Lord of the Oasis Chapter 1

3

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Kant gave a slight shake to the reins in his hand as he guided the horse he was mounted on forward.

To the east of the vast Nahrin Desert, the morning sun was in the process of steadily ascending. It positioned itself high above the unending dunes, unleashing its power to vanquish the lingering chill of the night. Waves of scorching heat cascaded over the desolate landscape.

Save for the Jackalans, a race entirely devoid of any semblance of civilization, no other beings were inclined to venture into that desolate domain.

That, naturally, did not include Kant and his accompanying entourage.

A contingent of twenty knights, their bodies clad in chainmail beneath their robes, were astride robust warhorses. They were accompanied by thirty peasants, performing their duties as servants. Directly following Kant were six horses, tasked with pulling carriages laden with their provisions.

Huuhhh...

Kant expelled a lengthy breath and knitted his brows as he gazed ahead at the undulating expanse of dunes. He drew the hood of his linen robe up and over his head. His fair hair cascaded down his shoulders. His youthful, smooth face was smudged with a layer of dust.

His amber eyes narrowed, lending them a severe appearance as he continued his ride.

They were navigating the Nahrin Desert, a realm characterized by its pervasive sand and dust. It was a desolate wasteland, untouched by development.

Prior to its subjugation by the Dukedom of Leo a decade earlier, the desert exhibited no signs of any organized society. As for the various Jackalan Tribes, they were rudimentary creatures, subsisting on their quarry raw, complete with blood and hide.

There was little doubt that the Jackalans persisted in their primitive ways even up to the present moment.

As the youngest scion of the duke, Kant was acutely aware that this desert region was not officially recognized as part of the Dukedom of Leo.

Despite the dukedom's purported conquest of the entire southern expanse of the Nahrin Desert ten years prior, the reality was that the ruling elite had merely paid lip service to the claim. The acquisition was, in essence, an empty pronouncement.

A significant number of scholars within the dukedom did not even acknowledge that the conquest had ever occurred.

On any given map, the boundary of the dukedom remained delineated at the Senwaya Range, situated adjacent to the Nahrin Desert. The vast desert plains stretching northward from that point remained unassimilated by any form of civilization.

Those territories had fallen under the dominion of the Jackalan Tribes, rendering the land unsuitable for either pastoral or agricultural pursuits, thus rendering it practically valueless.

Even the most desperate criminals and fugitive slaves from the dukedom, driven to the end of their options, would shun such a forsaken locale.

“This is utterly desolate.”

Kant let out a wry, self-deprecating chuckle as the thought crossed his mind, contemplating how he had found himself in such a wretched place. He shook his head.

Had circumstances not forced his hand, he would never have set foot within the barren desert. To make matters worse, it was currently summer. The sun in June blazed like a furnace, akin to a baker's oven. Even the early morning rays possessed the intensity to heat the entire desert to a blistering 122 degrees Fahrenheit.

Kant tilted his head to survey the sky. The sun, now positioned above the dunes, continued its ascent.

During this particular season within the barren desert, the midday temperatures were projected to soar to an unbearable 158 degrees Fahrenheit, a heat level simply insurmountable for any living being.

It’s unbearably hot!

He swallowed a mouthful of his own clammy saliva and adjusted the hood of his breathable linen robe. His already serious expression deepened further as he urged his horse onward.

He spurred his mount forward, then turned to address the group trailing behind him, his voice carrying a note of urgency as he called out, “Move along, everyone! Make haste. If you have any desire to avoid being roasted under the midday sun, we must establish our camp and rest before noon!”

“Yes, Sir.”

Response came in the form of lethargic acknowledgments. The peasants, exerting themselves, propelled the carriages forward, urging them to increase their pace.

They were all traveling on foot. With three carriages laden with their provisions, the group's progress was agonizingly slow.

The carriage wheels, meticulously constructed from sturdy hardwood and reinforced with nails, were far better suited for the paved roads found in the heartlands of the Dukedom of Leo. Here, the wheels sank deeply into the yielding sands, eliciting pained whinnies from even the sturdiest of horses. Each step was a hard-won effort, as the wheels repeatedly became bogged down, necessitating the peasants to physically push them to achieve even the slightest increase in speed.

Kant comprehended the extent of their struggle. He let out a sigh as he observed the trudging procession behind him.

This situation is dire. Kant’s frown intensified.

