Chapter 31 - 30
"The Sengolio Empire sent an army through the Multan Fortress," the bandit said, his voice shaky. "Marquess Faythorn, Ravencourt, and Myzareth were all killed. Marquess Durnevan was gravely wounded. The counties nearby are burning—war has broken out. We escaped from Durnevan County."
Lumberling stiffened.
A single Marquess was no pushover. They were all at least Knight Stage 3, elite protectors of the empire’s borders. For three to fall meant the Sengolio Empire had sent multiple Knight Stage 3 combatants—or worse.
"The Multan Fortress... was overrun?" Lumberling asked. "When?"
"Two months ago," the man replied. "Word is that the Sengolio army is being led by a Knight Stage 4."
Lumberling’s eyes narrowed. A Knight Stage 4... That wasn’t just any commander. That was an Imperial Legate—a living weapon just one step below the emperor. Only a Knight Stage 5, typically the emperor himself, could match such power. And history was clear: if an empire ever produced more than one Knight Stage 5, it often led to civil war over the throne.
If the Sengolio Empire had deployed a Legate, then this war wasn’t like the past border skirmishes—it was full-scale invasion. The implications settled heavily in Lumberling’s chest. Refugees would pour into the region. Bandit activity would surge. Trade routes would collapse.
He had to prepare. His merchant network, the goblin village, even the people under his care—everything was about to be tested.
He glanced down at the bearded man trembling at the tip of his spear.
Lumberling didn’t hesitate. He drove the spear through his heart.
The man’s eyes widened. A breath escaped. Then silence.