System: Build My Own Territory Chapter 955 - 285: Waging War (10,000 Words) (Part 4)

A lord ought to be exempt from manual labor, living a life of pampered ease.

Yet, Lynn’s right palm was roughened with dense, hard calluses.

Janet felt them.

Their thickness suggested decades of agricultural toil, comparable to seasoned farmers.

Or perhaps like soldiers and mercenaries who lived by the sword.

However.

She understood the reason for this hardship within her heart.

It was precisely because Lynn, unafraid of difficult work, toiled alongside his townsfolk.

This allowed the territory, once a desolate patch of weeds, to flourish into its current impressive state.

If one hadn't witnessed it firsthand.

If the scale of development was only heard through hearsay, no one would ever believe it!

In that moment, Janet’s movements while massaging Lynn’s arm grew somewhat more tender.

The way she looked at Lynn began to shift, her previous resentment and hatred fading.

Once a manor lord of Frank Manor, she truly was.

She was intimately familiar with the victor’s right to rule.

Faced with such a formidable lord.

And such a handsome man.

Every woman naturally admires and looks up to strength.

She was no exception!

Gazing at Lynn’s enduringly deep eyes fixed upon her.

Even though her heart still pounded with nervousness and bashfulness.

She needed no command from Lynn, no prompting.

She pushed herself up from the bottom of the bathtub, using her feet, and slowly ascended toward Lynn before her.

Under Lynn’s watchful gaze, she gently settled onto his lap.

Janet encircled Lynn’s neck with her arms.

Though her sitting posture caused the curves of her chest to emerge completely from the hot water’s embrace, rising above the surface.

Janet showed no concern.

Leaning forward slightly, that peak pressed against Lynn’s chest.

Her face, flushed with a deep blush, quickly moved closer to Lynn.

In the very next second.

Janet’s soft lips met Lynn’s.

The instant their lips connected, an extraordinary sensation coursed through them.

Janet’s body involuntarily trembled, her skin prickling all over in an instant.

Yet, she did not pull away, completely absorbed by the moment’s enchantment.

Sensing Janet’s ardor, Lynn naturally reciprocated without hesitation.

His hands opened, encircling Janet’s slender waist, beginning a tender exploration.

Feeling Lynn’s shifting state.

Janet subtly tilted her head, diverting her gaze from Lynn’s face.

She looked directly into his eyes, her body beginning a slow, searching movement.

Before two seconds had passed.

Janet’s lips parted in a gasp, her eyes widening in astonishment.

Her entire back arched, forming a breathtaking curve like a drawn longbow.

Had Lynn not steadied her with his hands, Janet would have tumbled backward into the bathtub.

...

Meanwhile, beneath the cloak of night.

A soft, silver-white luminescence bathed a city encircled by formidable walls.

The stone and brick dwellings had fallen into slumber.

Only the residences of the affluent still displayed the warm glow of oil lamps, perhaps recounting tales within.

The streets paved with bluestone lay deserted.

The only movement was the occasional passage of patrolling soldier teams, ten strong, their torches carving paths through the darkness.

In stark contrast to the city’s hushed emptiness.

The docks by the Seine River.

Even in the late hours, pulsed with an unusual vibrancy.

Burly laborers, shirtless, with rough towels slung around their necks, hoisted sacks of linen and strode from the longboats.

The weight each porter bore was pushed to their absolute limit.

Despite the rough towels used to swipe away the sweat, their bodies glistened as if drenched by a downpour.

All in the pursuit of earning a few more pence, to secure more food for their hungry families.

Around the docks, merchants busied themselves inspecting goods for quality and quantity, engaging in spirited negotiations with the ship captains...

This was the city of Kakasong, situated nearly two hundred miles from Morgan Town.

On the third level of the Viscount’s Castle.

Within a grandly appointed, expansive meeting chamber.

Several oil lamps burned brightly, casting their steady illumination.

Wisps of dark gray smoke curled upwards, further darkening the already deep hues of the walls.

Yet, the warm, yellow-orange light filled the room completely.

The vaulted ceiling beams were adorned with intricate stone carvings.

Opposite the entrance, a woolen tapestry depicting a grand battle scene hung upon the wall.

Beneath this tapestry, upon a table crafted from walnut wood, stood three candle holders.

The flickering candlelight cast its glow upon the faces of those gathered around the square table.

The middle-aged man occupying the main seat turned his gaze towards the short, bearded man seated to his right.

A deep, commanding voice emanated from him.

"So... the informant you sent only managed to discover that Morgan Town is defended by a contingent of armored soldiers?"

"You have no knowledge of their numbers, their deployment, or the identity of the lord orchestrating their defense... is that the situation, Lord Zock Connally of the Manor?"

Feeling the weight of the middle-aged man’s gaze from the head of the table and absorbing his almost accusatory questioning.

Zock Connally’s body tensed.

He swiftly rose from his seat, turned his body, and addressed the middle-aged man with profuse apologies.