In less than half a day, the Gale Bird swept through the frigid sky and landed steadily on Louis's shoulder with a reply.
He removed the rolled letter, his brows lifting slightly. Clearly, he had not expected an answer so soon.
The reply was brief. Duke Edmund made no mention of McKinney's death, as though the life or death of a minor lord at that level carried no weight and was not worth wasting ink on.
The important part came in the final paragraph.
McKinney had no direct bloodline heir. Louis would administer the fief for the time being, with further arrangements to be announced separately.
Louis finished reading the letter and smiled faintly. It was just as he had guessed.
In Edmund's eyes, McKinney was merely an insignificant pawn. His death meant nothing, and Edmund could not even be bothered to ask many questions.
Louis, on the other hand, had quite naturally gained another stretch of territory.
Those supposed further arrangements would probably never come. Once he began governing it, the land would be considered his by default.
Escaping scrutiny and profiting instead was exactly the outcome he had wanted.
A new problem soon surfaced. What should he do with the freemen and slaves who had been starved to skin and bone and were on the verge of death?
Louis stood in the middle of the dilapidated square, his cold gaze sweeping over the barely breathing people huddled on the ground.
The best approach was still to wait for them to die, then bring in new residents. That would conserve the most resources.
Of course, that answer had never crossed his mind.
After all, he was not a fool like McKinney, who treated people as livestock. He was the rising sun of the Northern Frontier.
Louis immediately raised a