dead in this Great Winter.”

“I don’t have many magical materials left. I’ve even melted down all the gold. I want to create a flame furnace, but if I do that, I won’t have enough materials left to advance to Archmage.”

“But if I don’t create a flame furnace, I can’t make the surrounding magical essence active, and I won’t be able to become an Archmage.”

“Damn it, why was this never recorded in the academy? Does this mean even ice mages are powerless in the North?”

“My remaining materials are only enough to allow me to choose one path. I am not resigned to this.”

“If I cannot resist the cold, I cannot become an Archmage. And if I cannot activate the magical essence, I will also not succeed. To make matters worse, during the breakthrough process, I cannot leave the mage tower for an extended period, or all my efforts will be wasted.”

“I know I only have one chance. So, I plan to take a risk.”

“I don’t have enough knowledge to develop all types of magic, but in the field of control magic, which I am best at, my golems are the most powerful.”

“I see an opportunity, but if I fail…”

Chapter 44: Demonic Beast

By the time Ryan read this far, he already had an answer.

The mage, Melania Luna, had failed in her final attempt to advance to the rank of Archmage.

Although she hadn’t specified what method she was using to break through, if she had succeeded, the mage tower shouldn’t have ended up in ruins.

A mage’s path to the extraordinary was far more difficult than a Knight’s, relying heavily on talent.

The ranks were: Mage apprentice, Acolyte, Mage, Great Mage, Magus, Grand Magus, Archmage, Saint-rank mage, and Legendary Mage.

Upon reaching the rank of Archmage, a mage needed their own mage tower to store vast amounts of magical power. Only then could they support the casting of powerful spells, or even forbidden spells.

In short, only a mage who possessed a mage tower was a true Archmage; otherwise, there was little difference between them and a Grand Magus.

And an Archmage’s fall would inevitably lead to the shattering of their mage tower. If the tower was shattered, even if the Archmage didn’t die, they wouldn’t be far from it.

“It seems this Mage Luna wanted to use her golem to achieve her breakthrough, but something went wrong in the end. The golem went berserk, lost control, and destroyed the mage tower.”

Ryan had his soldiers take the potatoes and began the journey back to the stronghold.

He then opened the Planar Gate and brought everyone back to the Frozen Soil Fief.

The haul from this trip wasn’t large, but the discovery of potatoes was a delightful surprise for Ryan. As expected, the other world was his greatest treasure.

Upon returning to the Frozen Soil Fief, Ryan once again gave orders to the former barons of the Aixneer Continent.

“As you can see, my fief is also on the edge of the North, but at least it isn’t as cold. I will grant you each a piece of land, and for three years, I will not collect any taxes from you.”

After acquiring wealth valued at over sixty thousand gold coins from the several nobles, Ryan was quite generous. He also knew that each of them still had some gold coins hidden away, enough for them to hire commoners or buy slaves from him to build their manors.

After handing the potatoes to the old butler and briefing him on how to cultivate them, Ryan personally led a group of men to once again attempt to reclaim the foothills surrounding the Frozen Soil Fief.

For the Frozen Soil Fief, no task was more important than reclaiming land.

“It’s spring, and even the wild beasts in the Frozen Soil Fief have become more numerous. Brand, when we get back, find some men and train a militia for hunting.”

Ryan commanded, and Brand, who was by his side, immediately acknowledged the order.

Looking at the vibrant foothills before him, Ryan reached out and touched the surrounding leaves, still able to feel a chill.

He couldn’t help but sigh. To feed the growing population of the Frozen Soil Fief, he needed at least ten thousand acres of farmland in the initial phase. Without farmland, he wouldn’t have enough grain. Without enough grain, he wouldn’t have an army. Without an army, he would be nothing more than a village baron.

This was something he could not tolerate. So land reclamation and farming were an absolute must.

“Why does it feel a little colder around here?”

As he walked, Ryan stopped and looked around. The mountain forest was a bit too quiet, without the chirping of birds. For a world in the midst of spring, it felt strangely devoid of life.

“Be careful.”

Brand drew his Knight’s longsword, his legs slightly bent. He had hunted alone in the snow and ice before and knew that such silence definitely meant a powerful predator was nearby.

On Ryan’s other side, red Battle-qi surfaced on Harrington’s knight armor, and his pupils instantly turned into crimson vertical slits.

This was the Breath Imitation Technique from the Clayton Family’s Knight’s Breathing Method.

A faint, invisible Dragon’s Aura spread out. This presence, which came from the apex of the food chain, finally plunged the hidden creature into a state of slight fear.

In an instant, the icy ground beneath their feet collapsed, and everyone fell downward. In that moment of instability, a blood-red maw with two cold, gleaming fangs lunged to bite them.

Beneath them was an ice cavern, and even more terrifying, a demonic beast was hidden inside.

Seeing the giant serpent, large enough to swallow him whole, Ryan’s pupils couldn’t help but contract. Though he had the physique of a formal Knight, he had never faced such a desperate life-and-death situation.

At the critical moment, a greatsword appeared beneath his feet. Using the buffer provided by the sword, Ryan pushed off it, changing the direction of his fall. He quickly drew the deer-antler dagger from his waist and plunged it into the ice wall, arresting his descent.

While he managed to hang from the ice wall, the others weren’t so lucky. A group of Knight’s Attendants and the dozen serfs brought along to survey the soil crashed heavily into the bottom of the nearly five-meter-deep ice cavern. Some scraped against the sharp ice spikes in the cavern, and blood instantly stained the ground.

“A Frost Serpent. A mature one is a peak second-rank demonic beast.”

Ryan’s heart sank. A peak second-rank demonic beast was equivalent to a Silver Knight.

If it were a different time and place, Ryan was confident he could easily hunt this giant serpent, but not here.

The terrain here was too open, and he had brought too few men.

While Ryan was still trying to figure out what to do, Brand had already charged forward. He had thrown his Knight’s longsword to give Ryan a foothold, and it was swallowed by the Frost Serpent in one gulp.

“This is the only chance.”

Harrington reacted at the same moment and charged out. Clad in their knight armor, every step they took punched a hole in the thin layer of ice covering the ground.

