Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 603 - 602: Belk Loren

The room was adorned with a sky-blue carpet, equipped with large bookshelves, valuable oil paintings, and silver lamp stands. Marquis Belk Loren stood respectfully in front of the desk, reporting his experiences in the eastern lands to Edmund Moen, seated behind the desk.

Wearing a black coat and now sporting a beard, the young prince listened gravely and seriously to every word of the report, while Belk maintained genuine respect, not wanting any flaw in his report:

"The bandit problems in Hall County and Runtatel County have been quelled. A batch of unmarked gold coins was found at one of their hideouts, preliminarily judged by search spell as indeed originating from the local leader—after you issued the relevant control decrees, some local nobles are still secretly raising ’black gloves’..."

"This is already explicitly prohibited behavior and must be severely punished. The implicated nobles have two choices: either demote by one rank or surrender half of their land or equivalent value in money." Edmund Moen said with displeasure.

Then, Belk reported a series of changes and current situations at the rear of the eastern territories, and also mentioned the recent activities of the White Sand Mining Company. Edmund made various appropriate arrangements according to the situation he reported, some of which were matters Belk couldn’t handle or others could handle, Edmund would briefly discuss his disposal plans or have an open and honest discussion with the young marquis in front of him.

Frankly, earnestly, justly, filled with patience.

No matter how many times he came into contact with Edmund Moen, words like these would inevitably surface in Belk’s heart.

He watched the prince, not much older than himself, carefully pondering solutions, proposing various admirable plans, genuinely striving to govern this land, figuring out how to bring prosperity to this kingdom, and it was this conviction and action that made him genuinely loyal.

However... the dark corners still existed.

A trace of disappointment and conflict rose in Belk’s heart, and before he opened his mouth, Edmund noticed his change of expression and cast his gaze: "Belk, what’s the situation?"

Belk frowned and did not conceal: "Your Highness, in many areas of the east, your serf freedom legislation has unexpectedly encountered... setbacks. Only a few serfs have truly obtained the status of freemen, most... remain bound to the land, and due to this situation, land reform has made almost no progress, factories can’t recruit anyone—not even training can be initiated."

Edmund quietly looked at him: "Why?"

"Various reasons—but mostly due to obstacles set by the landlords. Some require serfs to purchase ’pieces of land’ to gain freedom, others demand the first year’s yield in full from the serf, while some directly drive them away from farms or orchards after declaring them freemen..."

Edmund slightly closed his eyes, seemingly trying to keep his breath calm, then opened his eyes, with a deep gaze: "So, the serfs who have obtained ’freedom’ can’t survive, is that it?"

"Yes, they eventually had to return to their masters, ’voluntarily’ going back..."

This time, Edmund was silent for a longer period, until half a minute later, Belk heard a calm voice from the front: "I understand."

"Your Highness, perhaps we should..."

Belk urgently spoke, but was interrupted mid-sentence by Edmund: "Belk, I will discuss this matter with Duke Silas Loland—regarding land, he is more experienced. As for you, there’s a new task."

Though Belk was still contemplating the serfs’ issues, loyalty made him immediately respond to the prince’s new directive: "Your Highness, please instruct."

Edmund’s expression grew serious. He raised a cup, drank some water to moisten his throat, and then said in a deep voice: "Regarding the increasingly rampant cult activities lately, about those Oblivion Association believers..."

...

After stepping out of the castle’s main hall door, Belk Loren’s footsteps felt even heavier than before.

He had thought that the stubborn conservative nobles and roaming bandits and mesmerized populace in the eastern regions were already great obstacles and challenges, but he didn’t expect that in the Sorinburg region, there was another massive problem.

Oblivion Association... such a dark sect that once only dared to stir up conspiracies in the gutters has now become such a huge hazard? They’ve even reached out to the great walls, to the Gondor wasteland?!

According to the prince’s words, the corrosion and spread of these evil cult followers within the kingdoms has long exceeded people’s expectations. They spread among the poor, the citizens, even among the Transcendents, and the aristocracy. Their apocalyptic theories are clearly absurd and madness... but why do so many people rush to believe and self-destruct?

A cold but invigorating northern wind blew, Belk jolted suddenly clear, only then did he notice the snowstorm outside had stopped sometime ago, now only large expanses of silver white covered the courtyard, paths, and rooftops.

An Attendant Knight led a horse over, bowing respectfully beside the young marquis: "Sir, do you want..."

Belk waved his hand, signaling the Attendant Knight to step back: "Take the horse back, I want to walk around the city—on foot."

In this season, most inhabited places had turned bleak and desolate, and even "Sorinburg," a well-known large city in the Eastern Region of the Plains of the Holy Spirits, was no exception. Outside the warm castle, the entire residential district for civilians was cold and deserted, with few pedestrians, even when walking on the broadest streets you could see very few passersby.

But in fact, seeing civilian passersby on the street had already reflected a lively prosperity—at least there were still people willing to step out in this cold weather, at least the most basic commercial activities, social activities continued to operate in the civilian strata of this city, which was hard to see in ordinary rural areas.

Belk did not ride a horse or wear armor, just draped in a wolf fur cloak, clad in knightly casual wear, ambling through the streets and alleys of the West City District of Sorinburg.

Since the Eastern Legion occupied this city that once belonged to the royal family, he hadn’t had the chance to stroll along the streets in such a casual manner. As the heir to the Guardian Duke of the East, he always had innumerable things to learn and busy himself with. Although he had accepted the new task arranged by the prince today, this task was not immediately executable—and he first needed to instruct his subordinates to gather and summarize intelligence from surrounding areas on heterodoxies, missing persons, abnormal disease transmission, and other aspects, before he could act personally, and before then, he finally had a little idle time.

