Karl's Choice

Heavy footsteps drew nearer, striking the old yet sturdy wooden floorboards of the corridor and producing clear, oppressive echoes.

Karl immediately straightened his back and looked toward the tightly shut door.

Sure enough, moments later, the door was pushed open without the slightest courtesy.

Standing in the doorway was none other than the Governor of the Northern Border Province, the Count of Fran City, Earl Rochefort.

He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in dark casual clothes with a fur-trimmed vest thrown loosely over them. His face bore undisguised, icy anger, like a winter bear forcibly roused from its den.

Behind him followed the tense-faced Scribe and a guard captain whose gaze was even sharper, carrying a faint hint of scrutiny.

Rochefort strode into the room, his cold eyes instantly locking onto Karl and sweeping him from head to toe. There was not the slightest respect in that gaze for a Duke's son—only irritation at having his private time interrupted and disgust toward the "trouble" before him.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth in a smile that was not a smile, his voice low and mocking. "The Schmidt family's youngest son, Karl, right? I vaguely remember you. Old Schmidt's most useless one, just like all the noble trash thrown into the Northern Territory. Oh, no—"

He deliberately drew out the last word, then rapped his knuckles heavily against the table beside him, producing a series of dull knocks. "Perhaps I was wrong. At least in one regard, you're better than them. You're quite talented at pissing people off."

He stepped closer and looked down at Karl. "Now, speak. What is going on with the Kobolds in the Black Forest and my southwestern Supply Line? If even a word you say is false, hmph, boy, then your 'pleasant' journey through the Northern Territory can end early."

"I will not hesitate to kick you and your rabble straight out of Fran City and send you directly to face the Battle Axes of those Sauron Barbarians!"

Facing the Count's nearly blazing fury and naked threats, Karl's heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he did his best to keep his face calm.

He knew that most of the man's imposing manner came from the anger of having his refined leisure interrupted, while his own trump card had just arrived.

The moment Earl Rochefort stepped into the room and fixed his eyes on him, that cold mechanical voice had already sounded in his mind:

[Quest]: Report to Earl Rochefort, Governor of the Northern Border Province (Completed).

[Intelligence Reward Issued]:

[Intelligence]: A small transport convoy is scheduled to depart from Black Creek Stronghold southwest of Fran City at dawn three days from now. It will travel along the southern edge of the Black Forest to Black Crow Outpost, transporting leather and grain for the winter. A Kobold tribe numbering around fifty has set an Ambush near Riftstone Canyon in the middle section of the route.

The intelligence was detailed beyond imagination.

Karl took a deep breath, met Earl Rochefort's gaze without backing down, and repeated the information provided by the Intelligence System in as steady a tone as possible.

"Governor, according to my observations along the way, a transport convoy will depart from Black Creek Stronghold at dawn three days from now, heading for Black Crow Outpost through the southern part of the Black Forest."

"A Kobold tribe of around fifty has already laid an Ambush at Riftstone Canyon along the route."

He paused slightly and observed Rochefort's expression.

The anger on the Count's face seemed to subside a little, replaced by surprise and scrutiny.

The intelligence was far too specific to sound like something made up on the spot.

Karl pressed his advantage and continued, "If Governor has doubts, I am willing to personally lead a team to assist in escorting the convoy. It is only that my men are too few to deal with an ambush by fifty Kobolds. I will need to borrow some reliable manpower from you."

It was an idea that had come to him on the spur of the moment. It would let him verify the intelligence and gain practical combat experience, while also giving him a chance to demand tangible support from the Count, even if only temporary.

Earl Rochefort stared coldly at Karl, his gray-blue eyes seeming to pierce straight through him.

A brief silence fell over the room, broken only by the crackling firewood in the hearth.

After a long while, he finally spoke slowly. His voice remained cold, but it held less of its earlier fury. "Richter."

The guard captain behind him immediately stepped forward and struck his right fist against his chest. "Yes, Governor!"

"Go. Transfer a squad from the City Defense Army. Twenty men... no, thirty. Veteran Soldiers, fully equipped. At dawn three days from now, they will follow the orders of this Lord Karl and make a trip to Black Creek." Rochefort's tone was flat, revealing neither pleasure nor anger.

"Yes!" Captain Richter answered loudly. His eyes swept quickly over Karl, and a trace of barely perceptible curiosity flashed in their depths before he turned and strode away.

After making the arrangement, Rochefort looked at Karl again. His tone was still far from friendly, but it seemed to carry the slightest indescribable implication. "You. Come with me."

With that, he did not spare Karl another glance before turning and leaving.

Karl immediately followed. The two knights also tried to come along, but Rochefort stopped them with a single look, forcing them to remain behind.

Karl followed Rochefort through several corridors and arrived at a room that resembled a War Room more than anything else.

A huge map of the Northern Territory hung on the wall, marked with various symbols and circles in different colored dyes.

