Reporting

The carriage wheels ground against the uneven cobblestone road, emitting a teeth-grinding screech that jolted Karl from his dazed state.

A gust of cold wind rushed in through the pushed-open carriage window, carrying a biting scent mixed with livestock manure, firewood smoke, and a faint, metallic tang of rust. It instantly dispersed the last vestiges of chaos in his mind.

He—or rather, the original owner of this body, the seventh son of Duke Schmidt, a young man named Karl—was currently sitting in a swaying carriage, traveling through a city with a rugged and gloomy architectural style.

Minutes ago, he was still in a brightly lit office building, tearing his hair out over a PowerPoint presentation that never seemed to end. Before his vision went completely black following a sudden, sharp, and stabbing pain in his heart, the last thing he saw was the cold display of 3:00 AM in the bottom right corner of his computer screen.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in this old carriage, which could barely be called decent, with its interior lining long since worn away. Along with it came the seventeen years of memories belonging to another person that had suddenly flooded his mind.

The Schmidt Family was one of the great dukedoms of the Goldflower Kingdom, possessing immense power and prestige.

The original Karl was the youngest of the Duke's seven legitimate sons, but this status had brought him no benefits whatsoever.

His mother was of humble origin and had long since fallen out of favor, living alone in a remote courtyard.

As for Karl himself, judging by his memories, he was truly pitifully mediocre in a family that valued martial prowess and magic.

His cultivation of Battle Qi had never even reached the entry level, his magical affinity was practically non-existent, and he could barely pass the requirements for horse riding and swordsmanship.

In this family, he was as transparent as glass. The name "Karl" was as common as that of any civilian, which only served to highlight his standing in his father's heart.

"Damn it, what a... hellish start." Karl rubbed his throbbing temples and cursed under his breath.

Having transmigrated here, he hadn't enjoyed a single day of a young noble's luxury before the first project he inherited was this damn "Northern Border Reclamation Order."

As he sorted through the fragments of memory, he understood the ins and outs of his current predicament.

The Sauron Barbarians in the north raided the border every year, burning, killing, and looting. The northern border line of the kingdom existed in name only, and with various internal troubles, the royal authority's control over the Borderland had hit rock bottom.

Consequently, His Majesty the King came up with a brilliant move: he issued the Pioneering Decree, ordering the major noble houses to send their sons, equipped with their own supplies and manpower, to the north to recover lost territory, expand the borders, and guard the frontier.

It was euphemistically called granting glory and fiefdoms, but in reality, it was killing two birds with one stone. It could alleviate pressure on the Borderland while simultaneously weakening the power of the nobles—after all, expansion required the investment of manpower and resources.

The nobles were naturally not stupid. How could they send their true heirs or carefully cultivated elites to die in that godforsaken place?

Thus, sons like Karl—unfavored, insignificant, and even somewhat of an eyesore—became the best candidates.

They were then assigned a random assortment of personnel to form "Pioneering Groups" that looked decent on paper but lacked any real combat effectiveness, just to pay lip service to the royal decree.

Karl's team was a typical example.

Two official First-tier Knights sounded decent, but they were merely the most basic combat force within the family's armed ranks. They were likely either old veterans with no future or naive rookies who had been randomly assigned to him.

Six Knight Squires, who could be considered semi-professional soldiers, and thirty militiamen—likely farmers who had just put down their hoes and spent a few months training on how to stand in formation and grip a spear—plus one thousand gold coins and a few carts of grain.

The gold coins were a generous sum, enough to live in luxury for several years, but Karl felt only a chill in his heart.

This was more like a hefty "life-buying" fee, meant to let you eat and play well before you set off on your final journey.

He looked out the window once more.

Fran City, in his memory, was the first and last decent stronghold after entering the Northern Border, known as the "Premier Fortress of the Northern Border."

But what met his eyes were low, sturdy, grey-black stone buildings scarred by wind and rain. The streets were narrow and filthy, and the pedestrians mostly wore expressions of hardship, wrapped in thick, tattered clothing with numb, wary eyes.

Soldiers and mercenaries carrying weapons were visible everywhere, and the murderous aura they exuded was far heavier than that of the guards in the Royal Capital.

The entire city was permeated with a tense, oppressive atmosphere of impending war.

This was no "premier fortress"; it was clearly a massive forward bastion, and it looked like they were having a very difficult time of it.

