Baron Kamola realized he had made a grave mistake. He should not have treated the Roaring Bear
A faint, troubling premonition grew in Baron Kamola's heart that this mission might fail. It was only after arriving in Norton territory that he saw the stark contrast between reality and the reports he'd heard. Hadn't Viscount Kamais sworn up and down that the Nortons were like a drowning dog? He had once marched with several hundred peasant levies and mercenaries to the gates of their manor castle, besieging them for three whole months. If his own fief, newly established and struggling with grain supplies, hadn't forced a halt, the Viscount claimed he would have kept the siege going…
The Viscount made it sound so easy, yet in the blink of an eye, just half a year later, the Nortons had ravaged the Viscount's Red River Valley manor castle, plundering it completely before reducing it to ashes—even the nearby settler town was not spared. When the news arrived, Baron Kamola remembered the scene vividly: the Viscount, normally so refined and graceful, had turned purple in the face, spat blood, and fainted right in front of the Duke, muttering, "My gold, my gold…"
Everyone assumed the Viscount was grieving the gold coins spent on the seized goods. They recalled how the Kamais family had transported such vast quantities of supplies into Northland, making many envious. Preparing that immense shipment must have cost a fortune; suddenly, all Northland knew the Kamais family was truly wealthy, their riches rivaling the state's.
While many secretly gloated, Baron Kamola spent money to bribe one of the Viscount's personal attendants. He learned the real reason for the Viscount's rage and collapse: the Viscount's entire private stash had been stored in the Red River Valley manor castle, and was now part of the Nortons' spoils of war.
The attendant claimed the sum was one hundred thousand gold coins. He knew because he had personally packed the coins into chests, under the Viscount's orders, and delivered them to a hidden chamber within the castle. He recalled it clearly: five large chests reinforced with iron corners, each meticulously filled with twenty thousand gold coins.
This private fortune was accumulated over more than a decade, starting from when Viscount Kamais entered the family trading guild at the age of sixteen, using various means. Aside from two or three trusted aides, not even his father knew of it. Now, the Nortons had swallowed it whole. No wonder the Viscount was heartbroken; even if the family's army arrived and destroyed the Nortons, the money's existence was exposed. It would become the clan's spoils and never return to the Viscount's hands.
Baron Kamola was stunned by the staggering amount. It was almost six times the annual income of the entire duchy. He knew Grand Duke Lugins' finances well. The Duke had raised the Northland Legion, currently only a little over twenty thousand strong, yet its annual upkeep already exceeded forty thousand Imperial gold coins, while the Duke's yearly income was just over sixty thousand—roughly sixteen thousand in gold coins. This was why the Northland Legion could only maintain its current size and could not be expanded further.
In many people's eyes, Baron Kamola was merely a lucky upstart at the Duke's side, a monkey-like clown who had momentarily gained the Duke's favor. But they forgot that Grand Duke Lugins, for all his faults, was not a foolish ruler. His trust in Kamola and the granting of the barony were not mere caprice, but a reward for the merits Kamola had achieved on his behalf.
Baron Kamola was born in the slums of Gildusk, the capital of the Duke's fief. From a young age, he had muddled about at the very bottom of society — a thief, a con man, a ruffian, doing whatever it took to survive. When he was sixteen, he was caught stealing at a market, and by custom his hands were to be cut off. That year, the local nobleman was in high spirits over the late birth of a son, and in his joy he showed an extra measure of mercy: he pardoned the boy's crime, gave him a few articles of clothing, and a small sum of money.
That benevolent lord said: "I cannot, on the day I am blessed with a son, cut off another boy's hands and doom him to a wretched life. That would cast a blood-red shadow over my precious angel's future. So I pardon you, and I grant you these gifts. You need not thank me — this is the good fortune my precious angel has brought you. The only advice I can give is this: mend your ways, find an honest job, and use your diligence and hard work to earn yourself a happy future. If you don't heed my words, you'll have your hands cut off somewhere else and die like a stray dog — but by then it will have nothing to do with my precious angel."
From that day on, Kamola had a complete change of heart. He went to the Sigwa temple, working there by day in exchange for two slices of black bread to stave off hunger. In his spare time, he followed the temple's priests and learned all manner of knowledge. After three years, he had earned the priests' trust and admiration, and one elderly priest recommended him for a position as a jailer. Starting from that post, Kamola spent just ten years climbing to the rank of magistrate, then another ten years becoming the chief tax collector of Gildusk, catching the eye of Duke Lugins.