Brand was fast. With his Agile Steps, he was almost three to five body lengths ahead of Harrington as he closed in on the Frost Serpent. At that moment, the demonic beast seemed to realize it had swallowed something indigestible and opened its great mouth, trying to spit the metal out.

In that instant, Brand slammed a fist into the Frost Serpent’s lower jaw. The powerful force snapped the great mouth shut. Almost visibly, a thick gush of blood spewed from between the serpent’s clenched jaws.

“It’s injured!”

Harrington’s sword slashed down on the serpent’s barrel-thick body, but it only managed to shatter a few scales to no avail. The pained Frost Serpent went into a frenzy, whipping its tail toward Harrington.

A terrifying sense of power emanated from the whistling air. Harrington raised his greatsword to take a defensive stance, but at that moment, Brand’s voice came from behind.

“Grab its tail!”

In the nick of time, Harrington hesitated, but in the end, he let out a great roar, dropped his greatsword, erupted with Battle-qi, and with a heavy Dragon’s Aura emanating from his pupils, crossed his hands before his chest.

The appearance of the Dragon’s Aura reduced the serpent’s tail speed and strength by a third. But even so, when the tail, thicker than his own arm, slammed into him, Harrington felt the world spin. He heard a faint cracking sound—his knight armor had actually shattered.

BOOM!!!

Harrington, along with the tail, smashed into a nearby wall. The protruding ice spikes on the ground had already been ground flat by his armor.

Seeing Harrington clinging desperately to the Frost Serpent’s tail, Brand took a deep breath. Then, he hammered fist after fist into a spot about an arm’s length below the serpent’s head.

Chapter 45: Demonic Beast Eggs and an Iron Mine

Ryan, after all, possessed the physique of a full-fledged Knight. Being well-prepared, he took a few quick steps down the wall and landed lightly on the ground.

By this time, the demonic beast—a Frost Serpent nearly fifteen meters long—was already lying silently on the ground, a great deal of blood and gore spilling from its abdomen. As for Brand and Harrington, they were still clinging tightly to the serpent’s head and tail.

“To think we killed it so easily.”

A look of disbelief filled Harrington’s eyes. As he looked at Brand, who was bathed in blood, a rare sense of awe appeared on his face.

“So, am I this weak?”

In that instant, Ryan finally realized that his noble attributes seemed to outweigh his knightly ones. Could it be that his previous life, lived in such peace, had left him with no countermeasures for danger?

“Good thing I’m still young enough.”

Ryan thought to himself. It seemed he could no longer afford to be a noble who only knew how to enjoy himself.

In these few short minutes, Brand’s performance had completely lived up to that initial string of traits he possessed.

From his sharp observation that helped Ryan dodge the Frost Serpent’s most dangerous attack, to his quick formulation of the best countermeasure—using the Knight’s longsword swallowed by the serpent to kill the powerful demonic beast. In the process, he even took into account that Harrington would have been sent flying if he’d used his greatsword to block.

Using the Knight’s longsword could kill the Frost Serpent, while having Harrington control its tail was a measure to minimize casualties. Otherwise, if the serpent had thrashed about in a frenzy with its terrifyingly powerful body, people here would have definitely died.

“Have you hunted demonic beasts like this before?”

Ryan asked with some curiosity. This was his first time encountering a demonic beast, the kind that made nobles’ faces pale at their mere mention. From start to finish, this Frost Serpent hadn’t even had a chance to cast any magic.

It had died at Brand’s hands without even getting the chance.

Brand nodded and said:

“On the Aixneer Continent, only the strongest beasts and demonic beasts have a chance of surviving the Great Winter. They are adept at hiding in the snowstorms to hunt.”

When you’ve been through it enough, you naturally learn what to do.

“In that case, the flesh of this Frost Serpent is yours and Harrington’s.”

“Thank you, Lord Ryan.”

Brand’s eyes lit up. After thanking him, he took out his dagger, sliced open the serpent’s head from the corner of its mouth, and a moment later, pulled out a blue, rhomboid crystal, about two fingers wide.

“A magic crystal!”

Brand handed the magic crystal to Ryan, who was pleasantly surprised. This thing was a hundred times more valuable than an equal weight of gold.

This tiny magic crystal was worth at least two thousand gold coins.

“Hahaha! We’ve struck it rich this time.”

Ryan laughed, and just then, another soldier called out:

“Lord Baron, there are three eggs here!”

The soldier’s cry made Ryan’s eyes light up. He quickly came to a messy pile of withered branches. In the nest the Frost Serpent had built lay three large, snow-white eggs, each the size of an adult’s head.

“Frost Serpent eggs.”

Ryan’s breathing quickened. Many nobles dreamed of taming demonic beasts, but the vast majority of them were untamable. The only way was to imprint them with magic arrays before they hatched and then, as they grew, completely subdue them through an exceptionally high standard of rearing.

After all, the intelligence of demonic beasts was in no way inferior to that of humans.

“It seems this Frost Serpent came to the Frozen Soil Fief because of these three eggs.”

Over ninety percent of all young creatures require a relatively warm environment during gestation and birth. For a Frost Serpent that should have been living deep in the North, its young also needed a temperate place in the South to survive until they could adapt to the bitter cold and gradually return to the even colder regions of the North.

“This cave… it couldn’t have dug it itself.”

Harrington staggered over, supported by a soldier, and said to Ryan.

“Young Master Ryan, this should be a mineral vein.”

“The temperature in a mineral vein is often higher than the surrounding area. A Frost Serpent, which thrives in the Great Winter, should be highly sensitive to temperature changes.”

Nodding, Ryan ordered a few soldiers to dig a little farther away.

Sure enough, a moment later, a fist-sized piece of iron ore was presented to Ryan.

“Northwind Province is lacking in everything except iron ore. As expected, my fief couldn’t be without a mineral vein either.”

Ryan smiled. His fief would finally have a stable source of income.

Of course, for now, the iron ore was more important for meeting internal demand.

Besides, now wasn’t the time to start mining.

“First, we’ll secure this area. Then I’ll go to Zerodu County to buy some magic scrolls. We’ll start mining the iron after these three eggs have hatched.”

Ryan looked at the three quiescent Frost Serpent eggs, wondering if he could successfully hatch one or two of them.

…

“That cave was probably secretly mined by someone in the past. The Frozen Soil Fief has been without a lord for decades, but the people living here aren’t completely ignorant of their surroundings.”

