Chapter 42: A Tangled Mess

In a hollow nestled deep within the eastern lands ruled by Victor, a camp had been constructed. Built against the mountainside, the camp’s entrance was fortified by a tall row of fences, blocking any view of what lay within. Strangely, the fences, though towering over ten meters high, were made from brittle red pine—material so fragile it could barely resist the charge of an ordinary gnoll, and the ground before the fence was devoid of even a moat.

The peculiar camp featured numerous arrow towers, most perched atop steep ridges. Built so high, these towers offered little actual defense, serving only as lookout posts. Even the most naïve farmer would recognize that living in such a camp was tantamount to courting death.

Yet this crude encampment was forbidden to the freemen, and now it was off-limits to Victor’s own subjects as well.

Within the camp, a handsome, elegant young man meticulously polished a gleaming longsword with a snow-white silk handkerchief made from spider thread. His expression was intent, his movements gentle, as if the sword were not just a weapon but his beloved.

As he focused on caring for his sword, a tall, burly figure approached from behind. This was a robust man with a thick beard and explosive muscles straining against his leather armor. In his hand, he carried a massive broadsword, its blade shimmering with a purple sheen—a rare weapon forged from refined mithril.

"Bernard, how was the yield from the mines today?" the young man, seated on a stone and polishing his sword, asked without turning his head.

"Good day, Master Dwight," the burly man replied, bowing respectfully in the manner of a knight.

"Most of what we dug up today was silver ore; there’s very little ‘white stone’ mixed in. It’ll take another couple of days to gather enough for a cartload to be sent back to the lord’s estate," Bernard answered, his eyes lingering wistfully on Dwight’s gleaming sword.

Though the sword seemed unremarkable, Bernard knew that when Dwight summoned his combat aura, its true power and noble form would be revealed. For this was a secret-mithril longsword, wielded by a knight of the Silver rank.

"Bernard, you’re too impatient. I warned you long ago—the aura must be honed and rounded before breaking through. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be left with three wind element slots, none of which resonate!" Dwight shook his head regretfully, having noticed Bernard’s eager gaze.

His voice, deep and resonant like that of a mature man, contrasted sharply with his youthful visage. This was not unusual; once a knight ascended to the Silver rank, they could commune with the four elements of the void. These elements became entwined with their bodies, circulating ceaselessly—a fundamental transformation of life itself. Thus, knights who broke through to Silver would regain their peak physical appearance.

Though these extraordinary knights escaped the ravages of age and lived far longer than ordinary men, their souls were unchanged. Their soul flame would eventually extinguish, as was the nature of the fire element—brilliant yet brief.

"Master, I just didn’t want to miss this opportunity," Bernard replied, scratching his head in embarrassment. Though now a Bronze knight, he still revered his former mentor.

In the human world, the bond between knight and squire was deeply intimate, akin to that of father and son. This was closely tied to the system of noble inheritance, where the eldest son inherited all, and those without rights to inherit were provided for and employed by the family. Yet supporting a knight required at least three thousand acres and an estate—resources most families couldn’t spare, as their lands were finite and already distributed. Noble youths who awakened their knightly bloodlines but lacked inheritance would be sent to serve other great nobles as apprentice knights.

These great nobles would assign the new apprentice knights to established knights within their households, to serve as their squires. The knight was responsible for training and educating these young squires, a relationship that lasted until the apprentice knight formally advanced to Bronze rank. Thus, the bond between knight and squire was both hierarchical and paternal.

A few rare noble youths, passionate for freedom and fiercely independent, would leave their families to become wandering knights. These individuals retained their family names and the right to establish new lands, earning the title of "pioneer knights." If they succeeded in founding new territories, they could create their own family line—much like the founder of the August royal family in Gambis, who was once a pioneer knight of the Lant Empire a thousand years ago.

Yet the path of pioneering was fraught with peril; most wandering knights failed, for humans were hardly the most dominant race. In time, these knights joined other families for survival. Some became mercenaries or even fell to banditry—these fallen knights were known as "wild knights."

Bernard and Dwight were certainly not wild knights. They served as official knights of the neighboring great noble, Count Chipman, to the east of Victor’s domain.

The Chipman family was among the kingdom’s foremost military aristocrats, commanding over a thousand elite soldiers, more than ten Bronze knights, and three Silver-ranked great knights.

The current patriarch, Count Timoc Chipman, was greedy and miserly. When the kingdom auctioned the lands of the Hill of Horses for development, he refused to spend heavily to acquire territory. Once the York family cleared the land, he quietly sent scouts to examine its contents, and near the edge of his domain, they discovered a silver mine of extraordinary reserves.

Count Chipman then instructed Bernard to lead disguised freemen to mine the area in secret. During their excavation, they discovered that the silver mine was accompanied by a deposit of secret-mithril.

Chipman went mad with greed. He first tried to purchase the land from the York family but feared arousing suspicion. Before he could devise a suitable plan, Victor acquired the territory in a trade.

