Chapter 9 : Chapter 9
Chapter 9. Choosing a Territory
After ten days of relentless travel, Eli and his party finally arrived, dusty and road-worn, at the heart of the western frontier.
Thorne City appeared at the end of their sightline, and atop its walls a massive banner embroidered with a roaring golden lion snapped loudly in the wind.
“So we’ve finally arrived...”
Eli reined in his horse and narrowed his eyes as he studied this legendary stronghold.
The immense obsidian walls towered into the sky, their surfaces pitted and weathered after enduring wind, rain, snow, and the baptism of war.
As the party drew near the city gates, a sudden change erupted.
“Halt!”
A furious shout tore through the heavy air.
The guards at the gate, who had seemed somewhat lax a moment ago, instantly tensed.
With a clatter, a forest of spears was raised as one, their sharp points flashing coldly as they all leveled at this unusual party.
“Who are you? State your identity! Why are you bringing armed demi-humans into the city?”
The squad leader at the front barked the question.
The air instantly froze. The knights’ hands moved instinctively to their sword hilts.
Eli swung down from his horse and walked calmly to the very front of the group.
His youthful face had gained a certain quiet steadiness after being tempered by wind and sand.
“Frontier Knight Eli Black.
Under the authority of the kingdom’s Frontier Edict and by my family’s command, I have come to Thorne City to register and receive my frontier charter.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the striking golden lion insignia on the soldiers’ breastplates.
“These Wolf-kin warriors are my lawful followers and guards. They are neither slaves nor bandits.”
“Black? From House Black of the royal domain?”
The squad leader frowned deeply and examined the Black Raven Crest on Eli’s chest again and again.
Once he confirmed it was genuine, neither he nor the soldiers behind him showed even the slightest hint of respect.
Instead, their faces were instantly replaced by even stronger hostility.
“A noble young master from the royal domain?” another soldier could not help sneering under his breath.
“Not content to stay there enjoying himself, so he runs all the way out to our miserable corner of the world to build his glorious achievements? Ha!”
“What did you say?” the hot-tempered Bol demanded as he stepped forward.
Just as the confrontation reached the point where swords might be drawn at any moment, a series of hurried, heavy footsteps sounded from within the gate passage.
“What is going on here?! Lower your weapons!”
A booming shout rang out.
A burly man strode out in long steps.
His features were rough and rugged. He first swept a glance over both sides of the tense standoff, frowning deeply, before his eyes settled on Eli.
“Captain!” The squad leader immediately saluted and reported at rapid speed.
“They claim to be a Frontier Knight from House Black of the royal domain, and they want to bring armed Wolf-kin into the city—”
The guard captain raised a hand and cut him off, then studied Eli once more.
“A Frontier Knight from House Black? Eli Black?”
“That is correct,” Eli replied.
The guard captain stared at Eli for several seconds, as though confirming something.
“Enough. These are Sir Lucius’s orders.
Remember this: any Frontier Knight who arrives to register with valid Frontier Edict credentials is to be admitted without exception. Let them pass!”
The soldiers looked at one another, then lowered the forest of spears and opened a path.
Eli gave a slight nod. “Thank you, Captain.”
He mounted again and led the way through the deep, cold gate tunnel, thick with the smell of saltpeter and rust.
Then, without a word, he removed the raven badge that symbolized House Black.
Develop quietly. Don’t get reckless.
Bol, Aika, and Brandon followed closely behind, the knights trailing in silence.
Wolfgang’s icy wolf eyes swept over the soldiers, who were still full of hostility. A cold, contemptuous snort escaped his throat before he led his clansmen forward as well.
Once inside Thorne City, Eli pulled on the reins and felt his heart sink at what he saw.
This was nothing like the capital of the western frontier he had imagined.
The roads were broad enough, but the paving stones were cracked and sunken, with signs of patchwork repairs everywhere and garbage that had not been fully cleared away.
Most of the pedestrians were sallow-faced and thin, their eyes empty and their steps hurried.
Occasionally, patrols in worn leather armor passed by, only adding to the atmosphere of tension and oppression.
Eli’s gaze moved over the scene without much emotional disturbance.
Given the constant warfare now afflicting the western frontier, the fact that order could still be maintained at all was already no small feat.
The party moved through the city’s oppressive atmosphere, drawing countless gazes—some curious, some numb.
At last, they reached the city center: Duke La Roche’s castle.
This fortress was even larger and more forbidding than the Marquess’s Residence of House Black.
Its gates were forged from heavy refined iron, and upon them was carved the imposing golden lion crest.
“Wait here.”
Eli dismounted, handed the reins to Estor, and instructed Brandon, Bol, and the others.
His gaze passed over Wolfgang, who gave a faint nod to show he understood.
“Young Master, be careful,” Estor whispered nervously.
Eli straightened his robe, took a deep breath, and walked toward the castle gates, which loomed like the jaws of some enormous beast.
He gave his identity, presented his family crest and Frontier Edict documents, surrendered his sword...
One strict inspection followed another.
