Realm of Magic and Mechanization: A Baron’s Journey to Empire

In Eladoria, the road near the village is flanked by dry fields and mutant plants that grow amidst the withered wheat. Ahead, approximately 100 villagers stood armed with knives and rusty swords, while others clutched hoes and sticks, trembling. Their sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and blood-red gazes spoke of severe hunger and desperation, akin to someone stranded in the ocean with no hope of rescue.

A cold gust of wind, with oppressive humidity, sent shivers down their spines. They wore tattered clothes patched with scraps of fabric and burlap. Their dirt-streaked faces and calloused hands bore the marks of hard labor. The sight caused Faelan's apprentices to tremble with horror. "How will we ever pass through here?" they wondered. "No matter how powerful, ten knights cannot overpower 100 desperate souls."

At the slightest movement, the villagers lunged all at once. Faelan observed the knights, noticing their solemn expressions and the way they clutched their swords, sweat glistening on their foreheads. His eyes met the head knight's, nodding in silent understanding.

He couldn't fathom the desperation of the Eladorians, so determined to detain the caravan despite the presence of knights. This was unlike anything he had known; serfs were typically resigned to their fate, but this time, the nexus disturbance seemed to be more than just a bard's exaggeration.

His mind wandered to Larnhelm, which had not suffered a large-scale nexus disturbance since Arthur founded it 1660 years ago. Now ruled by his son, the kingdom was governed by two sky knights who had lived for about 960 years. He pondered the ecological destruction he had once considered an exaggeration. Perhaps only the Behemoth Empire truly understood the severity of the situation, while the rest were left in the dark. They should be wary.

After a while, their leader emerged from the crowd with a rusty sword and a burly figure. He stopped two meters away and shouted, "Do you want to fight with us? Stop your guard from drawing their swords. Otherwise, we will kill all of you. Look, we are 100 strong. Don't think these guards can defend you; your life should be precious, right, merchant?"

He was clear that merchants value their lives and are generally timid. They also didn't want his head. Mother Earth had left them no choice but to become the bandits they hated. They had been starving for the last two months, and more than 60 people had died from whatever curse it was.

"What do you want from us???"

"We want... stop being clever here—put your and your guards' swords down and kneel. We will search the wagon ourselves, and don't worry, we will not take your expensive items." He pointed his finger two meters in front. They were serfs, after all, almost fooled by him.

As Faelan heard this, he clutched the reins. These were his lord's goods, significant for the development of Ravengarde at this juncture.

"No! You are not allowed. If you insist, we will have no choice but to kill all of you. You see behind me, they are knights, not guards. If we leave like this, no one will benefit, and even you and your people may lose their lives. Let's resolve our misunderstanding here, what do you think?"

"This... this..."

The village head was taken aback by his verbal assault. This was different from what he expected. Shouldn't the merchant be scared to the point of surrender as long as they don't loot everything? After a while of wrestling with himself, his hand and body sweating, he said, "Don't think we are frightened..." Every villager grabbed their weapon tightly, eyes glinting red despite their trembling legs.

"Hand all your weapons to us. Also, remember to come alone with us and leave the guards behind. Don't be clever and bring them. Next time we won't be merciful." The village head looked at his fellow villagers and the merchant in front, signaling them to comply. This was a tough nut to crack. 'See how I bleed you,' he thought.

He was not foolish for not stating their demand for food. Admitting to their dire need for grain could be seen as a sign of weakness, leaving them with no leverage to intimidate the merchants into compliance. They couldn't afford to gamble on luck; intimidation was their only reassurance.

A few minutes later, Faelan approached the village with three villagers guarding him. He saw children clutching their parents' legs, wide-eyed and weary. He smiled bitterly; these were not bandits but people driven to desperation by hunger caused by the nexus disturbance.

Inside the house, he sat in the presence of the village head. After a few moments of silence, Faelan began with his palm open, "We have no valuable goods on us, but I think you need more food than anything else, right?"

The village head hesitated and replied, "Who can believe greedy and cunning merchants? But we are not like you. Give us all the grain you have."

Faelan immediately responded, "No, how can we survive then? It takes three or four days to reach Elador City, and you clearly don't want to negotiate. How about a 40% share?"

The grain they brought was just for this journey, not for sale, so they didn't have much.

"Almighty Dues, do you give to dogs with such sincerity? How about 80%? Then you and your people will be able to arrive in Elador."

After a few minutes of wrestling like animals fighting for food, they reached a conclusion. Faelan smiled bitterly, knowing his lord's name had helped shut the serf's mouth. With 60% of the grain belonging to the villagers, they were left with 40%.

Faelan's stiff arms relaxed, and he smiled, "Now you can release us, right?"