“Your Lordship.”

Rowan, the knight captain riding in his vicinity, maneuvered his horse closer to Kant’s side.

The middle-aged man, typically composed and collected, now appeared visibly uneasy as he voiced his inquiry, “Pray forgive my impertinence, but we are most eager to ascertain how much longer it will be until we reach the Oasis Lookout.”

“How much longer?”

Kant maintained a placid demeanor, his gaze fixed upon the serpentine, seemingly endless dunes that lay ahead. He clenched his jaw before responding, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Well...” Rowan’s anxiety seemed to escalate further upon receiving Kant’s candid reply.

It was evident that this was not the reassurance he had been hoping for.

The corner of Kant’s lips curved upward slightly. However, his composed features revealed little of any discernible emotion as he stated plainly, “Based on our calculations, we have been journeying for six days now. If the map and the designated route prove to be accurate, we should be arriving at our destination ere long.”

“We’ll reach soon enough?” Rowan swallowed hard, a feeling of dryness in his throat making the act of swallowing uncomfortable.

Six grueling days had passed since their trek through the desert began, pushing every soul to their absolute physical and psychological breaking point. Exhaustion had set in for all.

The most pressing concern, however, was the dwindling supply of fresh water, which had reached a critical red line that very day.

Fifty-one individuals, along with 27 horses, desperately needed their thirst quenched.

This imminent crisis was a significant factor in Rowan's palpable anxiety. He and his contingent of 20 knights, tasked with escort duties, were slated to depart immediately upon reaching their destination, leaving Kant and the 30 peasants behind.

The sooner they arrived at the Oasis Lookout, the sooner they could escape the unforgiving desert and head for home.

Conversely, Kant seemed largely unperturbed by the hardships. Even reaching their destination, the Oasis Lookout, offered no particular joy.

It was a place where he was likely to spend the remainder of his days, forever encircled by an endless expanse of sand.

He wryly recalled the title bestowed upon him during his coming-of-age ceremony, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. A fief granted alongside such a title? Truly, a laughable prospect.

Yet, his eyes held nothing but a chilling coldness.

As a baron of the dukedom, he was granted a territory of his own.

This grant came directly from his father, Duke Cameron of the Dukedom of Leo, who had personally entrusted Kant with dominion over the Nahrin Desert, conquered a decade prior.

This included their current destination, the Oasis Lookout, the sole oasis within the southern reaches of the vast desert.

Kant was, in title at least, the lord of the Nahrin Desert, a baron in name.

However, the truth remained hidden: this domain was nothing more than a desolate prison, a place where Duke Cameron had exiled his least favored and youngest son.

Then again, desert or not, I have my ways of getting by.

The sarcasm glinting in Kant’s eyes intensified.

As an individual transmigrated from Earth to this new world, Kant possessed a hidden trump card, a veritable cheat embedded within this reality.

So be it.

Narrowing his eyes, Kant gazed forward. A system dialog box materialized within his field of vision.

[Main Quest: Build a village]

[Reward: 1,000 Denars]

[Status: Incomplete]

[Introduction: To be recognized as a true lord, the establishment of a village is paramount. This marks the foundational step in your journey. Proceed with caution.]

This was the main quest presented by the system, a task he needed to complete as it was directly linked to his progression within the system.

At its core, the main quest was deceptively simple to achieve.

Once Kant reached the Oasis Lookout and the 20 knights of the dukedom had departed, he could leverage the system's bestowed powers to manifest his village, bringing into reality structures that currently existed only within the system's interface.

This nascent village would merely be the starting point; with time and development, it held the potential to evolve into a sprawling metropolis or even a formidable castle.

In the past, Kant harbored concerns about finding a suitable location to establish such a village.

However, after traversing the Senwaya Range, the natural boundary separating the Nahrin Desert from the Dukedom of Leo, Kant realized he no longer needed to operate under the constant shadow of surveillance, perpetually fearing the exposure of his transmigration and his powerful cheat.

The quandary of where to materialize the village from the system quest had vanished.

The Dukedom of Leo was a traditional, medieval nation where all arable flatlands had long been claimed.

Every conceivable terrain—be it rolling hills, dense forests, treacherous marshes, or humid jungles—had already been allocated as fiefs and estates to various nobles.

