Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1259: Winterwood In Trouble

Count Eric Winterwood stood beside the tall windows of his study, watching the snow drift across the gardens when the alarm artifact sounded and, moments later, explosions rippled through the estate.

Eric Winterwood was the same noble Quinlan had met after clearing the goblin camp with Ayame and Blossom - well, the dogkin arrived only for the final boss fight, where they took the troll down.

The goblins had taken prisoners, namely, women used for breeding because the goblin species consisted only of male individuals. To reproduce, they needed to breed women from other races, and humanoids - humans, elves, and beastkin - were the fan favorites.

Among the unfortunate women this camp had captured were Emily, Cecily, and Cecily’s mother, Ilde. Quinlan, with the oriental samurai and dogkin assassin at his side, had freed them.

Those women now served as Quinlan’s maids, living quiet but fulfilling lives under his household’s protection.

Back then, when Eric arrived a bit after they cleared the camp, the noble had handled the matter with rare fairness.

He hadn’t tried to swindle Quinlan out of a reward, nor claimed the victory as his own, which was a common habit among nobles dealing with adventurers and mercenaries. Instead, he had fairly rewarded them, gifting Quinlan his first gold coin.

He also gave an invitation, asking Quinlan to visit him at the Winterwood Castle for a private discussion.

At the time, Eric had still been the heir, not yet the Count. Perhaps he had intended to recruit Quinlan, thinking him to be a worthy man due to having such a great slave as Ayame.

But Quinlan never came.

For him, pledging to a count was far too small a future. Even serving a king would have felt like shackling himself to a gilded cage. Freedom, no matter how uncertain, was worth more than rank or gold.

*Boom!*

The shock of the invaders’ attacks rattled the walls. His quill rolled off the desk, scattering the papers he had been reading. Before he could move, four of his elite guards rushed in.

"My lord! You must leave the study!" one barked, already pulling him toward the door.

Eric followed without resistance, though confusion set deep in his gut.

The corridors outside were chaotic. Servants rushed about, clutching children, hauling crates, shouting names that vanished into the rising noise. But what struck him most wasn’t the panic...

It was the dark.

Soon after the alarm sounded, something unnatural had happened.

The castle had gone black, not as if from nightfall, but as though the world itself had been buried.

Through the high windows, Eric could see nothing of the outer grounds because an enormous dome of earth had swallowed the estate whole.

In the pitch darkness, only flickers of red and blue flames gave some light - but whose source they were, he couldn’t see.

Then, with a soft hum, the castle’s light artifacts flared to life one by one. Pale spheres ignited across the hallways, casting a glow that pushed back the blackness enough for people to see one another’s faces and where they were stepping.

However, the effect only deepened the dread. The outside world was gone, sealed behind that wall of soil and fire.

The guards guided Eric down toward the great hall. Several of his barons were already there, with their faces pale and confused, dressed in fine clothes rather than armor.

"Lord Eric! What’s happening out there?!" shouted Baron Mallor with his jowls shaking as he stumbled closer. "Is it the Consortium?!"

"Did they bring a whole damned siege engine into the heart of the county unnoticed?!" Mallor’s wife sobbed in distress.

"I thought the Consortium had dug itself deep into its trenches in no man’s land! What are they doing going on the offensive?! We have to notify Lord Alastair!" Lord Kolt hissed, pretending to be a brave man who could remain controlled in times of chaos, though his shaky voice and trembling knees betrayed his true feelings.

Eric turned toward the nearest window, where a crimson glow reflected off the glass. The light was too steady to be normal fire and too bright to be magic torches. Something unnatural was happening outside.

He slammed a fist against the marble pillar beside him. "If only Alastair Greenvale hadn’t called upon my levies for that damned campaign of his against the Consortium!" he snarled. "Half my trained men are marching under his banners right now. The estate is barely guarded!"

That was true. By royal law, when a duke called his vassals to arms, a count could not refuse without cause. Alastair had summoned his levies only three weeks ago, citing his desire to begin taking the fight to the criminals at long last. Eric had obeyed, sending much of his forces away.

He thought it was for the better.

After all, to them, the Consortium was an insatiable parasite, something that ate into the Winterwood family’s profits and threatened their stability with its presence. The syndicate had grown far too big for its own good, evidenced by the fact that it was still standing despite having been besieged for months.

While the Consortium had to abandon all their positions closer to the big cities, they were now able to live inside their strongholds that were located deeper into the forests of Greenvale, where the Greenvale family did not settle towns, nor did their vassals.

Now, with the explosions rumbling through the courtyard, it was clear how costly that obedience had been for Eric.

He only had fifteen elite guards that were in their level fifties, and three in their low sixties, including Captain Garrett, the old man responsible for the county’s armed forces. Level sixty-five, the strongest Winterwood had to offer.

Eric was now counting his lucky stars that he didn’t send Garrett together with the levies. Instead, it was Garrett’s second in command and the woman expected to take his position once the man retired, who led the levied forces.

Garrett arrived moments later. The weight of his armor and the scrape of his sword’s scabbard gave him a presence that silenced the noise around him. He was flanked by the rest of the elites, who came with their weapons drawn and faces grim.

"My lord," the captain said as he entered the corridor. "Now that I know the lords and ladies are safe, I’ll take ten elites and confront the intruders. The rest will stay and protect you."

Eric gritted his teeth but nodded. It was the right call, he understood. Remaining here, trapped and uncertain, would only increase their chances of death.

But the other nobles didn’t share his resolve.

"You can’t leave us!" one baron shouted. "If the enemy breaches the gates, who will defend us then?"

"Stay here, Garrett! Protect your liege!" another cried, clutching his jeweled sword with trembling hands.

Garrett turned toward them with an unreadable expression. The silence stretched long enough for the barons to shift uncomfortably. Then his voice came.

"I only answer to the Count of Winterwood."

His eyes met Eric’s. "What are your orders, my lord?"

Eric inhaled slowly. "... Go. Survey the situation. If you can, confront the invaders. If they’re too strong, return, and we’ll make our final stand here. I already ordered Lord Alastair to be notified. His forces should arrive within the hour."

Garrett bowed once. "Yes, my lord."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched out with ten of his elites at his back. Their armored steps faded into the darkened halls, leaving behind less than a dozen elites to shield the cluster of lords and their families.

The silence that followed was heavier than the tremor that still rolled beneath their feet.