Hearing Ryan’s words, Rosen, who was following behind him, asked:

“When we get back, should we round up the original villagers of the Frozen Soil Fief?”

Ryan waved his hand and said:

“There’s no need. Besides, all the carpenters and blacksmiths from the Frozen Soil Fief have already fled to warmer places. The ones who knew about this place were likely those blacksmiths.”

“What’s more, if they knew, they would have told me long ago after seeing how the Bain family was treated.”

The good news came one after another. Following the discovery of the demonic beast eggs and the iron mine, one of the serfs Ryan had brought with him actually noticed a place with suitable soil for planting on the way back.

“Excellent. From this moment on, I pardon you of your slave status. From now on, you and your family will be my citizens.”

The coarse-looking man named Dudley immediately fell to his knees in excitement, kowtowing repeatedly to Ryan.

“Thank you, my Lord! Thank you, my Lord!”

One must understand that the Frozen Soil Fief was different from other places. Commoners could be allocated their own houses. Although a commoner who was formerly a slave only had the right to use the house, not own it, they could, through hard work, make the house completely their own within ten or twenty years.

It was because of such good policies that the Frozen Soil Fief had not experienced any serious conflicts to this day, even when Ryan was not present.

Looking at the large swathe of hilly land before him, Ryan felt no regret about the trifles he had rewarded. He was only thinking, hoping that this land could be reclaimed into more fields suitable for farming.

Chapter 46: The Order of Merit

Ryan’s expectations, in the end, were not fulfilled.

The few plots of mountain land discovered after the spring thaw could, at best, be reclaimed into less than one thousand acres of farmland. For the current population of the Frozen Soil Fief, this amount was but a drop in the bucket.

“We must continue searching, or find a way to reclaim more farmland. Tell everyone in the fief: if anyone can turn wasteland into fertile, arable fields, for every ten acres they reclaim, I will grant their family one acre. For the remaining nine, I will reward them with one gold coin for each acre, and they will be exempt from taxes on that land for three years.”

Ryan decided to spare no expense. Nothing could stimulate development more than greater rewards, and even the slaves had their own needs.

If someone could actually accomplish this, then that person’s value would far exceed the rewards Ryan offered.

He hoped for some talented individuals to emerge in his fief, not just mediocre people who did nothing but eat and sleep, letting their days drift by in a stupor.

In this era, technology was irrelevant. Only talent and power were the primary driving forces of development.

Ryan inspected his developing fief almost daily, but the summons from Northwind Province was a stark reminder that he was not a lord acting in isolation.

…

“Just as I thought, something has happened.”

“Something big.”

Ryan stared at the letter the Governor of Northwind Province had sent to all the nobles. It only mentioned two things.

First, the Empire was discussing a punishment for Northwind Province—a punishment, not a resolution. It seemed the rampage of the Beastmen across the province last winter, which had led to the deaths and injuries of so many nobles, had finally angered the great nobles of the Empire.

The responsibility would naturally fall upon the nobles of Northwind Province, especially that Count-Governor.

But from the tone of the letter, it seemed this Count-Governor had no intention of bearing the burden alone; he planned to share the pressure with everyone beneath him.

As for the second matter… it was far more terrifying.

“The Order of Merit.”

His hand gripped the letter so tightly that his fingers began to turn purple, but Ryan didn’t even notice.

From the few lines of explanation, Ryan could already foresee a storm of blood and intrigue within the Empire—politically, militarily, and even economically.

No, across the entire continent.

“Ready the carriage!”

Ryan shouted. Soon, the magnificent carriage from the Clayton Family, drawn by a pair of demonic beasts, appeared at the castle gate. Forgetting even to eat his lunch for the day, Ryan set out for Northwind Province with a hundred Knight’s Attendants.

…

Crack!

A whip woven from tree bark lashed across a Beastman’s back, leaving a bloody weal.

“You damn Beastmen, get back to work! If you don’t finish today, none of you will eat!”

On the bustling construction site, the overseer’s booming voice cut through the clamor. He deliberately pitched his voice to drown out the sound of quarrying stones for the road, hoping that the lord in the magnificent carriage slowly approaching in the distance might glance his way.

“Work faster! Clear those rocks off the road! Can’t you see the Lord is approaching? If you startle the horses pulling the carriage, I’ll have your heads!”

“You over there, kneel properly! Who gave you permission to look up?!”

Sitting inside the carriage, which was enchanted with magic arrays, Ryan felt no bumps at all, even as it traveled along a road that had not yet been fully cleared. In the chilly North, the interior of the carriage was as warm as a cozy bed.

A few months ago, when Ryan traveled from the Frozen Soil Fief to other parts of Northwind Province, he had to cross mountains and forests on his own two feet. But now, only a few months later, he rode in a carriage exclusive to the nobility, and the soldiers accompanying him were all mounted on warhorses from the highlands.

Compared to back then, his current majesty was a truly magnificent sight.

The swamp, which had been as firm as solid ground during the deep winter, became difficult to traverse after the spring thaw. The frozen mire melted, forcing the convoy to stop and regroup after crossing it.

The place they chose to stop was, of course, the nearest territory: Baron Hutton’s Barony.

“Ryan, my friend!” Baron Hutton’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock as he stared at Ryan’s carriage and the hundred uniformed soldiers. It looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.

“Th-th-this…”

He couldn’t comprehend it. How long had it been? Just a few months ago, Ryan was dressed like one of the Mud-legs, a penniless young baron who was no match for him at all. But now… This entourage, this scale… Hutton felt utterly pathetic in comparison.

“You’re heading to Northwind City too, Ryan?” Hutton asked with a fawning grin, his chubby face crinkling up in an especially sycophantic expression.

Seeing Baron Hutton hesitating to speak, Ryan smiled and said, “Mr. Hutton is my friend. I stopped here precisely to invite you to travel with me to Northwind City.”

“Great! It’s settled then.” Hutton declared bluntly and made to climb into Ryan’s enchanted carriage, even bringing along the two Cat-girls he had looted from Walter’s Knight Fief.

Ryan raised a hand to stop him. He glanced at the two Cat-girl slaves, who were visibly broken, and said, “Baron Hutton, you should know why we’re going to Northwind City. This is not the time for pleasure.”