"Damn it..." Karl couldn't help but curse again, feeling that his future was bleak—bleaker than the stones of Fran City.

With only these thirty-eight men and this meager amount of supplies, he was supposed to pioneer the Northern Border? To deal with the notorious Sauron Barbarians? This was a joke; it was sending them to deliver their heads and supplies to the barbarians!

A massive sense of confusion and panic overwhelmed him. As a modern corporate slave who had just transmigrated, how could he have ever experienced something like this? He didn't even know what to do first or what to do next.

Just as this feeling of despair was about to drown him, a cold, mechanical voice abruptly rang out deep within his mind:

[Intelligence System loading... Loading complete.]

[Binding to host... Host identity detected: Karl von Schmidt... Binding successful.]

Karl shivered violently, nearly jumping out of his seat, and looked around in shock and suspicion.

There was no one in the carriage but him.

A hallucination? Was he having auditory hallucinations from too much stress?

Before he could sort out his thoughts, a clear stream of information forcibly surged into his consciousness, as distinct as if it had been carved into his mind:

[Intelligence System]: One mission can be issued daily. Upon completion, a piece of intelligence of corresponding value will be granted based on the mission's difficulty and completion rate. The scope of intelligence includes: resource burial sites, secret information on individuals, movements of regional factions, forecasts of future events, etc.

[Initial mission issued]:

[Mission Content]: Report to the Governor of the Northern Border Province, Count Rochfort of Fran City. (Incomplete)

Karl was completely stunned, his mouth slightly agape. It took him a full dozen seconds to digest this incredible information.

A system? A cheat? Missions? Intelligence?

This... wasn't this the kind of thing only found in those web novels? How could it actually be happening to him?

His heart began to beat violently with the excitement of a narrow escape and sheer disbelief, his cold fingertips trembling slightly.

In the dark, desperate prospect of his future, a beam of bright light had suddenly shone through!

Although this system didn't seem to provide divine martial arts manuals or invincible power directly, it provided intelligence?

However, in this unfamiliar environment where he was completely in the dark and surrounded by crises, Karl understood just how valuable accurate intelligence was the moment he thought about it with a brain tempered by the modern information explosion.

Calm down, calm down... Karl took a deep breath, forcing himself to settle. Regardless of how this system came to be, it was his greatest reliance at the moment!

The first task was simple and direct: report to the highest-ranking official in this region, Earl Rochefort, the Governor of the Northern Border Province.

This was logical. Publicly or privately, now that his Pioneering Group had arrived in Fran City, he had to report to the local supreme ruler to obtain necessary permits and information, and perhaps even receive some official support instructions, though the hope for that was slim...

"Driver!" Karl pushed open the front window and shouted to the attendant who was driving. The fact that the attendant also doubled as the carriage driver showed just how shabby his team really was.

"Sir, what are your orders?" The attendant turned his head, his face carrying a trace of awe and confusion. He was one of Karl's few Knight Squires.

"Go straight to the Governor's Office! We are going to see Governor Rochefort." Karl kept his voice as steady as possible as he issued his first command since transmigrating.

"Yes, sir!" the squire replied, cracking the whip.

The carriage accelerated slightly, passing through the chaotic and oppressive streets of Fran City.

Karl sat back in the carriage, his gaze gradually sharpening as he began to carefully sift through the fragmented information in the original owner's memory regarding this Governor of the Northern Border, Earl Rochefort.

This Governor was no simple character. The Northern Border had a harsh environment and faced a massive threat from barbarians; to be able to sit firmly in the position of Governor here while holding real power, he must be an iron-fisted figure. He was likely a loyal subject of the Kingdom, but he was also undoubtedly a shrewd and cold-blooded pragmatist.

How would he view this group of "pioneering nobles" who had been abandoned by their families and sent here to die?

Likely not very favorably; he would probably be full of contempt and intent on exploitation.

But regardless, this first step had to be taken, and besides, this was a system task!

About a quarter of an hour later, the carriage stopped in front of a fortress-like building.

The security here was tight. Soldiers clad in black armor watched the shabby little team with eyes as sharp as hawks.

Karl straightened his travel attire, which was still passably decent, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the carriage.

The two First-tier Knights assigned by the family—one a middle-aged man with a calm expression and graying temples, and the other a seemingly nervous young man—immediately stepped forward, silently flanking him. This was their duty.

