Chapter 20: Found You
Since the conflict began over four hundred years ago between the Northern Empire and the orc tribes inhabiting the Tartarus Plateau in the northwest, the shadow of war had never left this vast nation.
Orc civilization was not advanced, but they were fierce and fearless in battle, unafraid of death or injury. Inspired by their shamans and ancient ancestral spirits, any orc—even an underage female—could become a warrior. Their physiques far surpassed those of humans, to the point where human soldiers clad in fine iron armor could not gain the slightest upper hand against these primitive beings wielding bone clubs and stone spears.
No one could have predicted that this campaign to eradicate the primitive tribes, optimistically estimated to conclude within three months, would instead last nearly five hundred years. During this long cycle of war and truce, the primitive orcs rapidly imitated human civilization. They tried farming, planted grass to raise cattle and sheep, built workshops and crude sacrificial temples, learned from human craftsmen to forge iron armor and construct fortresses, and some of their wise men even pondered the mysteries of magic.
War fundamentally transformed the orc race, and the same was true for the Northern Empire.
The nobles of the empire's northwestern regions suffered devastating blows from the orcs' two-year invasion. Several families that had existed since the empire's founding were completely wiped out, leaving vast tracts of ownerless land vacant. As the empire's economy teetered on the brink of collapse multiple times, it rapidly shifted toward military industry. Countless workshops and mines of all sizes opened across the land, supplying the army's material needs.
The most outstanding among these workshop owners and mine operators, along with warriors who had performed exceptionally in battles against the orcs, became the new masters of those vacant lands in the northwest. These emerging noble families became the main force resisting the orc invasion, and their family enterprises gradually became part of the empire's economic lifeline.
The annual beast tides in the south and the unending war in the northwest prevented the vast empire from ever developing in peace. Most newly risen noble families declined within just a few decades, only to be replaced by another family.
Yet even so, over four hundred years, some families endured. They had now become behemoths, controlling most of the empire's mining, construction, metallurgy, transportation, textiles, and enchanting industries. Economically, the old-school noble families who relied on agriculture were left far behind by these upstarts. But this was, after all, a world of battle qi and magic. In terms of individual strength, the old noble families with their well-established traditions and experience still held the advantage.
The Radcliffe family, to which Joshua belonged, was also part of these emerging nobles. Their exploration of the Great Aias Mountains in the north was precisely to find new mineral veins and resource sites for the increasingly intense war.
But now, the orcs were extinct. The war that had lasted over four hundred years was over.
The empire's distorted economy was steadily returning to normal. The most obvious sign was the sharp decline in demand for mining and metallurgy. Rumors circulated that the current emperor, Israel, was even planning to reduce the number of private soldiers among the northwestern nobles within a few years and shut down most of the dangerous temporary mines and workshops.
Strength and money were the lifeblood of a family. Without strength, one could not protect money; without money, one could not cultivate strength.
Israel's move undoubtedly touched the core interests of most emerging nobles. Peace meant the end of war policy favoritism, and their importance rapidly diminished. Losing the imperial military as their biggest buyer, along with the closure of large-scale production facilities, would inevitably bring incalculable economic losses.
If this were an empire in an ordinary world, it might have sparked a civil war. But on the Mycroft Continent, no one dared challenge the authority of a legendary expert. When the emperor said one, no one dared say two. Israel had personally led a campaign to crush the orc royal court, and he certainly wouldn't hesitate to wipe out one or two foolish noble families who dared challenge imperial authority, making an example of them.
The nobles could only swallow the bitter pill.
It was early morning. A knight rode slowly through the outskirts of Setti, not far from the imperial capital. He crossed fields heavy with moisture and arrived at a quiet little town. At the town's entrance, a sparkling stream flowed. The knight crossed a smooth stone bridge, traversed several streets, and finally stopped at the gate of an unremarkable manor.
The knight dismounted and stated his purpose to the manor's servant. The white-haired servant scanned him a few times, and on the simple armor, the old man spotted an extremely understated crest.
'Iron Fist.'
The crest of the Empire's Iron Fist, the Feltao family.
He nodded politely, then went inside to report to the steward. Soon, a stern-faced butler crossed the manor and took a letter from the knight.
