Chapter 128 - 123: Helpers
The howls of Pick and the others were quickly carried away by the wind, never to be mentioned again.
But awe took root in people’s hearts, and order was reinforced. The farmers treated every sea-salt potato with painstaking care, as if it were a precious treasure.
The damage rate plummeted. In the warehouse, the golden-yellow crops piled up like mountains, emitting the distinct aroma of starch.
This was the scent of a bountiful harvest, the scent of hope.
But to the hungry beasts in the marsh, it was the scent of food.
The wind carried this tempting scent in every direction.
"SCHLICK!"
The standard-issue longsword in Barrett’s hand slid through the thick hide of a marsh tusk boar as easily as if it were cutting through butter.
After advancing to a Level 4 Warrior, his strength and speed had taken a qualitative leap.
A Level 2 Magical Beast, which would have once required the full cooperation of the entire Grey Wolf Squad to defeat, was now something he could kill with a single strike.
He withdrew his longsword, not even glancing as warm blood splattered across his mud-stained chainmail.
With a deft backhand, he cleanly and decisively decapitated another tusk boar that charged him.
In the past, such a feat would have left him feeling proud for half the day. But now, Barrett only felt a growing, heavy anxiety in his heart.
"Captain! Another horde at Field 3 on the west side!"
A young guard came running, gasping for breath, his face a mask of panic.
Barrett looked back. Across the vast fields, the sharp, piercing whistles for reinforcements rose and fell, one after another.
He could kill a boar with a single strike, and even handle three to five at once, but he couldn’t be in a dozen places at the same time.
These past few days, what started as marsh rabbits and marsh mongooses had escalated to herds of tusk boars and brown bears. The scale and level of the Magical Beasts grew daily. The garrison had been split into more than a dozen patrols, but it was a futile effort across such vast fields.
There was a severe shortage of mid-level practitioners.
...
Barrett strode into the office in the Lord’s Mansion, covered in blood and mud.
He didn’t even have time to remove his armor before dropping to one knee, his voice filled with self-recrimination and helplessness.
"My Lord, I have failed," he slammed his fist on the ground. "A farmer, Harold, was gored through the thigh by a tusk boar. We used a potion, but I’m afraid he’ll never be able to do heavy labor again. We killed thirteen Magical Beasts today, but they destroyed over five acres of fields. I..."
Caroline slapped a report down on the table in front of Velin, cutting Barrett off.
"Look at this, my dear scholar," her fingertip tapped the damage section of the report, her eyes flashing with impatience. "The harvest festival is in half a month, and the delegates you invited are almost here! They’re coming to see a harvest, not this pigsty torn apart by beasts! Who will trust your seeds then? Who will buy into your story?"
She sighed. "This can’t continue. I’ll call in two shiploads of sailors from the nearest port—fifty well-equipped practitioners between Level 2 and Level 3. We have to get this situation under control before the delegates arrive."
Velin set the report down and looked at Caroline. "Your sailors are capable, but they’re the elite of the Golden Sail Commerce Association. Every day they’re away costs Golden Suns. Mobilizing a fleet escort for a few wild boars... even if you don’t feel the pinch, I feel it on your behalf."
He paused. "Besides, I have a labor force here that’s cheaper, more familiar with the marsh, and more... eager for blood."
Barrett and Caroline understood at once. Their expressions changed simultaneously. "Ola!"
Barrett’s expression turned grim. "My Lord, you must think this through. Those are Ola’s men—a band of defeated Knights who hate our guts. If we give them weapons, they could turn on us at any moment."
Caroline, however, fell silent. The anger in her eyes gradually subsided, replaced by deep thought.
Just as Barrett was about to argue his case further, a commotion erupted outside, a mixture of enraged roars and the sharp rebukes of guards.
"Let him in," Velin said calmly.
The door was thrown open and Ola burst in like an enraged bull, followed by two guards with awkward expressions.
"Lord Baron," one of the guards reported, steeling himself. "Baron Ola is riling up the other prisoners, demanding to be allowed to fight. We can barely keep them contained."
With bloodshot eyes, Ola glared at the lord of the Grey Marsh Territory. "Velin, don’t take me for a fool! You deliberately let news of this reach us, didn’t you? You just wanted me to come begging!"
"You’re turning my Knights into useless weaklings!" he gasped, pointing to his own chest. "Eating that god-awful stuff every day... all it does is make us shit! A Knight’s honor shouldn’t be abandoned in the latrine! Let us out, and we’ll kill those beasts for you!"
Velin watched him with amusement, asking unhurriedly, "Oh? And why should I trust you? Or, for that matter, trust your band of Knights who were just about to riot?"
The question took Ola aback for a moment. But then he leaned forward, his body almost pressed against the desk, and lowered his voice into something between a threat and a plea.
"Give me a chance. We can sign a contract. Let us pay off our ransom with the corpses of the Magical Beasts. It’s a fair deal. My Knights need to fight to keep their edge, and you need people to protect your fields."
Velin smiled. ’Those were the very words I was waiting for.’
But he didn’t agree immediately. Instead, he slowly rose, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of Ola.
"This time, I’m not speaking to you as a conqueror. I am speaking to you as the Baron of the Grey Marsh Territory, discussing a partnership with the Baron of Shiyan Town."
Ola was stunned. He had expected Velin to give him a hard time, to suppress him, or even to humiliate him. He never imagined he’d be met with such an equitable opening gambit.
Velin looked into his surprisingly gentle eyes, which didn’t quite match his image, and continued, "Times have changed, Ola. Sooner or later, the lands around the Gray Sea Marsh will become one. The days of supporting your Knight Order through extortion are over. You can’t go back to that."
Velin’s words were like a dull blade, piercing the truth Ola was most reluctant to admit. His breathing grew heavy, and his beard trembled slightly. But then Velin’s tone shifted, becoming sincere. "They can take up arms again, exchange the blood of enemies for merit points, and win back their own equipment and dignity with their achievements in battle. They would no longer be prisoners of war, but my hired Warriors. They can follow you, and you will lead them through this marsh to reclaim true glory—for yourself, and for your family."
Velin extended his hand.
"Baron Ola, this is a partnership that benefits us both. We can work together just like when we hunted the giant crocodile of the Gray Sea Marsh. Are you willing to seize this opportunity?"
The sound of heavy breathing echoed through the reception hall. Ola stared intently at Velin’s outstretched hand as if it held his only future.