Baronial Appointment

Baronial Appointment

Friends who killed people often knew that killing was easy, but burying the bodies was hard.

But for Lynn, who was skilled in such matters, this was already second nature.

Long before setting the ambush, he had ordered his men to dig a pit over a meter deep in the dense forest.

Now, they only needed to toss in the bodies and bloodstained clothes, then fill it back up.

They handled the killing and the burial.

And they buried them deep, lest sharp-nosed beasts dig them back up.

Lynn's group even came with a military priest. They handled the killing, the burial, and the funeral.

That was what professionalism looked like.

Looking like an honest old farmer despite having just turned twenty, the Horse Bandit Lao San asked curiously as he shoveled dirt, "Big Brother, are you really going to become some kind of baron?"

Lao San looked slow-witted, but he was actually sharp and meticulous.

Before Lynn could answer, Lao San had already piled on the flattery. "Big Brother, we all know what you're capable of. Never mind being a baron—even becoming a duke would be no problem for you."

Only then did he voice his real concern. "But how can being a Lord be as carefree as being a Horse Bandit? Besides, you're impersonating a baron. It'll be easy for people to expose you."

Rather than answer directly, Lynn asked, "Lao San, don't you want to live a different life?"

"A different life?"

"Have you forgotten how the nobles hunted us down in the south a while back?" As he spoke, Lynn covered Baron Roman's wide-open, unseeing face with a shovelful of dirt.

"I'll never forget. Those bastards chased us for two whole months. More than ten brothers died at their hands." Lao San gritted his teeth, wishing he could devour those nobles alive.

Lynn gripped Lao San's shoulder. "Exactly. Starting today, we're all nobles. I'm the baron, you few are my knights, and the rest of the brothers can be squires. Doesn't that sound great?"

"But Big Brother, I read the letter of appointment. Roman was a baron directly appointed by the Marsh Duke. When the time comes, it'll be the duke's army chasing after us."

Lao San was not blinded by hatred. He knew very well that their group of barely over twenty Horse Bandits might bully weak barons, but against a duke, they could only run for their lives.

As one of the Northern Kingdom's three great dukes, the Marsh Duke could casually muster over a hundred fully armed regular knights—enough to chase them around like rabbits.

"Don't worry. Before long, the Marsh Duke won't have the energy to bother with us. And who says nobles can't keep living freely?

"In the future, we'll rob even more nobles. Not only their money and lives, but their wives and children too. We'll take their territories and local residents as well."

Lynn had not suddenly decided to impersonate a baron on a whim.

The current situation in the Northern Border could not exactly be called peaceful, but it could certainly be called fraught with danger.

It just so happened that he had killed a useless baron along the road and obtained his letter of appointment.

Chaotic times were a stage.

A lifetime as a Horse Bandit offered no chance of rising up. Being a Lord was different—at least it gave him a chance to take the stage.

Only by becoming a true Lord would all the main functions of the game Lord fully unlock for him.

After burying the ten bodies, Lao Liu, who also served as their priest, recited a eulogy.

Then, under Lynn's arrangements, the twenty-odd Horse Bandits changed into Roman's group's clothes, raised the Cold Wind Family's banner, and mounted the Cold Wind Family's warhorses.

The only pity was that they lacked an accompanying adviser.

"Brothers, we're taking office in White Bear Territory!"

Over the past few months, Albert, the steward of White Bear Territory, had been unable to eat or sleep in peace.

The previous baron had vanished inexplicably in the forest last winter. Not even his bones had been found, so they could only claim it was a hunting accident.

Not long afterward, the four knights guarding the Territory System, along with their squires, had scattered like birds and beasts. They had even emptied the Castle of its valuables and horses.

The baron had no heirs. Under the Northern Border Succession Law, the Territory System had reverted to the distant main branch of the Cold Wind Earl's family, and the new baron would not take office until spring.

Fortunately, winter brought endless snow, bitter cold, and frozen roads. Otherwise, the Wild Tribes in the northern forests would surely have come south to raid.

Now that the weather grew warmer by the day, Albert's anxiety grew with it.

Once spring came and the snow melted, it would not only be the Wild People visiting the Territory System, but also savage Magic Beasts driven mad by hunger.

Without military protection, the Territory System could also easily fall prey to Horse Bandits and raids from neighboring territories.

Every night before bed, Albert prayed devoutly, hoping to survive each coming day safely.

Perhaps his prayers had worked, because he received good news today.

The new baron was actually braving the cold wind to hurry toward the Territory System, and he would arrive that very afternoon.

Albert was so moved he nearly cried.

He hurriedly gathered the Territory System's stewards and farm managers. Just after noon, they had already arrived early at the southernmost road entrance to wait eagerly.

The low-level managers of the Territory System had barely assembled when they saw a procession slowly emerge from the forest.

Most eye-catching was a red banner fluttering in the wind, embroidered with two straight pine trees.

It was the Cold Wind Family Crest.

As Albert knew, though the Cold Wind Family was only an earl's family, it was directly subordinate to the King of the North and deeply trusted by successive Kings of the North. Its status and power far surpassed those of ordinary earls.

Over a hundred years ago, the Cold Wind Family's founder had followed the First King of the North in conquering the Northern Border. For his bravery in battle, he had been granted Cold Wind Valley and made an earl.

The family had thus changed its surname to "Cold Wind," abandoning its former lowly name.

Afterward, the Cold Wind Family rapidly branched out across the Northern Border.

One collateral branch had joined the Marsh Duke's service, conquering and developing White Bear Territory to the north, where they had settled for generations.

Now that the collateral branch had died out, the main family had actually sent the family head's second son to take over the Territory System. He had even brought a neat, imposing troop of cavalry, clearly showing the family's importance placed on this Territory System.

As he gazed at this elite cavalry force, which looked thoroughly reliable, Albert's heart surged with emotion and his aged face flushed red.

The baron had arrived. The Territory System was safe. The baron had arrived. The Territory System would know peace!

Albert forced his nearly rusted old bones into motion and hobbled toward the road entrance at a jog, only to meet the flag-bearing lead knight head-on.

Looking up, he saw a man atop a horse, clad in chainmail beneath a red-and-green tabard embroidered with gold thread. His brown-black hair curled naturally at the ends, thick enough to drape over his shoulders. His face was sharp as if carved by a blade, his features deep and rugged, his expression calm.

"Honored Lord, welcome to White Bear Territory."

Albert knew a little about reading faces.

With a single glance, he could tell that this man was destined for greatness. He had to be the baron himself.

Besides one's face, lavish clothing could also help identify one's status.

At this time, the person with the most colors on their clothing was often the highest-ranking person in a group.

When Lynn swung down from his horse, Albert discovered that this Lord stood over six feet tall, handsome and straight-backed. At first glance, his face resembled that of a mature man of twenty-five or twenty-six, but upon closer inspection, it still carried a trace of an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old's youthfulness.

(End of Chapter)