Imperial Throne

Chapter 8: Intentions

The cold wind howled.

Although the southern winters of the Tyrella Kingdom were not as bitterly cold as those in the north, where the winds cut like blades, they possessed a unique bone-chilling dampness.

Consequently, among the water-element bloodlines, the north predominantly featured cold-type bloodlines, while the south was more inclined towards icy-type bloodlines.

Especially when compared to the more forested White Mountain Territory, once November arrived in the Gem Territory, the rapidly dropping temperatures and the dampness brought by the sea breeze would swiftly sweep across the entire region.

In previous years, this period marked a high mortality rate in the Gem Territory. Not only did several villages suffer, but even the territory's sole city would witness numerous deaths from the cold.

This was one of the main reasons why, despite being a resource-rich territory, the Gem Territory struggled to develop.

Ion and Akar had left the Gem Territory three years ago, but the bone-chilling dampness etched into their bloodlines remained a vivid memory.

They traveled southward without any delays or stops. To avoid triggering painful memories, Ion deliberately bypassed the low hill where the Iron Wolf Mercenary Group once resided.

This detour cost them an additional two days.

Upon reaching the border of the Gem Territory, their swift journey finally came to a halt for the first time.

On a major trade route leading to the Red Soil Territory, the Gem Territory had established a checkpoint guarded by over a hundred soldiers.

This outpost not only monitored the main route to the Red Soil Territory but also oversaw several nearby "side paths."

As a former soldier of the Kingdom's army, Ion was well aware that among the surrounding territories, the Gem Territory was notorious for its "strong military" due to the lord's unrestrained oppressive policies and taxes. Its private army was three to five times larger than those of other lords.

However, he hadn't expected that, even amidst the ongoing war between the Gem and Red River Territories, the Gem Territory could still allocate over a hundred troops to guard this area, monitoring the direction of the Red Soil Territory.

With just one glance, Ion realized that this outpost wasn't guarding against an invasion from the Red Soil Territory but was instead targeting the merchants traveling between the two territories.

"Father?"

"No rush," Ion shook his head. "There are over a dozen side paths between the Gem and Red Soil Territories. They can't possibly seal them all. We'll definitely find a way through."

Ion wasn't particularly worried about reaching the Red Soil Territory.

He had lingered in Fisher Village for over two months, not only to gather various auxiliary materials and consumables but also to save some money for emergencies.

Based on his understanding of the Gem Territory's lord's greed, he estimated that around ten silver coins would suffice.

To prepare, he collected and sold various items to the same merchant who had previously sold him the Flame Hound Heart, exchanging them for thirty-five silver coins.

He kept ten coins for his second son, Yam, and carried the rest with him, precisely for situations like this.

After all, if there was no opportunity to sneak across the border, a small bribe might do the trick.

What truly concerned Ion was the issue with the Rusty Sword's components.

To the south of the Gem Territory lay a withered forest known as the "Death Forest."

It was said that a raging fire had burned there for an entire year. If not for the intervention of several prominent figures, the fire might have continued indefinitely.

The Red Soil Territory got its name from this prolonged blaze. Approximately one-third of its eastern land consisted of arid, crimson earth.

Not only was it unsuitable for cultivation, but it also lacked any greenery. The temperature there was starkly different from the western part of the territory. Even in the coldest winters, the area felt as hot as summer.

The Flame Hound tribe had built their nests there.

Another reason the withered forest was dubbed the "Death Forest" was that it had become a haven for many monsters.

Because of this natural barrier, the Gem Territory never needed to station troops in its southern region.

Ion's primary concern was that the Rusty Sword's components might be located within this withered forest.

...

"Raise your hand a bit higher."

Yam tapped a middle-aged man's staff with a wooden stick, correcting his grip.

"Remember, what you're holding isn't a staff but a spear!"

"The tip of the staff represents the spearhead. Either hold it level with your chest or, when pointing it upwards, align the spearhead with your throat."

"The grip may differ, but the technique remains the same."

Yam tapped his left arm with the wooden stick and said, "The power comes from your rear arm. The hand holding the front of the spear is your dominant hand, while the one at the rear is your non-dominant hand, which we refer to as the rear arm."

