Ch. 30
Chapter 30. The Legend of Nightsong Forest
Back in his room, Eli kept running his fingers over Marquess Leon’s secret letter.
Every word in that letter finally allowed him to breathe again.
“Master Craftsman Glenn... Scholar Edgar... fifty Black Crow Knights...” Eli quietly read those names and numbers aloud.
Of them all, the words “fifty Black Crow Knights” instantly drove away the last trace of worry still lodged in his bones after the bloody battle at the mine.
His father’s move had far exceeded his expectations.
Master Craftsman Glenn was a legendary figure in the service of House Black.
It was said that the divine weapons and sharp arms he had repaired or forged were enough to equip a small army.
Scholar Edgar was also one of the core members of the family’s advisory circle, a man of vast learning and prodigious memory, well versed in history, geography, and even the fundamentals of alchemy.
And as for the fifty Black Crow Knights...
That was nearly one-fifth of the elite strength of House Black’s core guard, the Black Crow Knights.
Deputy Commander Buck was personally leading them. What did that mean?
It meant that his father was not merely providing technical support. He was also placing in Eli’s hands a blade force powerful enough to roam the wasteland without fear.
A Silver Tier backbone, Bronze Tier elites, and on top of that Buck himself, a Gold Tier powerhouse...
Had he underestimated the value of the mithril mine after all?
“Hahaha, I told you we’d meet again.”
Looking at the familiar name, Eli’s lips curved upward.
He walked to the window of the crude lord’s keep, pushed it open, and let the evening breeze carrying the scent of grass and leaves wash over his face.
The thousand-odd rebels in Lucerne City were still a sword hanging over his head.
But at this moment, the enemy was in the open while he remained in the shadows.
No matter how furious Baron Grum might be, it would be no easy thing for him to pinpoint the Black Territory on the vast wasteland.
With the addition of those fifty Black Crow Knights, together with his current soldiers and Wolfgang’s wolf-kin warriors...
“More than ten days... no, perhaps I can buy even longer.” A sharp light flashed through Eli’s eyes.
Grum had lost an elite scout team and a Lower Silver Tier leader. He would surely be enraged, but he would also be even more wary.
Before he could figure out his enemy’s true strength, would he really dare dispatch his main force so easily?
Eli believed he would not. At the very least, he would not dare send everything out at once.
“Bol!” Eli called out loudly.
“My lord!”
“Pass the order down. Expand the territorial army by fifty men!” Eli’s voice was decisive and absolute.
“Choose them first from the newly purchased young adult slaves and from the freefolk who have performed well!
“The requirements are these: strong bodies, no bad record, and the ability to endure hardship. They will receive the same treatment and benefits as the current soldiers.”
“Yes, my lord!” Light burst into Bol’s eyes. He accepted the order at once and hurried off.
As Eli watched Bol’s broad back disappear through the doorway, his fingers unconsciously began tapping against the rough windowsill.
With the addition of those fifty Black Crow Knights, together with his current soldiers and Wolfgang’s wolf-kin warriors...
The total number of men able to fight would approach two hundred.
The new recruits still needed training, but with Bol, Aika, and the others drilling them, they would soon become a usable fighting force.
More importantly, he would have an organized knightly order.
Even if Grum truly sent several hundred men to storm them, it was not as though they would have no power to resist. And if he could smash that offensive, perhaps even...
A barony.
A true noble title that belonged to him. A true fief that belonged to him.
That would mean breaking free of the precarious identity of a Frontier Knight.
It would mean that Obsidian Territory would, in legal terms, truly belong to him, Eli Black.
It would mean that, on this wasteland, he had truly sunk down roots and gained the first qualification to take part in the kingdom’s game.
The temptation of that was indeed great.
Yet when the excitement faded, deeper thought followed, along with the pressure that came with it.
He walked back to the long crude table and let his fingers pass over the spread-out population register and resource inventory of the territory.
Nearly a thousand people.
That number sounded far from small.
But among them, the true core fighting strength was still fewer than two hundred.
As for skilled personnel such as craftsmen, blacksmiths, carpenters, and the like, even counting generously, there were only a little more than forty.
The majority were producers such as farmers, but the land that had actually been reclaimed was limited, while hunting and fishing could only barely supplement their meat supply.
There were still too few people!
To reclaim more wasteland, to build stronger walls, to establish a more complete workshop system, to maintain an army strong enough not only to defend itself but to advance...
With this little manpower, everything was stretched painfully thin.
The craftsmen and knights his father was sending were indeed timely relief, but at the same time they were also an enormous burden.
Fifty elite knights, together with the food for men and horses, the upkeep of their equipment, the reserve for pensions and compensation...
That was an astronomical expense. Add to that the cost of the fifty new soldiers he was about to recruit...
The pitiful little stock of barely more than a hundred gold coins in the treasury probably would not even last half a month.
Eli slumped back into the hard wooden chair and rubbed his throbbing temples hard.
