Chapter 153 Viscount Randall

Paul lay in a nest of hay and let out a huge yawn. Having just eaten two sweet potatoes and a rib, he wanted nothing more than to take a wonderful nap.

"Get up quickly! You lazybones, the column is about to move out!"

Paul struggled to his feet, but because his movements were a bit slow, he received a couple of heavy kicks to his backside from his old man.

Paul was seventeen years old. When he was thirteen, he had followed his father, Wood, in their migration from the Eastern Province to the Centaur Hills. During the long journey, his mother remarried, and his older brother's family was recruited by a local lord along the way. Only the father and son drifted into the Centaur Hills and joined a commoner camp.

Life among the commoners was not pleasant. The father and son worked every day and often went hungry, until the camp leader led them to pledge allegiance to Lord Baron Victor Wimbledon. In the commoner settlement established by the lord, they worked diligently and were the first to be promoted to resident commoners, moving into neat and pretty hill camps, while those overbearing camp leaders were beaten to death by the lord's guards.

The father and son had been ambitious to join the lord's work-point system, but then the terrifying ant-men attacked the Centaur Hills, and they ultimately had to flee to Black Fortress Town. Five months later, they had returned once again to Victor's territory.

"Dad, Lord Victor doesn't have a castle. Will it be dangerous for us to just come back like this?" Paul asked Wood in a low voice.

Wood rebuked him, "What is there to be afraid of?! If you don't provoke the ant-men, the ant-men won't eat you! Besides, with Lord Nelson here, what is there to fear!"

Paul cast an awed glance at Nelson, clad in full armor, and the dozen or so elite soldiers beside him. He said nothing more, though as he walked, his spine straightened as well.

A trace of a smile appeared on Wood's weathered, lined face. Four years had passed, and Paul had grown from a half-grown lad into a robust young man, yet his courage had not grown. Originally, Paul had been unwilling to leave the towering walls of Black Fortress Town; it was only due to Wood's firm insistence that he had felt compelled to follow the column back. Wood had thought it through clearly: the mere fact that Lord Victor was willing to cover the retreat for his commoners made him worth following. Furthermore, there were 120,000 people in Black Fortress Town, and staying there would still leave the father and son at the very bottom. Only by following Lord Victor would there be more opportunities to get ahead, and Wood still harbored a deep fondness for the work-point system. In truth, this was also the sentiment of most people, which was why, even without dry rations, they had resolutely set out on the return journey.

Along the way, they had also endured bitter hardships. In order to gather enough wild vegetables and fruits, they had deviated from the road several times, and Lady Lilia had even ordered two plow oxen to be slaughtered. Halfway through their journey, they had encountered Nelson, who had come to meet them with a full ten wagonloads of food. Nelson's majestic armor and the formidable soldiers around him inspired both awe and a deep sense of security among everyone.

With Nelson's support, the column's pace quickened considerably. More than twenty days later, they arrived back in Victor's territory.

"Everyone walk faster. Before dark, we need to reach the camp for dinner," shouted the battle-bear veteran Carey, riding back and forth alongside the column.

The column began turning eastward. Paul tugged at Wood's sleeve. "Dad, it looks like we're going the wrong way. The hill camp is to the south."

"What are you bickering about for? Is there any hill camp there anymore? Just follow along," Wood jerked his sleeve back and said impatiently.

Four hours later, Paul beheld the camp on the shores of the flat lake. The camp was quite large, enclosed by simple wooden fences, and at its entrance stood over a hundred seasoned soldiers. These soldiers were tall and strong, neatly arranged in two columns, wearing leather armor, some holding short spears and round shields, others carrying longbows and heavy crossbows. At the front of the soldier formations stood Lord Victor himself.

The wagons in the column came to a halt. Paul watched as the beautiful Lady Lilia lifted her skirt and threw herself into the lord's embrace. He understood instantly that from now on, this camp would be their dwelling place.