The Dukedom of Leo boasted a history spanning nearly three centuries. From the highest ranks of greater nobles down to the lesser nobles appointed by them, every available parcel of land had been claimed, solidifying the established hierarchy of counts, viscounts, and barons over the years.

The sudden appearance of a new village from thin air would be perceived as a fundamentally unsound investment.

While establishing a village was achievable, determining its ultimate ruler was an entirely different matter. Moreover, no noble would willingly relinquish such a potentially lucrative territory, even if the builder's father held the esteemed position of duke.

“The vassal of my vassal is not my vassal.”

This well-known adage from Earth’s western regions resonated powerfully with the current circumstances.

Consequently, Kant approached his main quest with extreme caution. The loss of his village would signify the loss of everything. He was willing to take gambles, but not to be reckless.

This prudent mindset persisted even now, as he journeyed towards the Oasis Lookout within the Nahrin Desert.

Kant understood that only those things he could truly command and control would genuinely be his.

This conviction was the very reason Kant had accepted the Nahrin Desert as his fief.

Things are going to better once we reach the Oasis Lookout.

Kant's fists clenched subtly, his breaths growing shallower. Yet, a surge of determination coursed through him.

He turned his head, casting a glance behind him.

Exhausted and drenched in sweat, the 30 peasants, clad in simple linen, toiled to push the carriages. They bore a striking resemblance to common folk, a retinue following their lord to his newly assigned territory.

However, this was not entirely the reality of their situation.

These 30 individuals were, in fact, a reward bestowed upon Kant for completing a side quest after his arrival in this world.

They were peasants from the Kingdom of Swadia, granted to him by the system.

Though they appeared somewhat underfed and frail, each stood at around 5 feet 9 inches and possessed a strength that belied their appearance. They were highly skilled in agricultural work, the kind of laborers any workshop would clamor to employ.

Then again, hailing from the system, they were far from ordinary peasants.

With the necessary training, provisions, and equipment, Kant could potentially transform them into formidable soldiers.

It mirrored the progression system found in the game ‘Mount and Blade.’

They could be cultivated into dependable frontline infantry, Swadian Sergeants, akin to unmovable fortresses.

Alternatively, they could be developed into skilled ranged units, Swadian Sharpshooters, wielding deadly crossbows.

The ultimate upgrade could see them become Swadian Knights, encased in double layers of armor as they charged on horseback – a unit renowned as the apex of land-based military power.

—From this point forward, these people will form my foundation.—

Kant murmured softly, his eyes alight with renewed hope.

Sitting tall in his saddle, his gaze swept across the distant dunes. He called out to rally the peasants and knights behind him, —Keep pushing, everyone! We’ll rest at that dune on the horizon!—

—Hurray!— The peasants erupted in spirited cheers.

—Yes... Hurray...—

The knights of the dukedom responded with a notable lack of enthusiasm. Had it not been for Captain Rowan’s assurance that their destination was near, their spirits might not have even stirred enough for them to utter a sound.

Concurrently, these knights regarded the Swadian Peasants with an air of amused bewilderment.

They could not comprehend why such humble, destitute peasants had journeyed into the desolate desert. Stranger still was their evident high spirits, as if harboring grand expectations for the future.

The knights found the peasants' optimism utterly comical.

Hope?

The scorching heat. The biting cold. Every negative descriptor imaginable could be applied to the Nahrin Desert. The concept of ‘hope’ held no currency here.

—They truly are ridiculous fools!—

Rowan observed the peasants, his gaze sharp and unsympathetic.

None among them grasped that the Swadian Peasants owed their very existence to Kant.

Rowan looked at Kant, a wave of disdain washing over him. —You’re facing your end here, and yet you’ve brought so many along! Does Your Lordship truly believe you are the lord of the Nahrin Desert, the master of Oasis Lookout?—

The thought was so absurd he had to suppress a chuckle.

It was of no concern to him. The moment they reached their destination, Rowan and his men would depart without a second’s hesitation, not lingering for an instant.

In truth, these sentiments were not exclusive to Rowan. The nobles of the dukedom shared this view; none saw any potential in the oasis, an area less than 3,229 square miles.

Moreover, within the harshness of the desert, the brutal daytime heat and the frigid nighttime cold were not the sole perils faced by inhabitants.

The threats also stemmed from those who, though once driven out and decimated, had never truly abandoned the Nahrin Desert:

The Jackalan Tribes.