Chapter Three: Baron Wimbledon

Season of Water, at the heart of the newly expanded territory of the Kingdom of Gambis, in the centaur hills, stood a colossal fortress constructed from limestone and obsidian. This was the stronghold of Count Embeth York, a bastion belonging to the kingdom. As the governor overseeing the western expansion, Count York held immense power and prestige. Naturally, his castle became the core fortress of the new lands. With a framework of sturdy limestone and walls of obsidian, the entire structure resembled a massive black beast, earning it the name Black Fortress.

Within its walls, in a chamber warmed as if spring never faded, two elegantly dressed men were engaged in a soft-spoken conversation.

“Victor, upon hearing of your ordeal, the marquis was deeply concerned and sent me to Black Fortress to assist you in resolving these matters,” said a middle-aged man, his gaze intense as he looked at the somewhat absent-minded young gentleman seated before him, sighing inwardly.

After all, the young baron before him was barely eighteen, only just come of age, and had been sent by the marquis, under the pretense of inheriting land, from the royal capital straight into this wild, untamed territory. Now, he’d been ensnared by a conspiracy, nearly losing his life, left dazed and disoriented even now. The middle-aged man felt a pang of sympathy, his eyes softening.

The youth had jet-black hair and eyes like black pearls, his ears slightly pointed—a clear sign of elven heritage. His features were striking, his figure tall and graceful, a rare beauty among men. Yet his face was pale, his gaze vacant, as if he had only recently recovered from a grave illness. He was Victor Wimbledon, baron and noble of the Kingdom of Gambis.

Inside him now dwelled a new soul—Zhang Xiaoqiang.

As their spirits merged, Zhang Xiaoqiang sorted through the fragmented memories of the young baron.

This was a world shaped by earth, fire, wind, and water—the four great elements. Its laws differed greatly from those of his previous existence. The elements cycled through the seasons: spring when earth was strongest, summer for fire, autumn for wind, and winter for water. Each season spanned four months, and each month had thirty-six days.

The four elements intertwined and repelled one another, forming all matter and life. Humans were not the only intelligent beings here; elves, goblins, orcs, and barbarians, among countless others, populated the world in astonishing variety.

The elemental nature of life granted some individuals extraordinary powers, and the strength of such individuals meant that human society remained governed by a feudal aristocracy. Victor Wimbledon himself was a baron in the Kingdom of Gambis.

According to his memories, Victor had been a low-born son of a rural noble. At twelve, his father sent him to be raised by Sophia Wimbledon, a marquise of the Wimbledon family. At fifteen, he became the new husband of the beautiful widow who had raised him.

Sophia had originally been the third wife of the kingdom’s finance minister, the elder Marquis Wimbledon. She married him at twenty, but three years later he passed away. With no direct heirs, the rest of the Wimbledon family sought to claim his estate and title. Amidst the turmoil, Sophia produced his will, naming her as the heir to all his wealth and nobility—witnessed by a prominent member of the royal family.

Reluctant to see their fortunes slip away, the Wimbledon kin appealed to the noble senate. After much wrangling, the senate recognized the will’s validity but required that Sophia, within three years, marry a man of Wimbledon blood in accordance with noble law.

Sophia was renowned for her beauty in the capital, and the young nobles of Wimbledon pursued her with fervor, hoping to win both her heart and fortune. Yet, to everyone’s astonishment, after three years, she chose a destitute baron’s second son as her husband.

That fortunate boy was Victor Wimbledon. At twelve, Sophia brought him to the marquis’ residence in the capital, nurturing and training him, and three years later married him, thus securing her title and becoming a power among the kingdom’s nobility.

Victor, handsome and newly awakened to his elven heritage, was deeply favored by Sophia. Three years after their marriage, she spent a fortune to purchase him a barony and hereditary estate.

The young baron was utterly devoted to Sophia, obeying her every command. At her behest, he traveled from the capital to his new lands, only to be ambushed by bandits en route, suffering a severe head injury that left him unconscious until Zhang Xiaoqiang’s arrival replaced his soul.

Through the merging of spirits, Zhang Xiaoqiang—taking a third-person perspective—scanned the baron’s memories. He scoffed at Victor’s profound dependence on Sophia, but resolved to live well in this strange new world.

