Ch. 23
Chapter 23. The Twin Stars Reunite, and Spring Plowing Begins
The massive convoy led by Brandon was spotted from far away by the soldiers on the watchtower.
As soon as he received word, Eli sent Ella to fetch the agriculture officer, Hardy, and told him to prepare himself.
Then he mounted up with Aika and several of his personal guard knights and rode out to meet them. From a distance, he could already see the dozen or so covered wagons stuffed to the brim,
as well as the long line of ragged but still fairly sturdy new slaves trailing behind them.
And yet, Eli’s gaze was instantly seized by an extremely eye-catching figure at the side of the convoy.
That gaudy golden armor was practically a waving banner against the wasteland backdrop, and the dazzling blond hair gleamed brilliantly under the sun.
At that very moment, the man was pointing this way and that at Black Territory’s crude wooden palisade camp and the bustling construction scene in the distance,
while chattering nonstop about something to the thoroughly exasperated Brandon beside him.
The corners of Eli’s mouth twitched uncontrollably, and a faint ache rose at his temples.
Clark Graham!
He had not even had time to figure out how to lure this absurdly proactive and powerful thug over to his side, and now the man had simply delivered himself straight to his door.
“Eli——!!!”
Clark’s golden pupils lit up.
With a shout loud enough to startle birds into flight, he dug his heels into his horse’s belly.
A magnificent white horse shot out like an arrow loosed from the string, instantly leaving the convoy behind as it charged straight toward Eli!
Bang!
Caught completely off guard, Eli nearly got knocked over together with his horse!
He hurriedly hauled back on the reins of his startled mount and only barely managed to steady himself, black lines spreading across his face.
“You black crow!”
Clark wrapped both arms around Eli’s waist, his voice even carrying a choked, tearful note.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard you’d been exiled to this godforsaken place in the Western Realm?! Huh?! You did not even leave your brother a single letter! Are you even human?!”
“Let go! Clark! Let go of me!” Eli was being squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe.
“Who the hell got exiled?! I am a frontier lord! Frontier development! Do you understand?!”
“Frontier development? Oh, right.” Clark lifted his head, and those fake tears had already evaporated without a trace.
“That’s amazing! Fucking amazing! Adventure! Conquest! Building your own kingdom in the wilderness! It’s so romantic!”
He let go of Eli and began wildly waving his arms around in excitement.
“The moment I heard the news, I wanted to come find you! But that damned old man in my house!”
He mimicked Marquis Graham’s imposing tone.
‘Nonsense! The Western Realm is a lawless land. Is that a place for you to run wild? Stay put and train properly for me!’
Then he suddenly leaned close to Eli and lowered his voice.
“Do you know how I got out? Heh! I went to my little sister and pestered her for three full days! I was one step away from kneeling to her!
In the end she could not take it anymore and lent me the private savings she’d been hoarding for years! A full three hundred gold coins!”
Then he proudly pointed at the few knights behind him wearing the Graham Family’s thorn-rose surcoats.
“These men’s families are all vassal knights of my house.
The moment they heard I was coming to follow you, this legendary lord of frontier development, they came along without a word! Loyal enough, right?”
He did not give Eli even the slightest chance to interrupt.
“Eli! With the two of us here, what wilderness monsters, what sand bandits or raiders? We’ll crush every last one of them!
We’re going to make our names thunder across this land! We are going to—”
Unable to bear it any longer, Eli quickly shot Brandon a meaningful look.
“Ahem! Ahem!” Off to the side, Brandon caught the signal and gave two heavy coughs, successfully interrupting Clark’s passionately swelling speech.
Clark smacked his lips in dissatisfaction, still not quite sated, and shot Brandon an annoyed glance before nodding with feigned solemnity.
“Yes, yes, Steward Brandon, you worked hard on the road. The supplies were all procured smoothly, I trust?”
The corner of Brandon’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. Then he respectfully reported to Eli.
“My lord, I have not disgraced my duty. As for the exact quantity of supplies, I already sent someone ahead to report that earlier.”
“In addition...” A trace of regret appeared on his face.
“As for the purple spiral-patterned bean seed you specifically instructed me to look for, this subordinate asked throughout Thorn City and among all the surrounding caravans, yet none had ever heard of it.”
“I understand. You’ve worked hard.” Eli nodded. Though disappointed, he had expected as much.
He glanced at Clark, who had already begun craning his neck around again and clicking his tongue in fascination.
“Aika, take Young Master Graham and his friends to get settled first. Mm... put them beside the lord’s residence.”
“By your command, my lord!” Aika stepped forward at once.
“Hey? Wait! Eli! I still haven’t—”
Clark clearly still wanted to say something, but Aika and the family knights dragged him away, leaving behind only a trail of dissatisfied shouting.
Once that source of noise had been dealt with, Eli’s gaze turned toward the distant stretch of land that had been designated as farmland and only recently cleared into a rough shape.