After a long, reluctant look at the two female slaves, Hutton finally relented.

“Alright, fine. I won’t bring any maidservants this time. I’ll travel light.”

He was indeed traveling light—with two hundred thousand catties of raw iron and two thousand gold coins.

“Why are you bringing so much iron?” Ryan asked curiously. Hutton, who had been leaning back against the soft deerskin of the carriage seat with a look of pure enjoyment, turned sullen at the question.

“When the Beastmen came south, my barony suffered heavy losses. Over half my grain is gone. If I hadn’t hidden what was left underground, I would have starved to death.”

“Those damned Beastmen looted all the wealth in my fief. The only thing they didn’t care for was this iron ore.”

“After the Beastmen left, life has to go on. I have to rely on trade, and this iron ore is all my fief has to offer.”

Hutton seemed disheartened, but his optimism quickly returned.

“But in comparison, many of the barons in Northwind Province are dead, and those who survived… their fiefs are in a much worse state than mine. Some even had their castles breached and all their wealth plundered! Hahaha.”

As they say, happiness and misery are all a matter of comparison. Compared to most of the nobles in Northwind Province, Hutton’s losses were indeed far less severe.

But this kind of comparison left Ryan at a loss for words.

He could only change the subject. “What are your thoughts, Mr. Hutton, on the Order of Merit that the Empire, the Church, and the southern kingdoms have jointly proposed?”

The great nobles at the pinnacle of power planned to establish a new title called Chevalier, ranked below a Baron but above a Knight.

It wasn’t a peerage, but it was a noble title nonetheless.

Chapter 47: The Surprising Baron Hutton

Meritorious nobility. This term itself was used to describe the lords of the five noble ranks—Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, and Baron—who had rendered illustrious service in the founding and development of the Empire.

In other words, anyone from a Grand Duke to a Baron could be called a meritorious noble. Their descendants were born a cut above the rest.

Moreover, the nobles themselves were often members of the extraordinary, or rather, they controlled the vast majority of paths to a higher power. This created a rigid hierarchy that had never changed.

The title of Chevalier, as mentioned by the Empire, was a rank below that of a Baron but above commoners and knights.

A Chevalier did not hold a peerage, but because they were completely above commoners, they were still considered part of the nobility—even if they were the lowest rung of the ladder, they were nobles nonetheless.

Chevaliers had no fiefs of their own, no citizens to rule, and even had to pay taxes to the Empire.

This was the greatest difference between a Chevalier and the five ranks of nobility. One had to understand that even in the most wretched barony, everything within it belonged to the Baron who was its lord.

So why create such a title?

The reason given by the Empire was that, in the name of the Lord of the Dawn, it was hoped that the nobles of the continent would be brave in pioneering new territories and emulate their ancestors in achieving great merit.

The reason was commendable, even entirely reasonable, placing them on the moral high ground.

But in Ryan’s view, it was all bullshit.

If this was merely an internal matter within the Empire, it would be one thing. But the Order of Merit was to be implemented among all the nobles of the entire continent.

With this in mind, Ryan detected the scent of political struggle amidst the grandiose words.

Ultimately, it all traced back to the Pan-Planar War of the Gods.

The human race was now huddled in the southern third of the Norris Continent.

The Divine War had ended, but the catastrophe it brought lingered on.

Any sensible person knew who had a higher chance of survival when disaster struck.

Those with power, those with authority—they stood at the pinnacle of survival. Even the catastrophe of the Great Winter could not be said to have frozen them all to death.

Thus, many nobles had fled south to this one-third of the continent. Here were empires, kingdoms, scattered ducal fiefs, and the domains of nobles great and small.

The catastrophe may have claimed thirty percent of the nobles on the Norris Continent, but the remaining seventy percent were now crammed into a landmass only one-third of its former size.

After years of development, too many nobles had gathered in this one-third of the land.

Everyone knew the number of nobles could not remain static. In fact, in the absence of a desire for war after the catastrophe, the number of nobles was increasing.

But in this, there was a fatal problem.

An increase in nobility required territory.

A Baron needed at least a territory the size of a village or town. Regardless of its exact size, a fief was a necessity.

Yet the only land humans could currently occupy was just a third of what they once held, a far cry from being vast and sparsely populated.

Worse, under the threat of the Beastmen, territories were lost every year.

Why did Grand Duke Mayers lead an expedition to Northwind Province all those years ago? Why were the nobles of Northwind Province, despite their long lineages, now displaced from their ancestral homes?

There was only one reason: in the struggle for land in the South, their territories had shrunk, leading to dwindling wealth.

The emergence of Northwind Province had, at the very least, alleviated some of the conflict and bloodshed that arose from the need to accommodate a certain number of new nobles.

Take Ryan, for example. If his barony were in the South, where would the land come from? It could only be carved from someone else’s plate.

And because of this, Ryan, having taken from others’ interests, would inevitably make enemies.

This was not a new problem. The Empire strictly forbade nobles from killing each other in any form, and one must remember that every prohibition exists for a reason.

Conflicts had erupted in the past, and many nobles had died. But nobles being nobles, they were all connected by blood or marriage. One misstep could lead to a war between two nations.

If Ryan died in the Frozen Soil Fief, would the family of Count Clayton simply ignore it? The fallout would involve more than the death of a single Baron.

In short, there wasn’t enough land to distribute to new nobles.

But the nobles, especially the great ones, had an essential need for more noble titles.

After all, a great noble only had one peerage to pass down. If they couldn’t find new avenues, certain melodramatic struggles were bound to occur, and no great noble wished to see their own children kill each other.

So what was the solution?

Now, a solution had appeared: grant noble titles, but not land.

What kind of noble titles could be given? Baron? Viscount? That certainly wouldn’t work. The only option was to create a new title.

And so, the Chevalier was born.

Hearing Ryan’s question, Hutton sat up a little straighter, raising his hand with a rather serious expression. Only then did Ryan finally see the jade ring on Hutton’s finger. A ruby was set in the ring, and inside the gem was a carving of a warhorse with its forelegs reared.

“Baron Ryan, please address me as the Divine Horse Baron. From this day forward, my fief will be known as the Divine Horse Fief.”

Hutton lifted his chin to look at Ryan, then suddenly broke into a laugh.

