Chapter Fifteen: The Harvest Season

Dragumo sat anxiously outside the lord’s spacious study in the manor, waiting to be received. This was already the fourth time he had visited the baron in these two months. Unfortunately, the baron seemed increasingly disinterested in Leon, spending less and less time talking to him, and his tone gradually showed signs of impatience. The last conversation even hinted that the partnership between Leon and the Caucasus might be ending, which left Dragumo even more uneasy.

Through vague hints from his compatriot Mahagumi, Dragumo had learned some of the background. It seemed that the rulers in the Kingdom of Nicomedia, who stood behind the lord, were not satisfied with the current situation. They believed the kingdom had exerted great effort to supply Leon with large amounts of food and supplies, but Leon’s rebel army, after winning that battle, no longer posed a threat to Homer. Now, with the huge threat from the orcs, the already strained kingdom seemed determined to cut off support for Leon—meaning an end to the trade of food and supplies, which would be a devastating blow to Leon.

But it wasn’t their fault. Those damned Homerians had burned down the floating bridges, cutting off the only route across the Nise River. Even if they wanted to enter Homer, the wide river made such a foolish idea impossible. Without bridges, the river was an insurmountable barrier. Unfortunately, Leon had many miners and brave warriors but no skilled craftsmen to build bridges. Everyone could only sigh at the river. It seemed that Fort Bruce on the other side was trying to build new floating bridges, but it was obvious that since the Homerians dared to build them, they must have ways to control them—otherwise, it would be like inviting wolves into the house. Moreover, it seemed unlikely that those bridges would be completed in just a few months. So what should they do now?

All hopes rested on the Caucasus. Along the way, Dragumo saw wheat fields that suggested a good harvest there. Although most of the land in the Caucasus was newly cultivated and yields wouldn’t be very high, this sight still gave Dragumo some hope. If the baron could get the people in his territory to be more frugal and import some food through the port of Matdan, perhaps Leon could hold out for a few more months.

At this thought, Dragumo couldn’t help but sigh again. They were running out of resources—most of the items seized from the nobles’ homes had already been sold. Yet the daily food consumption remained high. Although he had drastically reduced the number of soldiers in his territory and implemented measures to limit food supplies, they still ran out of food frequently. The situation in those other regions was even worse; many people had begun to miss life in the mines, where, though hard, at least there was enough black bread. These signs made Dragumo acutely aware of an impending crisis. If he didn’t take action soon, the half-orc slaves who had just regained their freedom might once again ask the human nobles to rule Leon once more, and leaders like him would likely end up as corpses hanging outside the nobles’ manors.

Now, their only hope lay in the Caucasus. If Lord Baron truly refused to help them, Dragumo didn’t know what to do. He really couldn’t think of any solution to the current problems. It was only then that he realized how naive his once imagined luxurious life as a lord had been. He had no idea how those noble lords resolved such difficulties—perhaps his mind wasn’t meant to handle such complex issues from the start.

Finally, the guests in Lord Baron’s study came out—seemingly two knights. Dragumo’s sharp gaze swept over them. These knights, who appeared superior, always carried an air of arrogance. Even after leaving Lord Baron’s room, they remained haughty. Lord Baron, on the other hand, remained composed, with a gentle smile on his face. Though the two knights seemed displeased, Lord Baron still politely escorted them to the door.

Knight Green and Knight Jep stepped out of each other’s magnificent study with displeased expressions. Unsurprisingly, it had been another unpleasant conversation. In Jep’s view, they shouldn’t have made this trip at all; following their own methods, they didn’t need anyone’s approval. What right did a mere baron, a so-called Caucasus lord, have to interfere with—or even dare to interfere with—the actions of the knights of the great Light Holy Order? Yet Green still paid a polite visit to the lord of this land, knowing that present-day Caucasus was no longer the same as it had been ten months ago. Back then, if someone had advised him to visit the local lord before taking action, he would have laughed it off. But now things were very different. Many things had happened in those ten months, and this remote land of Caucasus had undergone fundamental changes—all because of this lord.