Not long after, the door to a room deep within the manor was knocked. Kleiman Suwold awoke from his sleep.
Though roused unexpectedly, Kleiman was not angry. This middle-aged man with deep brown hair took two seconds to fully extricate himself from the illusions of his dream, then began to think calmly.
If nothing important had happened, his deputy wouldn't normally disturb his sleep. Since he was disturbed, it meant something significant had occurred. Following this logic, the middle-aged man quickly dressed and stepped out of the room. He immediately saw his deputy waiting for him. As the representative in the imperial capital of the Suwold family, the largest ore supplier in the empire's northwest, and as the family's second son, Kleiman trusted this deputy who had served him for years. He didn't put on a stern face but yawned and complained, "What's going on? I haven't had a good night's sleep in almost two months."
"A letter from the Feltao family." The deputy, who looked about fifty, immediately replied. "Delivered personally by Senior Knight Nack. It should be about 'that matter.'"
"They still haven't finished testing?" Kleiman pulled a small amethyst bottle from his pocket and sniffed it. An extremely refreshing, mind-clearing scent rushed into his nostrils, putting him fully into work mode. "It's been half a month. Still no results?"
As he spoke, Kleiman frowned. He said irritably, "They didn't make a move?"
"No, they did. But the situation is a bit strange. Nack thinks something's off. He said his master can't quite gauge the situation either."
"Aside from the eldest son, the new generation of the Feltao family is all useless." Kleiman said disdainfully. Though he was only the second son and couldn't inherit the Suwold family title, he was the family's representative in the capital, controlling the secrets of most of their enterprises. Even his elder brother would have to rely on him to smoothly manage the entire family in the future.
That said, Kleiman still took the envelope from his deputy. He tore it open, skimmed the contents, and his expression twisted.
"What have they done?!"
The future second-in-command of the Suwold family let out a low growl, anger mixed with a hint of fear. "Killed them all?! Those damned dwarves, those half-breed idiots—are their heads made of stone?!"
The Feltao family's ancestors had interbred with dwarves, so most family members were not tall. It was precisely this blend of dwarven blood and human intelligence that made them one of the empire's largest weapon suppliers.
Seeing this, the deputy took the letter from Kleiman's hand. He also skimmed it and gasped. "Good heavens—this is against all rules!"
"Of course it is." Kleiman instinctively pulled out the amethyst bottle again. It contained a high-concentration stimulant potion, a favorite of mages who loved staying up late for research. He took a sniff to calm down. "The Radcliffe family doesn't play by the rules. They're trying to carve out a share of the weapons market when times are tough for everyone. Those dwarves wanted to issue a threat—that's normal. But this time, they went too far."
Now was the empire's long-awaited time of peace. With the war against the orcs over, the weapons and ore markets had shrunk overall. Many workshops couldn't get orders and were on the verge of bankruptcy. The Suwold family was fine—their ore business still had decent demand even in peacetime. It was a bit uncomfortable, but not a major difficulty. But families like the Feltaos, who had built their fortunes on weapon forging, were different. They were in an unprecedented crisis.
And the Radcliffe family was making things worse. This northern family was one of the special ore suppliers for the five directly subordinate legions, granted by imperial decree. Even the end of the war couldn't affect their business much. But the new count seemed unsatisfied. At a time when all the new nobles were struggling, he had the audacity to start producing and selling finished weapons and armor, snatching business from families already in dire straits.
Cutting off someone's livelihood made them a mortal enemy—this truth held everywhere. The Feltao family, hit hardest, was probably furious. That was clear from the actions of their representative in the capital. Lately, he had been constantly harassing the Radcliffe family's shops and enterprises.
"One, two, three... six people."
Kleiman rubbed his forehead hard, looking very troubled. "By the Seven Gods, he killed over half of the Radcliffe family's representatives in the capital... This isn't a test or a threat anymore—it's a blatant provocation!"
Kleiman also disliked the Radcliffe family for not playing by the rules, but his cautious nature made him prefer to settle things at the negotiating table. Of course, he didn't think the Feltao family's actions were wrong—just that killing so many people was also against the rules.
Assassinating, threatening, and bribing representatives of competitors was part of noble struggles. In border regions like the north or southern fortresses, noble conflicts could escalate into bloody battles, but not around the imperial capital. Generally, assassinating a representative was the most intense warning and provocation. Killing six at once was essentially equivalent to declaring war in the borderlands.
