Chapter 52 : Chapter 52
Chapter 52. Shock on All Sides
After accepting the loyalty of Griffin, Hans, and Emilia, Eli did not immediately return to the Black Territory.
Under the protection of Buck and Wolfgang, he personally accompanied the three lords to inspect their frontier territories one by one.
The Easton Territory lay across a stretch of relatively gentle hills.
Griffin’s camp had been expanded around an abandoned hunter’s hut. A crude wooden palisade enclosed several dozen low wooden cabins and sheds.
At the center of the camp was a patch of reclaimed farmland, though the crops were sparse.
The most eye-catching sight was the black smoke rising from the edge of the camp, along with the constant clang of hammering iron.
That was the site of the small iron mine Griffin regarded as his lifeline.
Several slaves, their bodies covered in coal dust, were sweating as they mined ore. Beside a crude earthen furnace, an old blacksmith and his apprentice were striking with all their strength, while newly forged farm tools and rough weapons lay piled to one side.
When Griffin introduced the place, his tone carried both embarrassment and hope. His territory had little more than a hundred inhabitants.
As for soldiers, he had only around twenty poorly equipped young men.
Hans’s territory, meanwhile, lay within a rocky mountain hollow.
He had made full use of the terrain, building defensive wooden-and-stone fortifications between several massive boulders. It was easy to defend and hard to attack, but the space was cramped.
The camp was filled with the sharp smell of tanned leather. Baron Clive had clearly devoted his limited resources toward equipping his soldiers.
His force of more than thirty soldiers had comparatively complete leather armor, and their weapons had all been sharpened to a keen edge.
But the camp’s living conditions and cultivated fields were even harsher than those of the Easton Territory.
Emilia’s territory was near a small stream.
Her camp was the neatest of the three. The wooden houses were arranged in orderly rows, and there were even small planned vegetable plots and herb gardens.
The proportion of women and children in the camp was relatively high, and the atmosphere was correspondingly calmer.
But its defensive strength was the weakest. The ten or so soldiers she possessed looked more like guards than fighting men, lacking the grim, battle-hardened air of true warriors.
Emilia’s governance leaned more toward livelihood and stability. In the brutal environment of the wasteland, it seemed somewhat fragile.
After making the full round, Eli understood the situation clearly.
Compared with the Black Territory and Lucerne City, which had benefited from the early support of House Black, the guidance of the intelligence system, and the accumulation of several fortunate encounters, these three territories could only be described as barren, their development painfully difficult.
Griffin’s iron mine was the only resource point that truly stood out, yet even that was limited by both scale and technique.
To have secured a foothold in this wasteland under such limited family support, and even to have maintained basic order, was no easy feat.
Eli nodded inwardly, his recognition of the three lords’ resilience deepening.
“Every territory has its own strengths and weaknesses. There is no need to belittle yourselves,” Eli said in a calm voice before departing from the Frost Territory.
“At present, the most important thing is to stabilize yourselves and build up your strength.”
His gaze swept across the three of them, turning solemn. “Sabda Medici is by no means broad-minded. After suffering this setback, he will definitely make a move.
If you detect any unusual troop movements from his side, or any sign of unidentified forces harassing your territories, send word to the Black Territory or Lucerne City at once.
“Do not hesitate.”
Yes, Alliance Lord!” the three answered in unison, their faces filled with the gravity of people who had just received recognition.
Eli said no more. He mounted up with Buck and Wolfgang and, taking ten Black Crow Knights with him, rode off in a cloud of dust, returning to the land that formed the foundation of his power.
......
While Eli was inspecting the territories of his new allies, the news that he had been granted the title of Baron of Lucerne City spread outward.
With Lucius subtly pushing matters along, it was like a massive stone cast into a still lake, sending ripples rapidly across the entire Kingdom.
In the taverns and noble courtyards of the royal capital, Orlandia, the name Eli Pendragon quickly replaced his former image as the wastrel son of House Black and became the latest subject of discussion.
“Did you hear? That Eli, the one House Black exiled to the Western Frontier to eat sand, actually managed to win himself a barony!”
Who knows? But the Frontier Edict has been in force for so long, and he’s the first one to earn a title through real military merit.
“Pendragon... tsk, tsk. That new surname sounds far more imposing than Black.”
“He just got lucky, that’s all. The Western Frontier is a complete mess...”
Lucky? Why don’t you go take a walk through the Western Wasteland and see for yourself?
“Without real ability, the place would have devoured him so thoroughly there wouldn’t even be bones left. That boy is no simple figure!”
Astonishment, doubt, jealousy, reevaluation... all kinds of voices became tangled together.
A Frontier Knight being granted a barony was not without precedent in the Kingdom.
But against the current backdrop of the Western Frontier’s decay, Eli’s success had undoubtedly delivered a sharp shock to these stagnant waters.
When the news reached the inner circles of the great nobles of the Royal Domain, it caused an even deeper stir.
“A baron... Someone actually succeeded?”
Inside an opulent study, a certain count lowered the intelligence dossier in his hand, his eyes flickering.
“It seems that miserable place called the Western Frontier is not entirely without opportunity...”
“Father, regarding Charles in the Western Frontier... should we allocate another sum of funds to him? Or perhaps send additional manpower?”
The young heir standing nearby asked the question carefully.
The count pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded. “We can. Raise the amount by thirty percent over the original plan.
“Inform Charles that I am not demanding he seize a city like that Pendragon fellow, but at the very least, he must manage his territory into something presentable.
