The next day, the rain pattered incessantly over Weismar Town.
Inside the hall of the baron's manor.
Rosie sat in a chair and spoke, “Nook, tell the baron everything you know.”
Nook knelt on the floor in the center of the hall, his clothes still stained with mud and blood. A small patch of the stone floor beneath his knees had already become damp and dark.
Rosie had not used Holy Light to heal him; she had only wrapped a piece of linen around his wound to stop the bleeding.
Keeping his head low, he hesitantly repeated what he had said the previous night.
Baron Weiss stood before the fireplace, the firelight casting his long shadow across the room.
“An ancient ruin...”
The baron repeated the words.
He had suspected a mineral vein, or perhaps some smuggling ring targeting the secluded terrain of the ridges.
But the words “ancient ruin” were beyond his imagination.
While ancient ruins held opportunities, they also brought the potential for destruction. After all, no one knew what might be unearthed from within.
The baron fell silent for a moment before speaking, “Are you certain Count Morris is also involved?”
Nook nodded frantically. “My Lord, I wouldn't dare lie! I heard it with my own ears...”
“Enough.” The baron waved his hand. “Guards! Take him away, bandage him up, and throw him in the cellar.”
Two manor guards walked in, grabbed Nook by his arms from both sides, and dragged him out.
Nook's lips trembled, but he allowed himself to be dragged from the hall without resistance.
“Mobilize our men immediately! I will not tolerate outsiders running wild on Weismar land!”
A servant answered with a hasty “Yes, My Lord!” and ran off.
“Go and notify my knights. Tell them it is time to fulfill their duties,” the baron continued.
Two guards saluted and left.
“Lord Weiss, you seem quite wary of Count Morris?” Rosie asked.
The baron frowned. “Morris is a powerful noble in the east and has ties to the royal family. Although I do not know why he is involved, it is best to reclaim the ruin before he fully interferes.”
Rosie nodded slightly.
A moment later, the manor's assembly bell began to toll.
Dong— Dong— Dong—
The heavy tolls echoed through the skies of Weismar Town.
At the same time, two guards on horseback charged out of the manor gates, kicking up mud as they rode off in different directions.
The rain fell from noon until dusk, and from dusk into the night, never pausing for even a second.
Rosie sat by the guest room window, listening to the rain patter against the roof tiles. She removed her plate armor, took out her maintenance oil, and began to apply it.
She couldn't help but wonder what would happen next...
Would the baron truly lead his troops to war?
And would Count Morris even give him the chance?
The next morning, the rain had dwindled to a faint drizzle.
Wearing her precious plate armor, Rosie was in the stables feeding carrots to Carrot.
Carrot's lips brushed against her palm, its warm breath puffing against her wrist.
She stroked its mane, and Carrot snorted contentedly.
The sound of hooves approached from outside the manor, making muffled thuds as they trod upon the muddy ground.
Rosie looked up.
A group of riders passed through the gates and entered the manor grounds.
At the lead was a knight clad in plate armor, followed by five others wearing chainmail, their horses laden with spears and travel packs.
The knight dismounted, his iron boots landing on the stone pavement with a heavy thud.
He was not wearing a helmet, revealing a sharp-featured, middle-aged face, his rain-soaked hair clinging to his forehead in wet clumps.
“Lord John, you have arrived,” a servant greeted him quickly, taking the reins.
“Where is the baron?” the knight asked, his voice hoarse.
“Waiting in the hall, My Lord.”
The knight nodded and strode toward the main building.
His five men led their horses toward the stables.
Rosie snapped another carrot in half and fed it to Carrot, who munched on it with a loud crunch.
Upon seeing Rosie's full suit of plate armor, the five men all showed surprised expressions, but none of them stepped forward to ask.
Throughout the entire morning, people kept arriving at the manor.
By noon, quite a crowd had gathered in the manor's hall.
The clinking of iron and the rough voices of men blended into a noisy din.
Baron Weiss and Lady Rhine were speaking with several individuals dressed as knights.
Standing not far away, Rosie let her gaze sweep over the knights.
She had originally thought that this baron, who practically exuded an air of poverty, wouldn't have any decent subordinates.
But the knights who had arrived were quite different from what she had imagined.
The plate armor they wore was meticulously maintained. Each had a longsword hanging from his waist, and their horses carried lances specifically meant for charging.
The squires' equipment was not lacking either.
They wore chainmail underneath, covered by surcoats embroidered with the family coat of arms.
Rosie counted the people in the hall; thirty fully armed combatants had already arrived.
“Miss Rosie, come, let me introduce you,” the baron's voice called out from the side, carrying a hint of a smile.
“This is Sir John, the most capable helper of our Weiss family.”
Hearing the baron's words, Sir John turned his gaze to Rosie, scanning her up and down.
“This is Miss Rosie, an Honorary Dawnguard,” the baron said.
“A Dawnguard?” the veteran John's voice held a trace of disbelief. “The Dawnguard that specializes in hunting vampires?”
“An honorary one,” Rosie added.
“To hold such an honor at such a young age is truly remarkable,” he said. “You look a few years younger than my boy, and all he does every day is chase after the maids.”
A wave of laughter erupted in the hall.
Rosie felt the gazes landing on her change from before.