Wood and his son followed the column in offering a respectful bow to the lord, after which they were led into the camp. The camp was laid out very neatly, with rows of sheds situated within. The style of the sheds was completely identical to those of the temporary commoner settlement of the past, only much larger. The father and son were also surprised to find many strangers building new sheds within the camp.

Wood and Paul were brought before a shed, and the leading soldier said to them, "This is your shed, and dinner is on the east side of the plaza. Tomorrow morning, my lord is holding an open-air gathering, remember to attend."

"Thank you, sir," Wood said, nodding and bowing.

After the soldier nodded and left, Paul asked, "Dad, why are there so many people here?"

"Didn't Lord Nelson mention it? He gathered many commoners, nearly five hundred of them." Wood walked over to the bed and lay down, pondering gloomily, "These people followed the lord to stay behind and guard the territory, and they've even built such a large camp. I wonder if we'll still be able to join the work-point system? If I had known, we should have stayed by the lord's side."

***

Lilia lay bonelessly across Victor's body, her porcelain-white skin tinged with the pink flush of passion. After a long moment, she opened her bright, captivating eyes and murmured softly, "Victor, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." Victor caressed the tender, supple body in his arms and gently kissed Lilia's vibrant red lips.

After a long while, their lips parted. Lilia breathed in for a moment and said apologetically, "Victor, only 923 people returned with me this time, among them 570 able-bodied men and the rest women and children. Uncle John's Goat Inn was torn down, and they followed as well, though they didn't dare to see you.

"Sister Nicole helped us get back the warhorses and ox-carts—45 warhorses, 7 pack horses, and 32 plow oxen in total. However, on the way back, the roads were washed out by the rain, and I had to leave those wagons by the roadside. I'm sorry, I was so useless."

"Haha, you did very well. I thought you would only be able to bring back three or four hundred people, and I certainly didn't expect you to bring back those cattle and horses. This is truly an unexpected pleasant surprise."

Seeing Lilia bring back so many people made Victor feel a sense of relief and joy from the bottom of his heart, much like a traveler trudging alone through the desert suddenly encountering a caravan. Victor wasn't currently lacking in this sort of labor; five of these ordinary farmers bound together couldn't match a single macaque militia-man, and a fuzhou militia-man was more capable than ten ordinary farmers. Yet if one had to spend every day exclusively among these alchemical humans, anyone would go mad. Nelson had complained that these warriors were stolid to the point of depression, though he merely assumed they were elite fighters cultivated from childhood by some major faction. No one could have imagined that these articulate, hearty, flesh-and-blood beings were born from void elements.

Only Victor knew that they were not humans in the true sense. Alchemical humans were powerful and loyal, yet they could not satisfy Victor's emotional needs. As a natural human with social attributes, Victor yearned for the recognition of his own kind—recognition that had to be fulfilled through family, friends, lovers, subordinates, and even opponents.

Victor's reason told him that alchemical beings had always been tools, and he was utilizing these tools to get what he wanted. Otherwise, the alchemical tower would have no meaning for him. Shutting himself away to play king among alchemical humans would make him either a madman or a recluse. Furthermore, there was a notion burning in Victor's heart that he could not mention to anyone, driving him to eagerly seize greater power. He needed more supporters—not tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands, millions.

"Victor, this isn't my achievement. It's all thanks to your work-point system and Sister Nicole's help," Lilia shook her head despondently.

Victor stared at Lilia's pretty face for a long moment and said softly, "Lilia, I've said it before, you are the most important."

"Am I really that important?" Lilia asked with a blushing face.

"Of course!" Victor said firmly.

Being with Lilia brought Victor zero pressure. Lilia wasn't the prettiest, wasn't the smartest, and possessed no formidable power, but from body to soul she belonged entirely to Victor, and that point was paramount.

Lilia's pretty face flushed peach-red, her alluring eyes watery and almost dripping with sweetness. A wave stirred in Victor's heart, and he once again pinned his personal attendant beneath him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder; this was bound to be an enchanting and passionate night.