"Hasn't the Radcliffe family responded?" Thinking of this, Kleiman turned to his deputy, somewhat incredulous. "Can those northerners swallow that?"
He knew that the young lord of the north was called the youngest Ultimate-rank, even hailed by the emperor as a future legendary. Could a young man's pride endure such a loss? Hard to imagine.
"That's where it gets strange." The deputy replied quickly, having finished reading the letter. "The shops are operating normally. People are dying one by one, but there's no retaliation. Many were prepared to be assassinated themselves—we even temporarily hid out in the suburbs. That's why the Feltao family asked us—they want to know what's going on."
This attack had also been tacitly approved by Kleiman. To be precise, if several mining and metallurgy noble families hadn't united against the Radcliffe family, the Feltaos wouldn't have dared so easily to provoke an Ultimate-rank expert. But Joshua's reaction puzzled them.
"Do they think the count is scared?"
Taking the letter from his deputy again, Kleiman read to the end. He ground his teeth and even laughed bitterly. "Arrogant dwarves... He's an Ultimate-rank expert! He just returned from the battlefield at the Holy Mountain against the mad dragons. He's probably killed more dragons than you've forged weapons in your lifetime!"
Earlier, the empire's nobles had learned from the court that Joshua had left the empire. That was why the Feltao family dared to move against Alfonso Carlos. But about a week ago, news from the Far South had shocked everyone—the warrior's departure was actually an invitation from the Church of the Seven Gods. He had been fighting mad dragons at the Far Sea Holy Mountain, racking up countless victories.
Though he didn't believe Joshua was afraid and thus refrained from retaliating against the successive deaths of his representatives, the middle-aged man wasn't sure what was really going on. He leaned against the wall in frustration, his mind racing.
Could he really be scared? He thought. Not scared of the Feltao family, of course, but of some higher-ups.
This attack on the Radcliffe family wasn't entirely revenge for their rule-breaking business tactics. Kleiman himself had acted on the instructions of the family patriarch, the old Marquis Suwold, to cooperate with those dwarves in providing poison. He vaguely guessed from his father's scattered remarks that it was on the orders of some important figure in the imperial court. But Kleiman couldn't figure out who in the court would target Joshua.
The Radcliffe family had always been staunch royalists. That was clear from their orders from the five legions. Joshua himself was close friends with Brandon, the heir of another royalist family, the Kaos family. The emperor's former teacher, Master Nostradamus, had even established a mage academy in the north. Not to mention that Emperor Israel himself greatly admired Joshua.
Court infighting shouldn't have involved him at all. Unless...
Kleiman took a deep breath. He had been unwilling to think in this direction, but now he felt a chill creeping up his spine.
Unless this involved the issue of the empire's succession.
From start to finish, neither Kleiman, his deputy, nor the Feltao family thought assassinating an ordinary merchant was a big deal. They feared only that they had gone too far, killing too many at once and causing the Radcliffe family to lose too much face, thus triggering an open war.
Money was everything. They wanted to settle things at the negotiating table. Assassinating representatives was just a more intense form of notification. This was how nobles fought—Kleiman was used to it. He had operated this way for years and thought it would continue. But life always had surprises.
Like now.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled outside the manor. Kleiman didn't pay it much attention. But the next instant, he felt his entire body shake, every pore tightening in fear.
Space seemed to warp. The entire manor tilted—a swift, dark red ripple sliced diagonally through the entire corridor, splitting it open. A cacophony of creaking, cracking, and shattering sounds filled the air. The middle-aged man and his deputy hurriedly pressed against one side of the corridor, staring blankly at the scene.
Then the crack expanded rapidly, splitting the manor in two.
The other side of the building collapsed. Kleiman saw the early morning sun and breathed the dew-laden air.
And a figure hovered in midair, holding a silver greatsword, eyes blazing red like fire.
Heat hot enough to melt steel radiated from his entire body. The middle-aged man watched in terror as everything around him—the shattered corridor, the broken walls, the furniture, the potted plants—turned to ash in the scorching temperature. The air was distorted by the heat, carrying these glowing red embers high into the sky.
The shadow of despair covered everyone.