“Ryan, to be honest, you should have your own baronial crest by now.”

“You have to understand, once the Order of Merit is implemented, every noble will have the right to grant the title of Chevalier. That means even for Barons like us, our status will rise by another level.”

“And what’s the most crucial part of this? From now on, it will be a hundred times more difficult for anyone else to become a Baron.”

“Our position will become unshakable.”

“And the most, most, most important thing is, remember Walter? That fellow’s son has shown up. But with the new Order of Merit, that Walter boy will have a hard time getting a chance to become a Baron like us.”

“In the future, at the balls in Zerodu City, we Barons can hold our heads high.”

Hutton burst into loud laughter as he spoke, while Ryan looked at this Divine Horse Baron with some surprise.

Although Hutton didn’t seem to have accomplished much in any particular area, his political shrewdness was enough to startle Ryan. He had thought Hutton would fail to see the truth behind this matter and simply be angered by the emergence of more nobles.

Seeing Ryan’s expression, Hutton thought the young man hadn’t caught on and couldn’t help but say:

“Ryan, you must understand that this is a good thing for those of us who already possess a noble title and a fief. In the future, the number of Barons will likely only decrease, not increase.”

“With fewer of us, our status, power, and wealth will all increase.”

“Chevaliers are created by us, the five ranks of nobility. We have the right to enfeoff Chevaliers. And if we fall, those Chevaliers will also lose their titles. In such a situation, don’t you think the Chevaliers who depend on us will do everything in their power to protect our families?”

“And most importantly, Ryan, you have to understand that this system was created by the Imperial family, the great nobles, and all those other great nobles in the South.”

“On major issues, our interests are aligned with theirs. Do you think they would create rules that would harm themselves?”

“Since that’s impossible, the noble system they’ve established must be beneficial to them. And if it’s beneficial to them, it’s bound to be beneficial to us as well.”

Chapter 48: Arriving in Northwind City

Hutton and Ryan viewed the matter from different perspectives, but they arrived at a surprisingly similar conclusion.

The emergence of the Order of Merit would indeed increase the number of nobles, but at the same time, it would also elevate the status and authority of the existing five-tiered nobility like themselves.

As for wealth, that was harder to say.

The letter had made it perfectly clear.

Every noble possessed the right to ennoble a Chevalier. Although there were limits on the number, even a Baron could, at his own discretion, make up to five people Chevaliers of the Empire.

Chevaliers owed their existence to the nobles who appointed them. Naturally, if their patrons were to fall, those Chevaliers would no longer be recognized.

However, once they became nobles, Chevaliers also held certain rights. They were no longer the citizens and wealth of the five-tiered nobility, but their supporters. They could even oppose the noble who ennobled them and possess their own territory, if… they could acquire one.

So, when the Empire’s letter expressed a hope that the nobles living on one-third of the land would strive to pioneer, it wasn’t entirely false.

The primary reason for the appearance of the Chevaliers was that there were too many nobles and not enough fiefs—everyone felt their territory was too small.

But the secondary reason was indeed the desire to expand.

However… the hope was a pleasant one, but the fact that no one was even willing to come to a desolate place like the Frozen Soil Fief was telling. To expect them to venture into the eternal winter of the North to fight beastmen and even more terrifying foreign races for land? Impossible.

In the end, politics was a boomerang, always circling back on itself.

Their current trip to Northwind City was, in fact, one part of that game.

After all this time, the Empire finally seemed to remember the numerous Pioneer Nobles and Pioneer Knights in Northwind Province. A member of the Imperial family was set to arrive. This responsibility would normally have fallen to the Church, but in recent years, imperial power had been supplanting divine authority at a rather swift pace.

Thinking of this, Ryan was suddenly struck by a thought.

“If that’s the case, doesn’t that mean… the Pioneering Decrees Grand Duke Mayers held back then are now worthless paper?”

His expression turned strange, and beside him, Hutton’s face became a canvas of complex emotions.

Grand Duke Mayers had conquered the entire Northwind Province for the Empire, alleviating significant pressure—an enormous contribution. But his merits had been exchanged for a basketful of Pioneering Decrees. And now, it seemed even this fig leaf was about to become useless.

Didn’t that mean Grand Duke Mayers had gone through all the trouble of conquering Northwind Province only to get nothing in return?

There wasn’t even a single Mayers Family heir in all of Northwind Province.

Hiss… I shouldn’t think about this any further.

…

Northwind City.

By the time Ryan and Hutton arrived in the provincial capital, the vast majority of Northwind Province’s nobility had already gathered.

The Divine Horse Fief and the Frozen Soil Fief were simply too far away.

The streets were filled with either soldiers or slaves. As more and more nobles arrived in Northwind City, the commoners no longer dared to walk the main thoroughfares.

This was especially true now that these commoners were beginning to learn, in bits and pieces from the northward-traveling merchant guilds, secrets that were already public knowledge in the South.

Ryan and Hutton stayed at the residence of a Baron, and they were soon sought out by Viscount Miles’s men.

“Before the council in three days, we of Zerodu County must come to an agreement. The interests of Zerodu County come first.”

When they arrived at the Viscount Miles’s residence, the elderly viscount was in high spirits. Who would have thought that Zerodu County, originally the weakest, now held a level of influence that was implicitly among the top three?

In contrast, Viscount Dragon, who stood to the side, did not look nearly as pleased.

He stared at Viscount Miles’s old face. Hadn’t the rumors said the man was on his last legs after using that magic scroll? Why wasn’t he dead yet?

How did he manage to survive the winter?

Ryan noticed this as well. He could only surmise that the Miles Family’s long-standing heritage indeed held some treasures.

Of course, Ryan was more concerned about the Empire’s plans for Northwind Province.

He glanced at Baron Hutton, who coughed twice, then asked with a newfound air of confidence:

“Lord Viscount Miles, is the Empire truly going to abandon Northwind Province?”

At these words, many of the nobles grew tense. They whispered amongst themselves, never taking their eyes off Viscount Miles’s face.

In that instant, Viscount Miles seemed to age several years.

But he only said with regret, “The Empire has decided to cancel the annual subsidy of one million gold coins to Northwind Province. This is news from the Senate, but it won’t be officially announced until three days from now.”

