Chapter 43 : Chapter 43
Chapter 43. The Envoy from the Southern Frontier and the Silver Wolf Transformation
Morning light filtered through the newly installed glass windows of the lord’s keep, casting mottled shadows across the hardwood desk spread with rough maps.
Eli sat upright behind the desk, his white hair all the more striking in the light.
He was intently reviewing the preliminary plans for Lucerne City that Brandon had organized overnight, his fingertips tapping unconsciously against the tabletop.
Aila sat quietly at one side, handling the more trivial daily camp accounts.
“Young Master,” Estor’s voice sounded from outside the door.
“The camp guards report that a messenger is here seeking an audience. He claims to be from House Medici of the Southern Frontier.”
Eli’s tapping fingers paused slightly.
Medici? The Southern Frontier?
The name “Sabda Medici” from that Purple-Tier intelligence report instantly surfaced in his mind.
They moved quickly.
“Let him in,” Eli said calmly, though his eyes had grown a shade sharper.
Not long after, the heavy wooden door was pushed open.
A soldier led in a travel-worn man dressed with deliberate refinement.
He looked to be around thirty, with a capable, hardened face and his chin slightly raised.
He wore a tailored dark green velvet coat, with elaborate golden serpent patterns embroidered along the collar and cuffs.
The moment he entered, his gaze swiftly swept across this crude yet imposing lord’s office.
It paused for a brief instant on Eli’s striking white hair and on Aila, carrying a trace of scrutiny.
Then it quickly withdrew, replaced by a standard show of respect.
He did not bow. Instead, after stopping in place, he clearly and loudly recited a long string of titles.
His voice carried the distinctively Southern Frontier accent, slightly syrupy and slow.
“Honored Lord Eli Black,
I have come under the orders of my master, Young Master Sabda Medici, son of the honorable Duke Hackson Medici, Guardian of the Southern Frontier and Duke of the Southern Frontier of the Kingdom of Orlando, to pay you a visit.”
He deliberately emphasized the phrase “son of the Duke,” as though the title itself were an invisible threat.
“This is the invitation letter our lord has sent for you.”
With that, he produced a letter sealed with dark green wax from inside his coat.
Pressed into the wax was a crest of a serpent entwined with coins.
He did not step forward, merely lifted the letter slightly.
Estor stepped forward to receive it, then presented it to Eli.
Eli took the letter.
The paper was of exceptionally fine quality and carried a faint fragrance.
He broke the seal and unfolded the sheet. The handwriting was ornate and flowing. The wording appeared polite on the surface, but between the lines there was a commanding tone that allowed no refusal.
“To the Frontier Knight of the Western Frontier, Lord Eli Black:...a young talent worthy of admiration... not a task that can be accomplished by one man alone.
...I, Sabda Medici, son of the Duke of the Southern Frontier, invite Your Lordship and the other seven frontier lords of the southwestern Western Frontier
to visit my territory in Shadow Vale, at the eastern foothills of Nightsong Forest, seven days from now.
There, we shall discuss a grand strategy for the development of the region...”
At the bottom of the letter, the crest of the entwined serpent and coins appeared once more, carrying a silent pressure with it.
“Discuss plans for regional development together?”
Eli set the letter down, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“This Young Master Sabda... does carry himself with extraordinary grandeur, to invite all eight of us lords in one stroke.
I take it your master is the heir favored by the Duke of the Southern Frontier?”
His tone was flat and gave away nothing.
The formulaic respect on the messenger’s face faltered slightly.
Clearly, he had not expected the other party to ask so directly about the matter of succession. It was a question that touched the most sensitive nerve in the Southern Frontier.
A trace of stiffness entered his voice.
“My lord misunderstands. My master, Young Master Sabda, is the Duke’s second son.”
“Oh?”
Eli arched a brow and let out a laugh whose meaning was hard to read.
“The second son? He certainly puts on an impressive show.
From the tone of this letter, I had almost thought the Duke himself had come to the Western Frontier to issue commands to all the lords here.”
Then he added lightly, “Still... that does put him above me, a mere non-heir son.”
Estor, standing to one side, could not help letting out a laugh at Eli’s pointed mockery.
Those words landed like an invisible slap across the messenger’s carefully maintained dignity.
The last trace of respect on his face could no longer hold.
A flicker of anger rose in his eyes, along with that sense of superiority common to servants of House Medici.
At the thought of the great Medici Family of the Southern Frontier, even a mere servant of theirs could still feel pride.
He straightened his back and raised his voice, stressing each word.
“My lord, that is not the case! We are of House Medici! The Southern Frontier—”
“That’s enough.”
Eli cut him off without the slightest courtesy and looked at him directly.
“Go back and tell Sabda Medici that I have received his invitation.”
The messenger choked on the clean, decisive interruption and reply.
