Chapter 376 — Negotiations at the Border

Faced with Horsman's elegant and utterly confident smile, Green realized that this great noble—renowned for his far-reaching vision and keen instincts—had not in fact lost his head. The frequent gatherings of nobles on the Horsman County lands since last winter had been more than simple "business dealings." Through one transaction after another involving alchemical potions and arcane technology, a bloc had taken shape, led by the Horsman family, one that regarded the Cecil power with vigilance and wariness.

This bloc shared the same pursuit of profit, and the same object of suspicion. The irony was that the vast wealth which had drawn them together had been created by Cecil Territory—and that which they watched with such wary eyes was Cecil Territory itself.

The newborn Cecil Territory was a land where gold and silver flowed. This was a consensus that had gradually taken form during the final stretch of last winter. At first, the nobles of the Southern Frontier had not understood what the alchemical potion merchants traveling everywhere, the slowly spreading arcane network, and the mining machinery systems truly signified in value. But as Count Horsman gathered them together and they exchanged intelligence, the noble lords came to realize just how vast the scale of these dealings had grown. Anyone with half a mind had only to do a little arithmetic to be struck dumb by that astonishing wealth—and then to realize how utterly insignificant the few gold coins they had scraped together were compared to the fortune the entire Cecil family had amassed.

Such immense gold and silver was piling up in the Cecil family's vaults. They gathered wealth not through war, yet took in more than war ever could.

And yet it would be unwise to recklessly oppose the name of Cecil. Whatever that family had been over the past century, it was now an undeniable fact that they had regained their honor. Even the king himself must face today's Cecil family with proper deference and care. But if a reasonable excuse could be found—one that could unite most of the Southern Frontier's nobles and still hold up before the royal court... the problem did not seem so complicated after all.

"They say the Duke of Cecil has already gathered an army of several thousand men. That at least proves one thing: however mad his actions may seem, his reason is still intact. He knows he must command sufficient force to protect his wealth," Count Horsman said without haste. "Most of that force is raw recruits, but the numbers are still considerable. And word has it that Cecil Territory has already repelled two assaults from the monsters of the Gondo Wasteland. I suspect that was largely the personal prowess of that legendary duke, but it also shows that Cecil's army has seen blood. So we must gather a force of our own to guarantee our safety."

"You mentioned the Duke of Cecil's personal strength as well... an ancient legend. He will be difficult to deal with, I fear?"

"Yes, of course, very difficult," Count Horsman said, and at last he smiled. "Which is why we must find additional means to tie down the duke himself—at least to keep him occupied elsewhere for a time."

Green looked at his master. Even as the head of intelligence on these lands, he could not always see through all of the count's designs, but he knew Count Horsman had likely already arranged a great many other things in secret. "You have a plan?"

"Ah—the Duke of Cecil is not merely undermining the noble order of Anzu; he has offended a great many others as well," Count Horsman said with a smile. "Have you heard of Cecil Territory's recent sheltering of heretic worshippers?"

"...Of course," Green nodded. "I had the intelligence at once. Cecil Territory openly declared it would take in those exiles cast out by the Church of the Radiant Sun and condemned as heretics."

Count Horsman nodded slightly. "The Church of the Radiant Sun has coveted this Southern Frontier land for a long while..."

"...You mean to bring those missionaries in as well?" Green's brow furrowed at once. "Forgive my frankness, but once those priests are inside, getting them to leave again will be no easy matter..."

"I will not hand over vast wealth for nothing," Count Horsman said, shaking his head. "But the Church's strength can still be borrowed. Since they wish to fight for their Lord, then let them fight for their Lord."

...

In the Eastern Frontier of Anzu, before the "Pact Keep" that stood in the border buffer zone, Duke Silas Loren sat astride the warhorse that had followed him for many years, and drew a deep breath of the spring wind blowing from the direction of Tifeng. The cool air filled his lungs at once, lifting his spirits slightly.

The towering Pact Keep stood upon a rocky plateau. Through nearly the whole of the past winter, countless slave laborers, stonemasons, carpenters, and transcendents had raised this fortress in the shortest possible time, sparing no expense. Nearly a hundred slaves had been worked to death or killed in other accidents in the process; a Tifeng architect had even been crushed by falling stone from the dome. And such a price was worth paying. The sturdy, immense fortress had risen from the ground—and though the construction time had been unbelievably short, the Keep of the Mystic Gate could still bear the historic significance it was soon to fulfill.

The Pact Keep blended the styles of Anzu and Tifeng both: the elegance and refinement of the Anzu court, and the somber gravity of the Tifeng Empire expressed in black towers. Before the fortress lay a broad, open plain where the guards and ministers of both nations might rest and observe the ceremonies. Only one road led to the Keep, and Anzu and Tifeng each occupied one side of it. At present, Silas Loren was on the side nearest Anzu.

He checked his horse, which had grown somewhat restless. This horse had dealt with the Tifeng folk alongside him for many years and had even learned to recognize the scent of Tifeng soldiers—the armor, the banners, the insignia of the Tifeng troops standing across the road all made the beast a little tense. Then he raised his head and looked across the broad road to the figure opposite his own position.

A spirited female knight sat upon a brown warhorse. She had striking long gray hair and a face that looked quite young. She wore no helmet and had not bound her hair, letting it fly freely in the wind; from beneath those streaming strands, a pair of sharp eyes showed—and at this moment they too rested upon Silas Loren.

Silas Loren, with his warrior's bearing, gave the female knight a slight smile and a greeting that was courteous yet maintained its distance. He knew well enough who she was: heir to the Wendell family of the Tifeng Empire, the youngest Wolf General in history, and at present the highest-ranking commander of Winterwolf Keep. Since this woman commander had taken charge of Winterwolf Keep, the knights of the Loren family—and Silas Loren himself—had dealt with her more than once, and the two sides might well be called "old acquaintances."

After the greeting, Duke Loren could not resist glancing back at Berke Loren, who likewise sat his horse behind him: heir to the Loren family, a man whose talent far exceeded his peers and who was held in every respect as the pride of Long Wind Fortress. Yet compared with the "Wolf General" across the way, Berke had far too many immature qualities.

But it did not matter. Acquired experience and effort could make up for much. Berke carried the fine bloodline of the Loren family, and a fierce conviction in the pursuit of honor. So long as he kept that drive, the young man would one day stand on his own and command Long Wind Fortress.