8: Chapter 8 The Princess Has Arrived, My Territory Can No Longer Hide!

The handwriting on the letter was flamboyant, carrying an unquestionable authority, but the content was simple to the point of being blunt: Aurora von Heinrich, the Seventh Princess of the Radiant Empire, would arrive at Blackstone Territory in ten days for a "routine inspection of border territories." Levi Byron was ordered to receive her properly, with no room for error.

There were no polite greetings, no explanations of the reason, only cold commands.

An inspection?

Would a princess of the empire be so idle as to come to a godforsaken place like Blackstone Territory for a "routine inspection"?

Even a three-year-old wouldn't fall for such nonsense.

Countless possibilities flashed through Levi's mind in an instant—a probe for a political marriage?

A warning to the Eldridge family?

Or... just some boring game played by the noble circles in the royal capital?

Regardless of which it was, for his current situation, it was no different from an impending storm.

The candlelight was reflected in his dark pupils, and the parchment bearing the command felt as light as a feather between his fingers.

Evelyn, Morg, and Iron Hammer all watched him tensely, the air thick with the oppressive feeling of a gathering storm.

From the messenger's attire and the royal crest, they could all sense a suffocating aura of power that far exceeded ordinary noble disputes.

However, not a hint of panic could be seen on Levi's face; there wasn't even a trace of solemnity.

He simply held the letter calmly over the flickering candle flame, watching as the expensive parchment began to curl and blacken from one corner, finally turning into a wisp of blue smoke. Along with the arrogant royal crest, it dissipated into the air.

"Lord!" Evelyn cried out in shock.

Burning a royal letter in public was a crime of lese-majesty, enough to be sent to the gallows!

"Shh." Levi raised a finger, signaling her to be calm.

His gaze swept over the mountain of gold coins, then looked at his newly assembled ragtag team. Instead of worry, a playful smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "Evelyn, don't you think this is very interesting?"

Interesting? Evelyn couldn't understand at all.

"We just got a sum of startup capital and were worrying about how to spend it effectively. Now, Her Highness has personally set a project acceptance deadline for us. Ten days. In ten days, she's coming to inspect our 'project results'." Levi's voice was calm and clear, carrying that unique, almost morbid excitement of a project manager from his past life facing an impossible task.

"This isn't a crisis, Evelyn. This is the best pressure test and the perfect advertising opportunity." He walked up to Evelyn, his deep eyes burning with the flames of ambition and calculation. "I'm giving you your first official Human Resources task. From now on, I need you to set aside all winemaking matters and lead all our guards. Within three days, draw me a detailed distribution map of all the refugee camps and local thug hideouts around Blackstone Territory. I need to know their estimated numbers, power structures, and..."

His voice lowered a bit, with a cold precision: "...find any 'talents' with potential value among them. Whether they're literate, good at arithmetic, fierce fighters, or fast runners, I want them all. Give me a detailed report."

Evelyn's breath hitched.

From these words, she heard an intention even crazier than burning the letter.

He wanted to dig for 'talents' among those maggots in the mud, people whom even noble lords wouldn't bother to glance at?

"Yes, my Lord." She didn't question him, only bowed deeply, burying that fervor born of trust deep in her heart.

Levi turned and walked toward the massive chest of money. He casually grabbed a handful of gold coins, letting them slip through his fingers with a crisp, pleasant clinking sound.

"This cold metal is worthless sitting here. Only by transforming them into human resources and productivity do they become true capital."

He had Morg and Iron Hammer pack all the gold coins and gold notes into several sturdy burlap sacks. Then, he personally took two guards, mounted the only three scrawny horses in the castle, and under the cover of night, headed straight for the nearest market town outside the territory—Valley Town.

His plan was clear: use money to pave the way and, in the shortest time possible, purchase enough grain, cloth, tools, and weapons to support the territory's expansion.

However, when he arrived at the dimly lit Valley Town, reality dealt him a heavy blow.