All the grand speeches he had prepared to flaunt the might of his house lodged in his throat.
He looked into Eli’s calm yet unfathomably deep eyes, and for the first time felt a kind of invisible pressure.
It was as though the noble name he was so proud of had lost its usual weight before this white-haired lord.
He opened his mouth, but in the end only gave a stiff, shallow bow.
“Yes... I will deliver your answer. Seven days from now, Shadow Vale shall await your honored presence, my lord.”
With that, and at Estor’s gesture, he quickly turned and withdrew.
The door closed, and silence returned to the room.
“Medici...” Aila repeated softly, her violet eyes turning to Eli with a questioning look.
“Eli... I don’t think you need to take that risk.”
“I know.” Eli casually tossed the invitation letter onto the corner of the desk.
“A second son unwilling to stay beneath others, coming to stir the muddy waters of the Western Frontier and trying to play alliance leader? Hah.”
He gave a cold laugh.
“He wants nothing more than to consolidate the surrounding powers. Either they serve him, or... he removes dissidents.Still, it won’t hurt to go and have a look. It will be a good chance to see what exactly this Young Master Sabda is plotting. And to see what sort of quality the other seven neighboring lords possess.”
But he would have to bring the strongest fighting force currently available. If Sabda really dared to overturn the table...
Eli thought of one of the simplest and most effective tactics from his previous life. It was not complicated at all.
In fact, it was brutally direct.
Hold a meeting, kill the attendees.
Countless heroes had fallen to that trick.
At that moment, movement sounded once more outside the door.
“My lord,” Wolfgang’s low voice rang out.
His figure appeared in the doorway, his massive frame blocking most of the light.
Yet the most striking thing was not his size, but his fur.
What had once been dense gray-black wolf fur had now become half transformed into a moonlit silver-white.
Especially across his shoulders, back, arms, and chest, the silver-white and gray-black interwove,
forming strange blue-white patterns that shimmered with a cold brilliance beneath the morning light.
His icy blue wolf eyes blazed with sharp light, and his aura had become deep and heavy as an abyss.
He was stronger than before by far more than just a single measure.
“Wolfgang?” Both Eli and Aila were startled.
Though Eli had already expected some kind of change, seeing such a near total transformation with his own eyes still shook him.
Wolfgang dropped to one knee, his voice trembling with barely restrained excitement.
“My lord! My lady! My thirteen clansmen and I have already drunk the divine gift you bestowed upon us!”
“I can feel it... the great power contained within that spring water is surging through the depths of our bloodlines!
My bones are roaring, my blood is burning! My strength... has never been greater.
The barrier has already begun to loosen. I feel... I feel that it will not be long before I break into the Gold Tier.”
He paused, his huge wolf claw tightening into a fist, the joints cracking softly.
“My clansmen have also undergone astonishing changes.Their strength, speed, and senses... all are advancing by leaps and bounds. My lord, what you granted us was not merely strength, but rebirth itself! The Frostclaw Tribe is willing to become the sharpest fangs in your hand forever, tearing apart every enemy for you!”
Gold Tier.
Eli’s heart shook violently. The effects of the water from the Moonlight Spring had far exceeded expectations.
“Take me to see them!”
Eli rose abruptly to his feet, his eyes filled with intense curiosity.
This Wolf-kin force, currently undergoing a leap in the very level of life itself, would become one of the Black Territory’s most unpredictable and most powerful hidden cards in the future.
“Yes, my lord! My lady! Please come with me at once!”
Wolfgang rose immediately and, like the most loyal of guards, stepped aside to lead the way.
The Wolf-kin camp was located on the outskirts of the Black Territory encampment, in an area close to the forest and relatively separate from the rest.
At that moment, a great bonfire blazed in the center of the camp, yet the place was strangely silent.
Thirteen powerfully built young Wolf-kin sat in a circle around it, all bare-chested, their muscles knotted and their bodies drenched in sweat.
Their eyes were tightly shut, their teeth clenched hard, and veins bulged beneath their skin as if countless little snakes were writhing madly beneath the flesh.
Heavy breathing and suppressed growls rose and fell one after another, and the air was thick with a wild, violent energy.
Most striking of all was that, just like Wolfgang, the tips of what had once been their gray-brown or dark brown fur
now faintly showed a newborn silver hue beneath the bonfire’s glow and the moonlight’s shroud.
Before long, the warriors’ violent trembling gradually subsided, and the raging energy seemed to find a proper channel for release, beginning to strengthen their muscles, bones, and flesh in an orderly way.
Soon, one Wolf-kin could no longer suppress it and let out a primal cry.
“Awoooo—!”
The other Wolf-kin immediately echoed him with howls of their own.
A pack of wolves howling at the moon.
Eli: “...”
Looking at the scene before him, Eli inexplicably felt that it was strangely familiar.