Jep was too young and impulsive. Often, impulsiveness led to irreparable mistakes. Those were the exact words the baron had used to warn him through magic. It sounded more like a threat than a warning. While Green tried his best to stay calm, a hint of concern arose deep in his heart.

Before leaving, he cast one last glance at the seemingly oppressive gates of the lord’s mansion. The dark, gloomy archways resembled the maw of a fierce beast, giving off a sinister atmosphere. Green didn’t understand why the baron had such a preference. He could sense numerous magical traps and barriers in the mansion, but most of them seemed to be aggressive spells related to ice or fire. It didn’t seem like the baron was the kind of person who would be aggressive, so he wondered what prompted him to use such spells.

The orders from Berikri seemed to be nothing but unpleasant news. Captain Kent seemed uninterested in their mission as well, but the Archbishop appeared determined, showing signs of wanting both him and Jep to stay in the Caucasus for a long time. In particular, Captain Kent described in detail what had happened during this period in a magical letter. Mage Malon’s death seemed to be connected to this baron as well. Now, even Lady Galen, the Guardian of the Cathedral, has gone missing, reportedly imprisoned by a powerful dark mage somewhere on the continent. It’s absolutely shocking—even the Archbishop can’t determine the exact location of her imprisonment. One can imagine just how powerful this dark mage must be. Did Captain Kent send this message to him because he thought the dark mage might be hiding in the Caucasus? This idea merely flashed through his mind. Apart from the hermits in the Great Secret Sect, Green couldn’t think of anyone else on the continent who could be called a powerful dark mage by Captain Kent or even the Archbishop. Maybe there are such people, but Green had never heard of them. Even if this baron were indeed a dark mage, Green didn’t think he possessed the strength of a true powerhouse—the term “powerful” isn’t something just anyone can claim. Still, the dark aura in the Caucasus was indeed growing stronger. Green had this intuition. Besides the members of the Great Secret Sect appearing from time to time in this area, he felt it might also be related to that lord’s friends. Even Damolensk Castle seemed highly suspicious. Although the baron’s arrival seemed to have captured many people’s attention, unfortunately, the orders from Berikri only required him to observe and endure—nothing more innovative seemed to be involved.

As he stepped outside the gate, Green’s thoughts returned to the half-orc he had encountered in the hallway earlier. Although there were many Caucasus half-orcs, and even most of the lord’s guards consisted of half-orc soldiers, Green was certain that the half-orc he saw earlier was not one of those Caucasus half-orcs. That creature exuded a wildness and brutality, like a barbarian who had just emerged from the deep mountains, completely different from the common half-orcs in the Caucasus. Even Komer’s half-orc guards, though formidable and terrifying, did not possess such an aura as that creature. It could be said that the creature resembled a thug—a thug who seemed determined to destroy everything. Where did this creature come from? What was the relationship between that lord and this thug? An unsettling question slowly arose in Green’s mind.

Dragumo was completely unaware that the wildness and hostility he unconsciously displayed when annoyed had caught the attention of outsiders. At that moment, he was striving hard to control his emotions and try to appear more civilized and polite in front of the baron.

“Mr. Dragumo, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Please, have a seat. We had guests earlier, so I’m truly apologetic.” Komer maintained his formulaic smile. For strangers, such a smile might seem welcoming, but for regulars like Dragumo, it was utterly tedious. It was this very smile that had made Dragumo leave disappointed several times. But this time, he was determined to get a satisfactory solution. Dragumo had no other choice. The lord’s outstanding abilities had never given Dragumo the courage to defy him. Thinking back to that battle, where the lord had performed as if possessed by a deity, Dragumo felt terrified. The tactics of those mortal magicians were beyond the understanding of people like him. Dragumo realized that seeking the lord’s support was the only proper course of action.