"Go to Blackstone Territory? No, no, no, Lord Byron, we won't go no matter how much you pay!" The town's largest grain merchant, a man as fat as a meatball, shook his head like a rattle. "You don't know, the Bloodwolf Bandit Group has gone crazy lately! Just the day before yesterday, they raided a merchant caravan from the south. I heard heads were rolling! Who dares to take that road now? My boys all have families to support; there's no point in earning this money if we aren't alive to spend it!"

Levi visited several shops in a row, and the answers were all the same.

Fear was spreading through the town like a plague.

The fierce reputation of the Bloodwolf Bandit Group had completely cut off the flow of supplies between Blackstone Territory and the outside world.

Unable to purchase supplies through conventional channels, Levi's brow furrowed, but his thoughts were racing.

He stood on the quiet town street, his gaze passing over the closed shops and toward the edge of town, where a refugee camp made of rags and rotten wood shivered in the cold wind.

Since the supply chain was broken, he would create one himself.

The next morning, a recruitment notice written by Levi himself was posted in the most prominent spot of the refugee camp.

The conditions on it were simple and blunt, yet they struck directly at people's hearts: Blackstone Territory is recruiting pioneers. No cash will be distributed, and no questions will be asked about your background.

Anyone willing to join will receive three pounds of brown bread daily, a bowl of hot soup, and a place to stay overnight that provides shelter from the wind and rain.

No restrictions on gender or age.

The news was like a stone thrown into a stagnant pond, instantly stirring up a thousand ripples.

For these starving refugees living in constant uncertainty, the words "full stomach" held a magic comparable to a divine oracle.

For the first time, a light called "hope" appeared in their numb eyes.

The recruitment office was set up in an open space outside the camp. Levi sat behind the only table, personally interviewing everyone who came to apply.

Just then, a skeletal figure pushed through the crowd and stood stubbornly before him.

It was a young girl, appearing no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Her hair was withered and yellow, and her face was covered in mud, but her eyes were as bright as two obsidian stones washed by rain, revealing a ruthlessness unbefitting her age.

"My name is Sophia." Her voice was raspy but clear. "I can do any work. Chopping wood, carrying water, even... killing."

Levi looked her over; her thin body seemed to be strung with a steel wire that could snap at any moment.

"We only need pioneers here, not killers."

"But you'll need them sooner or later." Sophia looked him straight in the eye without flinching. "The Bloodwolf won't let any piece of fat near its mouth go." She seemed to have heard the rumors in town.

"What do you want?" Levi became interested.

"I don't want my share of the food." Sophia bit her dry lips and pointed to a drafty shack not far behind her. "My brother is sick and needs more food and clean medicine. I'm willing to sign an 'indenture' and work for you for the rest of my life. As long as you can guarantee he gets an extra portion of food and medicine."

Trading her own freedom for the survival of her kin.

In this chaotic land, this was the cheapest yet heaviest of transactions.

Looking at her, Levi felt as if he were seeing his former colleagues who had signed harsh contracts for the sake of their families' livelihoods.

Before he could answer, another applicant caught his attention.

It was a young man in his early twenties, dressed in rags and looking listless, yet he was crouching on the ground, futilely drawing complex and incomplete magic runes with a twig.

As soon as those runes took shape, they would quickly dissipate due to a lack of magical guidance.

"...Damn it, the energy circuit isn't flowing... just a little bit more, just a little bit of mercury as a guide..." He muttered to himself, completely immersed in his own world, oblivious to the noise around him.

Levi felt a stir in his heart and walked over slowly.

He didn't ask questions from a high and mighty position but instead crouched down to look the young man in the eye.

"What's your name?"

The young man was startled and looked up to see Levi's noble attire. "I... my name is Morley."

"A down-and-out magic apprentice?" Levi's gaze fell on the runes he had drawn. Although incomplete, the structure was quite ingenious, clearly showing a solid foundation.