"The dominant hand at the front maintains the weapon's balance and adjusts the attack angle."

"Essentially, all your attack movements and adjustments rely on your dominant hand. Its power ensures the weapon's balance, preventing it from being knocked away by the enemy or causing other mishaps."

"That's why the rear arm is the primary source of power in attack movements."

Following Yam's explanation and a few demonstration moves, the twenty or so men gathered in the village square quickly adjusted their stances.

These men varied in age, with the youngest around sixteen or seventeen and the oldest nearing thirty.

They comprised the militia group that Fisher Village had formed on its own.

Although the group had been established over five years ago, it wasn't until two and a half years prior, when Ion's family arrived, that they began receiving formal military training.

Despite being labeled a militia, the village's limited resources meant these men couldn't dedicate themselves entirely to training.

They could only spare two half-days each week for drills. However, under the guidance of Ion and Yam, their training had become more structured and disciplined. The only thing they lacked now was actual combat experience.

Yam always remembered his father's words:

Any unit that hasn't faced real combat, no matter how well-trained, is merely a rabble.

But the area around Fisher Village was devoid of enemies, not even monsters, making it challenging to find suitable opponents for live training.

As Yam surveyed the villagers, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

His father had been gone for nearly three months. Based on their planned route, if everything had gone smoothly, his younger brother should have become a Bloodline Knight by now.

But if things hadn't gone as planned, the outcome was uncertain. Yam tried not to dwell on negative possibilities, instead focusing on tasks to distract himself.

"Hyah—"

Clip-clop—clip-clop—

The sound of galloping hooves echoed nearby.

Turning his head, Yam saw three horses speeding into the village square. The lead rider wore a feathered leather hat.

His father had once mentioned that in the military, such a hat signified an urgent message, granting the bearer direct access to the central command.

In the territories, however, it denoted a tax collector.

Yam's brow furrowed.

The lord of the White Mountain Territory was known among the people as a benevolent ruler, imposing only the basic spring and autumn taxes on villages, one silver coin per person, with the option to pay in grain at market value if coins were unavailable.

However, Yam's family had a unique arrangement. As the village's militia instructors, their taxes were covered by the village chief, serving as part of their compensation.

It was just the beginning of spring, and tax collectors typically arrived at the end of the month or early the next. Their early arrival, nearly a month ahead of schedule, was surprising.

Soon, Yam saw the tax collector approaching the training ground, accompanied by the village chief.

Though puzzled, Yam said nothing. He instructed the militia to continue their training and walked over to meet them.

"This is our militia instructor," the elderly village chief introduced.

The chief was quite advanced in age. In the White Mountain Territory, where the lord's policies were lenient, such longevity was possible. In contrast, in the Gem Territory, he would have likely been expelled from the village long ago.

After greeting the village chief, Yam's attention shifted to the three men accompanying him.

Typically, tax collectors traveled with a few of the lord's private guards to prevent theft or other incidents.

However, the two guards accompanying this tax collector were unusual.

The older man, a middle-aged individual, wore modest clothing, but the long spear he carried was clearly forged from exotic iron.

While ordinary people could use exotic iron weapons, they were prohibitively expensive and heavy. Without the enhanced strength from a bloodline, wielding such a weapon effectively was nearly impossible.

Unless one had acquired such a weapon through extraordinary means, like Yam's family did by defeating a Bloodline Knight, obtaining a rare iron weapon would require decades of savings or the favor of a noble.

Thus, the identity of this spear-wielding man was evident: a Bloodline Knight.

Yam doubted that a mere tax collector could command such a formidable escort.

His gaze naturally shifted to the young man beside the knight.

As their eyes met, the young man smiled.

"May I have a private word with the instructor?"

The young man spoke kindly.

"Of course, of course," the village chief replied nervously, signaling to Yam before departing with the tax collector.

The middle-aged knight remained but stepped back a few meters, his eyes scanning the surroundings vigilantly.

Once they were alone, the young man addressed Yam, "Giggs Bole. May I know your name, Sir Knight?"