Previously, they had been scrutinizing her, but now they were filled with curiosity and respect.
The baron introduced the remaining three knights, and Rosie politely nodded to each of them.
Lunch was served in the hall.
The cook and several helpers brought out large pots of hot soup and baskets of bread from the kitchen.
The soup was a turnip and mutton stew, steaming hot, carrying the distinct gamey aroma of mutton.
The knights and squires sat around the long tables, drinking soup from wooden bowls and tearing off pieces of bread to dip into it.
The sounds of chewing were punctuated by occasional coarse jokes, followed by bursts of loud laughter.
In the afternoon, the rain stopped, but the sky remained overcast and gloomy.
Three more knights arrived.
All of the baron's vassal knights had now gathered.
Combined with the fifty-odd soldiers directly under the baron, their professional fighting force now exceeded a hundred.
Additionally, there were over three hundred temporarily mobilized militia.
A force of nearly five hundred men packed into the somewhat cramped courtyard, with some even spilling out onto the streets.
The baron stood behind the railing of the second-floor balcony, looking down at the scene below.
“People of Weismar!”
The crowd below gradually fell silent.
“Someone has trespassed upon our territory, seeking to steal the ancient ruin that belongs to Weismar!”
A wave of commotion rippled through the crowd.
“Since when have we, the people of Weismar, ever let others ride roughshod over us?! And now, they dare to try and steal what is ours!”
The crowd erupted completely.
“Drive them out of our land!”
“It's all ours!”
Shouts rose one after another, echoing through the narrow streets.
The baron raised his hands, pressing them down to quiet them.
The voices of the crowd gradually subsided, but the restless energy still crackled in the air.
“Go home and prepare your weapons and rations. Tomorrow morning, we set out!”
The crowd let out a unified cheer and dispersed, flowing down the streets toward their respective homes like a flock of startled sparrows.
“I hope tomorrow... there won't be any unforeseen complications,” the baron murmured, a trace of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Regardless of whether there are complications, what must come will come,” Rosie said.
The baron nodded silently and turned to walk back inside.
Rosie stood alone on the balcony, watching the enthusiastic militia.
For this somewhat impoverished town, an ancient ruin was practically a windfall from heaven.
Of course, that was assuming they didn't unearth something like a War Golem from within.
Otherwise, it would be a disaster from heaven.
The next morning.
The sky was gloomy, and the clouds hung low.
The knights were fully armed and ready, and the militia had already assembled in the streets.
The baron had also donned his armor. Though it was not as modern in design as Rosie's plate armor, it was still a decent suit.
Just as he was about to order the departure, a fluttering sound came from the sky.
A raven emerged from beneath the clouds, the message tube on its leg catching a gleam of the morning light.
“A raven?”
The baron looked up at the bird, his expression darkening slightly.
He held out his arm, and the raven flew down, landing steadily on his sleeve.
The baron removed the message tube from its leg. The wax seal on the tube bore a shield coat of arms, with a spreading eagle carved onto its surface.
The baron's finger lingered on the wax seal for a brief moment before he broke it open and tipped out the tightly rolled slip of paper inside.
He unrolled the paper and stared at it for a long time.
The chatter of the people nearby gradually quieted down.
The baron rolled the paper back up, clutching it tightly in his palm. After a brief silence, he spoke to those around him.
“A letter written by Count Morris himself.”
“He promises... a joint excavation of the ruin. We are to receive thirty percent of any unearthed artifacts.”
Daisy's voice chimed in. “My Lord, those bastards wanted to harm the young lady! Surely you aren't going to agree to this?”
“Daisy!” Rhine, who was standing nearby to see them off, interjected. “Father has his own plans.”
Daisy froze, then lowered her head. “I'm sorry, My Lord, My Lady. I was too impulsive.”
“It is fine.” The baron waved his hand, his voice softening slightly. “I know Daisy means well.”
He looked back down at the slip of paper in his hand and let out a bitter laugh.
“Count Morris has written to me personally; I can no longer pretend to be ignorant of this. Furthermore, he is a powerful noble, and his sister is the queen. We cannot afford to offend him.”
No one in the courtyard spoke.
No one failed to understand what those words implied.
Rhine walked over to her father's side and said softly, “Father, do whatever you must. I will not be angry with you for your decision.”
The baron raised his hand and patted his daughter's head, saying nothing more.
He turned back to the crowd on the street, his voice regaining its commanding presence.
“There has been a change of plans! The militia is dismissed to return home for now. I will go inspect the site first before deciding on our next move.”
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into low murmurs.
Some began to turn and leave, hoisting their spears onto their shoulders, their footsteps heavy with an indescribable mix of emotions.
The baron kept his knights and direct soldiers behind, preparing to lead them in person to the ruin site shortly.
This was merely a “visit” to make that merchant understand that on Weismar land, there was no room for him to act on his own authority.
“Lord Weiss, I hope to accompany you,” Rosie's voice came from behind the baron.
“With an Honorary Dawnguard by our side, I could ask for nothing more,” the baron said with a smile, though there was a hint of bitterness hidden within it.
Simply because of a single message from another man, he was forced to cooperate with the very people who had plotted against his daughter.
And seventy percent of whatever came out of his own land would belong to someone else!
Under such circumstances, no one could truly be happy.
Rate on N.U.
