Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 796: Stronghold Ambassador Arrives

CH796 Stronghold Ambassador Arrives

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A group of riders passed the makeshift fortifications erected by the Frontier March troops at the valley entrance to the March.

The group consisted of a dozen guards escorting a young man. Three of the guards radiated the pressure of Silver-rankers, while the others were all Bronze-rankers.

The young man at their head appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His chin was covered with a thin, patchy beard that he would probably have been better off shaving, but he stubbornly kept it because he believed it gave him a more mature appearance.

The group rode swiftly, reaching the Fonterra Bastide in under a day.

However, as they arrived shortly before nightfall, they decided to spend the night at an inn and rest rather than immediately attend to their business in the town.

Unsurprisingly, the group spent a good portion of the evening in the inn’s tavern, drinking away the fatigue of the journey.

While the guards drank merrily, their leader carefully observed the townsfolk.

To his surprise, the expressions of the people in both the tavern and the town itself were bright.

This wasn’t his first visit to the Fonterra Bastide, and the atmosphere now stood in stark contrast to the bleakness he had grown accustomed to whenever he came here.

On his previous visits, with the town lying so close to the Great Berserk Beast Forest, unable to leave the domain and forced to endure harsh living conditions, most of the people of the Fonterra Bastide had simply lived from one day to the next.

They had been like hollow shells, merely going through each day because they had no other choice.

Now, however, he saw people with hope in their eyes.

The bleakness was gone, replaced by men, women, and children who genuinely looked forward to the future with dreams and ambitions—from the youngest child to the oldest elder he saw.

He didn’t need to ask anyone what had caused this change.

There had only been one significant difference between his previous visit and this one—the arrival of the new Domain Lord.

’This trip won’t be easy...’ the young man thought to himself as he set down his mug of ale.

He rose from the tavern bench, bade his guards goodnight, and headed upstairs to his room to retire for the evening.

The following morning, the group made their way to the Domain Lord’s manor, where they were received by a familiar face—old man Milton.

To the young man’s surprise, rather than receiving them personally, Milton directed them instead to the so-called Ministry of Trade and Commerce.

Only when he revealed that he was carrying a message from the Commander of the Frontier Stronghold did old man Milton hesitate before instructing one of the manor guards to deliver a message to the Domain Lord’s Chief Guard, requesting an audience with the new Domain Lord, Count Skywalker.

Noticing the subtle hostility in the eyes of both the manor’s administrative officers and its guards, the young man expected the Count to reject the request for a meeting.

However, that wasn’t the case. Instead, he was led into a waiting room while the Count prepared to receive him.

His guards, however, were required to remain behind.

Although they didn’t like it, the manor guards explained that this was both a matter of the Count’s security and standard noble etiquette.

Knowing that even the Commander of the Frontier Stronghold himself, Viscount Dunhill, would have been required to follow the same procedure, the leader of the group convinced his entourage to comply.

After all, it wasn’t as though Count Skywalker would kill a messenger inside his own manor—especially since there were no officially declared hostilities between the Count and Viscount Dunhill.

At least, none that the young man knew of.

Quite some time passed before he was finally ushered in to meet the Count.

To his surprise, the meeting venue was... the Count’s dining hall.

The young man stood opposite the Count at the far end of a long dining table.

To his surprise, Count Skywalker looked even younger than he did—not a day over twenty.

"Greetings, Sir Count. I am Fabien Ingram, the Frontier Stronghold’s procurement officer." The young man bowed in greeting.

Count Skywalker—Alex—looked at the Stronghold’s representative with mild surprise. Usually, a position like that was entrusted to someone somewhat older.

’Either Viscount Dunhill doesn’t think much of this meeting... or this man is a talent worthy of holding such a position,’ Alex evaluated inwardly.

He chose to believe it was the latter.

"Welcome." Alex nodded with a smile. "I hope your journey wasn’t too strenuous."

"Come, have a seat." Alex gestured with his hand.

Both men took their seats at the table.

The moment they sat down, a group of maids wheeled in serving carts one after another, setting an extravagant feast before the two men.

Fabien Ingram looked surprised to see the Count hosting him with such a lavish meal. It was far beyond anything he had expected.

Platters of roasted poultry, a whole barbecued lamb still glistening with its own fat, bowls of cooked grains, fresh fruits...

Never mind Fabien—even Viscount Dunhill himself might have considered this a lavish meal.

Unbeknownst to him, even Alex was surprised by the sheer quantity of food placed before them.

The spread was perhaps enough to feed the entire Domain Council that had convened some time ago.

’Is Fen still sulking because I had him accompany the larger convoy instead of bringing him with me?’ Alex wondered.

The mastermind behind this lavish feast was none other than the Culinary Wolf, Fen himself.

The Culinary Wolf had been upset that Alex—and even Zora—had left him behind with the convoy instead of bringing him along.

Although he understood that Alex had left him there as the convoy’s cook and one of its primary defenders, since he could summon nearby wolves if necessary, Fen still refused to let Alex pet—or even touch—him after the convoy arrived in Fonterra.

As a silent protest, the Culinary Wolf had been using Alex’s personal food supplies to prepare meals far too large for Alex to finish.

It was as though he were saying, ’You see me as nothing more than the convoy’s cook, right? Then I’ll show you exactly what a convoy cook looks like.’

Alex had been left at a complete loss over how to deal with it.

Fortunately, Eleanore suggested selling—and sometimes giving away—the surplus food cooked by Fen.

The sales earned a little extra money for Alex’s personal coffers, which was then used to replenish the food supplies Fen had consumed.

***