"Yes, don't worry. We won't break our promise for almighty dues' sake."

Meanwhile, Jen and the others were trembling at the sight. They had expected the world outside their domain to be like Ravengarde, but reality splashed them with cold water. There were no hopeful mindsets or lords like theirs who instantly solved challenges. Here, people were left alone, just as the elder had revealed.

Jen snapped his fingers, wondering when Faelan would return, and the others were the same as him.

On the right side, guarded by many villagers, the leader of the knights clenched his fist, trembling with his gaze down and his expression occasionally changing.

"Are we going to be like this? Where is our dignity as knights and soldiers of Lord Baron?" His fellow knight approached, looked ahead, and turned to him.

"Coward! We can't gamble with Sir's life and the Department of Commerce and Trade, right? How will we face my lord then? Do you know how dangerous we are now?" The leader outburst with saliva, waving his hand. His arms slumped, and he said bitterly,

"I know what you mean. This situation has brought shame and burning anger to me and the knights, but I want you to calm our fellows first and see how the storm develops. If Sir has any shortcomings, then we will kill them all, even if I have to sacrifice my life here."

The knight's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding.

Minutes later, Faelan returned with the village head, having finished dividing the grain. Faelan turned to the leader and said,

"Can we go now?"

"Yes, yes, and hope you arrive safely."

Faelan nodded while he realized and said, "If you villagers have no other way to survive, you can go to Ravengarde by saying my name there. My lord won't drive you away."

The village head dismissed him with a trembling hand and a smile at the crate of grain, looking at his villagers' faces and smiling.

All of them packed up and readied themselves. With a kick of his reins, they continued their journey, leaving the cheering villagers behind.

Faelan smiled bitterly. He should be like a dragon who suffers injustice and crushes all enemies after becoming an adult. But looking at them, they were forced into desperation, and how nature is unforgiving to the weak. He pitied and lamented the destiny of the weak. The mystics (mage branch) were not wrong; weakness is the greatest injustice.

After a long and arduous ride under oppressive weather and elemental phenomena, they finally arrived in Elador City. The high walls loomed over them as they joined a long line of caravans and refugees crowding the channel. When it was their turn, the knight in charge impatiently asked, "Quick, tell me what you do in the city?"

After Faelan answered their purpose, the knight scrutinized them and asked, "You are new, where are you from?" while staring at his records.

"Do I have to tell you? Anyway, we're a caravan organized by Lord Baron of Ravengarde. Can we go now?" Faelan replied.

The knight waved his hand, contemplating the name 'Ravengarde.' He shook his head and motioned them to proceed.

Upon entering, they encountered dilapidated houses with dirt and feces scattered on the streets, the smell making even the hardiest among them want to vomit. Faelan's apprentices grabbed their noses, their eyes averting in disgust as even the knights frowned. Jen remarked, "I thought Elador would be more prosperous than Ashford, yet this..."

Faelan stroked his horse's mane, staring ahead, and responded, "This is the area where the lower class lives. The town is divided into sections for civilians, commoners, merchants, craftsmen, and nobles, unlike Ashford. So don't jump to conclusions before seeing the rest."

"Yes, chief," Jen replied.

They continued until they arrived at the commoner area, finding some respite despite the air not being as fresh as in Ashford. The streets buzzed with merchants' shouts and people's chatter. While waiting for Faelan to return, Maren observed the people milling about. The smell of spices mixed with unwashed bodies irritated his nose. "Jen, are they animals? They smell like shit," he said in disgust.

Jen nodded in agreement.

A minute later, Faelan returned. Once he arrived, they began unloading the goods from the wagon. Faelan noted everything was placed neatly without anything missing and smiled, satisfied.

A few customers passed by, some asking for information, but no one bought anything. "This is slow like a turtle," Faelan said. He turned to Jen and Marek, "You two shout out there in front. Be loud, don't be ashamed."

Jen nodded while Maren raised his hand, then lowered it and nodded.

A few minutes later, an adventurer arrived, followed by visitors to the medicinal shop. Soon, all the elemental herbs were sold out, leaving other items to gather dust. After tired and anxious waiting, as the sun began to descend, a short figure with a pointed nose, adorned in expensive fabric, arrived—a goblin, carrying the scent of gold coins.

Faelan noticed him scrutinizing the furniture and occasionally tapping his forehead. The goblin turned around and said, "Ventus! This is the finest furniture I've seen around here. Sell all of it to me." Turning to the honey jars, he continued, "Wrap these too. How about a 40% discount? I've prevented you from suffering a loss. You won't find anyone as generous and wealthy as me. Worry-free and sleep soundly. Haha, come on..."

Ventus was the god of air elements, worshipped by those aspiring for freedom, intellect, and foresight.