Karl nodded to the middle-aged knight and then walked toward the captain guarding the gate.

"I am Karl von Schmidt. By the Pioneering Decree of His Majesty the King and the order of Duke Schmidt, I have come to the Northern Border to pioneer. I am here to report to the Governor." Karl tried his best to keep his tone neither humble nor arrogant.

The captain looked Karl up and down, then glanced at the small, low-morale team behind him. A trace of imperceptible contempt flashed in his eyes, but his etiquette remained adequate.

"Please wait a moment, Lord Schmidt. I will send someone inside to announce your arrival."

The wait was not long, but for Karl, it was agonizing. He could feel the gazes of the guards pricking at him like needles, evaluating and judging him.

Soon, a Recorder dressed in official civilian attire walked out.

"Mr. Schmidt, the Governor is currently attending to official business. He has instructed me to take you to the Council Chamber to wait," the Recorder said, his tone flat and professional.

Karl's heart sank slightly.

Not being granted an immediate audience, but being told to wait instead—this initial attitude was already clear. However, his expression remained unchanged as he nodded. "Thank you for your trouble."

Following the Recorder into the interior of the thick, cold stone building and passing through several dimly lit corridors, they were led into a room that was sparsely furnished, even appearing somewhat empty and chilly.

"Please wait here. The Governor will see you once he has finished his work." After saying this, the Recorder bowed slightly and retreated, leaving Karl and his two knights standing in the empty room.

Time ticked away bit by bit. Aside from the soldiers standing guard outside the door, no one else entered.

The middle-aged knight stood motionless like a stone statue, while the young knight couldn't help but shift his feet slightly, his eyes revealing a hint of restlessness.

Karl's heart slowly sank as well. A show of power? Or was he truly busy? Or perhaps he simply couldn't be bothered to see insignificant small-fry like them right away?

He recalled the [Incomplete] status in his system quest list.

It seemed that simply entering the Governor's Office didn't count as "reporting in." He had to actually meet the Governor himself.

Just as Karl was contemplating whether he should find a way to urge them along, or if he should use some gold coins to grease the wheels, that cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out in his mind again:

[Daily Intelligence Updated (Trial Period Privilege, Today Only)]

[Intelligence Entry]: Earl Rochefort is not currently busy with official business; he is in his study meeting his mistress, the wife of a jewelry merchant from the southern Free City-States. He detests being disturbed, especially when enjoying his private time, by these "doomed trash nobles from the south." Your wait will last at least two hours, and you will not receive any promise of decent aid.

The moment the information flooded his mind, Karl's eyes narrowed sharply.

The cold intelligence allowed him to see the situation before him in an instant.

So that was it!

He wasn't busy; he simply didn't want to see them! Furthermore, they had been labeled as "doomed trash."

Continuing to wait would be meaningless; it would only waste two hours for nothing, and the final result would still be a cold shoulder and receiving absolutely nothing.

Karl's gaze turned cold and sharp.

He had transmigrated here not to be mistreated, and certainly not to die. Since the system had given him this key, then...

He suddenly turned toward the door and spoke in a deep voice to the guard standing watch, his tone carrying an unquestionable weight:

"Go tell the Governor that Karl of the Schmidt Family has urgent intelligence regarding the abnormal gathering of Kobolds on the southern edge of the Black Forest. It concerns the safety of the supply line on the southwest side of Fran City."

"If the Governor is too busy to listen now, I will handle it myself, but all consequences will be borne by those who caused the delay!"

His voice was not loud, but it carried a strange sense of gravity.

This statement was half-truth, half-lie. The Black Forest and the Kobolds were common threats in the North according to his memories, and the southwest supply line was a keyword that any Northern commander would be sensitive to.

More importantly, he had precisely hinted at the "now" and the "consequences."

The soldier was clearly stunned, caught off guard by Karl's sudden shift in aura and the urgent information conveyed in his words.

The two knights behind Karl also looked at him in surprise, a flash of subtle insight flickering through the eyes of the middle-aged knight.

The soldier hesitated for a moment, but ultimately turned and walked away quickly to report.

Karl stood where he was, his heart beating slightly faster from this first proactive move.

He knew the bet had been placed.

Now, it remained to be seen whether that Governor would continue to dally with his mistress or take an interest in this sudden "alarm."

And in his mind, the system interface, with its [Incomplete] mission status, still hung there coldly.