CHAPTER 206: CHAPTER 205: A TABLE OF TRUTHS

The march carried them into Liraeth’s lands, and the difference was striking. Compared to Baron Roland’s rough, practical holdings, her territory carried a quiet grace. The roads were well-kept, the fields neatly tended, and villages along the way were dotted with flowerbeds and painted shutters. Even the air seemed lighter, filled with the laughter of children who waved shyly as the soldiers passed.

Lumberling rode at the front, taking it all in. Order and care. A noble who doesn’t just rule, but nurtures.

By the time they reached her estate, the sun dipped low, casting long golden light across the viscount’s mansion. It stood tall and elegant, its white stone walls climbing ivy, its banners fluttering proudly in the evening breeze.

"Welcome to my home," Liraeth said, dismounting with poise before gesturing toward the entrance.

Lumberling nodded, following her into the grand hall. Before long, servants arranged a table with warm bread, roasted meat, and wine. Though he wasn’t used to noble finery, Lumberling sat across from her, eating quietly but with the steady discipline of a soldier.

Halfway through the meal, the doors creaked open. An armored figure stepped in, his voice low and formal at first.

"My Lady..." the old Knight began, but his words halted mid-step. His gaze fell upon the young man at the table.

Lumberling lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition. Both men froze, measuring each other in silence.

Liraeth glanced between them. "He is the other Knight of my territory," she explained, but the words barely registered.

The silence broke not with tension, but with sudden warmth. The Knight’s stern face split into a smile.

"What a small world, young man. I can’t believe I’m seeing you again."

Lumberling’s own lips curved upward, his eyes lighting with rare familiarity. "It’s good to see you still strong, Instructor Sorrin."

The two shared a deep laugh, their voices filling the hall with a warmth Liraeth rarely heard from either man. For a heartbeat, she simply watched them, unsettled. She had expected tension, not this sudden familiarity.

"You... know each other?" Liraeth asked at last, her brow lifting in surprise.

Sorrin chuckled, scratching his beard. "Lady, this is the young man I once told you about. I tried to recruit him years ago, but it seemed he had other paths to walk."

Liraeth’s gaze flicked between the two men, curiosity sharpening her tone. "So you’re that student."

Lumberling tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Sorrin leaned back, folding his arms proudly. "The Lady here did something no other noble dared, she sent me to teach at the dojo, to train those without titles. Most True Knights spend their days guarding estates or currying favor at court. But she wanted me to look past bloodlines."

Liraeth nodded softly. "Nobles are not the only ones who can fight. If the realm is to survive, we need every ounce of talent we can find. That’s why Sorrin trained the common-born... to find those rare few worth raising higher."

Her eyes settled on Lumberling, thoughtful. "And to think, you were one of them."

Lumberling’s hand paused over his cup. Memories flickered, sweat-drenched mornings, his younger self fumbling with a wooden spear under Sorrin’s harsh corrections. Back then, he had been nothing more than a struggling youth among many. Now, he was sitting at the same table as his former instructor, standing on equal ground with nobles and knights.

He gave a quiet laugh, almost to himself. "I never thought my instructor would turn out to be tied to a Viscount."

"And I never thought that stubborn boy would grow into this man," Sorrin said warmly, eyes gleaming with pride.

The air softened between them, and even Liraeth allowed herself a small smile.

After the meal, she rose. "Come. You and your soldiers will be given rooms in the estate. Rest well. Tomorrow, we will speak of plans."

Servants led the men away, finding space for both humans and monsters alike. The mansion’s halls whispered with unease at their presence, but under Liraeth’s command, none dared protest.

.....

The next morning, Lumberling found himself seated at a long oak table. Across from him sat Liraeth, with Gordon on her right and Sorrin on her left. A map was spread across the table, pins marking towns and villages that had already been struck.

Liraeth broke the silence first. "More than two thousand Sengolio soldiers. That’s what we’re facing. They’ve already burned three towns and half a dozen villages. If they keep moving at this pace, they’ll reach my county’s heartland within weeks."

Gordon slammed a calloused hand against the table. "Resistance is near useless against a force like that. They’ve enough men to threaten even an Earl’s domain." His voice dripped with frustration. "And yet, you’re the only one raising your banner, my Lady."

Sorrin gave a short, bitter laugh. "We called for aid, didn’t we? And what did the other lords demand? Coin, trade rights, and in the case of that snake Torvald Kessen..." he shot a sharp look toward Liraeth, "...he dares demand your hand in marriage before lending a single sword."

Torvald’s demand made Liraeth’s stomach twist. Marriage? To him, it was nothing more than trading her like a piece of land. She hid her anger behind a calm face, forcing herself to breathe steady. On the outside, she looked composed, but inside she burned with disgust.

"It is the same everywhere. No noble will bleed for another’s land unless their own is threatened. That is the truth of our Empire."

Lumberling leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the map. "And yet the Sengolio are not striking at random, are they?"

Gordon met his gaze, gruff but respectful. "You’re sharp. No, they’re not. They push hard in one direction, always toward the Duskwind Field."

"The cursed land," Sorrin muttered, his tone darker now. "The Emperor has already sent half his legions and five Legates there. He’s guarding something, something none of us are meant to know."

Liraeth folded her hands together. "And the Sengolio want it for themselves. Whatever lies beneath that field... it is the reason this war began."

Lumberling’s expression stayed unreadable, but inside, a shadow stirred. He knew the truth of Duskwind Field, and what the Emperor was guarding there. If this war dragged him too close to it, his path could be twisted into the Empire’s designs. If he turned away, he risked losing the very chance that had drawn him into this world’s bloody game.

Sorrin nodded grimly. "You’ve caught on quick. Even the Aetherborn Empire, the Sengolio’s ally aren’t interested in sacking cities. Their focus is only on Duskwind. They move like hounds sniffing after a buried prize."

"And the Vikings?" Lumberling asked.