Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

The thunderous cheers finally died down in the twilight.

Exhausted farmers, shouldering the last of the harvest, returned to the warmth of the town.

On the fields, only the camp of the Rock Breaker Knight Order remained. The bonfires scattered the swamp’s chill and illuminated their blood-and-dirt-stained faces.

They had won.

They had not only won the battle against the Magical Beasts, but also the respect of the people who had once regarded them as bandits.

Ola sat by a bonfire, carefully wiping the last traces of bear blood from his great-axe with a coarse cloth.

The waterskin that the boy had handed him lay at his feet. He didn’t drink from it again, but would occasionally glance down at it.

In that moment, he felt as if his parched soul was being refilled with something pure and clear.

The feeling was more satisfying than downing an entire cask of dwarven ale.

The din of the camp suddenly fell silent.

Velin walked in, followed by Barrett and several guards.

They carried two heavy wooden barrels, and the rich aroma of ale immediately filled the air.

Velin walked straight to the center of the camp.

"This is for the warriors."

Ola stood up, his short, stout figure casting a large shadow in the firelight.

Velin looked somewhat slight in front of him, but the aura he exuded was even more powerful.

Baron Grey Marsh took a parchment scroll from his coat and unfurled it in the firelight.

"This is the record of your battle achievements over the past few days."

Velin’s fingertip slid across the lines of text.

"Kills: seventy-two Swamp Tuskers, one hundred and fifteen Swamp Mongooses, one Level 3 Frenzied Swamp Bear... for a total of three thousand four hundred merit points."

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over every Knight.

"Your ransom was three thousand points. The remainder is your rightful reward."

As everyone watched in stunned silence, Velin took this record of their humiliation and their achievements and slowly extended it toward the bonfire. Flames licked at the edges of the parchment, curling and igniting it until it was nothing but a wisp of ash.

"Baron Ola Stonebeard, and all you Knights of the Rock Breaker Order. I declare that from this moment on, you are free."

After a moment of dead silence, a young Knight let out a guttural roar, fiercely pounding his chest with his fist.

That cry lit the fuse.

"RAAAH!"

Thunderous cheers and roars tore through the night sky over the swamp.

They threw down their weapons, embracing and pounding on one another, venting the joy of their newfound freedom in the most primal ways.

This wasn’t a lord’s pardon. It was their dignity, which they had earned back, blow by blow, with their own blood and axes!

A short while later, Velin and Ola stood on a rise outside the camp.

The evening breeze blew past, carrying the scent of soil and plants.

"I need a standing armed force to clear out the untamed swamps and protect the trade routes."

Velin didn’t beat around the bush.

"Your Knights are brave and professional. I want to hire you as the permanent auxiliary defense force for Newly Town."

Ola was silent for a long time. He watched his men celebrating in the distance, a deep weariness in his eyes.

"A Knight Order is very expensive to maintain. I..."

"All equipment maintenance and replacement will be covered by the Lord’s Mansion. Each Knight will be paid at the standard rate for a Level 3 guard, with bonuses for battle achievements. You can use merit points to exchange for supplies or for Golden Suns."

The terms Velin offered were outrageously generous.

Ola whipped his head around, staring intently at Velin in the darkness.

"Why?"

"Because you’ve proven your worth. And besides, I think you could be a good friend."

Ola’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Then, he rubbed his face, composing himself.

"I have to take them back to Shiyan Town first. I’ve been gone for too long. Who knows what kind of mess those stewards have made of my territory by now."

"Alright," Velin nodded.

"I’ll give you half a month to sort everything out. After that, I need you and your Knight Order back here. As my comrade-in-arms, my vanguard general."

"Deal!"

...

On the terrace of the Lord’s Mansion, Caroline handed Velin a cup of warm black tea.

She leaned against the railing, gazing out at the town in the night. Moonlight slid down her neck and shoulders, flowed over the silk-clad curve of her chest, and vanished into the breathtaking shadows between her waist and hips.

"I must admit, you always manage to win with a bad hand."

She turned around, a hint of grievance in her eyes. "But whether it was punishing the Viscount’s envoy or winning over Ola, you always wait until the very last moment to reveal your hand. It leaves me feeling very... passive."

Velin took a sip of his tea. Looking at her tense profile, he explained, almost unconsciously, "I’m used to shouldering the risks myself. I didn’t want you to have to worry about these things."

"Worry?" Caroline spun around, her eyes blazing with anger. "Velin Klein, what do you take me for? Some decorative vase who just sits in the back counting gold coins? Every coin I’ve invested in you is a bet on the future of the Golden Sail Commerce Association! And yet you guard yourself against me like I’m an outsider!"

Velin looked at Caroline’s face in the moonlight, a mixture of anger and hurt, and realized he had been perhaps a bit too formal with her.

He set down his teacup, his voice tinged with apology.

"You’re right. I’m used to handling all the problems myself, but I forgot... I’m not fighting alone anymore. Now, it’s ’us’."

Those words instantly dispelled the displeasure in Caroline’s heart.

The young woman looked into his clear, wine-red eyes, savoring that one word—us.

It was as if she’d eaten something sweet; the corners of her eyes couldn’t help but curve upward. "That’s more like it."

"Come with me. I have a few things to show you."

Velin took a thick ledger from a cabinet and placed it in front of Caroline.

"These are the freshly tallied results of the first autumn harvest from the reclaimed fields." Velin’s voice held an irrepressible excitement. "From three thousand acres of Sea Salt Potatoes, a harvest of twelve million pounds. In addition, two hundred acres of black rye yielded nearly two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. The beasts Ola’s men cleared out also provided us with a stockpile of over twenty thousand pounds of cured meat."

Caroline’s fingers traced over the astonishing figures in the ledger. She knew exactly what these numbers meant—the Grey Marsh Territory had enough food reserves to sustain five thousand people for a full year!

"With all this, forget one Knight Order—we could support two more with plenty to spare." Velin watched her stunned expression and continued, "And this is just the beginning. Our trump cards don’t end here. The audience is about to arrive, and it’s time I showed you our first ticket."

In the study, Velin took a stack of exquisitely made invitations from a locked drawer.

The invitations were on high-quality, gold-leaf paper, their edges embossed with two crests.

One was the ship of the Golden Sail Commerce Association, riding the waves. The other was a young sprout breaking through the soil, encircled by thorns—the baronial crest Velin had designed for himself.

He handed the first invitation to Caroline.

"You are cordially invited, esteemed representatives of the Seven Ports Alliance, to grace Newly Town in the Grey Marsh Territory with your presence on the third of September, to celebrate the bountiful harvest festival."

Caroline felt the letter, the ink still slightly damp, her eyes glittering with excitement and ambition.

’This is an attempt that could change the entire economic landscape of the Gray Sea coast.’

Velin picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write the names of various lords and commerce association heads, both near and far, on the remaining invitations.

The nib of the pen scratched across the parchment, making a soft RUSTLING sound. Every name he wrote was like placing a critical piece on a massive chessboard.

「At dawn, as the sky began to lighten.」

Countless messenger pigeons burst from the towers of the Lord’s Mansion, carrying invitations that would shape the future as they flew off in all directions.