“A title, in the end, is still a scarce thing.”
Similar conversations quietly unfolded within the core decision-making circles of many families.
Eli’s success was like a fuse, igniting the ambitions of many nobles who had previously been merely going through the motions and watching the situation from the sidelines.
......
The atmosphere at the Marquess’s Residence of House Black, however, was completely different.
In the luxuriously decorated sitting room, Lady Livia’s carefully maintained face was now covered in frost, her chest rising and falling slightly with anger.
“A baron! Pendragon! His wings have truly hardened. He has flown quite high indeed!”
“That little bastard... how is he worthy of it?”
Seated across from her, Kaelus Black, the future heir to the marquessate, rubbed his brow helplessly and spoke in a tired voice meant to soothe her.
“Mother, you promised me. The moment I decided to let Eli become a Frontier Knight and leave the family, your grievances with him should have ended there.
“That was the best outcome for the family, for you, and for him.”
He paused, his tone growing firmer. “And besides, he is no longer a member of House Black.
“He chose a new surname—Pendragon. Legally, he has no further connection to House Black.
“So why must you still anger yourself over him?”
Lady Livia drew in a sharp breath, her full chest heaving once as she forced out a sentence through clenched teeth.
“I know that perfectly well! I do not need you to remind me!”
She turned her head away and refused to look at her son again.
......
In the royal capital, however, the atmosphere in the spacious study belonging to Marquess Leon carried a strange trace of... relief?
Seated behind his heavy oak desk, Leon was holding the latest letter sent through the family’s secret channels by the old steward Sebastian.
The contents of the letter were highly detailed. Master Glenn Parr had confirmed the existence of the mithril vein, whose reserves and quality were astonishing.
Eli’s encounter deep within Nightsong Forest had turned his hair white and caused his strength to soar.
Most importantly of all, he had successfully recovered Lucerne City, been granted the title of baron by the Kingdom, and changed his surname to Pendragon.
Leon’s gaze lingered on the name Pendragon for a long time.
On his stern, hard-edged face, the corners of his mouth lifted in a rare upward twitch.
“Pendragon...” he repeated the brand-new surname under his breath, his voice low and impossible to read.
“Hmph.” He gave a soft snort, then carefully folded the letter and placed it into the top drawer of his desk.
“So... he has grown up.”
Light from outside the window fell across his resolute profile.
At that moment, the brows that were so often tightly furrowed seemed to loosen, if only slightly.
......
Prime Minister’s office.
Marquess Toscana gently placed a document from Thorne City in the Western Frontier on the broad desk of Grand Duke Federico La Roche.
There was a faint smile on his face. “My lord, who would have thought that the Frontier Edict you once promoted in order to stir the stagnant waters of the Western Frontier...
That seemingly idle move would truly bear such unexpected fruit in Eli Pendragon.”
Grand Duke Federico picked up the document and quickly read through the contents of Lucius’s report.
His attention lingered on the details concerning Eli’s destruction of Baron Grum’s rebel forces and the recovery of Lucerne City.
There was not the slightest shift in expression on his cold face, as sharply cut as if by blade and axe.
“To capture a city defended by nearly a thousand men...” Federico set the document down, his voice flat and unreadable.
“He is indeed a capable talent, one with both courage and methods.”
“Nearly a thousand?!” The smile on Marquess Toscana’s face froze, and for the first time true shock appeared in his eyes. “How is that possible?”
Lucius’s letter had not described the battle process in detail. He had only known the outcome.
It was only now, from the Grand Duke’s own mouth, that he learned the scale of the enemy force.
For a Frontier Knight to defeat a rebel army of nearly a thousand men with such meager strength, the weight of that military record far exceeded his earlier estimate.
“Perhaps fortune favored him to some degree, but still... Eli Pendragon is no mere accident.”
Federico did not respond to Toscana’s astonishment. His thoughts had already leapt toward a broader design.
“He comes from House Black. Though he changed his surname, blood and past ties do not break so easily.”
He lifted his head, his gaze pinning Toscana like that of a hawk.
“His father, Marquess Leon Black... may perhaps be of use to us.”
Marquess Toscana immediately understood the Grand Duke’s meaning. His brows drew together slightly as he analyzed the matter at once.
“The noble circles of the Royal Domain have always closed ranks among themselves. They are intensely exclusive, as solid as a single iron plate.
“Leon Black is hard by nature. To pry him loose and make him stand with us against the other nobles of the Royal Domain... that would be extremely difficult.”
“A single iron plate?” Federico’s mouth curved into a cold, faintly mocking arc.
“That famed Blackwind knight of House Black... Gordon Black.
“The way he died in the Northern Frontier back then... was highly suspicious.”
Marquess Toscana’s pupils suddenly contracted. “You mean... behind Gordon’s death...?”
In an instant, he thought of the tangled grudges woven among the nobles of the Royal Domain.
“There is no smoke without fire.” Federico did not provide a direct answer, but the weight in his tone was enough to make his meaning clear.
“Once the seed of hatred has been planted, all it requires is the proper timing and the right spark...
“Leon Black is far from as impregnable as he appears on the surface.
His feelings toward his elder brother Gordon, and his suspicions regarding Gordon’s death, may well be the point with which we pry apart that iron plate.”
Tos, in your name, arrange a meeting for me with Marquess Leon Black.
Find a place and time that will not draw too much notice.
“Tell him that I wish to discuss certain old matters concerning Sir Gordon Black.”