“It’s just the cancellation of one million gold coins. Won’t Governor Winter and the two County Fiefs be the ones to suffer the greatest loss?” Hutton asked, somewhat puzzled. He was politically astute, but only in certain areas.

“Hutton, has all that fat gone to your head?” a lavishly dressed noble nearby sneered mockingly.

“Ever since thirty years ago, the Empire has treated Northwind Province with disdain. If it weren’t for the one-million-coin expenditure that reminded those great nobles in the Empire of our existence each year, this place would have long been forgotten.”

“Now that the million is gone, there won’t be a single mention of Northwind Province in the annual administrative reports. You can’t possibly think our Governor would pay to repair the fortress on the Fragrant Mountain Plains out of his own pocket, can you?”

That was impossible. They had already carved up tens of millions of gold coins from the Empire in the past. To expect them to spend their own money on fortress repairs?

Absolutely impossible.

“In short, without that one million gold coins, it means the Empire no longer expects to gain anything more from Northwind Province.”

“On the contrary, they’ll probably start collecting taxes.”

The Empire had exempted Northwind Province from many taxes. Coupled with the fact that the province had been a constant source of internal political strife for the Empire over the years, the Empire had turned a blind eye even when these nobles pocketed the taxes for themselves.

But now that the Empire was cutting off funding and semi-abandoning the province, they would naturally want to recoup the thirty million gold coins from the past thirty-three years—and then some.

“Pay money?” Hutton shouted.

“Paying money is impossible. How could my Divine Horse Fief possibly have any money?”

Hutton began to lament again, claiming his fief had been sacked by beastmen and that even his castle had been breached.

“Hutton, we’re all neighbors. Do you think we don’t know whether your castle was breached or not?”

“Besides, Divine Horse Fief… what a ridiculous name.”

A noble named Baron Roche finally couldn’t hold back his disdain.

“And you think your Crow Fief sounds any better?”

Watching the meeting descend into a squabble, Ryan knew nothing would be accomplished today.

Chapter 49: The Provincial Council

Three days later, at the Governor’s Mansion in Northwind City, the nobles of the entire Northwind Province had finally gathered.

It was just that their number seemed a bit pitiful.

Gatherings of Northwind Province’s nobles used to be quite lively, but after the Beastmen invasion, everything had changed.

While the dead were certainly to be mourned, the living still chatted and laughed freely.

Ryan sat in the area designated for Zerodu County, watching the leading Counts and Viscounts chat and laugh. He even had a memory of the one sitting in the very center.

To be precise, it was a memory of the two intertwined, vine-like crests on the man’s scepter.

Count Lacsu of the Empire, Master of the Flying Serpent and the Forest.

This was an influential Count of the Empire with a powerful family, who controlled the warm forests of the South. It was said that the fertile lands they had cultivated alone were enough for a million people to squander at will.

For Northwind Province, this was an almost unimaginable paradise.

After exchanging pleasantries with the three Counts around him for a good while, the Count representing the Empire finally cleared his throat and stood up.

The vast council hall instantly fell silent. Everyone watched Count Lacsu as he drew a piece of white silk, covered in writing, from his scepter.

“Since everyone is here, let’s get this over with quickly. This Northwind Province is truly cold.”

Count Lacsu’s tone was somewhat disdainful, but no one refuted him. If they had a choice, they too would rather be in the warm South.

But his words still made people a little uncomfortable.

“Starting this year, the Empire will cancel all preferential treatment for Northwind Province.”

Lacsu stated this concisely. In truth, the silk scroll contained many words, mostly describing the Empire’s expectations and support for Northwind Province over the years, but the Count had cut straight to the point.

“The annual subsidy of one million gold coins will be canceled. At the same time, Northwind Province will be required to pay an annual tax of one million five hundred thousand gold coins to the Empire.”

“One million five hundred thousand?!!!”

Just as Count Lacsu finished speaking, a noble stood up in anger. He was from Coldmountain County, one of the few nobles who had been lucky enough to survive, and he was utterly shocked by the announcement.

“Where is Northwind Province supposed to find one million five hundred thousand gold coins?”

Lacsu snorted coldly, ignoring the Baron. His gaze shifted to Viscount Landa, one of the seven County Governors of Northwind Province. He was certain that this man had stood up at the Viscount’s signal.

One million five hundred thousand gold coins, divided among all the nobles, was a considerable sum. Coldmountain County had suffered the most devastation from the Beastmen and would have great difficulty paying its share, but they had cleverly roped in everyone in Northwind Province.

Indeed, people soon began to speak up one after another, protesting Northwind Province’s plight. They claimed they couldn’t even produce five hundred thousand, let alone one million five hundred thousand.

Lacsu was not about to indulge them.

“I am merely informing you that from now on, Northwind Province’s annual tax must be paid.”

“As for how you come up with it, that is not the Empire’s problem to consider.”

“Furthermore, during this recent southward push by the Beastmen, you, Northwind Province, were the only ones in the entire Empire who failed to stop them. Throughout the South, many are now speculating whether the Empire has grown old.”

“The Empire’s honor has been offended. You have made a grave mistake, and you dare to haggle?”

Lacsu spoke the truth. Perhaps the Empire had already half-given up on Northwind Province, which was why there had been no severe punishment for their failure to repel the Beastmen invasion. Even Count Winter remained the Governor of Northwind Province.

But these were things that could not be said aloud. Every noble understood that for them, face was paramount.

“Enough.”

Finally, it was Count Winter who stood up and said:

“Northwind Province will certainly not betray the Empire’s trust.”

“That would be for the best.”

Count Lacsu said with a nod. For him, relaying a message these nobles already knew was merely a task, one with no benefit to himself.

On the contrary, the next matter was what could truly affect the Count’s interests.

“Now that you are aware, please be seated, and let us discuss the second matter.”

“In the South, the Empire and many of the great nobles held a conference on the Church’s Holy Mountain. They plan to implement an Order of Merit across the continent’s domains.”

“This matter has not yet been finalized. The Empire wishes to know the thoughts of the nobles in every province.”

“As for the Order of Merit…”

After a brief explanation, Count Lacsu fell silent, and the entire council hall became frighteningly quiet.

A moment later, voices began to emerge.

“Being able to pioneer the North—that is, of course, a wonderful thing.”

