Chapter 13: Departure

When Victor arrived at the temporary camp on the southern edge of Blackcastle Town, he found Nelson leading the entire War Bear Mercenary Company, already fully prepared to depart. The camp was meticulously organized—some of the mercenaries were clad in chainmail, armed with spears and shields, while others carried crossbows and had short swords at their belts. There were also several sturdy men in worn leather armor holding four-meter-long spears, who were likely militiamen handpicked by Nelson from among the local subjects.

Over three hundred people were gathered around more than twenty wagons loaded with supplies. Every one of them wore a sheepskin coat and a thick hooded cloak issued by the mercenary company. With such a long journey ahead to a new territory, and with winter’s chill in the air, these garments were essential for the subjects, who would be trekking for more than ten days.

Victor nodded silently in approval. The War Bear Mercenary Company was indeed an experienced and reputable force. Not only could they oversee the grand logistics of migrating several hundred people, but they also attended to critical details. With a contingent of powerful knights accompanying them along the way, Victor felt a surge of confidence about the journey.

“My lord, good day to you. You’re here.” Gru, upon seeing Victor arrive on horseback, immediately hurried over, bowing and smiling obsequiously.

“Where is Nelson?” Victor asked, amused at how this fierce-looking, brawny Gru could also display such a sycophantic side.

“The boss—uh, I mean, the captain. The captain is arranging the scouts,” Gru quickly corrected himself, remembering he was now a guard and not a mercenary, and tried to assume a more proper stance.

“Very well, take me to him,” Victor instructed.

At the center of the camp, Nelson was giving instructions to his sister Lydia and a few capable mercenaries. Upon seeing Victor approach, Nelson hurried to greet him with a salute, and Lydia and the other mercenaries quickly followed suit.

“See to your tasks,” Victor said with a wave of his hand, signaling that further formalities were unnecessary.

“Yes, sir.” Nelson turned to Lydia and the others. “Head out now. Remember to place a marker every three kilometers, and after covering about seventy kilometers each day, start surveying for suitable campsites. Take the red-eyed ravens with you—if anything happens, you can quickly contact the main group.”

The red-eyed raven was a bird commonly used for communication by the War Bear Mercenary Company. These birds were fiercely loyal to their mates and seemed to share a peculiar bond; no matter where you took a red-eyed raven, it could always fly back to its partner.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Lydia replied crisply.

As she departed, the youthful and beautiful mercenary girl stole a quick, blushing glance at the young and handsome lord. Though it wasn’t the first time she’d seen Victor, every encounter always left her heart racing and her cheeks flushed.

“You’re letting Lydia lead the scouts—aren’t you worried she might encounter danger?” Victor asked Nelson with concern after Lydia and her team had left.

“My lord, Lydia is our finest archer, and the veterans accompanying her are our most experienced scouts. There won’t be any problems,” Nelson replied with unwavering confidence.

Nelson had deliberately sent Lydia away. He understood his sister’s feelings, but how could Victor, a noble, ever be truly interested in Lydia?

In truth, Nelson wouldn’t mind if Lydia had a fleeting romance with Victor. Most female mercenaries aspired to become a noble’s lover; if they could bear noble blood, their offspring might become knights—perhaps even founding a new knightly house if fortune favored them.

If a female mercenary conceived a noble’s child, she would marry as soon as possible. The husband, far from being resentful, would be delighted, for this might be the only chance for an ordinary person to change his fate. However, one could not expect a noble to harbor lasting affection for a common-born woman. It was better to quash Lydia’s hopes now than let her suffer heartbreak later.

“My lord, Sir Bruce has arrived with a troop of cavalry!” Gru came rushing over, calling out loudly.

Stepping out of the camp, Victor saw a detachment of cavalry and a wagon waiting outside. At their head rode a middle-aged man in fine leather armor, his expression stern—it was none other than Sir Bruce.

“Sir Bruce, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Ever since you rescued me from the bandits, I haven’t had the chance to thank you in person,” Victor greeted him with a broad smile.

“Baron, there’s no need for thanks. It was my duty,” Bruce replied, dismounting and offering a knightly salute, his tone warm.

For this journey, Victor had specifically sent Sir Bruce five thousand Gold Sols—a considerable sum for a knight.

As the two exchanged pleasantries, Victor felt a familiar gaze fall upon him. Turning, he saw that Nicole, the long-legged beauty who served as Sylvia’s bodyguard, was staring at him from horseback. When she noticed Victor looking her way, she quickly averted her eyes.

“Nicole, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Victor said, a hint of surprise in his voice. He had believed he would never cross paths with the lovely squire again and had felt a touch of wistfulness over it.

“Baron, I am here by my lady’s orders to accompany Master Edwin of the Silver Tower to your territory,” Nicole replied stiffly, clearly still holding a grudge over their last encounter at the Rose Manor banquet.

Victor, however, was more preoccupied with the mention of “Silver Tower” and “Master Edwin”—these names sent a thrill through him.

The Silver Tower, known as the White Tower, was located within the Kingdom of Ayr. It was a sanctum for human scholars, said to house the richest collection of books in the world and to embody the sum of all human knowledge.

In human society, there were two main institutions for imparting knowledge: the church’s monasteries and the Silver Tower. The monasteries recruited talent from among all believers, including commoners, but trained them solely for church service—monastery graduates could only become clergy.

The White Tower, by contrast, admitted only the children of nobles, cultivating talent for the upper echelons of human society.

In a noble family, only the eldest son could inherit the title and estate. The other children had to seek their own paths; those who awakened the knightly bloodline might become knights in service to a great lord.

Those who could not awaken their knightly bloodline were often sent by their fathers or elder brothers to the Silver Tower to study and become scholars. Such individuals typically became royal ministers or advisors to lords, and the most outstanding among them might even be ennobled at court.

Most human kingdoms’ chancellors hailed from the White Tower, giving it immense influence over the nobility. However, tuition at the White Tower was exorbitant. Impoverished noble offspring who could neither awaken the knightly bloodline nor afford to study at the Tower often had no choice but to marry into other noble or wealthy merchant families, becoming tools for improving bloodlines. Victor himself was of this sort.

Victor had never heard of Master Edwin, but for a scholar to be addressed as “Master” meant he was either erudite or an authority in some field, with a lofty position in the Tower.

Now, with a Master from the Silver Tower accompanying him, Victor knew he must pay close attention.

He was just about to ask Nicole to introduce him to Master Edwin when an elderly man in a white, star-embroidered robe emerged energetically from a nearby carriage. Victor was preparing to greet him when the old man called out in a hearty voice, “You must be Victor of House Wimbledon. Now I see why young Nicole asked Sylvia for permission to escort an old man like me to your lands.”

At these words, Nicole’s porcelain cheeks instantly flushed crimson.

“Victor greets the Master,” Victor said, stepping forward awkwardly to salute.

“All right, Victor, I am going to be your guest in your new territory—surely you won’t mind?” Edwin said with a twinkle in his eye.

“It is my honor to travel with you, Master. If you need anything prepared, please let me know—we can depart at any time,” Victor replied quickly.

“Everything is ready. We can set out now—I can hardly wait to see the sights of Centaur Hills!” Edwin stroked his grey-white beard, his face alight with anticipation.

Victor glanced at Sir Bruce, who nodded back at him. Turning to Nelson, Victor gave the order: “Let’s move out!”

Nelson returned to the camp, and soon a long blast of the horn sounded, setting everyone in motion.

At last, Victor embarked on his journey to his new domain.