Rochefort walked up to the map, picked up a thin wooden pointer, and tapped it against the surface. His tone was strictly businesslike. "Under the kingdom's laws and the Pioneering Decree, every Pioneer has the right to choose a piece of unclaimed land as a fief. Naturally, that is only if you can take it back from Barbarians, monsters, or whatever else holds it, and then keep it."

He drew several large circles on the map with the pointer. "The places marked in red have already been claimed by someone else. Though I have no idea how many days those idiots can last in such hellholes, you have not arrived too late. There are still some choices left."

Karl took a deep breath, stepped forward, and fixed his eyes on the map.

The outline of the Goldflower Kingdom's Northern Territory lay clearly before him.

To the south lay Fran City and the relatively safe interior. To the east stretched the vast, frigid waters known as the Northern Sea. To the west and north were huge, unknown, dangerous regions marked with skulls, beast fangs, and the words "Sauron Territory."

On the coastal side was a protruding peninsula marked "Veraia Subsidiary State," deliberately circled in yellow to indicate that it could not be chosen.

His eyes swept rapidly across the map as he weighed the advantages and disadvantages according to his memories and the information before him.

Soon, he focused on three areas that appeared viable.

The first was the southern region near Fran City. The climate there was relatively warm, the land fairly fertile, and it was suitable for farming and self-sufficiency. The population was comparatively large, making it easier to recruit soldiers. It also possessed the natural harbor of Amber Bay, making sea transport convenient for receiving kingdom supplies and conducting trade. Most importantly, it was close to Fran City, which meant he could theoretically seek Rochefort's support.

The drawbacks were equally obvious. Clear arrows on the map showed that this was also the main direction of Sauron Barbarian raids heading south. The military pressure would be immense; it was practically the Frontline. And whether Rochefort would offer timely support remained entirely unknown.

The second was the remote tip of the western peninsula. It was farther from the Sauron Barbarians' traditional core territory, with mountains, rivers, and other natural barriers in between. It could also maintain contact with the kingdom and even Vilaya through sea transport, allowing it to obtain supplies. The peninsula's land was supposedly fertile as well, making it suitable for development.

Its drawback was the long, narrow terrain. Once the connection to the peninsula was surrounded or cut off by the enemy, there would be no retreat, turning it into a deathtrap. The map also indicated that its ports froze over in the depths of winter, cutting off sea transport.

The third was the mountainous region near the Vilaya border. Its advantage was the possibility of forming an alliance with Vilaya, gaining supplies and strategic depth. Its mountainous terrain was complex and easy to defend but hard to attack, making it suitable for guerrilla warfare. It also had many marked forests and mineral resources, which could potentially support military industry.

The drawback was that the Kingdom of Vilaya constantly wavered between the Broomflower Kingdom and Sauron, making it utterly unreliable. Any alliance would be fragile at best. The mountains were sparsely populated, making it difficult to recruit large numbers of soldiers or develop large-scale agriculture.

Time was pressing, and Karl could not afford too much hesitation. His mind raced.

The third option had too many Variables. The Vilayans could not be trusted, and its foundation was too poor.

The second option was too remote and isolated. Winter port closures would be almost fatal.

The first option was dangerous, but it was close to Fran City, his only foothold, and had a harbor along with relatively solid population and agricultural foundations.

Crisis meant danger, but it also meant opportunity.

More importantly, he possessed the Intelligence System. Perhaps he could foresee danger earlier than others and prepare accordingly.

I'm gambling on it!

Karl extended a finger and decisively pointed to an area not far north of Fran City, marked with the symbol of an abandoned fortress and the name—Carnford.

"Governor, I choose this place: Carnford and its surrounding region."

Rochefort followed his finger, one eyebrow lifting slightly as that insincere smile returned to his face. "Carnford? That patch of rotten land used to be a military fortress zone. The Saurons broke through it three times. The last was five years ago, and it was completely abandoned. A fine choice, boy."

He set down the pointer and looked at Karl meaningfully. "I've discovered another one of your 'exceptional qualities.' You have good taste—always choosing the toughest bones to chew. I will have someone prepare the documents."

"From now on, that place is theoretically yours. As for whether it can become yours in reality... that depends on your own ability. All right, you can get out. Remember, assemble in the dock district before dawn three days from now. Do not keep my men waiting."

After saying that, Rochefort impatiently waved a hand, signaling Karl to leave.

Karl gave a slight bow, said nothing more, and turned to walk out of the Council Chamber.

When he returned to the room where he had waited earlier, reunited with the two knights, and stepped out of the Governor's Office to breathe Fran City's cold but free air once more, he finally let out a long breath.

The first step had finally been taken.

The quest was complete, the intelligence was in hand, and he had even unexpectedly secured temporary command authority along with the use of thirty soldiers.

But as he looked at the gray, gloomy city before him, the shabby group behind him, and the so-called "fief" on the map that was fraught with danger, Karl knew clearly that the real challenge was only beginning.

The Kobold Ambush three days from now would be his first trial.