From now on, I am Victor Wimbledon, Baron. Zhang Xiaoqiang mused silently.

“Master Abel, it is so fortunate you’ve come! My guards were slaughtered by the bandits, seventy thousand gold sorls were stolen, and worst of all, the settlers I had so painstakingly gathered over two months have scattered. Had the bandits not wanted to ransom me, I doubt I would have survived.” The young baron’s eyes reddened as he spoke passionately to Abel.

Abel, a trusted aide to Marquise Sophia, managed the Stag Merchant Guild—one of the four great merchant guilds under the marquis’ estate. He oversaw trade with the Lant Empire and the Kingdom of Ael, generating immense wealth for the marquis. Abel was shrewd and steady, earning Sophia’s deep trust.

Victor had entered the marquis’ estate at twelve, and it was Abel who had taught him about commerce and geography. Thus, Victor addressed Abel as teacher.

Abel pondered for a moment before speaking: “Victor, I rushed here from Redleaf Town after receiving the marquis’ message. I know little of your ordeal—I hope you can recount the details for me.”

Victor, drawing on the memories he had organized, began to describe the events.

Five years earlier, the Kingdom of Gambis began expanding into the centaur hills to the east. After losing the war with Lant Empire, yielding vast tracts of land, even King Lyon perished in a duel of knights against Emperor Neo West of Lant. The kingdom was plunged into turmoil.

Though the war was over, to deter restless neighbors, the kingdom increased its military spending, further straining its finances. Under the new treasurer’s direction, the royal family began selling lands and titles in the centaur hills to nobles and wealthy houses.

Marquise Sophia invested five hundred thousand gold sorls, purchasing a barony and hereditary title for Victor in the centaur hills.

The young Baron Victor, excitedly carrying the senate’s documents, went to the centaur hills governor’s office to take possession of his new lands. But as he arrived with his guards and recruited settlers, they were ambushed by a bandit gang. The bandits displayed astonishing strength—a barbarian among them rivaled any knight in combat. Victor’s guards fought desperately but were massacred, the settlers driven off, and Victor himself was taken captive.

A month later, while the bandits were relocating with their captive baron, they encountered a cavalry squad led by Sir Bruce, sent from Black Fortress to hunt them down. After fierce combat, the bandit gang was broken, with only a few powerful thieves escaping, the rest killed or captured. Amid the chaos, Victor suffered a head wound and remained unconscious until Abel’s arrival, when he finally awakened.

“Victor, this matter is not as simple as being attacked by bandits,” Abel said, gently stroking the white crystal ring on his right middle finger—a familiar gesture when he was deep in thought.

“Victor, I once taught you to look deeper than appearances, to seek the essence of the problem.” Abel considered for a moment, then said, “To find the essence, we start with the consequences.”

“The consequences? You mean I lost all my supporters?” Victor lowered his head nervously, but Abel missed the glint in his eyes.

“Yes! You lost your settlers and guards, right in your own land. But there’s another point you haven’t noticed: you are now in Black Fortress.” Abel looked directly at Victor, his eyes bright with wisdom.

The X-3 chip began to run, searching his mind for relevant memories. Victor quickly found the crucial detail.

“The Lord’s Law!” Victor suddenly rose, staring at Abel in shock.

The Lord’s Law—one of humanity’s ancient codes, though not legally binding, was widely recognized by nobles as the measure of a lord’s virtue. It defined a lord’s rights and duties; two clauses were especially relevant to Victor: first, a lord who accepts the support of his people must protect them from bandits, monsters, demons, and all evils; second, a lord must not lightly leave his domain—he or his heir must be present to guard the land at least once each year.

“You’ve violated both tenets. Our governor now holds the upper hand. He can, in the name of the new territory’s governor, impeach you before the senate. If he plays it right, he might even strip you of your land and title. Quite the scheme,” Abel said with a cold laugh.

“Why would he do this?” Victor feigned confusion and fear.

“Consider Count York’s past and current position—his motives are obvious.” Abel replied slowly.

“And the bandit gang that attacked you was surely the Blood Fox Gang, once notorious in Duke York’s domain.”

This was sabotage. Victor’s eyes flickered as he slowly sat down.