It’s a pity this leisure time was during winter, he had no chance to see many interesting folk scenes.

Wandering aimlessly, looking at the deserted streets, Belk finally sighed.

Indeed, there’s not much to see, winter walks are the dullest.

The young marquis turned to leave this place.

Yet just as he stepped, an abrupt sound suddenly entered his ears.

The sound mixed with curses and the noises of beating bodies, faintly accompanied by some suppressed groans.

Belk frowned, looking toward the direction from where the sound came, which was still two blocks away—beyond the distance typical hearing could reach.

He stepped forward, his figure swept across the nearly empty street like a phantom, arriving at the alleyway within seconds, where he also saw what was happening in the small alley—

Several tall and sturdy men were gathered there, punching and kicking a frail figure already curled on the ground, cursing rudely and crudely, while nearby on the ground, a wooden basin was overturned, with dozens of clothes scattered around.

This loathsome scene made Belk’s face darken, he immediately shouted: "Stop—what are you doing?!"

The suddenly shouting halted the perpetrators in their tracks, they turned their heads toward the source of the sound, initially with angry faces, seemingly wanting to punish the person interfering, but upon seeing the tall young man at the alley entrance, they nearly instantly became dumbstruck and static, accompanied by a few light sounds of drawing cool air.

"My... my lord..."

Someone hesitantly spoke, and Belk glanced at the person who voiced out, "What happened here?"

Upon seeing these people’s strong physique, relatively neat clothes, and their immediate recognition of him, he had already vaguely guessed their identities.

"My lord... I... we were disciplining a criminal," the person who first spoke said nervously, "She... she’s a laundry maid, but she stole her employer’s clothes..."

She?

Belk lowered his head, seeing the slender figure that had curled up from being beaten slowly crawling up, tremblingly moving towards the clothes scattered on the ground and the wooden basin. Her dry, yellowish hair hung loosely at the back, and she wore a tattered gown whose original color could no longer be seen. Her legs were bound with strips of cloth to fend off the cold. She looked up briefly, revealing a face that lacked color, malnourished, and dry from anemia.

She was a woman, not pretty at all, only her eyes left a slightly deeper impression on Belk.

But had she been pretty, what she might face here could be more than just punches and kicks.

Belk lowered his head, calmly watching the laundry maid picking up clothes — some of these clothes still retained moisture, nearly freezing to the ground, "Whose clothes did you steal?"

The laundry maid lowered her head, her voice very soft, "I didn’t steal anyone’s, my lord."

"My lord, you see, she still lies!" One of the men standing around immediately shouted loudly, "She stole..."

"Stole yours?" Belk lifted his head, looking at the man who spoke.

The man immediately became silent, as if struck by cold fear.

"Stole yours?" Belk turned his gaze, looking at the next person.

That person also became silent.

"Yours?" "Or yours?"

None of them responded.

"Very well, at least you dare not lie any further," Belk observed them, each word causing their necks to shrink a bit further, "At least I won’t have to send your bodies back to the Eastern Frontier."

These people were soldiers of the Eastern Legion on rotational rest.

Aside from the soldiers occupying this city, few would be as robust as them, wearing warm winter clothes, having excess energy, and able to instantly recognize Belk Loren in plain clothes.

Belk lowered his head again, looking at the laundry maid who had picked up all the clothes, standing by the wooden basin with her head down, "Are you a local?"

The laundry maid still kept her head down, seemingly afraid to make eye contact, "...Yes, my lord."

Belk nodded, his gaze falling once more on those failures among the soldiers, he took a breath but slowly calmed the magic power within him.

The army has discipline, as per Prince Edmund’s orders.

"Bullying civilians, deceiving your superior officers, go find your centurion, each receive thirty lashes, one week confinement, and half pay this month."

Those failures left in fear and dejection.

The laundry maid still knelt on the ground, head bowed, her wooden basin beside her with clothes needing re-washing.

"Lift your head."

Belk said calmly.

He saw the maid slightly lift her head but quickly lower it again, maintaining her gaze forward.

Belk sighed inwardly, crouched down, aligning his gaze with hers, looking at the malnourished face, devoid of beauty, with eyes showing a mixture of reverence and numbness.

In other circumstances, in the castle’s banquet hall, countless young ladies of noble birth, beautiful and charming, would be willing to trade a manor for a chance to meet his eyes at such close distance.

"Those people are failures of the Eastern Frontier, they do not represent the Eastern Legion."

The laundry maid immediately lowered her head in response, "Yes, my lord."

Belk frowned slightly, glancing again at her thin and tattered clothes, then fetched two Gold Coins from his pocket.

He pondered for a moment, put away the Gold Coins, and from another pocket, searched laboriously for some copper coins and cut silver pieces.

He tossed the coins into the laundry maid’s basin, then stood up, "This is compensation from the Eastern Frontier — you can use them to buy bread, and get a set of clothes that can keep you warm."

The laundry maid’s gaze fell on the coins jingling in the basin, she cautiously collected them, moving lightly and earnestly. After doing all this, Belk heard her suddenly ask:

"My lord, can you provide every person with bread and warm clothes for the winter?"

This unexpected question caught Belk by surprise, instinctively wanting to say — of course he could.

He was the eldest son of the Guardian Duke, Marquis Belk Loren, future master of the Eastern Frontier. Under his private name lay countless estates and farmland, even if half had already been donated to the Legion or allocated to serfs and tenant farmers in accordance with Prince Edmund’s orders, he still possessed the capability to distribute winter food and clothing to every civilian in Sorinburg.

However, that laundry maid had already stood up and respectfully bowed before leaving with her wooden basin and clothes.