“Brandon, go get some rest.”
Spring had arrived, and the season would not wait for anyone.
“Hardy!” Eli called out loudly.
The agriculture officer Hardy immediately came trotting over. “My lord!”
“Is everything prepared?”
“In reply, my lord, the land has already been divided into plots according to your instructions and given its initial tilling.
The slaves and free folk have all been divided into squads in advance, and the farm tools and plow oxen Lord Brandon just brought back have already been distributed as well!
We are only waiting for a single word from you before the plows can turn and the seeds can be sown!”
Looking at the neatly planned fields, along with the brand-new tools and plow oxen, the old agriculture officer seemed to have entered a second spring himself.
“Good! Spring plowing begins!”
“Move it! Move it! Squads One, Two, and Three, carry the wheat seed and follow me to the eastern plots!
Squads Four, Five, and Six, take those... uh... dirt lumps—potatoes—to the western plots! Move faster! Don’t dawdle!”
Bol was still as loud-voiced as ever.
The slaves and free folk, who had long been waiting, lifted up their newly issued tools and surged toward the farmland assigned to each group under the shouts of their squad leaders.
“Hold the plow handles steady! Yes! Just like that! Keep the ox moving straight!”
“Sow the seed! Don’t space them too close together! Are you some pampered young master or what?!”
“You lot over there! Don’t slack off! Put your backs into it and smash those clods apart!”
Like an old clock wound too tightly, Hardy hurried back and forth along the field ridges, barking orders in a hoarse voice, his wrinkled face flushed red with excitement and urgency.
At times he personally demonstrated how to hold the plow. At times he rushed over to correct the clumsy sowing movements of a young slave.
And at other times, he would blow up in anger at a few stubborn oxen that refused to cooperate properly.
“You stupid beasts! Walk straight!” Hardy brandished the small whip in his hand.
His rough shouts, mixed with the accent of the Western countryside, became one of the most vibrant background sounds in the fields.
Mounted on horseback, Eli moved slowly along the field ridges.
Everywhere his eyes reached, there spread a scene unlike anything before, a sight so stirring it set the heart surging.
Across the broad red earth, men with bronze, bare upper bodies strained their bulging muscles as sweat glittered under the sun.
They swung their heavy hoes with all their strength, smashing apart the stubborn clods of soil.
The women followed behind them, deftly planting full grains of wheat seed or cut pieces of potato with budding eyes into the freshly turned earth.
Their movements were nimble and focused. The numbness was gone from their faces, replaced by a kind of anticipation for the harvest to come.
“Heave-ho—put your backs into it!”
“Straight ahead!”
“Bury it deeper!”
No one knew who had started it first, but simple, powerful work chants began rising one after another between the furrows, like invisible cords drawing together the strength and spirit of everyone present.
Even the heavy labor suddenly seemed less unbearable.
Even the soldiers who had been assigned to watch over the newly arrived slaves and keep order temporarily put down their weapons, infected by the fervent atmosphere, and joined in the work.
At some point, Clark had shaken off Aika’s “supervision” and wandered over to the edge of the fields as well.
Standing on the ridge, he gazed at the grand panorama of labor before him. The usual playful irreverence had vanished from his face, and in his golden eyes there was only an almost stunned concentration.
He opened his mouth, but in the end he merely watched silently, even his breathing turning lighter.
Eli reined in his horse and quietly took in the sight.
His territory. His people. With their own hands, upon this land ravaged by war and desolation, they were sowing the seeds of the future.
Sweat-soaked backs, rising and falling work chants, the fragrance of newly turned soil, and those once-numb faces now beginning to show light in their eyes...
All of it gathered into an invisible torrent that crashed against his heart.
He drew in a deep breath of air filled with life, brushed away the faint shimmer at the corner of his eyes, and slowly lifted the corner of his mouth into an incomparably resolute arc.
“It will happen.”
And yet, at the edge of the camp, in Wolfgang’s wolfkin camp, an entirely different scene was unfolding.
Dozens of fluffy wolf cubs had been settled into simple shelters lined with soft dry grass.
They were letting out intermittent milk-scented whimpers and uneasy little growls.
The young wolfkin warriors surrounded them carefully, as if facing a pile of fragile treasures.
Some imitated mother wolves, awkwardly nudging at the cubs’ bellies with their noses.
Others simply curled themselves into tight balls, imitating the warmth and scent of their own kind in an attempt to give the little creatures some sense of security.
Aji had even secretly stuffed one especially fierce-looking cub inside his leather coat, leaving only a furry little head peeking out.
It was only after Wolfgang shot him a glare that he reluctantly put it back.
At that moment, a strange tenderness belonging to the wilderness quietly began to take root in that little corner of the world.
The first spring of Obsidian Territory had truly begun.
(That vibrant vitality, that realm where all things competed and flourished, still seemed to stand before one’s eyes.)