Upon hearing this, Chipman laughed heartily and ordered, "Keep digging—drain it dry."

Though the Chipman family was neutral, they knew all about Victor's background—a discarded heir without family protection, easy to bully. The only caution was not to draw the York family’s attention. To be safe, Chipman sent Dwight, the great knight, to oversee the operation.

"It’s foolish to increase the difficulty of advancement just for secret-mithril equipment! Do you want to attempt the Trial of Life and Death?" Dwight rebuked Bernard angrily.

He understood Bernard’s motives—the discovery of the secret-mithril mine had all the family’s knights scrambling for a share. Count Chipman decided to allocate the secret-mithril according to the ranking of the family knights.

The three great knights would be supplied first, but to boost his rank, Bernard prematurely resonated with three mid-tier earth element slots and two water slots. This reckless advancement would severely hinder future cultivation.

"Master, I know I was wrong. I was just afraid there wouldn’t be enough ‘white stone’ for everyone," Bernard muttered, his head bowed in shame and unease.

Seeing the burly Bernard, towering like a bear, cowering before him, Dwight was both amused and exasperated.

Bernard had become Dwight’s squire at fifteen. Dwight had taught him weapon skills, guided him in honing his aura, and led him into battle, witnessing his transformation from a boy into a formidable knight. Even now, Bernard faced his mentor’s criticism with the same anxiety as in youth. Dwight believed that no matter how far Bernard grew, he would always be both student and son.

With this thought, Dwight’s gaze softened. "You needn’t worry about secret-mithril equipment now—that’s the family’s concern. Remember, speed isn’t everything; only those who laugh last are true victors."

"By the way, after you drove off the little lord’s guards, has he sent anyone else to cause trouble?" Dwight continued.

"No, last time’s lesson made that little lord much more obedient. He no longer parades around with that ridiculous ogre head," Bernard replied with disdain.

"Oh? How do you know this so well?" Dwight asked curiously. The camp was kept isolated for secrecy.

"When we first came to mine here, I had my men disguise themselves as freemen and set up another camp nearby to gather intelligence. All news comes from them," Bernard explained. Though rough in appearance, he was no fool.

"Well done!"

"Master, this weak little baron has no idea how to be a pioneer lord. He actually tried to recruit those lowly freemen and even stopped Bruce from cleansing the territory. His camp is full of holes—like a sieve! Our men have already infiltrated his camp, so nothing he does escapes us," Bernard boasted, pleased by his teacher’s praise.

"A flower sheltered in a greenhouse will never understand that only iron and blood can build order in pioneer lands. If he loses York family support, I foresee he’ll die at the hands of these freemen," Dwight mused.

"Exactly! Instead of courting knights, he’s obsessed with work points, breeding, and even forces his subjects to bathe! All useless nonsense!"

Dwight shook his head, amused at Victor’s incompetence. "This foolish little lord is to our advantage. Keep an eye on him—don’t let the freemen kill him. We may yet gain full control of this land."

"You’ve done well. Once York’s Bruce leaves, I’ll return to report to the Count. If we can control this territory, the Count will be very pleased," Dwight said, clapping Bernard’s shoulder.

"Master, you could leave now—I can handle Bruce!" Bernard thumped his chest in excitement. Though Count Chipman was stingy, he never withheld rewards from those who brought merit to the family.

"It’s said Bruce is but a step away from Silver rank. You’re not his match yet."

Dwight, seeing Bernard’s defiant look, warned him, "Don’t stir up trouble— even I don’t wish to confront Bruce."

"Master, you’re a Silver knight! Why fear Bruce? Besides, plenty of knights die in the wild," Bernard protested.

"You don’t understand! Bruce is the favored knight of Lady Rose, believed to be the York family’s sixth great Silver knight. Killing him wouldn’t be difficult, but the Yorks would investigate thoroughly, and then this place would be lost," Dwight’s grave tone made Bernard shrink back.

Just then, two sturdy men pushed a cart piled with carcasses out from the kitchen. They had just butchered two wild boars and were preparing to dump the remains outside the camp.

The stench made Bernard and Dwight wrinkle their noses; meanwhile, several large black ravens swooped down from the treetops, cawing eagerly for their free feast.

"You lazybones! How many times must I tell you? Take the trash farther away and bury it! Look how many of these foul birds you’ve attracted!" Bernard shouted, venting his anger from Dwight’s scolding onto his subordinates.

The two unfortunate men hurried to chase off the uninvited guests.

Perhaps realizing there would be no feast today, the ravens circled overhead, cawing, then flew straight westward.

At that moment, Victor was playing a puzzle game.

The alchemical ravens, clever as they were, could not comprehend complex human speech, so the phrases they mimicked were disjointed and chaotic. Victor had to record each sentence onto a slate with charcoal, then string them together logically.

After several days’ effort, he now knew all he needed to know.

