Chapter 307 - 302: The Stirring War Machine (Part 2)

Chapter 307: Chapter 302: The Stirring War Machine (Part 2)

Light City, the Count’s Castle.

Sunlight passed through the long, narrow stained-glass windows, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow on the floor of the council hall.

At the head of the long table, Diana Dawn sat with her back ramrod straight, her golden hair coiled at the nape of her neck, the picture of dignity and nobility.

A sheet of dragon-hide paper, enchanted with Magic Power, lay spread before her, the articles of the alliance inscribed upon it.

"Limited intelligence sharing, reciprocal tariffs, a defensive and offensive alliance..."

Old Baron Ansel read aloud, word by word, his voice echoing in the quiet hall.

Every vassal present held their breath, their gazes shifting back and forth between Diana and Velin, who stood at her side.

Diana picked up the quill, dipping its tip into the inkwell.

She didn’t immediately put pen to paper, instead looking up at Velin.

Velin gave her a slight nod, signaling for her to proceed.

The nib scraped across the dragon hide, making a soft, rustling sound.

Diana Dawn. That name was now affixed to the end of the pact.

Next came Velin Klein.

"I, Kroo Federer, agree to the alliance!" Baron Kroo was the first to step forward. He practically snatched the quill and signed his name with a heavy hand. He pressed so hard that a small dot of ink spattered.

"And I, Jeno Windbell!"

"Count me in!"

One by one, the vassals stepped forward and solemnly signed their names.

When the last Baron had finished signing, Roland Sun stepped up and pressed down hard with his Knight’s insignia.

The sun sigil of the Sun Clan was branded onto the pact, representing the witness and endorsement of the most powerful family in the Duchy’s Southern Border.

The alliance was forged.

An energy that had been suppressed for decades detonated across the lands of the Dawn Territory.

The old war machine began to rumble to life.

In the castle of the Windbell lands, a steward and two servants worked together to push open the massive doors of the armory.

Sunlight streamed in, kicking up a cloud of choking dust.

From racks draped in cobwebs, rusted chainmail and longswords were carried out into the courtyard.

Servants used oilcloths mixed with fine sand to scrub the rust off the armor plates again and again, until they once more reflected a person’s image.

In Baron Kroo’s stables, the warhorses, usually fed only hay, were given a double ration of beans.

The young squires no longer idled about and chatted. They groomed the horses, checked their horseshoes, and returned to the training grounds to practice their long-forgotten drills and sword strikes.

The CLANG of colliding weapons echoed from dawn until dusk.

The entire port of Light City had become a bustling construction site.

Dozens of sailing ships of all sizes crowded the docks.

Captains stood on their forecastles, shouting at the sailors under their command as they inspected the condition of every rope and sail.

Onshore, bare-chested craftsmen hammered away, filling the seams between planks with tar and reinforcing the masts.

The common folk pushed creaking wheelbarrows, forming long lines.

Sacks of flour, barrels of salted meat, and bundles of arrows were loaded into the ships’ holds.

Under the terms of the alliance, the nobles of the Dawn Territory were responsible for covering the costs of their own pre-expedition preparations and basic supplies for the voyage.

They didn’t require Velin to pay a single Copper Plate, and no one complained.

News travels fast.

Merchant caravans leaving Light City spread word of the "Baron Grey Marsh" and his "land-making technique" throughout the Duchy’s southern region.

In the taverns, bards strummed their lutes, singing newly composed songs in a satirical tone.

In their songs, the heir of Count Philippe became a fool who could wave his Golden Sun around but couldn’t buy respect, while Viscount Valerius was just a brute who only knew how to swing a sword.

The audiences would burst into uproarious laughter, toasting with their rye ale to the biggest joke of the year.

More discreet attention came from afar.

As the name Velin Klein was repeatedly mentioned in various anecdotes, those great nobles who truly held power, the ones with a keen sense of smell, finally deigned to shift their gaze from the power games of the Royal Capital to the remote Southern Border of Sword Tooth Province.

Velin was aware of this, but he didn’t care.

As long as his own power grew fast enough, this attention was not a threat, but an opportunity.

Atop the walls of Light City, a fierce sea breeze blew, making one’s robes snap and flutter.

Roland and Velin stood side by side, looking down at the bustling crowds below and the fleet in the distance, ready to set sail.

"Are you sure you don’t want to go back and see the Grey Marsh Territory?" Velin asked.

Roland smiled and shook his head. He still had the last leg of his tour to complete.

"Look down there." Roland’s hand rested on the stone parapet. "The fires in the smithies haven’t gone out for three days. The dockworkers’ wages have doubled. With just a few words, you’ve brought this land, which was on the verge of rotting away, back to life."

