Chapter 51 : Chapter 51
Chapter 51. The Journey Home and the Choice
The pounding of hooves shattered the silence of the woods as the group rode farther and farther away from the suffocating atmosphere of Shadow Vale.
Eli pulled on the reins. His warhorse snorted, a plume of white vapor spilling from its nostrils.
Turning his mount around, he calmly swept his gaze over the three lords following close behind him: Griffin Easton, Hans Clive, and Lady Emilia Frost.
The three of them came to a halt as well. The lingering shock had yet to fully leave their faces, but what showed more clearly now was the exhaustion of having escaped a tiger’s jaws, along with a faint sense of bewilderment.
Griffin drew a deep breath, urged his horse forward a few paces, and stopped slightly ahead and to the side of Eli. He placed a hand over his chest.
“Baron Pendragon, please allow me to express my gratitude once more. If you had not stepped forward, then at this very moment, we...”
He paused, a bitter look crossing his face.
“We would most likely have become meat on Sabda’s chopping block, with no room left to choose. We would have had no choice but to join his so-called alliance and let him carve us up at will.”
The lanky Baron Hans Clive spoke in a low voice, carrying the blunt directness typical of northerners.
“Lord Griffin is absolutely right. Sabda’s ambition is plain for all to see. That so-called alliance is merely the prelude to annexation.
Caught in the middle, we would only become targets for all sides, torn apart until nothing remains.”
Young Emilia Frost was still somewhat pale.
“My lord, Clive is right. Grass growing by the wall only becomes everyone’s target, so we... we wish to follow you.”
She gathered her courage and met Eli’s scrutinizing gaze.
“Our territories are not far from the Black Territory and Lucerne City. If we can watch over one another and lend each other support, then our chances of surviving in this danger-filled wasteland will be far greater.”
Seeing that his companions had already spoken their minds, Griffin hesitated no longer. He swung himself off his horse in one clean motion.
He dropped to one knee on the damp, humus-rich forest floor before Eli’s horse, looking up at the young white-haired baron seated atop it. His tone was earnest and solemn.
“Baron Eli Pendragon!
I, Griffin Easton, swear in the name of House Easton that I acknowledge you as the lord of our alliance.
In my territory... an iron mine has been discovered!”
When he spoke those last words, a flicker of struggle flashed across his face.
“It is not large, but the quality is passable. If you will not disdain it, then I am willing to dedicate all of its output to the alliance for military use.”
Hans Clive and Emilia Frost immediately dismounted as well. Following Griffin’s example, they each dropped to one knee.
“We are willing to acknowledge Lord Eli Pendragon as the lord of our alliance!”
There was an all-or-nothing desperation in their actions, as though they were staking their entire wealth and their very lives on Eli.
For a time, the forest fell silent. Only the rustle of wind through the leaves and the uneasy stamping of warhorses could be heard.
Eli sat upright in the saddle, his deep blue eyes sweeping over the three kneeling figures before him.
There was no triumph in his gaze. Instead, a trace of helpless amusement passed through it.
So this was their way of forcing his hand... Yet he truly did need the strength that unity could provide.
He had originally come here only to watch the spectacle and, while he was at it, find out what Sabda was after.
Making more friends and fewer enemies was what best served his interests.
Sabda Medici would never let the matter rest. Behind him loomed the immense power of the Southern Frontier, hanging over the southwestern skies of the Western Frontier like a bank of dark clouds.
Deeper still lurked the remnant forces of the Free City-State Alliance, coiled like venomous snakes in hiding.
The Black Territory and Lucerne City alone were ultimately too thin a force to face those two threats, and perhaps even more besides.
Since Griffin and the others had chosen to come to him of their own accord, and had delivered such support straight into his hands, there was no reason to refuse them.
“Please rise, all of you,” Eli said. His voice was not loud, yet it carried an authority that brooked no disobedience.
He swung down from his horse in one smooth, agile motion.
The silver-white mithril longsword, Silver, remained sheathed in his hand.
He walked over to Griffin, but instead of helping him up, he lightly touched each of Griffin’s shoulders once with the sapphire-set crossguard of Silver.
The motion was simple, yet it carried the weight of an ancient and solemn ritual.
“The iron mine is the wealth of your territory,” Eli said, his voice calm and clear. It is also the foundation on which you will secure yourselves and grow stronger.
You do not need to offer it to me, nor do you need to offer it to the alliance. Use it well yourself. Forge weapons and armor. Arm your soldiers. Reinforce your territory.
Only when you yourselves are strong will our alliance truly be secure.
“Remember this: what I need are allies who can fight beside me and stand on their own, not dependents who live at the mercy of others.”
Griffin abruptly raised his head, his eyes filling with disbelief, joy, and immense gratitude.
He had thought that surrendering the iron mine was the necessary price for protection, yet Eli had rejected it so easily...
Or rather, so wisely.
Not only had Eli preserved Griffin’s greatest hope of turning his fortunes around, he had also given him something he had never expected before: dignity and motivation.
A rush of heat surged into Griffin’s chest, and his voice trembled slightly with emotion.