War needed money. Construction needed money. Feeding people needed even more money. And the very thing he lacked most right now was money.
Without people, there would be no productivity.
Without productivity, there would be no money.
Without money, he could neither feed people nor recruit more...
It was a dead cycle.
“If only I had... a proper domestic administrator...” Eli murmured softly, desire and helplessness mingling in his voice.
To govern a territory that was growing larger by the day, balance income and expenditure, plan development, and allocate resources...
These detailed, tedious, yet absolutely crucial internal affairs were making him feel increasingly unequal to the task.
Brandon was experienced, but his energy was limited. Estor was young, but lacked independent judgment. Hadi understood agriculture, yet knew little of military logistics...
What he lacked now was a steady, seasoned steward.
This sense of being constrained had become especially obvious now that the territory was beginning to take shape.
“Forget it...” Eli shook his head and forced himself to cast aside those impractical fantasies.
He stood up, walked to the crude map hanging on the wall, and once more fixed his gaze on the land of the Western Frontier.
No rush, he told himself.
Those frontier lords who had not received family support, those whom their families and Prime Minister Federico had treated as discarded pieces, were probably still struggling for basic resources at this very moment.
As for his Obsidian Territory, it could already be called an astonishingly favorable start.
“I can’t aim too high. I can’t chase glory recklessly.” Eli lightly slapped his own face.
Then he turned his attention back to the matters before him.
He carefully reviewed the recruitment standards and benefit details for the new soldiers, making sure they would be attractive enough without worsening the already strained finances.
He also met with Leon and Hadi to confirm the condition of the farmland and its growth.
He urged Old John to speed up the pace of construction while also beginning to plan the reinforcement of the outer defensive palisades.
...
Several days later, at dusk, the lingering glow of the sunset gilded the dark green canopy of Nightsong Forest with a rim of gold.
Wolfgang’s tall figure appeared in the doorway of the Council Hall. Fresh mud and grass clippings stained his leather armor, and his ice-blue wolf eyes were grave.
“My lord.”
“Wolfgang? Has the hunt ended? How was the yield?” Eli set down the papyrus in his hand and looked up as he asked.
“Game was scarce.” Wolfgang’s words were as brief as ever. “The deer and wild boar on the outskirts have nearly vanished.
“We... went a little deeper.”
Eli’s heart tightened. “And then? Did you run into trouble?”
“We did not encounter any powerful magical beasts.” Wolfgang shook his head. He paused for a moment, as though organizing his thoughts.
“We... found a place. Very old. Swallowed by the forest.”
“An ancient place?” Eli’s interest was immediately stirred. “Ruins? A relic site?”
“Yes.” Wolfgang’s expression turned somewhat strange.
“Huge stones, carved with strange patterns, buried beneath vines and moss.
“Many of them have collapsed, but it is clear... it was once vast, very... different. It did not look like something built by humans...”
“Not human?” Eli’s brows rose sharply.
A thought flashed through his mind like lightning. He suddenly rose to his feet. “Ella! Go and bring Agricultural Officer Hadi here!”
Before long, Hadi, his hair already gray, was led in by Ella.
“My lord, you sent for me?”
“Hadi.” Eli fixed him with an intent gaze. “You are a native of the Western Frontier. How much do you know about Nightsong Forest...?
“Deep inside the forest, are there any ancient legends?
“Or perhaps... legends of ruins left behind by nonhuman races?”
“Deep inside Nightsong Forest?” Hadi froze for a moment. Then a look of thought and confusion mixed together on his face.
“My lord, I am from Oak Town in the central Western Frontier. I am not very familiar with the part of Nightsong Forest close to the wasteland. As for legends...”
He furrowed his brow, trying hard to recall, and a faint light of memory flickered in his clouded eyes.
“There are quite a few legends. Mountain sprites and tree spirits, man-eating trolls, the sleeping tombs of ancient giants...
“I heard the old folks say... they were once prosperous, but now they have long since vanished...”
Hadi’s voice lowered, taking on the solemn gravity of someone recounting an ancient secret. “However...”
“There is one legend that has spread widely through the Western Frontier, especially in the villages near the forest’s edge...
“The old people all say that in the deepest core of Nightsong Forest, where even moonlight can scarcely pierce the canopy, there dwell... the Children of the Forest.
“Whenever night falls, they gather together and sing. That, they say, is where the name Nightsong Forest came from...”
“The Children of the Forest?” Eli pressed.
“Yes, my lord.” Hadi nodded, and the reverence in his eyes deepened.
“Legend says they are so beautiful they hardly seem like mortal beings. They have pointed ears and can live for hundreds of years.
“They are born able to commune with the grasses and trees of the forest, with the birds of the sky and the beasts of the wild. They are nature’s favored children and its guardians...
“They despise the noise and destruction of humankind, living apart from the world, elusive and hard to trace...”
He paused, as if carefully weighing his words. In the end, he spoke the term that had been sung by countless bards as a symbol of mystery and grace.
“...People also call them—elves.”