Should Destiny Be Created?

Should Destiny Be Created?

The weather was clear, the snow had yet to melt, and clouds like great fish scales were lined up neatly across the sky.

For Mol, Sigg Town's Agricultural Officer, today was not a good day.

He directed a large group of slaves to laboriously clear a level patch of land on a hillside far from Sigg Town.

These forty or fifty slaves were all the manpower he could muster.

It was the busy farming season at the start of spring. Even as the Agricultural Officer, he could not drag all the farmers over for temporary labor.

So only these slaves were working.

Some pulled weeds, some chopped wood, and some carried stones. Watching the slaves, who seemed busy but were actually slacking off whenever they could, Mol cursed these mud-legged fools for being hopeless. He kicked several slaves in the backside and repeatedly urged them on, yet their efficiency did not improve. Mol was furious and anxious.

When he learned that Grand Duke Armor-Splitting had granted this wilderness territory as a fief to one of his descendants, and that this Armor Break Descendant would soon arrive in Sigg Town, Mol had begun sweating profusely.

After all, Sigg Town had not had a true lord for decades.

That Grand Duke probably had no regard for this land.

It was no wonder...

First, this was the fringe of the Black Iron Kingdom, dominated by towering mountains. Sigg Town lay in a basin, with blocked transportation, a dreadful environment, harsh conditions, and magical beasts roaming about.

Second, Sigg Town had originally been a gathering place for escaped slaves and bandits.

After Grand Duke Armor-Splitting led men to conquer the place in his youth, he had only sent an Agricultural Officer here to manage it and collect taxes.

As the descendant of that Agricultural Officer, whenever Mol handed over the annual land rents, taxes, and various agricultural products, he felt that the Grand Duke had probably long forgotten this poor place.

Until he suddenly received word that Romain Armor-Splitting would soon come here to govern as lord. This illegitimate son of the Grand Duke appeared to have been exiled.

Worse still, Mol had barely received the news before Romain Armor-Splitting set out.

The moment Mol learned of this, his heart sank.

Sigg Town had lacked control for years, relying entirely on guards to maintain order. There was not even a single knightly lord here.

Without receiving any orders, Mol could not possibly command these unruly commoners to launch a massive construction project to build a manor or castle that might never be used in his lifetime.

In other words, when this Armor Break Descendant arrived, he would not even have a place to stay.

Let the lord temporarily reside in Sigg Town?

The thought was crushed as soon as it surfaced.

As the Agricultural Officer, Mol's house was the most luxurious place in Sigg Town, but to the Grand Duke's illegitimate son, it was still just a rustic backwater.

More importantly, how could a lord possibly live together with mud-legged commoners like them?

If those uncouth commoners angered or slighted the lord, would that not be a capital crime?

It did not matter if the commoners died, but Mol did not want his own head to roll with theirs. That would be far too unjust.

So Mol hurriedly gathered a group of slaves and prepared to begin construction on the spot.

Yet he was still too late by who knew how many steps.

As he busied himself, he saw a convoy approaching from afar.

Most conspicuous was the flag flying in the wind above one of the carriages, embroidered with the image of a powerful longbow.

The Armor-Splitting Family crest!

Romain Armor-Splitting had arrived in his territory!

Mol's face instantly went pale.

Grand Duke Armor-Splitting was one of the three Grand Dukes of the Black Iron Kingdom, second only to the Black Iron King in status.

The first Duke Armor Break had followed the Conqueror Emperor to seize vast territories.

He wielded a longbow and had once pierced the invulnerable crimson scales of a fire dragon, nearly slaying it in a single battle. Thus, he became a legendary figure.

The Armor-Splitting Family had endured to this day through both the blessings of its ancestors and the inherited Armor-Splitting Archery.

The fact that the illegitimate son of Grand Duke Armor-Splitting had been granted this territory, which outsiders saw as a barren wasteland, could only mean that he had been exiled.

This was Mol's first time meeting a lord from the main family.

He had heard how difficult noble lords were to serve. Every one of them was a ruthless killer who did not even blink at murder!

And when he thought of how this Armor Break Descendant had seemingly received a fief but had actually suffered exile, perhaps he was currently burning with rage and ready to kill someone to vent his frustrations!

