Chapter 265: The Deepening of Autumn

"Now, I appoint you as a sergeant," Ryan said, pressing the Vengeance Goddess insignia onto Beltran's shoulder. A pale blue light illuminated the room, and white flames of purification burned continuously: "The Belzac Bandit Group has been proven to be one that dislikes unnecessary killing. You have always only taken half of the possessions from those you robbed. This is why I am willing to pardon your past. I hope you lead your brothers well."

"Yes!" Beltran bowed deeply, tears in his eyes. Who would choose to be a bandit if given the honor of being a sergeant?

Ryan waved his hand, and a knight's squire returned the weapons Beltran had surrendered.

Beltran's weaponry included a longsword and a bow, but what was particularly notable was his quiver, made from black scale leather. Among many feathered arrows, one black arrow stood out prominently.

"What is this?" Ryan's attention was drawn to the black arrow.

"This is a Dragonheart Arrow, my Count," Beltran immediately explained. "I killed a young wyrm and used its hide for my quiver, its tendons for my bow, and its bones, which contain powerful energy, to make three arrows. I used one to kill a wild orc, another during an attack by a green-skin tribe, and now only this one remains."

Ryan was impressed and turned back, "Wait, does that mean you are a legendary-tier warrior?"

"A novice hunter of the legendary-tier, my Count," Beltran replied, bowing his head.

"No wonder you were eager to surrender, and why you never dared to trouble my citizens in Charlon Forest. You had planned to serve me all along; you were just looking for an opportunity," Ryan murmured.

"If there was a choice, who would want to be a bandit? My Count, I have never relied on a surname, gods, fortune, or weaponry. I have always depended only on my own two hands to reach this point, but I know this is my limit. My brothers and sisters can't forever live a nomadic life in the forest, filled with dangers. We are young and strong now, but what about in ten years? Twenty years? We need a way out."

"Few bandits think about their future, which is why I agreed to meet with you," Ryan nodded. People are correct when they have needs. Those without needs are either fools or ambitious schemers with ulterior motives.

Ryan needed neither.

"I will have people screen your brothers. Those who qualify can choose to join the infantry or become serfs. Those who don't will take to farming. Women can work in the textile mills by the Sinon River, and orphans can be sent to the Mercy Goddess Church for upbringing," Ryan ordered. "As for you, Beltran, I plan to form a company of archers. You'll be the captain, with a salary equivalent to a sergeant!"

"Yes!"

The surrender of a dozen bandit groups brought Ryan over four thousand people, whom he classified and processed.

For groups like the Belzac Bandit Group, which had committed no grave offenses, Ryan issued a decree of assurance, pardoning their past. Leaders like Beltran, Hugo, and Petty were even knighted as sergeants.

For those bandits unwilling to continue fighting, vast tracts of land were available for cultivation.

For those who had committed serious crimes like murdering fellow countrymen and merchants, Ryan, after verifying their actions, sent them to work in the mines. These bandits would endure a miner's life for six months to five years as penance for their deeds, working in the mines where the Count provided lodging and meals, and a salary of five to eight copper coins a day (equivalent to about 2 to 3 gold crowns a year).

After arranging everything, the wheels of time moved slowly forward.

Autumn arrived, the season of harvest. With the coming of September, the hint of autumn crept in during a foggy dawn, disappeared during the hot afternoon, tiptoed over treetops, reddened a few leaves, then swept across the valley and left.

The entire County of Glamorgan was immersed in the joy of a bountiful harvest. This year, the south of Brittany enjoyed a rich harvest, but the northern kingdoms suffered due to an overly long rainy season, placing great financial strain on their economies.

However, whether Brittany had a good harvest or not was irrelevant to the vampires of Mousillon.

Inside Mousillon Castle, the Lich King Arkhan still felt uneasy recalling the towering human he had encountered in the Charlon Forest. Though he had lived for thousands of years, he had never seen such a fearsome being.

In the cold, damp Morholt Castle, eleven Black Grail Knights stood lifelessly in the great hall, appearing completely devoid of life, like corpses in slumber.

Arkhan was pondering, his eyes flickering with green flames.

The Lich King heard that the new Count of Glamorgan, Ryan Macado, was getting engaged. The ceremony was to be simple, attended only by his closest associates.

Arkhan had abandoned any thoughts of interference. Ever since encountering those terrifying beings in the Charlon Forest, he had sworn never to venture into Ryan's territory again.

Too frightening.

"Damned Ryan Macado, I curse you! May you never have offspring, never face the moonlight, and may you endure the torment of a thousand worms gnawing at your heart each night!" The Lich King released a malevolent curse, then completely abandoned any plans to disrupt Ryan's engagement ceremony.

Manfred, the Vampire Count, had taken several months to recover from the horrific injuries inflicted by Ryan. Even so, he mocked Arkhan, "Oh, most loyal servant of our master, more than seventy percent of Mousillon's army has been lost, over a hundred Blood Knights reduced to less than thirty, and Morgiana is missing. Your plan has utterly failed. Do you truly wish to resurrect our master? Or does it seem like you're moving in the opposite direction?"

"Silence, Manfred!" Arkhan responded calmly, "I think I've encountered some extremely terrifying existence."

"Extremely terrifying? Is it a deified Charlemagne, or did you see the Lady of the Lake in her true form? Did she agree to descend in person? Or is this just an excuse for your defeat, as always?" Manfred continued to mock Arkhan, as if only by doing so could he cover up his own shameful defeat.

