Chapter 359 - 351: A Count’s Cornerstone

Chapter 359: Chapter 351: A Count’s Cornerstone

A week later, under the guidance of a pilot boat, a fast coastal sailing ship flying the thorny flower crest of Green Vein City slowly pulled up to Pier 3 of Minas Tirith Port.

Velin stood on the pier, the sea breeze stirring the hem of his linen coat. Behind him was a neatly formed honor guard, as well as a crowd of onlookers who had heard the news and come craning their necks to watch.

The gangway was lowered, and a group of noble-looking people disembarked.

Leading them was Count Leman, dressed in black formal attire, his expression inscrutable.

Following closely behind was a middle-aged noble who bore a slight resemblance to Velin but possessed a gentler, more refined temperament—none other than Velin’s father, Baron Kaman.

The last to disembark were two young men with complex expressions. They were Velin’s two older brothers who served in the military, Matthew and Samuel.

They sized up the fabled port their younger brother had built with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, their eyes filled with astonishment.

"Father, Uncle, Brothers." Velin bowed slightly.

"Hn." Count Leman’s gaze swept across the pier.

Newly built jetties, towering cranes, laborers paving stone roads in the distance, and uniformed municipal officials maintaining order everywhere... Everything was well-organized and brimming with vibrant energy.

Baron Kaman, however, was filled with pride and emotion. He patted Velin’s arm, momentarily at a loss for words.

"This place... is even better than I imagined," the older son, Matthew, finally murmured. He had expected to see a chaotic and filthy pioneer territory, not a burgeoning, prosperous town.

"Let’s go. We’ll look at your farmland first." Count Leman was clearly uninterested in such superficial displays; he was more concerned with the foundations of a domain.

The four-wheeled carriage departed from the port, heading east along a newly built dirt road.

On both sides of the road stretched vast, endless expanses of level farmland.

It was the spring plowing season, and thousands of subjects were organized into small teams to work the fields. Shouting work songs, they drove draft horses pulling a new type of curved-beam plow, carving furrows into the dark brown earth.

The scene was vast but not chaotic, filled with a strange, collective rhythm.

"This... this land..." Baron Kaman gripped the carriage window, too shocked to speak. "How can it be so perfectly level?"

As a titular Baron, he held an almost obsessive longing for land of his own.

He had seen countless noble domains, where leveling the pockmarked, sloping land could consume the efforts of several generations. Yet the fertile soil before them was as flat as a spread-out tablecloth.

"This was once the seabed," Velin explained calmly. "The terrain is naturally level, and the soil is suitable for cultivation. We only needed to solve the issue of salinization."

"Salinization..." Baron Kaman murmured. He knew what that implied—it was the nightmare of nearly all coastal lands.

"It has been solved," Velin added. "We used a special crop called the Sea-Salt Tuber. It can grow directly in saline soil and absorb the salt. After one season of rotational planting, combined with flushing from a freshwater canal system, the soil’s fertility is expected to rival that of farmland in the Duchy’s heartland by this time next year."

Silence fell inside the carriage.

The brothers Matthew and Samuel exchanged a glance, each seeing the same disbelief in the other’s eyes. ’The level of the Duchy’s heartland? How is that possible!’

Count Leman’s fingers tapped lightly on his knee.

His mind held no room for disbelief, only calculation.

Grain was the foundation of war and power. Such vast and fertile land meant that the Grey Marsh Territory would possess a level of food self-sufficiency unmatched by any other Earl’s Domain in the Duchy. It could even be exported for astonishing wealth.

’The boy has silently pulled a trump card out of this patch of mud.’

The carriage did not stop, continuing inland until it entered the region of Mist Spring Valley.

On the outskirts of the valley, large sections of the hillsides had been re-landscaped. Rows of saplings stood tall against the wind; though still slender, they already displayed a stubborn vitality.

"These are Thick-skinned Trees," Velin explained, gesturing out the window. "I bought the seeds in the Royal Capital. They produce a large amount of resin, which, after a simple rendering process, becomes an excellent adhesive and waterproofing material."

"What do you plan to do with it?" Leman asked.

"Paving roads," Velin answered. "By mixing crushed stone with the resin, we can lay inexpensive and durable roads. With a road network, the logistical efficiency between the Newly Cultivated Land and the port will increase tenfold."

Count Leman’s pupils contracted slightly.

He had to admit it was an undeniably sound decision. The boost an efficient transportation network gave to a domain’s control and development potential was immeasurable.

The carriage finally stopped before a manor deep within Mist Spring Valley.

