Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 290: Chapter 285: The Dust-Covered Dawn Territory

In the study of the Lord’s Mansion, Tristan set down the report, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Taking only Fabian and riding Nefarian. My lord... isn’t this plan a bit too risky?"

He then shot a look at Barrett, who was standing beside him.

The latter had just come from the training grounds, smelling of sweat and dirt. He had clearly received Tristan’s signal, and his voice was low and heavy.

"Lord, this is against protocol. You represent the Grey Marsh Territory; you should have at least a squad of Knights as an escort. It’s a matter of dignity, and of safety."

Velin placed a cedarwood gift box into a travel bag, his movements never pausing.

"I’m not going to attend a ceremony, Barrett. I’m going to solve a problem."

He closed the lid of the case and turned to the two of them.

"Valerius is a noble who rose through military achievements, and Philippe is a business magnate. They are wolves circling the Dawn Territory. If I go over there with a Knight Order, I’ll just become the third wolf. Diana’s situation will only get worse."

Velin drew a hand across his neck.

"What I need to do is cut through the situation with a single strike before they can react. For this kind of thing, the fewer people, the less commotion, the better the result."

Barrett’s brow remained furrowed.

He didn’t understand the nobles’ convoluted games, but he understood the battlefield.

"What can one clergyman do? Your safety..."

"Fabian is no ordinary Priest," Velin interrupted him. "Besides, this time the battlefield isn’t an open field, it’s a castle’s banquet hall. He’ll be more useful than an entire Knight Order."

Tristan contemplated for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"Surprise them. Exploit the information gap and strike within their blind spots. I understand."

Velin nodded and clapped Barrett on the shoulder.

"Hold down the fort. Keep following up on intelligence about the Sea Race, and don’t stop work on the defenses for the Newly Cultivated Land. Wait for my return."

Barrett stared at Velin, but could only lower his head in the end.

"As you command, my lord."

At noon, in a clearing behind the Lord’s Mansion, Nefarian snorted with excitement.

It was clearly eager to take its master on a long flight.

Fabian stood to one side.

He had changed out of his gray linen robe and was now wearing a coarser black friar’s habit.

The hood was pulled low, hiding his entire person in shadow. His hands were clasped within his sleeves, and he had no discernible presence, like an inconspicuous attendant.

Velin secured two cases to the sides of Nefarian’s saddle, swung himself onto the Pegasus, and extended a hand to Fabian.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fabian placed his hand in Velin’s.

Velin pulled, hoisting him up onto the seat behind him.

"Hold on tight."

Nefarian let out a long neigh, its four hooves pawing the ground.

Its powerful hind legs suddenly tensed, its massive wings snapped open, and it kicked up a storm of dust and wind.

The ground receded rapidly.

Below, Barrett and Tristan stood watching, their heads tilted back, as the black dot quickly merged with the clouds and vanished into the southern sky.

Nefarian flew at a great height. Beneath the clouds, the landscape transformed into patches of color on a map.

The waters of Gray Bay churned, and the ships of the Golden Sail Commerce Association crawled along their designated routes like beetles.

Several hours later, the contours of the land appeared once more.

"Decrease altitude."

Velin patted Nefarian’s neck. The Pegasus understood and began to circle downwards.

Piercing through the clouds, the lands of the Dawn Territory unfolded before them.

The soil here was a rich, dark brown, woven with rivers and dotted with towns and villages.

But Velin did not see the vitality he expected.

In the fields, farmers toiled with bent backs, their movements sluggish, their clothes covered in patches.

At a village entrance, a few men in leather armor were gathered, chatting idly. They were local guards or retainers, with Longswords hanging from their waists, yet their eyes were vacant.

Velin even saw a Knight in chainmail, sitting by a river and whittling a branch with his sword.

His warhorse grazed nearby, its saddle coated in a layer of dust.

There was none of the fervent construction seen in the Grey Marsh Territory, nor the ruin left in the wake of rampaging bandits.

Everything was orderly, yet lifeless.

Velin took a notebook and a charcoal pencil from his saddlebag and began writing quickly despite the bumpy ride.

’Production stagnant, advancement blocked. Workers have no drive, warriors have no honor. Social structure rigid, lifeless.’

After writing, he glanced back.

From takeoff until now, Fabian had not said a single word.

He was fixed to the Pegasus’s back, showing no reaction to the height below or the wind whistling past his ears.

"Fabian, what do you see?" Velin asked.

From the shadows of the hood came a suppressed voice.

"What my lord sees, is what I see."

Velin said no more.

The closer they got to the heartland of the Dawn Territory, the more the concentration of aether in the air noticeably increased.

The environment here was far superior to that of Minas Tirith.

The Dawn family must have had a deep foundation to be able to occupy this land for several hundred years.

A blessed land was raising a hopeless people.

Ahead, a patch of white appeared on the horizon.

A massive city sat at the junction of the bay and the plain.

Its walls were built of white rock, tall and sturdy.

Inside, the towers and vaulted buildings were neatly planned and elegant in style.

Light City.

Velin didn’t fly directly toward the city. Instead, he steered Nefarian into an oak forest west of it.

A clearing in the forest was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves.

Nefarian folded its wings and landed without a sound, its hooves sinking into the soft Humus Soil.

Velin dismounted and unfastened the two cases.

"Wait for me here. Don’t leave the forest," he commanded Nefarian.

The Pegasus snorted and rubbed its head against Velin’s arm.

Fabian followed, dismounting with the same submissive posture.

Velin carried the cases with Fabian trailing behind him. One after the other, they walked out of the forest.

They followed a desolate path for about a quarter of an hour until a small, solitary inn appeared by the roadside.

The inn’s sign was crooked, and its wooden door was covered in cracks.

Velin pushed the door open and went inside.

Behind the counter, a gaunt old man looked up and sized them up.

"A room?"

"One room." Velin placed a Silver Moon on the counter.

The old man’s eyes lit up. He deftly pocketed the coin and fumbled in a drawer for a rusty key.

"Second floor, first door on the left."

Velin took the key and turned to Fabian.

"You’ll stay here for now. Do not leave the room or have contact with anyone without my orders."

"...Yes, my lord," Fabian’s voice came from beneath his hood.

Velin left one of the smaller cases behind, picked up the other, and turned to walk out of the inn.

On the main road, a few farmers pushed wheelbarrows laden with vegetables, trudging slowly toward the city gate.

A nobleman’s carriage sped past them, its driver cracking a whip that splattered the farmers with muddy water. The farmers merely wiped their faces numbly and continued pushing their carts.

Velin gazed at Light City in the distance. The white city stood silently in the twilight.

’Diana, it seems your problem is more than just two outsiders.’

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