The next day, Victor stood upon the plaza's platform. His silver-white double-silver armor shone brilliantly under the sunlight, with Lilia in her pristine white gown standing by his side, flanked behind by a line of well-equipped alchemical militia, making Victor appear noble and majestic.

"I, Victor Viscount Wimbledon, Lord of the Kingdom of Gampis, during the disaster caused by the ant-men, steadfastly defended my territory, covered the evacuation of the populace, and fulfilled the protective duties of a lord. According to the Kingdom's Territorial Pioneering Act, I shall forge a new family upon this land: the Randall Family. From this day forward, Victor's Territory is officially named Randall Territory, and my surname shall bear the suffix of Randall, becoming Victor Wimbledon Randall."

His clear, resonant voice carried on the breeze across the entire camp. The crowd beneath the platform boiled with excitement. A new surname and a new family represented a new sphere of power, and having witnessed this moment, they were destined to share in the glory of the new house.

"May the glory of the Randall Family endure for ten thousand generations, never tarnished."

Victor smiled as he accepted the blessings of the commoners. Only a pioneering lord could create a new family; this was both an honor and a challenge.

Pioneering lords generally did not do this because it signified betrayal. The original family retained the right to wage a family war against them, with both sides engaging in a small-scale decisive battle witnessed by the kingdom and the church. Only by winning the battle could the new family truly be established. If they lost, the territory would revert to the bloodline family, while the pioneering lord would forfeit their title and freedom, sometimes even losing their life.

Victor faced no such problem. The Wimbledon family had long since disintegrated, with its bloodline scattered across various kingdoms; therefore, the only person with the right to wage a punitive expedition against Victor was Marchioness Sophia Wimbledon. However, Sophia would not call upon the Wimbledon nobility of Gampis to wage a punitive war against her own husband. If she were to do so, win or lose, she would lose her marquess title. Most importantly, Sophia stood zero chance of victory; as long as no Golden Knights intervened, Victor was confident in crushing any family.

The advantage of creating a new family was that Victor gained maximum freedom regarding family authority. He no longer required Sophia's marquess seal and could independently confer titles upon vassal nobility.

When the crowd quieted down, Victor spoke, "Those who are loyal to me shall be rewarded. Nelson, step forward!"

Nelson, clad in heavy armor, walked solemnly before Victor, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.

"Nelson, from this moment onward, are you willing to become my liege man in absolute loyalty?"

Nelson replied, "I am willing."

Confirming his free will, Victor took the hand of Nelson, who knelt before him—the clasping of hands—and said, "Nelson, I bestow upon you the surname of Randall, the title of Baron, and 300 square kilometers of land as your fief, to be passed down through hereditary succession."

At this point, Nelson offered his pledge of loyalty: "My sovereign, highly respected Viscount Randall, I sincerely pledge to become your loyal liege man, never to bring shame upon the surname of Randall, and I am willing to maintain my loyalty to you, forever unchanged. This profession of sincerity is entirely without deception."

Nelson bent down to kiss Victor's treasured sword—the kiss of fealty.

Victor thrust the sharp thorium-silver longsword into the ground before Nelson, who placed his hand upon the blade and said, "My sovereign, respected Viscount Randall, I swear to you that I shall protect your property and uphold your rights just as a vassal is loyal to his lord. I am willing and strictly abide by the oath I have sworn, just as I know and understand it. From this day forth, your sword shall aid and urge me to steadfastly uphold this."

Victor smiled and helped the emotional Nelson to his feet, signaling him to stand on his other side, before turning once more to shout to the commoners below: "Baron Nelson Randall has earned my bestowal through loyalty and valor, and the same goes for all of you. I promise that everyone who has returned to the territory will join the work-point system, and the work-point system will no longer be open to anyone else. When you acquire sufficient land, you shall become my vassals. At the same time, I hope that more of you will be able to bear the surname of Randall."

The crowd beneath the platform fell silent for a brief moment, immediately followed by an explosion of even louder cheers.

"Long live Viscount Randall!"

"Long live the Randall Family!"