He turned to look at Velin. "You saw this coming all along, didn’t you? You’re helping Diana."

Velin didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, "Do you know what the core problem of the Dawn Territory is?"

Roland thought for a moment.

"Land... no, hope."

"Correct." Velin retracted his gaze.

"Every noble clings to the small plot of land their ancestors left them. The eldest son inherits everything, and the best path for the younger sons is to become guard dogs for the great nobles in exchange for a future."

"No one wants to make a move because there’s nowhere to move to. Ambition has nowhere to go, so the entire territory is naturally stagnant and lifeless."

He looked at Roland. "The Grey Marsh Territory is different. It’s a blank canvas, and I’m willing to give them a stage on which to perform."

Roland looked at Velin’s profile. His friend’s way of thinking was always unconventional.

But he quickly grasped another layer of meaning.

"I’ve also studied the art of managing a territory," Roland said, his tone somewhat complicated.

"I know full well what an astonishing expense it is to develop a new territory. Yet you’ve cleverly managed to distribute the costs of development onto them, making them willingly offer up their families’ military strength. This scheme is truly admirable."

Velin smiled, not denying it.

The sound of leather boots on stone approached, and Diana walked up to them.

She wore a suit of practical leather armor, her golden hair tied back in a ponytail, and came to stand beside the two men.

"The first wave of allied forces is ready. One hundred Level 4 Knights and one hundred Level 3 professionals. Another three hundred will follow and should arrive within five days."

Velin nodded.

Then he suddenly remembered something.

"Diana, I remember you have a Dragon Eagle Knight. His name is... Rudolph?"

At the mention of this, Diana’s expression became slightly awkward.

"The upkeep for Dragon Eagles is too high... Normally, they’re ’in service’ at the Sun Marquis’s military camp."

Roland laughed and picked up the conversation.

"I’ve already rescinded the conscription order in my family’s name. Twenty Dragon Eagle Knights, five standard four-man squads. They will fly directly to your territory and rendezvous there."

Velin mentally calculated his forces.

Twenty aerial units, and highly mobile Dragon Eagle Knights at that.

The odds of winning this war against the Multi-Armed Race had just increased.

「A few days later」

The allied fleet cut through the waves and arrived at the coast of the Grey Marsh Territory.

As the ships sailed into the bay outside Minas Tirith Port, the first things they heard were the sounds of hammering and rhythmic work chants.

The nobles of the Dawn Territory all came out onto the decks.

"It must be a thousand people to make this much noise! Is Baron Velin building a stone fortress? What immense wealth!"

a Knight exclaimed in admiration.

As the morning mist gradually dissipated, the silhouette of a city emerged from within it.

And then, everyone was stunned.

It was not the wooden stockade or earthen fort they had imagined, but a mighty city carved from the gray-white mountain rock.

The city was built into the mountainside, divided into five ascending tiers, with the white tower on the highest level piercing the clouds.

Countless scaffolds clung to the surfaces of the buildings. The long arms of cranes swung slowly through the air, lifting massive stones onto the city walls.

Thousands of figures bustled about, like a giant anthill.

"Father in Heaven..." Baron Kroo muttered, leaning on the ship’s rail. "This... This is a Baron’s port?"

Beside him, the Baron of Windbell stammered, "This is almost... as big as Light City. This is a fucking major fortress!"

They had imagined the Grey Marsh Territory as a muddy, desolate place, covered in swamps.

But the scene before them completely overturned their perception.

The ships docked.

Velin temporarily handed command of the allied forces to Diana, leaving her in charge of settling the troops.

He himself walked through the bustling docks, amidst a chorus of "My Lord Baron," and headed for the white tower at the city’s highest point.

Inside the city hall, Tristan Lorenzo was waiting for him.

On the massive sand table before him, wooden blocks and flags of different colors marked the deployment of troops and the location of supply caches throughout the Grey Marsh Territory.

"During your absence, Ola completed the third round of militia training; Barrett reinforced all the outposts; and the various workshops are running three shifts, increasing the production of arrows, ballista bolts, and potions by thirty percent."

"The allied forces have arrived, numbering five hundred twenty in total. As planned, they are to be deployed to the west coast defensive line as a reserve force."

Velin listened as he walked over to another table.

A huge map was spread out upon it.

On the map, fine lines and plans were drawn in ink and charcoal—a blueprint for coastal expansion.

"The final plan for the first phase of the ’Newly Cultivated Land Project,’" Tristan said, walking over.

He extended a finger and pointed to a blue area on the map representing the ocean. Within that blue, three dotted lines had been drawn in red ink, parallel to the coastline.

"Leviathan One and Two have already laid three parallel seed-belts in the designated waters, as per the blueprints."

Tristan raised his head and looked at Velin.

"Awaiting your order."