Morley's face flushed red, and he clenched his fists; this undoubtedly poked at his sore spot.

Levi didn't mention pay or ask what physical labor he could do. He just asked a different question, one that struck at the soul: "If I provided you with an independent laboratory and an unlimited supply of basic materials—mercury, sulfur, crystal powder—for you to use as you wish, what could you do for me?"

Morley snapped his head up, and his dull eyes instantly erupted with an unbelievable light, like a traveler about to die of thirst in the desert seeing an oasis.

His lips trembled, and he was too excited to speak.

A laboratory?

Unlimited materials?

These were things he wouldn't even dare to dream of.

Levi stood up and surveyed the sallow, emaciated crowd gathered for a bite of food.

He knew the time had come.

He stepped onto a piece of high ground and used all his strength to make his voice carry across the entire camp: "I, Levi Byron, Lord of Blackstone Territory, hereby announce that the 'Blackstone Territory Pioneer Corps' is officially established today!"

His gaze first locked onto Sophia, his voice booming: "Sophia! I accept your terms. But whether your brother receives the best care depends not on me, but on you! All able-bodied young people who join the Pioneer Corps will receive military training. As long as you can take first place among those men, your brother can live in the warmest independent room in the castle and enjoy dedicated care!"

He then turned to Morley, his voice full of allure: "Morley! I will also give you a laboratory! But whether it can become the most advanced magic workshop in the entire North depends not on me, but on you! As long as you can use your knowledge to optimize any practical technology for the territory—whether it's sharper farm tools or sturdier bricks—the entire laboratory will be named after you!"

He didn't offer cheap sympathy or charity. Instead, he turned the things they desired most—the safety of their loved ones and the chance to realize their dreams—into clearly visible "performance goals" that needed to be earned through hard work.

He precisely transformed the pressure of survival into the deep-seated desire for "value" within the two of them!

The effect of these words was far more shocking than a simple promise of food.

That day, hundreds of refugees with their families, like a gray torrent, surged toward the black castle standing on the barren land.

When Klaus the steward saw this dense crowd, his face, which always wore a hypocritical smile, turned pale for the first time.

He rushed to Levi and lowered his voice, his tone full of warning: "Young Master! Have you gone mad? Our own grain reserves are low! Feeding so many people, we'll be eating tree bark along with them in less than three days! This isn't an act of kindness; this is dragging down the entire territory!"

Levi just calmly watched as the refugees, organized by the guards, lined up to receive hard-won brown bread and hot soup.

Watching them wolf down the food, some even kneeling in gratitude for a small piece of bread, there was no pity in his eyes, only cold calculation.

"Klaus, you've got it wrong," he replied flatly. "This isn't an act of kindness; it's called 'pre-payment of labor costs.' I'm just paying their wages in advance."

Just as the refugees erupted into cheers of survival over their first full meal, a rapid sound of galloping hooves approached from afar, tearing through the brief peace.

A scout responsible for guarding the perimeter, covered in wounds, crawled into the castle. One of his arms hung limply, clearly broken.

He collapsed before Levi, his face written with terror, his voice raspy from blood loss: "Lord... Lord! The... the Bloodwolf's men!"

The scout struggled for a breath and shouted in despair: "They found out about that noble carriage from the day before yesterday! The leader Barak... Barak is gathering everyone. He said... he said he's coming here to collect a massive 'toll'!"

With a "boom," this news was like a thunderclap exploding among the crowd that had just been immersed in joy.

The Bloodwolf Bandit Group! Barak!

To the surrounding refugees, these two names were synonymous with death.

The brown bread they were holding, still warm, instantly became as hot as a branding iron.

Massive panic, like an invisible plague, rapidly spread through the crowd.

Cries, screams, and desperate discussions blended together. The fragile order that had just been established collapsed instantly in the face of the threat of death.

The territory's first survival crisis had arrived in the most direct and brutal way.