Chapter 83: Audience with Mademonte

December 8th. It had been over half a month since the monster army retreated.

The defense forces of the Province of Kadero had regrouped at Fallen Cloud Slope two months prior. Now, the moment everyone had been anticipating was finally at hand—the reckoning of merit and reward.

Compared with the six thousand who had set out two months ago to support the provinces of Rensa, East, and Dani, fewer than three thousand managed to return. The noble families had almost entirely expended their retinues, and the losses were severe. Yet, for these nobles, it was a price worth paying.

As Werlin wandered through the camp, he noticed many unfamiliar young nobles. After some inquiry, he learned these were the direct heirs of those who had fallen on the front lines, come to receive the honors that would be bestowed upon their families.

"Werlin, over here!"

He looked up to see Moira waving to him from a distance.

"Sister Moira, it’s been a while." Werlin approached with a warm smile, greeting her enthusiastically.

“It’s been two months—you’ve grown a lot. Flora’s told me all about your deeds. As expected of Lord Angus’ son, you’re just as outstanding.”

In two months, Moira had grown more careworn, but her lively spirit remained undimmed.

“Oh, listen to you, Moira,” Flora said, clutching Moira by the head from behind, her tone half teasing, half exasperated.

“Ow, ow, let go, Flora!” Moira protested, breaking free from Flora’s grasp and retreating to the side, muttering as she fixed her hair.

“Aunt, good morning!” Werlin greeted Flora with enthusiasm.

“Come with me. I’ll take you to see my brother and the commander.”

“Wait for me, I’m coming too,” Moira called, hurrying after the two as they walked away.

After walking for more than ten minutes, the three arrived at a secluded tent.

Even before they reached the entrance, voices could be heard from within.

“Kadechi, when are you going to marry my daughter?”

“Wait, just wait a little longer. I’m only in my early forties—I’m not ready yet, comm... father-in-law.”

“Hmph, still waiting! You nearly died at the hands of the two-headed ogre this time. Keep waiting and Moira will end up a widow before the wedding!”

Werlin, listening to this explosive conversation, glanced sideways to find Moira looking at him with an amused expression. She mouthed, “You won’t be calling me ‘sister’ much longer!”

The three then entered the tent.

At a glance, they saw two men sitting on the floor, drinking and laughing with no concern for appearances.

“You’re here. Come, sit down, sit down!” One of them, a young man with striking, chiseled features, greeted them warmly.

Flora led Werlin to sit on the carpet, while Moira took her place beside Kadechi Ekes.

The burly man next to her, Commander Medmonchi of the Sixteenth Knights, had shed his usual imperious air and now seemed more like a kindly uncle.

“Commander, this is Werlin.”

Werlin glanced nervously at Medmonchi, about to greet him cautiously, when the commander spoke first: “Werlin, is your father, Commander Angus, well?”

Caught off guard, Werlin replied, “He’s well. When I left, he was in good health.”

Flora noticed Werlin’s confusion and whispered, “The commander owes much of his current success to your father.”

“Hahaha! Next time you see your father, tell him that Medmonchi Columbo, former flag captain from thirty years ago, sends his regards.”

“I will, commander,” Werlin replied, rising to bow respectfully.

“Sit, sit—no need to stand. You’re a fine young man.”

As the wine flowed, Werlin grew well acquainted with these two powerhouses of the Sixteenth Knights.

“By the way, is your fief nearby?” Medmonchi asked suddenly, setting down his cup.

“Yes, commander. It’s in the Yellowstone region, not far from Fallen Cloud Slope,” Werlin replied, now at ease.

“Are you short of people in your territory?”

“Very short,” Werlin answered without hesitation.

“I’ve gathered a group of about thirty thousand—people abandoned by the frontier knights. I’m looking for a place for them. How many can you take?”

Population was always in short supply, but Werlin was already aware of the famine’s impact—a sudden influx of thirty thousand would be unsustainable for Lake of the Wishing Stars.

As for buying and selling people, in these famine-stricken lands, everyone was selling off serfs and slaves.

After a moment’s thought, Werlin replied, “Commander, my territory is small. I can take at most ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand is fine. I’ll have them sent over,” Medmonchi responded.

“Thank you, commander.”

They discussed a few other matters, and the meeting drew to its close.

In the days that followed, officials sent from the capital arrived to verify the tally of merits, recording and filing achievements for the nobles.

In this campaign, Werlin earned 0.2 merits for serving as a rear guard for the knights; 0.5 merits for helping the defense forces eradicate a monster clan; and 1.3 merits for defending the South Mountain fortress at Deer Gate and thwarting a monster incursion from the north. With a total of 2 merits, he was still 28 short of the 30 required to advance to viscount—a long road ahead.

But for now, he was still a frontier knight, with over two years before his baronial review. There was plenty of time before he needed to worry about advancing to viscount.

Many barons, after decades of labor and participation in numerous royal campaigns, still held fewer merits than Werlin now possessed.

“Merits are truly hard to come by!” Werlin sighed to Kyle, fingering the badge in his hand.

He’d nearly lost his life for this meager sum.

“My lord, I believe within ten years you’ll surely be promoted to viscount.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Werlin replied with a smile. Ten years was optimistic—twenty was more likely.

“Sir Werlin, my lord invites you for a small gathering.”

“Adrian, tell cousin Brian I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

After tidying himself up, Werlin headed to the meeting.

Inside Brian’s tent, Orkott and Edgar were already seated, deep in cheerful conversation.

“I’m just a few merits away from viscount now,” Edgar was saying, radiant with satisfaction. “One more war and I should have enough.”

“Brother, I envy you!” Orkott replied, a little wistfully. “I still need quite a few more—at least three more campaigns.”

“Hahaha, I was just lucky. The direction I was assigned had more monster clans, so I picked up an extra half merit by sheer numbers.”