A Baron said with a smile. He had several children, and though he wasn’t worried about succession, he had felt quite troubled before.

“It is an honor for those mud-legs to pioneer lands for the Empire. If you ask me, granting them the rank of Pioneer Knight is enough. There’s no need to make them nobles.”

“They did conquer the territory, after all. It’s not right to say that. Otherwise, what would that make our ancestors?”

“True. Chevalier… it has a nice ring to it.”

The assembled nobles, like a pack of old foxes, all began to smile. Some even started addressing each other, praising their counterparts’ family crests to the high heavens.

But where some rejoiced, others despaired.

A noble stood up. He sat at the fringes, bearing no family crest of his own. At this moment, he was both nervous and angry.

“Count Lacsu, if I may ask, what are the Empire’s plans for us Pioneer Nobles and Pioneer Knights?”

Count Lacsu replied calmly:

“Pioneer Nobles established before this year, after their domains have been officially observed, will be enfeoffed as Barons of the Empire if they qualify. If their domains do not qualify, they will become Chevaliers.”

“As for Pioneer Knights, as long as they hold a territory, they too will become Chevaliers.”

“But the Empire promised back then that as long as our domains were large enough, we would be made nobles!”

A Pioneer Knight stood up. Beneath his loose-fitting robes, many could see that he was still wearing leather armor. He couldn’t help but glare with hostility.

This was a meeting of nobles. What was the meaning of dressing like that? Was he trying to lower their standing?

“Knight Qiu Lin, are you questioning the Empire’s decision?”

Count Winter snorted coldly and glared at the Pioneer Knight. The immense pressure of a powerful Knight forced him back into his seat.

“The Empire did indeed say that. However, a Chevalier is also a member of the nobility. As long as you become a Chevalier, no one out there would dare deny that you are a noble, lest they invite the condemnation of all humankind.”

“So, strictly speaking, the Empire has not broken its promise.”

“As for whether you can become Barons, that depends on the size of your domains. You can’t just assume that receiving a Pioneering Decree guarantees you will become a Baron. There’s no such thing.”

“If this were in the past, many of you wouldn’t even become Chevalier-nobles; you would have become wandering knights and lost your lands.”

“This time, the Empire has directly granted all of you a place among the nobility.”

“Can a Chevalier be the same as a Baron?”

Upon hearing Count Lacsu’s words, someone in the crowd couldn’t resist speaking out.

Meanwhile, some of the more cautious ones continued to ask questions.

“If we become Chevaliers, but a Chevalier must be attached to one of the five ranks of nobility, to which noble’s Chevalier will we be?”

“Well…”

Lacsu’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his tone became a bit lofty.

“Logically, you should become the Chevalier of the noble from whom you received your Pioneering Decree. However, Northwind Province is too remote. For the sake of mutual aid and cooperation in pioneering the vast lands of the North, the Empire’s recommendation is that you choose a noble of the five ranks near your own domain.”

“Moreover, the Empire has decided that this year’s first batch of Chevaliers will have the right to choose which noble of the five ranks they will be attached to.”

Evidently, the Empire was also aware that there was usually conflict between pioneering domains and their neighboring nobles. To mitigate such conflicts, they would allow Chevaliers to not be attached to the closest noble of the five ranks.

Chapter 50: Refusal

Amidst the clamor of discussion, Ryan could already hear some Barons discussing how to seize the lands of these future Chevaliers. Others were scheming, planning to turn some Pioneer Nobles who were originally qualified to become Barons into Chevaliers instead, just to devour them whole.

The hall had gradually split into two factions. The first consisted of the nobles of the five ranks. The emergence of the Order of Merit would affect them, but the requirement that Chevaliers must be attached to a noble of the five ranks meant they stood to gain a great deal of wealth.

Especially here in Northwind Province, it was akin to gathering several fiefs together, and the wealth, of course, was destined to be concentrated in the hands of those with the five ranks of nobility.

As for the Pioneer Nobles and Knights, some began scheming to ensure their fiefs became baronies, while others were filled with despair and anger.

Would becoming a Chevalier truly make them nobles? They didn’t believe so. They felt it would make them a lower class of person.

“Your Excellency, what if we refuse the Empire’s proposal?”

A Pioneer Knight stood up and spoke, representing a sizable group of people.

“If all the nobles of Northwind Province were to reject this decision from the southern conference, I believe it would have some effect.”

Count Lacsu replied with a smile, but the other nobles immediately disagreed.

“What do you mean, all the nobles of Northwind Province? Knight Weiler, don’t speak nonsense.”

A Baron immediately snorted coldly, unable to hold back.

“As I see it, Northwind Province is clearly in unanimous agreement. You Pioneer Knights have yet to become nobles, and as for those Pioneer Nobles, they haven’t been fully ennobled either.”

“What right do you have to participate in this conference’s decision?”

Hearing this, many glared at the Baron. This was a slap in the face; they were not some common mud-legs.

“Your Excellency, once one becomes a Chevalier, how does one advance further?”

In the end, these Pioneer Knights began to accept reality. They couldn’t change the outcome, so they could only ask practical questions.

“Well…”

Count Lacsu looked troubled. The Empire hadn’t really thought this through. The establishment of the Order of Merit was, to some extent, designed to solidify the current class structure. Becoming a Chevalier was meant to be the end of the line; climbing higher would be extremely difficult.

The system was originally intended to restrain powerful, high-ranking nobles like themselves, out of fear they might aspire to become Grand Dukes. He never expected these future Chevaliers to still hold out hope for advancement.

“The Order of Merit is a reward for expanding the Empire’s territory. As long as you can conquer more new lands, a Chevalier can naturally become a Baron. It’s not even impossible to become a future Grand Duke.”

Count Lacsu said this casually. After all, what happened in the future was not his problem. He could say whatever he wanted.

The Empire couldn’t overtly block all paths to advancement. This answer was enough to put many of the nobles at ease.

Then, the rest was simple: discuss the matter of the Chevaliers, determine which Pioneer Noble fiefs would become baronies, and figure out how to divide the one and a half million gold coin cost.

Of course, aside from the second matter, which concerned some of the Pioneer Nobles and Count Lacsu, the rest was for the nobles of Northwind Province to discuss behind closed doors.

