Chapter 98: Fisk, the Governor of Cadro Province, "Upholding Righteousness with Solemn Dignity"

“Master, that fellow brought quite a lot of things with him.”

“Oh? What kind of things?”

Seeing Orlando’s excited face, Verin couldn’t help but ask.

“Thirty thousand gold coins, twenty-six magic books, fifty-six magic scrolls, over three hundred special sheets for making magic scrolls, more than fifty bottles of various potions and elixirs, over twenty magnificent outfits, three sets of exquisite tables and chairs, six sets of fine tableware, two staves, eight sets of mage robes, and a heap of miscellaneous personal belongings—altogether enough to fill more than ten horse-drawn carriages.”

“Besides that, there were also two luxurious carriages, over sixty thousand jin of grain, and I brought back his more than two hundred slaves as well.”

“The twenty or so people we let go weren’t spared either; we thoroughly searched them and only left one plain garment.”

Verin was greatly surprised upon hearing this. This was not an expedition to develop territory—it was clearly a pleasure trip.

“By the way, Master, there’s a chest here that I don’t quite understand,” Orlando said, scratching his head.

“Bring it over, let me take a look.”

Orlando’s words piqued Verin’s curiosity.

Soon, two soldiers carried a finely crafted wooden chest over. Verin stepped forward, opened a small crack, then hurriedly closed it again.

“That kid’s a bit wild… so many adult toys.”

“Master, what are these?” Orlando asked with an innocent and puzzled look.

Verin turned to him with a serious face and teased, “You’re still underage and unmarried. Why ask so much? These things aren’t for someone your age to understand. Focus on your training and strengthening your power—that’s the true path.”

“Yes, Master, I understand,” Orlando snapped to attention, absorbing Verin’s instruction.

“You lot, take that chest and burn it.”

“Wait, no need to burn it. It would be a waste. We can sell these items,” Verin reconsidered after a few more glances. It would be better to give them to Raimondo to sell to the nobles and make a good profit.

After the morning’s episode, Verin began ordering the cleaning of the canyon, preparing to level a piece of land to plant red tea trees.

After several days of wilderness survival, Charles and his group borrowed several carriages and some clothes from a noble, then hurried without rest toward the provincial capital of Cadro Province to appeal to his uncle Fisk.

...

Within a mansion in the provincial capital of Cadro, Governor Fisk was leisurely enjoying afternoon tea with his son Kazak.

“Sir, your nephew Lord Charles requests an audience,” a male servant reported respectfully upon entering the hall.

“Hm?” Governor Fisk put down his teacup, somewhat puzzled. “That bastard’s back already?”

“Father, I suppose this cousin of mine couldn’t stand the harsh life of pioneering and has come crawling back to ask for your help,” Kazak said with a respectful tone but a clear hint of mockery.

“Bring him in.”

Governor Fisk ignored his son’s tone and ordered the servant.

After the servant left, Fisk glared at Kazak and said earnestly, “Watch your tone—be more tactful, less harsh. After all, he is your cousin, the son of my elder brother.”

“That bastard causes so much trouble as soon as he returns. If it weren’t for your intervention, who knows what mess he’d be in by now.”

“Alright, calm down, don’t get so worked up,” Fisk said slowly, sipping his tea.

“Uncle, please stand up for me!”

At this moment, Charles, dressed like a beggar, entered the hall and immediately prostrated himself on the ground, crying and pleading.

Seeing Charles in such a state, Fisk hurried forward to help him up. “What happened? How did you end up like this?”

“You were gone for nearly a month, and you return looking like this? Truly shameful,” Kazak said calmly, as expected, stabbing with his words.

“Uncle, please stand up for me!” Charles cried even harder, tears streaming down his face. It was hard to believe a fire mage could shed so many tears.

“Tell me who did this to you. I will stand up for you,” Governor Fisk said indignantly.

This gave Charles great confidence. He exaggerated the story in detail.

“You took a whole month just to reach the border.”

“Uncle, are you focusing on the wrong thing?” Charles stopped crying and asked with some grievance, noticing Fisk’s irrelevant response.

“It’s someone else’s territory—why did you make others leave?”

“No, uncle, you…”

At this moment, Governor Fisk’s expression suddenly changed. With righteous severity, he said, “In a few days, Kazak will take you to apologize to the others.”

“Uncle, aren’t you mistaken? I’m your own nephew!” Charles clung to Fisk’s leg, sniffling and crying.

“If you don’t get their forgiveness, you’re not my nephew,” Fisk said decisively, ordering the servants to take Charles away to wash up and change clothes.

After Charles was taken away, Fisk sat in his chair, visibly angry.

“That bastard took a whole month just to reach the border. Does he think he’s on a vacation?”

“Moreover, that idiot offended the one family our clan can’t afford to provoke. His head’s full of straw—a complete dunce.”

“Father, calm down. Don’t let your anger harm your health,” Kazak said calmly from the side. “Stay calm, don’t get so agitated.”

“Kazak, in a few days, take that bastard to apologize. Whether we get our things back or not doesn’t matter. Once this is over, send him away—out of sight, out of mind.”

“Leave it to me, my dear father.”

Kazak was about to leave but then turned back to ask, “Father, what should we prepare as an apology?”

“Prepare three bolts of cloud silk cloth as compensation to gain their forgiveness,” Fisk said reluctantly.

“Yes, father. I understand.”

He clearly understood why his father was so resolute.

The family of a certain captain in the kingdom’s Sixteenth Knights, who were old friends of their house, had informed them in detail about the clans the knight’s leaders came from and their faction alignments upon arriving in Cadro Province.

Watching his son’s departing figure, Fisk murmured, “This family culture won’t do. I must write to my elder brother. Otherwise, we won’t last many more years before decline.”

The Dosk family had spent two centuries and lost no less than two hundred clansmen in battle. With great expense, they secured the help of a powerful figure, earned a good post, won many military merits, and were promoted from viscount to earl.

He did not ask for the family to be as powerful as the Ex family, only for stability—so the family would not fall into decline.