Mol sprinted all the way down the hillside. His fat body looked more like it was rolling downhill, and he soon tumbled right in front of a carriage.

The carriage stopped. Before Mol could catch his breath, the curtain was lifted and a remarkably valiant young man emerged from inside.

His dark brown hair curled naturally at the ends and fell thickly over his shoulders. His crimson eyes were focused, his face strong and sharply defined, and none of a youth's immaturity could be seen in him. His expression was exceptionally calm.

"Honored Lord Romain Armor-Splitting, welcome to Sigg Town..." Mol said with a trembling voice. The moment he saw those fiery red eyes, he knew the man's identity.

Only after Romain Armor-Splitting jumped from the carriage did Mol realize how imposing the young lord was. He stood well over six feet tall and was quite powerfully built, well-nourished and solidly formed, developed like a qualified adult warrior.

Mol had heard that this newly appointed lord was only sixteen, barely old enough to be considered an adult, yet he stood a full head taller than Mol, who was twenty-five.

Mol did not dare look him in the eye. He only lowered his head, cold sweat streaming down his pale face. He clutched a handkerchief tightly in one hand, yet did not dare use it to wipe away the sweat.

As the Agricultural Officer, he held a high social position in Sigg Town.

But all that status and honor came from the Armor-Splitting Family.

If his performance failed to earn the other's approval, Romain Armor-Splitting needed only one sentence to erase either his position or his life.

And as things stood, his inadequate preparations might already have displeased the other party.

"Who are you?"

Romain looked over the pale, fat fellow before him and inexplicably thought of the phrase, fat-headed and pot-bellied.

"Sigg Town's Agricultural Officer, Mol Bass..." Mol was deeply uneasy. This was his first time receiving a lord from the main family. Previously, he had only dealt with tax collectors sent by the Armor-Splitting Family. It would have been impossible to say he felt no fear.

Or rather, he was extremely afraid of this lord who had descended from the heavens.

"What is Holo Bass to you?"

"He is my father's uncle," Mol answered instantly.

"Oh." Romain nodded.

Holo Bass was the Armor-Splitting Family's old steward, conscientiously holding to his post for decades without change.

Romain guessed that Mol's father or grandfather had been good for nothing, but had some connections, so they had been sent here to work.

In Romain's eyes, Mol was also a steward of sorts, managing the family's property in Sigg Town.

Though this was exile to him, to ordinary people, it should have counted as a fine post.

With that thought, Romain raised his head and curiously looked toward the hillside. The slaves were bustling about, completely unaware of the fate awaiting them.

He had truly been born into a good family in this life.

When the first Grand Duke Armor-Splitting had followed the Conqueror into the interior, he had swallowed up every hardship life had to offer for the Armor-Splitting Family in one go, leaving none for his descendants.

The lingering prestige of Armor-Splitting remained. Romain was an illegitimate son and had no inheritance rights, but he would not end up like the second sons of certain minor nobles, who could only receive a small sum when they came of age before being driven out. Some received nothing at all and had to serve their eldest brothers like oxen and horses.

Having a fief like this was already an excellent starting point for him.

Without this identity, he might have needed far more time to grow and develop. He might even have died prematurely along the way, and that was something he could not accept.

Romain asked, "Is that where I will be living from now on?"

Mol broke out in even more cold sweat. "Honored Lord Romain, time was short. We... this..."

This could not be blamed on him. If he had been notified even half a year in advance, then even if a castle could not be built, he could at least have constructed a proper, dignified, spacious manor.

But with only two days' notice, all they could do was live off the wind.

These mud-legged commoners were indeed hopeless, but there had to be a wall before mud could fail to stick to it.

Romain knew he had arrived in a hurry, so he did not get angry.

He had come here purely to become a local tyrant.

He looked over the hillside, overgrown with weeds and littered with stones.

The terrain was gentle and the area vast, making it easy to cultivate.

In the distance, the forests were lush and green, and beyond them lay an even broader riverbank, where silvery water flowed endlessly.

Romain was extremely satisfied.

This was his ideal farming environment.

At the same time, a virtual panel gradually appeared within his field of vision.

Game loading complete

Establishing neural link

Beginning consciousness awakening

1%, 2%... 99%, 100%----

Awakened

Should Destiny Be Created?