While Count Lacsu traveled around Northwind Province to survey who among the Pioneer Nobles was qualified to become a Baron, the other nobles gathered behind closed doors to discuss the other two matters.

Who should the Chevaliers be attached to?

This question had almost no clear answer, but one possibility could be ruled out: almost none of the Pioneer Knights would be willing to become a Chevalier under a neighboring Baron.

After all, for the past twenty to thirty years, their relationships had been defined by little more than conflicts of interest. To become a Chevalier under one of those families now would be like walking straight into a trap.

One only had to look at Hutton to understand. If the nearby Pioneer Knight, Young Walter, were to become a Chevalier under Baron Hutton’s family, he would likely be devoured, leaving nothing behind, in no time at all.

This made the choice very interesting. If a Pioneer Knight wanted to attach himself to a noble, the first thing he would want is for that noble to support him against his original rivals in the surrounding area.

For example, Ryan saw Young Walter, who was about his age, having a very pleasant conversation with Baron Roche of Crow Fief. They were exchanging meaningful glances, as if they had reached some sort of agreement.

Thanks to Count Lacsu’s words, these Pioneer Knights still temporarily had the right to choose.

But no one came looking for Ryan.

Not a single one from Zerodu County. They all knew what the Frozen Soil Fief was like—of course, they had no idea what it was like now.

The Frozen Soil Fief had changed so much in just a few short months that even its neighbor, Baron Hutton, found it shocking and unbelievable. The other nobles paid it even less attention, especially since Ryan had remained on the periphery of the noble circles since arriving in Northwind Province.

Just when Ryan thought this matter had nothing to do with him, he never expected that a Pioneer Knight would set his sights on him.

“Baron Ryan, Brack sends his regards.”

A middle-aged Pioneer Knight greeted Ryan with a standard noble’s bow. In his lowered gaze, there was a glint of shrewd intelligence.

He didn’t come with good intentions.

But then again, someone with good intentions would hardly seek out the lord of the Frozen Soil Fief.

“Knight Brack, a pleasure.”

Ryan responded with a calm smile before asking, “Knight Brack, are you planning to become a Chevalier of my family?”

“Just as you’ve surmised. My Knight Fief has a small town with a population of three thousand, over two thousand of whom are my slaves. In addition, the fief has two small iron mines and a hunting forest.”

Brack said, his tone filled with pride. This was the accumulation of his family’s many years of effort.

Indeed, for a Pioneer Knight, had this incident not occurred, this Knight Brack would likely have become Baron Brack very soon. His family’s wealth was even greater than Baron Hutton’s.

Any other Baron who heard that a Pioneer Knight with such assets wanted to pledge fealty to him would probably be ecstatic.

But Ryan wasn’t fooled. Knight Brack was from Silver Stream County, the southernmost county in Northwind Province, closest to Flying Wing Canyon. It was considered the most prosperous county. Why would he come to pledge himself to the lord of the Frozen Soil Fief, the poorest and northernmost fief?

Was he going to move everyone to the Frozen Soil Fief? Impossible. He only wanted to use Ryan’s name to secure his own Knight Fief.

“With your wealth, Knight Brack, I’m sure many Barons, and even Viscounts, would be willing to recruit you, wouldn’t they?”

Ryan said with a smile, then continued.

“Perhaps you could try speaking with Viscount Hogg. I imagine he would give you a favorable response.”

Ryan couldn’t be bothered with these Pioneer Knights. Every one of them had ambitions that soared to the heavens.

Besides, under the Order of Merit, a Baron was qualified to enfeoff his own Chevaliers. Why bother with someone from so far away?

UNTITLED

1. Chapter 1: Ryan Clayton
2. Chapter 2: Frozen Soil Fief
3. Chapter 3: Spirituality
4. Chapter 4: Attendant and Divine Grace

5. Chapter 5: The Gods’ Interplanar War, the Spirit of the Stag

6. Chapter 6: A Knight’s Journey, a Spiritual Blessing

7. Chapter 7: The Story
8. Chapter 8: Northgal Fortress
9. Chapter 9: The Chaotic Northwind Province
10. Chapter 10: The First Batch of Slaves

11. Chapter 11: My Neighbor Hoards Grain, I Hoard Guns

12. Chapter 12: Zerodu City and the County Governor

13. Chapter 13: Battle in the Iron Mine
14. Chapter 14: Victory and Spoils
15. Chapter 15: Returning Home with Grain
16. Chapter 16: Developing the Fief
17. Chapter 17: The Amount of Farmland
18. Chapter 18: This Will Be a Fiery Winter

19. Chapter 19: Ryan’s Development Plan and the Second Opening of the Planar Gate

20. Chapter 20: The Migrating Caravan and the Fallen Viscount

21. Chapter 21: Can’t Take Care of the Viscount, But Can Take Care of the Viscountess

22. Chapter 22: The Viscountess’s Value
23. Chapter 23: The Beastmen Head South
24. Chapter 24: Viscount Miles

25. Chapter 25: The Troubles of a Viscount’s House

26. Chapter 26: A Transaction Between Nobles

27. Chapter 27: The Blade and Rose Merchant Guild

28. Chapter 28: The Two Sides of a Noble

29. Chapter 29: Bronze Knight

30. Chapter 30: The Northwind Province Military Conference

31. Chapter 31: Nobles Divided by Interest

32. Chapter 32: Acting

33. Chapter 33: Battle of the Transcendent Legions (Part 1)

34. Chapter 34: Battle of the Transcendent Legions (Part 2)

35. Chapter 35: The Battle of Transcendent Legions (Part 2)

36. Chapter 36: The Count and the Assassin
37. Chapter 37: Terrifyingly Strong
38. Chapter 38: An Inheritance, a Winter Late

39. Chapter 39: Brand Establishes His Authority

40. Chapter 40: The Dying Plane
41. Chapter 41: So Many Nobles
42. Chapter 42: Potatoes
43. Chapter 43: The Mage’s Notes
44. Chapter 44: Demonic Beast

45. Chapter 45: Demonic Beast Eggs and an Iron Mine

46. Chapter 46: The Order of Merit
47. Chapter 47: The Surprising Baron Hutton
48. Chapter 48: Arriving in Northwind City
49. Chapter 49: The Provincial Council
50. Chapter 50: Refusal