Faelan's body stiffened, his lips twitching. Goblins truly lived up to their name—greedy and cunning. From what he said, we should be grateful and offer him a compliment. Even my father wouldn't dare to bargain like this, and it means we lose almost half of the money from this transaction.

With open arms and a bitter smile, Faelan replied, "How about 90%? You can sell for 2 gold coins and earn a huge sum. We're cutting our flesh for you. These were made from high-quality wood unique to our barony, and you can't find anything like them here. The honey is also not to be underestimated, as it's fresh, perhaps even exhibiting some elemental energy from the bees."

The goblin nodded, rubbing his gold ring, yet his nature didn't let him reconcile. He pressed further, and Faelan upped his offer. Their bargaining continued until they settled at 84%. The goblin clapped with a smile and said, "Commendable fellow. I hope for your success. If you have these types of goods again, come to my shop. By the way, which barony did you mention earlier?" The goblin eyed him curiously.

"The Barony of Ravengarde. Have you ever heard of it? It's now prosperous, run by Lord Arvind."

"Oh, I've heard about it... Shouldn't it be desolate? Even giants like the Church of Light have put in so much effort, only for it to go to waste... Okay, I'll go now, and my workers will come later."

Faelan nodded, despite wanting to clarify his misunderstanding. The goblin walked out, frequently whispering, "Ravengarde, Lord Arvind."

After completing the transactions, they set out in search of experimental tools for Erik. Traveling through the market streets, they arrived at a dwarf's shop. Upon entering, Faelan noticed the dwarf resting his head on his arms.

The shop shelves were covered with various types of weapons—swords, spears, and more. Faelan said, "Hey, can you show us an alchemy furnace and tools for magic experiments?"

The dwarf jolted from his absent-minded state, scrutinized Faelan, and grabbed the furnace. "Here you go, this has been praised by mages and potion masters." He searched for other items and continued, "These are all the tools, total 70 coins, 50 for the furnace..." Busy shaking his alcohol cup, he drank it in one gulp.

"Is there a discount?"

"No, it's a fixed price, and someone else will buy if you don't want to." The dwarf said stubbornly, aligning with their personality.

Faelan hesitated, staring at the items, and said, "Wrap them then."

They were important to Erik, and he didn't want to break his promise and displease his lord Arvind, yet it pained him to spend so much.

As the dwarf received the shiny coins, he counted them with a satisfied smile and said, "Now, can we drink? My treat... Eh, you don't look like you're from Eladoria, are you from Thalmer?" He offered alcohol to Faelan.

Faelan waved his hand in rejection and said, "Have you heard of the Barony of Ravengarde? We're from there."

"Oh! Ravengarde... I've heard rumors of beast rampages, poverty, and hunger. It's now ruled by Count Eldric's son, rumored to be mediocre in talent. Didn't think anyone from there had the coin or sense for proper tools."

Faelan replied firmly, "From reading history books, Lord Arvind is not mediocre. He is a smart and powerful noble, and his reforms have brought significant changes... Anyway, you don't know. I advise you to visit yourself and see with your own eyes."

"You're telling me that backwater's changing? Really! Is the sun coming from the west? Hmm... I'll consider it if I have time."

Upon walking outside, Faelan gritted his teeth. After a slump, knowing they were right in their suspicions, he doubted before, but now Ravengarde's development will shock them all soon. Rejoining his caravan group, they walked toward an inn, driven by hunger, knowing they had to spend the night there.

Counting their earnings, they had sold elemental herbs for 150 gold coins while furniture and honey brought in 50 gold coins, of which 30 came from furniture. He sighed, "Elemental herbs are really profitable, and trade is truly a gold mine." They used 70 gold coins to buy Erik's tools, leaving them with 130, which is rewarding considering even the barony's annual tax revenues are 1,000 gold coins.

As they ate, a servant came and informed them that the Baron of Eladoria wanted to meet him. From what the servant asked personally, it should be regarding my lord.

After instructing his apprentices and the knights, he followed the servant's lead.

Upon arrival, he noticed well-maintained walls with flowers at the base, yet he also noticed the sloppy knights guarding the gate, a stark contrast to his lord's castle and disciplined soldiers.

The servant proudly pointed at the grand garden. Seeing Faelan stunned made him proud, like a peacock spreading its tail.

Faelan noticed the splendor before him and reflected on how he had not seen this kind of grandeur; even Count Arvind's father's castle was more imposing and grandiose. Yet, he lamented the hypocrisy of the nobles—while civilians suffered from hunger and the nexus crisis, wealth was displayed wantonly here. The knights behaved as if everything was normal, dismissing the ongoing crisis.

To be continued...