Krisen III, filled with gratitude, elevated the Lugins family — still mere Viscounts at the time — to the rank of Grand Duke and granted them the southern portion of the Northland as a hereditary ducal fief.
The Lugins family harbored deep resentment toward Krisen III. Though they had become Grand Dukes of the Northland with territory nearly ten times larger than a Viscount's fief, their income had dropped by more than tenfold. Krisen III had reclaimed the prosperous Viscount's fief while dumping the desolate Northland on them. In the Lugins family's eyes, this was nothing short of ingratitude. Perhaps this was Krisen III's covert revenge against Grand Duke Lugins's father, the former Left Chancellor, who had once monopolized power and treated the Emperor as a mere puppet.
In the era before the Krisen Empire, the Grand Duke of the Northland earned roughly a hundred thousand Imperial gold coins — roughly equivalent to the income of a single Baron's fief in the Empire's most prosperous central region. The Lugins ancestors had wanted to develop their family's territory, but they lacked the genius to govern an entire empire. They were either hamstrung by lack of funds or hemmed in by the Northland's natural barriers, and nothing ever came of their plans. On the contrary, the longer the Lugins family stayed in the Northland, the more they produced military lords, earning them the mocking epithet of "the noble house that abandoned scholarship for the sword."
Compared to his predecessors, Grand Duke Lugins was mediocre in both letters and arms — thoroughly unremarkable in every respect and plagued with numerous flaws: lechery, greed, a love of luxury, and an indecisive temperament, among others. But Grand Duke Lugins possessed one great strength: he knew how to read people. He elevated Kamola, commanding him to oversee the duchy's entire tax apparatus, participate in the formation of the Northland Legion, and manage logistics, provisions, and supply.
Kamola did not fail the Duke's trust. He spent three years overhauling the duchy's entire tax system, restoring its revenue — devastated by years of civil strife — to over sixty percent of its former peacetime level. The Duke was no longer spending more than he earned. Kamola also assisted in expanding the Duke's garrison from three thousand men into the twenty-thousand-strong Northland Legion, while ensuring the supply of weapons, equipment, and provisions.
Three years passed. The Duke was thoroughly satisfied with Kamola's performance and honored his promise, elevating him to the rank of Baron. Of course, this was merely a court title, not a feudal lordship — in other words, Kamola had become an honorary noble.
On the night he was made Baron, Kamola went home and locked himself in his bedroom, weeping for the better part of the night. He knew others saw him as a clown, but they had no idea how much effort and heartache had brought him to this point. He was not yet forty-five, yet more than half the hair on his head had fallen out. He was grateful for the Duke's recognition and trust, and he believed in the Duke's promise — as long as he continued to serve Grand Duke Lugins with diligence and dedication, one day he would be granted a fief and become a true territorial lord.
With the intelligence provided by Viscount Kemace's personal attendant, Baron Kamola quietly relayed the information to the Duke. Grand Duke Lugins's eyes turned red on the spot — a hundred thousand gold Forde! Even if it meant deploying the Northland Legion, he would get his hands on that fortune. However, Baron Kamola cautioned the Duke against making a big show of it and alerting others — it would ruin his reputation and invite someone else to cut in. That someone else, the Duke understood all too well, referred to the
Finding an excuse to deal with the Norton Family was easy enough. It had been nearly three years since the Second Prince established the Iberian Kingdom and decreed that all territorial lords in the Northland were to be under the jurisdiction of the Grand Duke of the Northland. Although the Norton Family had paid their taxes on time, they had never once come to pay respects to His Highness the Grand Duke. Especially after the previous Baron Norton passed away and the new head of the household took over — they neither informed the Duke nor reported to him, and without waiting for his approval, they installed the new lord on their own. This was virtually ignoring the Duke's existence entirely. Among all the old and new territorial lords in the Northland, the Norton Family had become one of the most defiant.
The Duke and Baron Kamola agreed to use this as their pretext for sending an envoy to the Norton Family. No one was better suited for the role than Baron Kamola himself. To force the Norton Family to submit, the Duke specifically assigned one of his five Gold-rank knights to accompany Baron Kamola, and also dispatched twenty Silver Knights and two squads of elite Northland Legion soldiers as an escort.
Grand Duke Lugins instructed Baron Kamola that if the Norton Family knew what was good for them, they must hand over not only the hundred thousand gold Forde, but also two-thirds of the supplies they had seized from the Kemace Family as tribute — only then would the Duke's displeasure over the Norton lord's failure to pay respects be forgiven. If the Norton Family dared to resist, then the armed force accompanying them would be more than enough to topple the Norton Family entirely.