This was Velin’s personal demesne, and also one of the core regions of the Grey Marsh Territory.

However, Velin did not lead them inside immediately. Instead, he brought them to a high cliff overlooking the entire valley.

The sight before them left Baron Kaman and the two brothers speechless.

The valley’s inner walls had been carved into layers of ringed terraces, reshaping the land into a gigantic funnel that sloped gently toward the center. Innumerable species of Magic Potion Plants thrived in these terraced fields, forming brilliant, distinctly colored ribbons. Water flowed slowly through channels between the terraces, eventually converging in a central lake that shone like a sapphire Gemstone. The entire valley was filled with an enchanting, refreshing fragrance.

Amidst these magnificent fields of herbs, dozens of giant insects—each the size of a warhorse and covered in an Obsidian-like carapace—methodically tilled, weeded, and harvested under the direction of a few workers.

"Are those... Magical Beasts?" Matthew’s voice was dry. As a soldier, he could sense that the dangerous aura emanating from the giant insects had not lessened in the slightest, even as they performed their horticultural tasks.

"You could put it that way," Velin explained calmly. "I call them ’Worker Ants.’ They are biological units specialized for construction and long-term maintenance."

"The different potion plants are intercropped according to their symbiotic relationships, forming a self-sufficient, interdependent, vertically integrated ecosystem."

Count Leman’s breathing grew somewhat ragged.

He had managed the family’s potion business for years. Though he hadn’t seen a single finished product, he understood the value of this territory better than anyone. ’This isn’t a farm; it’s a mint, one that can endlessly churn out high-end Magic Potions!’

After they had toured the magnificent project, Velin took them to the military barracks.

There was no fancy military parade, only daily training. The soldiers were bare-chested, grappling in the mud, their bodies covered in scars and calluses. Their gazes were ferocious and resolute—the look of an army that had truly been to battle and spilled blood.

What stunned Matthew and Samuel even more was that within this force of barely a thousand men, they sensed the auras of nearly a hundred Transcents. Although most were only at Level 3 or Level 4, the sheer number was terrifying!

Finally, on the way back to the municipal hall, they saw the Multi-Armed Race training near the port. Under the command of one of Velin’s Knights, the members of the oceanic race drilled in combined-assault formations. This display of command over an alien race left Baron Kaman utterly speechless.

The atmosphere in the study was heavy.

Count Leman, Baron Kaman, and his two sons had spent the entire day in a state of continuous shock.

The farmlands, the Magical Beasts, the army, the port, the Alien Race allies, and the number-driven "merit point system" that Tristan had just finished explaining to them...

How could this be considered a Pioneer Baron’s domain? It clearly possessed all the foundations of an Earl’s Domain, perhaps even a more powerful one! Its only weakness was its newness; it lacked the depth that only time and heritage could provide.

And Velin had accomplished all of this in a single year.

"Velin..." Baron Kaman finally broke the silence, his voice thick with pride. "You... you’ve done very well."

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at his two anxious older sons, before finally mustering the courage to speak. "Your two brothers are considered outstanding in the Northern Border Legion. But... as you know, it’s incredibly difficult to get promoted. I was wondering if you could... give them a chance? Let them come and help you?"

His face flushed after he spoke. His words were tantamount to begging for a favor from the youngest son he had once favored the least.

Matthew and Samuel hung their heads even lower, their faces burning with shame.

Velin looked at his father and brothers, feeling perfectly calm.

’Perfect,’ Velin thought. ’The Southern Islands and the eastern part of the Newly Cultivated Land both need reliable administrators. At this stage, blood ties are the most inexpensive and stable contract. Their abilities may be questionable, but as members of the Klein Clan, their loyalties will align with my own.’

"Of course, Father." A gentle smile appeared on Velin’s face. "Matthew and Samuel are my brothers. The lands of the Grey Marsh Territory are vast, and I need them to help me shoulder the burden. The glory of our family is something we must build together."

His words were flawless. He spared his father’s and brothers’ pride while smoothly incorporating them into his own system.

Baron Kaman’s eyes welled up, and he nodded repeatedly.

Count Leman, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

"Velin, your achievements and the scale of your domain have far surpassed the scope of a mere Baron."

"I will mobilize the clan’s entire network in the Royal Capital and formally petition the Noble Council and His Grace the Duke to have you invested as a Count."

He walked over to Velin and clapped him firmly on the shoulder, a rare, sincere smile gracing his features.

"You can go ahead and start preparing the feast for your investiture as a Count."