“My lord... I... House Easton will never fail your trust.”
Eli gave a slight nod and turned his gaze toward Hans Clive and Emilia Frost.
Using Silver’s crossguard once more, he touched each of their shoulders twice in the same manner.
“Hans Clive, Lady Emilia Frost, I accept your request.”
Eli’s gaze swept across the three of them.
From this moment onward, the Black Territory, Lucerne City, the Easton Territory, the Clive Territory, and the Frost Territory shall be bound in an offensive and defensive alliance.
“We will share intelligence, exchange resources, support one another militarily, and stand together against foreign enemies.”
“As you command, Alliance Lord!” the three answered in unison. Their voices were louder and firmer than before, their eyes shining with the excitement of people who had finally found someone to rally around.
“This is no place to linger. Sabda’s pursuers may bite at our heels at any moment.” Eli mounted his horse again.
“Captain Buck, Wolfgang, increase the pace. We return to the Black Territory!”
“Yes, my lord!” Buck and Wolfgang answered in deep voices.
The group set off again, hooves pounding faster now as they raced toward the Black Territory.
The three newly joined lords rode close beside Eli. Though they were weary, their backs seemed straighter than before.
......
At the same time, in Thorne City, inside the study of Marquess Marcus, Military Commander of the Western Frontier, the room was piled high with military reports and maps.
Marcus had just finished approving a stack of documents concerning new recruit conscription and garrison redeployments.
Rubbing his throbbing temples, he casually tossed the quill beside the inkwell.
Then he picked up the mug of ale at hand, now long gone cold, and swallowed a great mouthful.
There was obvious exhaustion on his rugged face, as well as a hatred for desk work that could not have been clearer.
“Damn it! Damn it all! Finally finished.”
“Sir Lucius.” Marcus looked at Sir Lucius La Roche, who sat across from him meticulously checking a grain and supply inventory, and broke the silence.
His tone carried the easy casualness of idle conversation. “Do you remember that letter Eli... or rather, Eli Pendragon now, sent some time ago?”
Without even lifting his head, Lucius used his dip pen to mark a figure beside one of the numbers. His voice remained steady.
“I remember. Aside from reporting the recovery of Lucerne City, the letter also made discreet inquiries about Sabda’s troop deployment and Sabda Medici’s movements. Why?”
Marcus chuckled and leaned back in his broad chair, making the frame groan under the strain.
“I just have this feeling that the sudden interest that brat showed in Sabda’s background is a bit suspicious. Tell me...”
He rubbed the stiff stubble on his chin, amusement flashing in his eyes.
“Do you think those two might have had a bit of an unpleasant encounter somewhere out here in our desolate Western Frontier?
“Something like fighting over territory? Or... quarreling over a lady’s favor?”
Imagining a clash between two young noble scions, he found the idea rather entertaining.
“Hahahahaha!”
Lucius finally looked up, and for once, the corners of his mouth curved in the faintest trace of a smile.
It is nothing more than petty squabbling. Young men having a bit of temper is perfectly normal.
“As long as they do not go too far and affect the greater defense of the Western Frontier, we may leave them be.”
He set down his pen and picked up another letter from the side, this one sealed with a special wax mark.
“Besides, compared to them, we have something far more important to be pleased about.”
“Oh?” Marcus straightened in his seat, curiosity lighting his eyes.
Lucius pushed the letter across the desk toward him. “A confidential letter from my elder brother, Grand Duke Federico. It just arrived.”
Marcus’s spirits immediately rose. He hurriedly picked up the letter, broke the seal, and read through it at speed.
As he read, the tightly furrowed lines between his brows gradually eased. The gloom built up from handling government affairs was swept clean away, replaced by relief and delight.
“Good! Excellent!” Marcus slapped the desk so hard that even the inkwell jumped.
Paying it no mind, he laughed in a booming voice. “The Grand Duke says that the matter in the capital has reached a crucial turning point!
“He is drawing the net tight with all his strength. At best, it will take three or four months. At worst, half a year. But he will surely clear away the hidden danger and return to the Western Frontier! Hahaha!”
He laughed heartily several times, then looked at Lucius with eyes full of yearning for release.
Lucius, did you hear that? Half a year at most! At last, these old bones of mine, meant for swinging blades, will no longer have to stare at these damned sheets of parchment and columns of numbers all day long.
Revising decrees? This work is more exhausting than crossing blades with orcs.
“When the time comes, this whole mess, and the task of recovering every last inch of lost land, will all be handed back to you and the Grand Duke.”
For once, genuine happiness appeared openly on Lucius’s face as well, and he gave a slight nod.
“Yes, Marquess. Once my brother returns, the Western Frontier will surely rise again.
“When that time comes, every inch of fallen land will return to the Kingdom’s map. Not one inch will be missing.”
His gaze turned toward the window, as if he could already see the scene before him: the lion returning to his place, the banners advancing, and the lost lands of the Western Frontier being reclaimed.
At last, the long winter of the Western Frontier seemed to have a glimpse of its end.