After the last week of winter, Jordan Zebulun stood outside his manor watching his workers prepare the fields for planting. His eyes were filled with the vision of being the sole distributor of golden fragrant corn in the entire wasteland.
Although the attempt to kill his suppliers did not work, he believed they would not dare return again. After all, there was nothing a merchant feared more than his life being at risk.
This was the third month of the new year, and he had marked it as the month his rise began.
“My Lord, there’s news from Hebron Town!”
A servant ran up to him.
“What is it?”
“Baron Flameheart invited the renowned families in the barony to a feast last night, and the news of golden fragrant corn and hexakad eggs is all over the place! The corn is already in the market, and people are rushing after it to prepare the meal; many called it otherworldly.”
Jordan’s face crumpled.
“That shrewd merchant!!”
He screamed at the top of his lungs.
His workers were alarmed and turned to look at their master.
“Send posters all over the barony. Tell Blacksmiths that I have enough—”
“It’s too late, My Lord. Baron Flameheart has invited all the blacksmiths to the grand hall this morning, declaring that he would sponsor all of them. He revealed boxes upon boxes of silver intricate iron ores. The rare iron ore that has intricate silver meridians!”
“Shut up!!”
Jordan held the servant’s collar and roared. He felt like the servant was mocking him right to his face.
“Lock this man up. He dares to interrupt his master.”
“Bu…”
The servant was unable to speak as guards picked him up and took him away.
Meanwhile, Jordan felt like ripping his hair out of his scalp. He kept clenching and releasing his hands until he couldn’t hold it anymore and went about destroying the bags of corn.
While he was destroying them, a guard ran up to him.
“My Lord, that man said that the corn is not for planting. They can only grow in fields that have mana veins.”
Jordan lifted up his head and looked at the guard.
In the next moment, he began to laugh hysterically. As he recalled the amount he spent on the goods, tears spilled from his eyes, and he lunged for the guard, but the man skillfully dodged.
“Find that merchant, find him, and kill him and his entire family!!”
When he finally calmed down and knew it was all over, he heard footsteps.
“Get lost!”
He yelled.
“Last time I recall, a casual farmer who isn’t yet a lord cannot command the emperor’s messenger.”
Jordan’s eyes widened.
He lifted up his head and saw a man dressed in the most good-looking attire he had ever seen in his life. The man had one hand at his back and the other held a sealed letter.
His long hair was neatly combed and oiled.
Thud!
Jordan fell on both knees. “I apologize for my lack of proper temperament.”
“Indeed. Your temperament is not befitting for a lord, but since the emperor finds favor in you, he has granted your wish. You have the seal to raise your own troops and are no longer under Baron Claude Flameheart. Arise, Viscount Jordan Zebulun.”
A fiery light ignited in Jordan’s eyes as he took the seal.
“The Emperor thinks highly of you. Do not let him down.”
The messenger turned, and as he was walking, a portal appeared and disappeared along with him.
When Jordan thought of the large stock of food in his undercroft and his gold, he knew he lacked just one more thing.
A strong troop!
And he didn’t want to train farmers and commoners but go and buy slave warriors. Troops trained by cruel slave traders. These troops were found in one place on the entire continent.
Everard Kingdom!
……..
On the walls of a small city, Rutherford Tyre faced the vast expanse of snow with his adopted daughter, the water mage, who was crippled.
She sat in a wheelchair.
“That brat should have died by now.”
“I still want to see his corpse,” said Aquilia.
“He would be in the belly of a beast already.” The large man replied with a soft chuckle.
Aquilia’s eyes flickered.
“He might not be dead.”
“Oh?” Rutherford raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say so?”
“He had this wolf that was quite strong.”
“You mean that cripple has a pet beast?” Rutherford frowned.
“Cripple? I saw him stand up.”
“What?!”
A fierce light flashed through Rutherford’s eyes.
“So he deceived me and other nobles at the banquet. That cri… That little lord made a fool out of all of us!”
He turned and walked away.
While descending from the stairs, his lips curled up.
“The bastard child of that womanizer is more than he seems.”
He smirked coldly.
“We shall meet soon.”
“Don’t forget Baron Scarlet is visiting today!” Aquila yelled from the top of the wall, and Rutherford nodded.
“I did not forget.”
…….
Nineveh Stronghold.
Asher was on the training platform swinging his sword. He attuned himself to the sound of the edge of the blade cutting through the air. His eyes were closed as he moved about, thrusting, slashing, and parrying fluidly.
This was the first week of the third month of the year, and in the next two weeks, they would enter the next season, spring!
The season of planting.
Livestock, especially cattle, would see enough fields to graze.
After he performed the last swing, he lowered his sword and brought down the blindfold.
“You’re getting better.”
Kelvin said with a smile.
“Thanks for the compliment, but when is the logistic team going to be prepared for the expedition?”
“You’re leaving with 200 Silver Wolf heavy infantrymen, 100 Thunderstorm Rangers, and 80 Bladebreakers. We need to make sure they’re all well fed and their tents are prepared. It will take more than the time you gave us.”
“I’ll give you three more days, and then we shall march for the Ash Mountain Pass. It’s time to see the famous desolatelands.”
