As the governor of the North, I handpicked my best soldiers and set out across the wasteland with them. I had to see this so-called village—or city, if the word was true—myself.
“But Lord Dant, why are you personally leading this investigation?” Bazara, the commander of the elite unit accompanying me, asked with a puzzled look.
His family had served mine for generations. He also possessed a combat-type Gift and was strong enough to take down an orc single-handedly.
“There’s something about this that’s been bothering me. I figured it was best I see it with my own eyes.”
“It’s bothering you, my lord?”
“Yes, indeed. The one residing in this wasteland city may be none other than Lord Luke, Marquess Arvale’s son.”
“What?”
Lord Luke, the eldest son, had always been considered the heir apparent. Everyone had considered it only a matter of time before he’d inherited the domain. But, for some reason, he’d been sent off to develop the frontier immediately after his Blessing ceremony.
Whatever had happened, the Arvale family clearly hadn’t wanted it to be public. Even I hadn’t been told any details.
On the other hand, when the second son, Lord Raoul, had inherited the Sword Mastery Gift during the same ceremony, the news had spread through the march like wildfire.
If Lord Luke had received that kind of Gift, word would’ve spread just as quickly. The fact that it hadn’t likely meant he hadn’t inherited a combat Gift.
He’d been sent to “develop” the frontier, but that region was harsh and inhospitable. I suspected the wasteland we were heading to now was that very place.
“But still,” I muttered, “to think someone could have built an entire city in such a barren backwoods in just a few months? I don’t believe it.”
Well, we’d find out soon enough.
Eventually, the wasteland came into view: an empty stretch of dusty land, dotted with nothing but sand and rock. Even weeds barely managed to grow out here.
But there it was, right in the middle of all that desolation.
“Wh-What is that?” Bazara’s eyes grew wide.
I couldn’t blame him. Even though I’d already been briefed, seeing it for myself defied belief.
A massive stone wall receded into the horizon in both directions, a rogue piece of civilization slicing out into the wilderness. And it wasn’t just any old wall—it was as solid and imposing as the ones surrounding the capital city of Liesen.
“This is no village. It’s a full-blown city!”
“You’re saying they built this in just half a year?”
Bazara and I stared at each other, speechless.
One glance at the surrounding, red-tinged wasteland was enough to tell anyone that there was no way this had happened naturally or gradually.
As we approached the city gate, a man poked his head out through a small hatch built into the wall. His face looked rough, like the kind you’d see plastered over a wanted poster.
Don’t tell me they’ve got bandits manning the gates?
“What business do you have in the village?” he asked gruffly.
“I am Dant, Governor of the North of the March of Arvale. Apologies for the sudden visit, but I would like to request an audience with the representative of this city—or village, if that’s what you prefer to call it.”
He’d called it a village, so I figured I would play along. But what kind of village had walls like this?
A city this size would have usually needed a lot of time to verify and vet outsiders before letting them in, but the gate opened in less than a minute, and we were welcomed inside.
“Rest assured, Lord Dant. Even if this place seems odd, it’s still just a frontier settlement. As long as we’re here, you’ll be perfectly safe,” Bazara said.
The moment we passed through the gate, we were completely taken off guard.
“Huh?!”
Instead of the urban landscape of a city, we found ourselves greeted by farmlands.
“There’s agricultural land within the walls? This village has a double-walled layout?”
Constructing fortifications around large areas required a ridiculous amount of money, so crops were usually planted outside a city’s walls, while the interior was reserved for housing and administration.
“My guess is the residential area is within the second inner wall,” Bazara said, seeming relieved. “So it’s smaller than we thought.”
Still, that only raised more questions—uncomfortable ones, at that.
Just how did they manage to build all this?
“What in the world are they growing?” At first glance, their fields resembled a usual farm—but as we got closer, they became stranger. For one, every single one of the crops was massive.
Plus, these crops had no business growing this time of year. That golden field in the distance had to have been wheat, but wheat shouldn’t have been taking root at all in this wasteland, let alone thriving in the middle of winter.
What in the world is going on here?
“And these stone roads...”
The road beneath our carriage, paved with smooth stone, easily rivaled the famous Alpira Highway. It was so well-constructed that I barely felt any bumps, even sitting in the carriage. With roads like this, traveling to the capital would have been far more comfortable.
“Double-layered walls, high-quality stone roads... Not only would it require significant technical expertise, but also a massive workforce...”
There was no way this had all been done in half a year.
“Perhaps,” I mused out loud, “the construction of this fortress city began years ago in secret, and now they’ve sent the heir here to occupy it?”
It seemed possible, but then I frowned. What would be the strategic value in building a city out here?
The forest of monsters and mountain ranges to the north and east made the terrain impassable, and House Arvale already controlled the land to the south.
The west was currently contested by two rival factions, and wasn’t particularly desirable for Arvale either.
Eventually, our carriage reached the inner walls and stopped after we passed through the gate. I stepped out of the carriage only to meet a boy who looked to be barely in his teens.
✦ ✦ ✦
I jumped out of the bath the moment I got the report and hurried to the village entrance. I was still flushed from the hot water, but that didn’t matter. There were bigger fish to fry.
A carriage rolled down the stone road I’d constructed with my Gift, passing the fields that quilted the soil between the outer and inner walls. A squad of well-armed soldiers flanked the carriage.
Guess that makes sense.
I’d recently raised our walls because frigid winds had been sweeping in from the mountains to the east, making it seriously unbearable. Now that the walls stood over five meters tall, they helped block the wind and kept the village much warmer.
“At this point,” the villagers had said, “these aren’t palisades anymore. We’re practically living in a fortress!”
The carriage passed through the gate and stopped just beyond it. A well-dressed man, probably around forty years old, stepped outside. He looked around, an expression of pure shock on his face.
The March of Arvale was so vast that twenty appointed governors administered the regions spread across its lands. Naturally, Father was the one who chose them all, though the circumstances of their appointments varied.
When Arvale annexed territory during conquest, the local lords were usually executed, and someone loyal to Arvale was sent to take over. If the previous rulers surrendered quickly and swore fealty, they were often allowed to live and sometimes even remained in charge as governors.
If I remembered correctly, the northern region of Arvale fell into that second category. But the transition had occurred during the rule of the previous head of the family, not my father’s.
“Welcome. I’m Luke Arvale, mayor of this village.”
“I am Dant, Governor of the North.”
Since I was the son of the marquess and technically of a higher rank, Dant dropped to one knee as he introduced himself.
“My deepest apologies for not coming to greet you sooner,” he said, bowing his head.
Normally, if the heir to the domain showed up in a bordering region, the local governor would rush to greet him. That was just common courtesy. But in this case, I wasn’t here for some prestigious mission. I’d been unofficially exiled.
I mean, who would have gone out of their way to greet a disowned son dumped here in the middle of nowhere? There was no way Dant could’ve imagined that I’d actually manage to build a village out here. Honestly, he might not have even known I’d been sent here in the first place.
“It’s fine, really,” I said. “You’re all very welcome here. Please take your time and enjoy your stay.”
Since Dant was in charge of a neighboring region and we’d probably be seeing a lot of each other in the future, I figured I should do everything I could to leave a good impression.
I didn’t realize, however, that while I was focused on making a good impression, my villagers were giving Dant and his entourage some seriously suspicious looks.