In the eastern camp, two powerful knights were secretly mining silver and secret-mithril; they were likely from the Chipman family to the east, and had already infiltrated his own camp, now harboring ambitions toward his territory.

Victor pressed his aching brow. A guard called loudly from outside, "My lord, Captain Nelson has returned."

Nelson had been sent to Baron Eskri’s domain to exchange goods and confirm certain matters.

In Victor’s self-styled office, Nelson met his lord.

"Nelson, how did it go?" Victor asked with a smile, inviting him to sit opposite his desk.

"My lord, Baron Eskri is full of praise for our purple cane wine. I’ve traded enough salt, some tung oil, and a small amount of flour," Nelson replied with glee, delighted by the wine’s popularity.

At first, Victor’s restriction on cutting the purple cane forest puzzled many. But once the wine was successfully brewed, its unique sweetness captivated everyone. Master Edwin even declared it a top-quality vintage.

The scholar’s endorsement thrilled Nelson, who now saw countless gold sol coins beckoning to him. He strictly enforced Victor’s ban, allowing no one to spoil the territory’s prospects.

"Good! And what about the other matter I asked you to investigate?" Victor lowered his voice.

"My lord, Baron Eskri said Bernard is a newly promoted knight of the Chipman family, and Dwight is a Silver-ranked great knight. He was puzzled why I asked about them, but I made up a reason," Nelson answered gravely.

Victor sighed quietly; the information gathered by the alchemical ravens was now confirmed.

"My lord, I don’t understand—why would a noble Silver knight steal silver ore?" Nelson asked, unaware that the mine contained secret-mithril.

"Ha! Do you know how stingy and greedy the Chipman family is?" Victor chuckled.

Secret-mithril was too sensitive; the fewer who knew, the better. Victor decided not to tell Nelson the truth.

"When the young Count Chipman was a boy, he once followed the old Count to meet the king. In the royal gardens, he fell and quietly took two sods of grass from the lawn, hiding them in his pocket to bring home. He then gave them to the family gardener, and it’s said the family’s lawn was cultivated from these sods. The old Count was delighted and often used this story to instruct his descendants."

Nelson was stunned by the anecdote, now convinced that sending a Silver knight to steal silver ore was perfectly reasonable.

"Alright, from now on, tell our people to stay away from that eastern land," Victor said, drawing a line on the parchment map.

Though frustrated, Nelson could only nod helplessly.

After all, that was a Silver-ranked great knight—and utterly shameless!

"And from now on, don’t recruit guards from the new settlers. Without my permission, no one should be allowed up to the upper camp. I don’t trust them," Victor said coldly, unwilling to let spies discover his secrets.

"Yes, my lord," Nelson replied solemnly. He knew his lord was working on new projects—like cane sugar—and was eager to see the results.

"In a few days, Master Edwin and the others will likely return. Then select some guards to escort them back to Black Castle, and take some purple cane wine for Old John and the others to sell," Victor said after some hesitation.

On the one hand, he needed to send away the sharp-eyed Bear members to pursue his plan for creating new people; on the other, these bachelors truly needed a break.

Nelson nodded eagerly; he missed the wounded old comrades, and his men had repeatedly complained about the monotony of life here.

"What about your safety, my lord?" Nelson asked, worried.

"You know my strength, don’t you?" Victor smiled, shaking his head.

Nelson was speechless. Though his lord appeared frail, he was a formidable opponent, able to contend with old ogres. Knight Bruce even believed that with a military-grade heavy crossbow, Victor could pose a lethal threat to Bronze knights.

"And tell those who can’t return to Black Castle this time that I’ll regularly send people to sell goods there. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future. Go now."

Victor gestured for Nelson to leave, only to see him hesitating awkwardly.

"My lord, well, could you prepare a hundred—no, fifty gold sols this time? There are more people than usual…" Nelson stammered, finally voicing his request under Victor’s stern gaze.

Clutching the purse Victor handed him, and under his lord’s disapproving stare, Nelson left in embarrassment.

Once Nelson was gone, Victor leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. Nelson was a rare warrior, but lacked strategic talent.

His territory was beset by unruly freemen, malicious noble neighbors, and even among his own subjects, trouble lurked.

How to resolve these issues? Victor pondered long, but found no solution.

"A tangled mess!" Victor struck his fist, venting his frustration.

After a moment of quiet reflection, Victor shook his head and laughed.

It wasn’t that he’d found a solution, but he suddenly realized there was no need to be troubled. Time was on his side.

Alchemical creatures, bloodline abilities, powerful body-forging techniques, and knowledge and skills far beyond this era—all would make him stronger with time. Eventually, all problems would cease to be problems.

You rustic fools who still use leaves for toilet paper—I’ll show you that even a so-called incompetent little lord is far beyond your reach.

With this thought, Victor couldn’t help but pat his own rear.

The Seamless skill truly was useful!