At last, under the guidance of a middle-aged man in a butler’s attire, his face entirely expressionless,
Eli passed through cold, shadowed corridors and heavily guarded courtyards before arriving deep within the castle.
Golden lion crests could be seen everywhere, silently proclaiming the family’s glory and power.
A heavy oak door was opened without a sound, and the butler stepped aside in invitation.
Eli entered.
The room was spacious, though somewhat dim.
There were three people inside.
In the central seat sat a boy of perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Youthful immaturity still clung clearly to him, though he was doing his best to maintain a steadiness beyond his years.
He wore a well-tailored dark blue formal suit, with a small golden lion emblem pinned to his chest.
When he saw Eli enter, a trace of curiosity flashed through his blue eyes. Then he forced a gentle smile onto his face and gave a slight nod.
This was Constantine La Roche, son of Grand Duke Federico La Roche of the western frontier, and the current heir.
Marquess Marcus sat to his left.
To the right, before a huge arched window, stood a tall figure with a faint air of desolation, his back turned to the room.
“Eli Black.”
Marcus was the first to break the silence. There was no small talk—he went straight to the point.
“You certainly have a handsome face.”
“Compared with your father, who earned the fearsome name of the ‘Black Crow’ in the kingdom’s northern frontier,
you look... yes, much more like a proper noble young master.”
The smile on Constantine’s face stiffened for a moment. He cast Marcus an uneasy glance, then quickly lowered his eyes.
Eli answered with a slight smile.
So that’s it? You can’t even break my guard with that.
“Thank you for the Marquess’s assessment. As you say, my father’s military achievements are indeed something we juniors can only look up to.”
His tone was calm, and he admitted his own “inferiority” without the least hesitation.
Marquess Marcus’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. He did not waste any more words.
Extending a callused finger, he tapped the enormous map of the western frontier spread across the middle of the desk.
“Enough nonsense. In accordance with the Frontier Edict and the duke’s command, every Frontier Knight may choose for himself an area no larger than a standard barony, located west of the western frontier’s current line of actual control—
either in the former territory of the western frontier, or in unclaimed wasteland not yet occupied—
to serve as his frontier base.”
“Choose. Once you’ve made your choice, sign the frontier contract, receive your documents, and then you may go realize your ‘grand ambitions.’”
The map was detailed, marking mountains and rivers, known abandoned villages, danger zones, and the few known mineral deposits that had been identified.
Eli’s gaze swept across it quickly. He appeared to be studying it carefully, but in truth he had long since fixed on his target.
His heartbeat quickened slightly.
Two days earlier, during another pity ten-draw, the purple light of the system had flashed once more.
【In the southwestern part of the western frontier, on the outer edge of Nightsong Forest.
The surface consists of barren red soil and sandstone, but approximately thirty meters underground lies a small yet extremely high-grade mithril vein.】
Mithril!
This rare metal, famed for its supreme malleability and physical strength, was a core material in the forging of top-tier equipment and weapons, and its value far exceeded that of gold by equal weight.
Back in the day, House La Roche had risen to power through a gold mine, laying the foundation of its domination over the western frontier.
Eli kept a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he were choosing cautiously.
His finger moved slowly over the map.
At last, it came to rest firmly on an inconspicuous gray-brown area in the southwestern corner, marked with the note: “Relatively fertile land, with magical beast activity.”
“Marquess, I would like to choose this area.”
Marquess Marcus followed the direction of his finger.
“Here?” Marcus’s voice carried open doubt.
“Boy, are you sure? That godforsaken patch in the southwest corner?
It may be close to the edge of Nightsong Forest, so at least the woods can provide some timber, but there are also quite a few dire wolves and wild beasts active nearby!
Other than...”
He paused, seeming to search his memory.
“Other than an abandoned small iron mine somewhere nearby from more than ten years ago. Perhaps it hasn’t been dug out completely yet.”
Beside him, Constantine also leaned over curiously to take a look.
But Eli remained as calm as ever. “Yes, Marquess.
I studied the map carefully. This area is close to the forest, so timber will be easy to obtain. A tributary also runs nearby, which solves the issue of food and water.
The land may not be especially fertile, but the terrain is comparatively open, which is favorable for establishing and defending a base.
As for that abandoned iron mine... perhaps there may still be some leftover slag that could be used to forge a few basic tools.”
The reasoning sounded perfectly fair.
“That is at least a reasoned choice. Your eye... is not bad, I suppose.”
Marquess Marcus let out a heavy snort and said nothing more. He picked up his pen, ready to mark the location on the map.
At that very moment, the figure who had stood before the window like a cold statue all this time moved.
Lucius La Roche slowly turned around.
Eli looked up instinctively.
It was a pale, handsome face, with certain similarities to Constantine’s.
But the most striking thing about him was his eyes.
Deep gray-blue eyes, without the slightest ripple.
There was no anger in them, no sorrow, no curiosity—only a deathly stillness.
Lucius’s gaze fell slowly and precisely upon Eli’s face.
It was not a sharp gaze, yet it carried a kind of detached coldness and scrutiny that seemed to see through everything. He did not ask a question. He did not voice any doubt.
He simply looked.