Since the death of the Norton heir and Baron Norton, the Norton Family no longer had any Gold-rank experts. One
The Duke and Baron Kamola had no idea about the Norton Family's true situation, and had more than once mocked the war between the Kemace Family and the Norton Family. What was there to fight over in such a desolate place? After all, the cream of the Northland's territory lay in its southern reaches — within the Duke's own domains.
If the Duke had known that the Feiyu Mercenary Company had been completely wiped out, he would at least not have been so dismissive of the Norton Family. And if he had known that Lawrence had killed those two famously powerful Gold-rank twin Shield Guardian brothers, he would have had to consider whether, to claim those hundred thousand gold Forde, he should send all five of his Gold-rank knights and bring along five or six thousand troops. But doing so would make his intentions toward the Norton Family's gold coins obvious to everyone.
As the Duke's envoy, Baron Kamola had visited many territories — some to sow discord, some to mediate, some to threaten, some to extort, and most often to collect taxes. Even before the Duke had formally granted him the title of Baron, the territorial lords had treated him with the utmost respect and courtesy. For the sake of profit, Kamola had even encountered lords shameless enough to send their own wives and daughters to his bed, all to secure a thirty percent reduction in taxes.
Before setting out, Baron Kamola had lumped the Norton Family in with all those other territorial lords. He never expected to receive such a stunning blow right beneath the walls of Stone Fortress. Beneath those newly constructed ramparts, Tabek — the Gold Knight accompanying him on the mission — launched into a furious tirade, demanding that the entire Norton Family come out and pay proper respects. Then a young knight appeared atop the wall and silenced the arrogant Tabek with a single arrow, leaving him as meek as a quail.
Baron Kamola had never anticipated that the Norton Family would build a castle here, nor had he expected them to possess a Gold-rank marksman. As they passed through Stone Fortress, the iron-armored soldiers, the massive siege crossbow bolts gleaming with cold light atop the city walls — everything suggested that both the Duke and he had overlooked the Norton Family's true strength. A growing unease settled in his heart about whether this mission would achieve its objective.
It was only upon arriving at Maple Forest Manor that Baron Kamola suddenly realized how different this place was from Stone Fortress. There, everyone — whether soldiers or stewards — had been utterly indifferent to the Duke's envoy, showing nothing more than mild curiosity and a complete lack of concern. Here, however, the moment the Duke's name was mentioned, people either panicked or adopted expressions of deep respect. Although the two hundred escort soldiers had been refused entry to the castle, the banquet laid on for them was, in Baron Kamola's estimation, the very best they could offer.
The old steward who accompanied them was a sly old fox. Kamola exhausted every trick he had but couldn't extract a single piece of real information about the Norton Family from the man. Baron Kamola quietly encouraged Tabek to cause a scene, and sure enough, the people at Maple Forest Manor swallowed their anger when Tabek harassed their female Silver Knight, not daring to say a word — until the Gold-rank marksman who had escorted them over gave a subtle snort that brought Tabek sharply back to his senses.
Baron Kamola had been watching closely when the Norton Family's new lord entered. He noticed that the Gold-rank marksman and the Silver Knight beside him showed the young family head extraordinary respect — a reverence that came from the depths of their hearts. Baron Kamola decided to deliberately play the part of a rude and insolent boor, to test this young man's reaction. Many territorial lords fell for this sort of thing; the ruder and cruder you acted toward them, the more submissive they became in return. Baron Kamola rather hoped the Norton Family's young head would prove no different from those other territorial lords.
He never expected the young man's reaction to be so explosive. Instead of backing down, the youth challenged Baron Kamola's very claim to nobility. And when those eyes locked onto him, the killing intent — so dense it was almost tangible — sent ice cascading through Baron Kamola's entire body. What kind of black eyes were those? They were like bottomless abysses, and being caught in their gaze was like being marked as prey by a savage, high-ranking magical beast. His whole body refused to move, his thoughts ground to a complete halt, and all he could do was silently await annihilation.
This feeling of utter despair and helplessness caused Baron Kamola to lose his customary calm and shrewd composure. So much so that when
When Tabek beside him slowly and reluctantly verified his identity, Baron Kamola felt nothing but overwhelming shame. He knew that upon his return, he would immediately become the laughingstock of the nobility — living proof that he truly was the clown they had always taken him for.
Baron Kamola silently gathered up the documents from the table, straightened his formal attire, and removed the pale golden wig from his head to reveal his bald pate. With a face as white as parchment, he executed a perfectly formal noble's bow to Lorist and spoke with solemn gravity: "Respected Lord Norton, I have come on behalf of Duke