Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 800: The Frontier Stronghold

CH800 The Frontier Stronghold

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The Frontier Stronghold…

Its name reflected an edifice built by the Celahan Empire to hold the line against the encroachment of the Great Berserk Beast Forest upon the Empire’s borders.

But secretly, in the eyes of many, it was nothing more than a mark of shame—a monument to how far the Empire had been pushed back by the ever-expanding forest.

So much so that the Imperial Family had been unwilling to fund its construction from the Imperial treasury, instead shifting much of the burden onto the noble houses inhabiting what remained of the Empire’s north-east after the fall of the Skywalker Family and many of the region’s other powerful noble houses.

However, despite its diminished status in the eyes of the aristocracy at the heart of the Empire, the Frontier Stronghold had undoubtedly distinguished itself by successfully halting the expansion of the Great Berserk Beast Forest—something historical records claimed it had accomplished for nearly a century.

The Stronghold’s walls were tall and sturdy—so imposing that it was difficult to imagine how mere deranged Berserk Beasts could ever hope to scale them.

For decades after its establishment, its ranks had boasted some of the finest soldiers and strongest warriors, while its captains and commanders were among the brightest military minds the Empire’s north-east had to offer.

Regardless of how it was viewed by the aristocracy in the Imperial capital, to the people of the north-east, the Frontier Stronghold represented the region’s most important military installation—the impregnable bastion that kept the bulk of the Berserk Beasts threatening this stretch of the Imperial frontier at bay.

As a military fortress, it was also a beacon of hope—a symbol of resilience and inspiration.

Because of this, many talented individuals who could have left the north-east to make names for themselves elsewhere instead chose to remain, serving beneath its banner to protect their homeland.

‘…Or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be,’ Fabien Ingram sighed inwardly.

He looked up at the massive fortress that had come into view in the distance.

He and his dozen guards had travelled without pause to return to the Stronghold as quickly as possible and report Count Skywalker’s decision to their commander, Viscount Dunhill.

As the officer in charge of the Stronghold’s procurement—a mid-level management position—Fabien had met and dealt with much of the nobility and higher-ranking officials within both the Stronghold and the fiefdoms of the north-east.

Over the years, he had become disillusioned with many things.

In particular, the grand perception of the Stronghold as the bastion that protected the north-east.

Perhaps that had been true in the past, but now the Stronghold had become a resting place for ambition and self-interest—corruption as well.

If there was a true bulwark holding back the Great Berserk Beast Forest, it was the Frontier March, which served as a buffer between the Empire and the forest at the cost of the lives of the people who lived there.

That was why he sympathised with Count Skywalker’s decision in the face of the Stronghold’s exploitation of his people.

To his guards’ surprise, as they approached the Stronghold, Fabien did not head towards the fort’s main gate. Instead, he led his entourage around to the lower city’s side gate used by civilians.

Fabien used the excuse that they should get some proper rest before returning to the fort. After all, the Frontier Stronghold was a military installation and had never been built with the comfort of ordinary soldiers in mind.

The guards readily accepted his reasoning and followed him into the Stronghold’s lower city.

Once inside, they quickly dispersed. Most headed off to drink, while others sought out the bathhouses for some much-needed rest and relaxation—venting their pent up urges on the bathhouses’ wenches—after the month-long journey.

Fabien, on the other hand, quietly remained in his room at the inn. Contrary to the excuse he had given his guards, he was actually trying to devise a way to convince Viscount Dunhill to accept the proposal.

He stood on the inn room’s veranda, searching for inspiration.

Looking out over the bustling city before him, he couldn’t help but wonder whether the original settlers of this place had ever imagined their humble settlement would one day grow into something so large and important.

Although most people referred to the place as the Frontier Stronghold, that name technically referred only to the fort itself. The lower city had its own name—Mirador.

Mirador had been founded by the families of the fort’s earliest soldiers, refugees from the fallen north-eastern fiefdoms, and the families of slave labourers who had built the fort in exchange for their freedom.

Over the decades, the settlement had grown from a small shanty village into a thriving city—one of the most important in the present-day Celahan north-east.

‘Most of this growth has taken place over the past few decades—meaning it was probably funded largely through the exploitation of the Frontier March,’ Fabien thought to himself.

‘Considering how much money the Commander earns from the arrangement, there’s no way he’ll give it up easily…’

Fabien barely slept that night, but eventually, he found an angle that might persuade the Viscount—or at least convince him to entertain the new agreement he had proposed to Count Skywalker.

The following day, Fabien and his guards returned to the Frontier Stronghold. As expected, he was immediately summoned to meet the Stronghold’s Commander, Viscount Dunhill.

When Fabien entered the fort’s main hall, he was surprised to find the three Sub-commanders and several other captains already present.

It turned out he had walked into a meeting of the Stronghold’s senior leadership.

Seated at the far end of the hall, upon a chair only slightly less imposing than a throne, sat a burly middle-aged man with a thick, bushy beard.

This was none other than Viscount Dunhill—a man who had risen from an ordinary foot soldier to become the Commander of the Frontier Stronghold.

“You’ve returned, Fabien.” Viscount Dunhill’s booming voice echoed throughout the hall. “What news do you bring from the buffer zone?” he asked.

“The Frontier March was unable to meet this year’s quota due to bandits. As a result, Count Skywalker sold the ore to other domains in the north-east in exchange for Berserk Stones. He then used those Berserk Stones to acquire food for the entire population of the March,” Fabien reported.

“He did what?” one of the Sub-commanders exclaimed.

“How dare those domains buy ore that belongs to our Stronghold? Have they forgotten who protects them?” another Sub-commander bellowed.

Fabien continued, “Count Skywalker has asked me to inform you that the Frontier March will no longer barter its ore with our Stronghold in exchange for food. Instead, any future trade will be conducted using Berserk Stones, like any normal commercial transaction.”

“He dares?” the first Sub-commander shouted again. “Does he expect our Stronghold to protect the people of his domain during the coming Beast Tide if he does this? Doesn’t he understand the consequences of such a decision?”

“I believe the Count intends for the Frontier March to defend itself with its own people. I also doubt the people of the Frontier March will seek refuge in Mirador during the coming Beast Tide,” Fabien replied.

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