"Like when you led dozens of Blood Knights and couldn't stop Ryan and his companions from escaping, not only watching them flee but also being severely injured?" Arkhan retorted mercilessly.

Manfred was enraged, and simultaneously, Arkhan and Manfred stopped their mocking.

The cold, damp Morholt Castle fell silent again, only the undead creatures slowly moving about.

Seeing Arkhan silent, Manfred spoke first, "So... most loyal servant, what do you plan to do next? The Red Duke is dead, and we've failed to resurrect him three times; he's truly dead."

"We need to change the plan, Manfred. The Lady of the Lake is untraceable, and we no longer have the strength to capture and sacrifice her," Arkhan shook his head, "The plan needs to change."

Manfred laughed mockingly, not objecting but indicating he was listening.

"I will seek

 the Necromancer Heinrich Kemmler; you go to the Skavenblight in the south and try to retrieve Nagash's Sword, which the Skaven have hoarded. Let's act separately," Arkhan told Manfred. "There's no need to stay in Mousillon any longer; it's a waste of time."

Manfred was silent for a long time before finally nodding.

He too was tired of wasting time here.

"Snap!" A gust of wind blew outside the castle. Manfred hesitated, seemingly calculating something, "Then... what about things here in Mousillon?"

"Leave everything to Matthew Bard," Arkhan's face was expressionless, or rather, his skull could show no expression.

"A twenty-something kid? What can he do?"

"A twenty-something kid managed to severely injure you, forcing you to recover for three months, Manfred, do not question my decision," Arkhan repeated, clearly annoyed.

The Lich King must have done something to Matthew Bard. Many malicious thoughts crossed Manfred's mind, planning to discover the secrets of Matthew Bard and claim them for himself.

But not now.

...

In the autumn night, a heavy rain poured down, thunder roaring in the sky, tearing open the deep night.

The constant heavy rain beat against the windows, unavoidably causing some irritability. Rooms tend to feel stuffy under heavy rain, so the air conditioning was turned on.

Bursts of cool air flowed from the air conditioner, dispelling the stuffy atmosphere.

"Thank you, Count. I feel much better," Sir Armand of the Kingdom sighed in relief, feeling much more comfortable: "Everything went smoothly, Count. You weren't there, but I must commend our trading partners. Those wood elves might be few, but in terms of individual quality, they're much more formidable than our soldiers."

"I won't personally intervene every time; it's a good start that you can handle things on your own," Ryan nodded.

Indeed, this year, under the influence of the Lady's tower, Ryan's lands again experienced a great harvest. Serfs who worked hard harvested much more grain than in previous years. Due to the shift from a tenth to a fixed tax, hardworking serfs lived much better than before.

However, not every serf benefited; the lazy ones suffered.

Some serfs, unwilling to work hard or join the Count's infantry for rigorous training, complained about their lord being a greedy vampire, envious of the prosperous harvests of other diligent serfs.

They began to cause trouble, influenced by certain forces, many serfs attempted to raid granaries, steal their neighbors' food, or even assault shops and knights' homes.

Initially, Ryan issued strict orders prohibiting such behavior, but the incidents continued. Subsequently, guided by some "travelers," a rebellion broke out, with over two hundred serfs gathering under the call of a few "travelers" and launching a revolt.

However, Ryan was prepared.

Sir Armand and Olivier, leading six hundred troops, were ordered to engage in the conflict, along with a small contingent of wood elf forces. Ryan's instruction to Armand was brief.

"Take no prisoners."

Thus, a small-scale skirmish ensued. The Count's forces completely wiped out the over two hundred rebellious serfs, their blood dyeing the river red. Facing a regiment of six hundred regular troops composed of over twenty knights, the rebelling serfs stood no chance. After a single charge, the conflict ended in a massacre.

No matter how the rebelling serfs pleaded, Armand refused to take prisoners. The Count's standard-bearer ordered all the rebelling serfs beheaded to deter others, and the unrest within the territory finally quieted down. No serf dared to complain or cause trouble again.

"Did you find out who planned this, those travelers who incited the serfs?" Ryan asked, looking out at the pouring rain, his expression steely.

"We caught two of the 'travelers.' Through various interrogation methods by Miss Olica and magic from Miss Teresa, we learned these travelers were commissioned by a noble from Berleon. They infiltrated the territory, spread various rumors, and incited the serfs to rebel against the Count," Armand reported with a frown: "They're under our control now, Count. What do you plan to do next?"

Ryan furrowed his brow, pondering for a long while before shaking his head, "For now, do nothing. The heads of over two hundred people are enough. If Theodoric is smart, he'll know what to do. Since he dared to act this way, the dear Duke must have planned an escape route. Catching two people doesn't prove much."

"Yes," Armand withdrew, leaving Ryan alone by the window.

The rain continued to fall.

"Such an unlikable neighbor, not even managing to drive out the southerners in his own territory, now eyeing mine," Ryan chuckled coldly, then shook his head again. Such minor maneuvers weren't yet worth confronting Theodoric over. Petty acts among nobility should stay petty; making a public spectacle would be immature.

Conversely, Theodoric's impatience had actually helped Ryan eliminate destabilizing elements within his own territory, so Ryan considered this a probing move.

"Ryan, my champion~" Just then, a gentle voice echoed in his heart.

"My Lady?" Ryan responded in surprise.

"Come to my tower~" The voice of the Lady of the Lake was bright and captivating but carried an undeniable weariness: "I have something to discuss with you..."

Updated! Vote for us!

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT