Chapter 603 — Belk Loren

In a room laid with sky-blue carpet, furnished with great bookshelves, precious oil paintings, and silver lampstands, Belk Loren stood respectfully before the desk, reporting to Edmund Morne, who sat behind it, on what he had seen and heard in the Eastern Region.

The young prince, dressed in a black coat and now sporting a beard, listened with a grave and earnest expression to every word of the report, while Belk maintained throughout a reverence that came from the heart, unwilling to let his account suffer the slightest flaw:

"The banditry in Hallshire and Luntatellshire has been quelled. A cache of unmarked gold coins was found in their hideout, and through divination magic we determined preliminarily that these coins did indeed come from the local lords—even after you promulgated the relevant regulatory decree, some local nobles continued to keep 'black gloves' in private..."

"This is already an explicitly prohibited practice and must be severely punished. The nobles involved have two choices: either be demoted one rank of nobility, or surrender half their land or an equivalent sum of money," Edmund Morne said with a displeased expression.

Belk then reported on a series of changes and the current situation in the rear areas of the Eastern Region, and also mentioned the recent activities of the White Sands Mining Company. Edmund made various appropriate arrangements based on the situations he reported; for some matters that Belk could not handle or that others were handling, Edmund would briefly discuss his own proposed measures, or engage in a frank and open discussion with the young marquis before him.

Candid, earnest, just, full of patience.

No matter how many times he came into contact with Edmund Morne, Belk could not help but have words like these surface in his mind.

He looked at this prince, so close to his own age, watched him earnestly ponder solutions to problems and put forward various admirable proposals, and could feel that the other truly was striving to govern this land and seeking ways to bring prosperity to this kingdom—and it was precisely this conviction and this action that made him sincerely loyal to the other.

Yet... dark corners still existed.

A trace of disappointment and conflict rose in Belk's heart, and before he could speak, Edmund had already noticed the change in his expression. The prince cast a glance his way: "Belk, is there anything else?"

Belk frowned and did not conceal it: "Your Highness, in quite a few areas of the Eastern Region, your serf emancipation act has encountered unexpected... setbacks. Only a small number of serfs have truly obtained freedman status; the majority... remain bound to the land. Affected by this situation, land reform in these areas has made almost no progress, and the factories cannot recruit any manpower—they cannot even begin training."

Edmund watched him quietly: "Why?"

"Various reasons—but mostly obstacles set up by the landowners. Some require serfs to buy back their 'allotments' before they can obtain freedom; some require serfs to hand over the entire first year's harvest; and some, after announcing that the serfs have obtained freedman status, simply drive them off the farms or out of the orchards..."

Edmund closed his eyes briefly, as if to keep his breathing calm, then opened them, his gaze deep: "So the serfs who obtain 'freedom' actually cannot survive, is that it?"

"Yes. In the end they have no choice but to return to their masters' side, 'voluntarily'..."

This time Edmund was silent for even longer, and it was not until half a minute later that Belk heard a calm voice come from before him: "I understand."

"Your Highness, perhaps we should..."

Belk spoke eagerly, but halfway through he was interrupted by Edmund: "Belk, I will discuss this matter with Duke Loren—he has more experience when it comes to land. As for you, there is a new task."

Though Belk was still thinking about the serfs, his loyalty made him respond at once to the prince's new instruction: "Your Highness, please give your order."

Edmund's expression turned grave. He picked up the water cup beside him, took a sip to moisten his throat, and only then spoke in a low voice: "Regarding the increasingly rampant cult activities, regarding those Ten Thousand Hells cultists..."

...

After stepping out through the main doors of the castle hall, Belk Loren's footsteps seemed even heavier than before.

He had thought that the moldering conservative nobles of the Eastern Region, the roving bandits, and the deluded common folk were already obstacles and difficulties of the greatest magnitude—yet he had never expected that here in the Sorenburg area there would be another enormous trouble.

The Order of All Things Perishing... such a dark cult that dared only stir up schemes and intrigues in the gutters—when had it grown into such a tremendous menace? They had even stretched their hands toward the Great Wall, toward the ruins of Gondor?!

According to what His Highness the prince had said, the corruption and spread of the Ember Shadow cultists within the kingdom had long exceeded people's expectations. They spread among the poor, among the townsfolk, and even among the extraordinary and the nobility. Their doomsday doctrine was clearly absurd and mad... yet why did so many people go to such lengths, one after another, to believe in it, to destroy themselves for it?

A cold yet invigorating north wind blew over, and Belk shuddered awake. Only then did he notice that the wind and snow outside had at some point ceased, and that at this moment only vast expanses of silver-white covered the courtyard, the paths, and the rooftops.

A squire knight came leading a horse, and bowed respectfully beside the young marquis: "My lord, would you like to..."

Belk waved his hand, dismissing the squire knight: "Take the horse back. I am going to walk about the city—on foot."

At this season, most places where people gathered had already lapsed into bleakness and desolation, and even "Sorenburg," a famous great city in the eastern part of the Holy Spirit Plain, was no exception. Outside the warm castle, the entire urban district where the common folk lived was cold and cheerless, with few pedestrians; even walking along the broadest streets, one could see very few passersby.

But in fact, being able to see common passersby on the streets at all was already a sign of liveliness and prosperity—at least some people were still willing to go out in this cold weather, at least the most basic commercial and social activities were still functioning among the common folk of the city, and that was something rarely seen in ordinary countryside.

Belk had not ridden a horse, nor had he donned armor; he simply wore a wolfskin cloak over his knight's everyday attire, strolling at leisure through the streets and alleys of Sorenburg's West District.

Ever since the Eastern Region Legion had occupied this city that had once belonged to the royal house, he had not had the chance to stroll the streets in such a casual manner. As heir to the Warden Duke of the Eastern Region, he always had countless matters to learn and busy himself with. Although today he had accepted the new task arranged by the prince, that task was not something that could be launched immediately—first he needed to arrange for subordinates to gather and compile intelligence on heretical sacrifices, missing persons, and the spread of abnormal diseases in the surrounding areas, and only afterward could he act in person. And before that, he finally had a little leisure time.

Unfortunately, this leisure time fell in winter, and he had no chance to see many interesting folk sights.

Walking aimlessly, looking at the cold, deserted streets, Belk finally sighed.

Indeed there was nothing to see; a winter stroll was the most boring thing of all.

The young marquis turned around, preparing to leave this place.