Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 54 Leeks
The commotion and excitement in the hall continued, and Baron Hiddink quickly set the tone—according to ancient tradition, each lord was responsible for clearing out the refugees around their own territory. Only if they encountered a tough nut to crack on their own could they seek help from neighboring lords.

This arrangement drew nods of approval from everyone, as if they could already see serfs and wealth beckoning to them.

However, amidst the fervor of everyone eagerly anticipating the competition, Kruse remained silent, a barely perceptible hint of sarcasm playing on his lips.

He remained calmly seated, showing no intention of making a move whatsoever.

His Lion Fang Territory had just swallowed the more than one hundred refugees from Wolf Hair Territory and had not yet fully digested them. There was really no need to waste manpower and resources to capture those unruly refugees in the wild.

He would never do something that is thankless and difficult.

Unlike other short-sighted lords who were eager to reap the rewards, Kruze had his sights set on the more distant future.

He firmly believed that, with his own plans, the expansion of Lion's Tooth Territory was just around the corner.

At that time, the territory will require a large number of people to cultivate and develop it. These refugees who have temporarily "survived" in the wild will become the cheapest and most convenient source of manpower to replenish his population.

His decision to remain inactive was itself a brilliant move.

The surrounding lords' purges are destined to be incomplete; they may even deliberately leave some "seeds" in the hope of harvesting them again in the future.

In this storm, only his Lion Fang Territory remained quiet and harmless.

Those refugees who were terrified and had nowhere to go during the purge would instinctively flock to this only "safe zone"—the area surrounding Lion's Tooth Territory—like a tidal wave.

As for the meager profits from selling serfs right now?
How many silver coins for a strong young man?
Kruse smiled contemptuously to himself.

The gold coins these "wild serfs," who are harvested periodically like leeks, can earn are utterly insignificant compared to the future profits he envisions.

"Gentlemen, raise your glasses!" Baron Hiddink's booming voice echoed through the hall once more as he raised his gleaming silver cup high.

The nobles present responded enthusiastically, the amber liquid swirling in their glasses, reflecting faces that were either fervent or calculating.

Amidst the boisterous toasts, Lista, accompanied by two young companions, made his way through the crowd to Kruze. With his usual, somewhat blunt smile, he cut to the chase: "Kruze, when does Lionfang Territory plan to begin clearing out those refugees?"

Kruze, of course, wouldn't reveal his true intentions. He raised his glass, took a sip, and with a perfectly measured expression of difficulty, calmly replied, "We'll probably be a bit late. You know, we just suffered a calamity and lost a lot of men. The territory needs time to recover."

Upon hearing this, Lista immediately patted his chest generously and raised his voice a few decibels: "What's the big deal! Once I've cleaned up my side, I'll bring people over to help you!" His boastful manner made it seem as if this was just an easy hunt.

"Thank you in advance, it's a deal." Kruze readily agreed with a smile, as if he genuinely expected this help, even though they both knew that it was just an unspoken courtesy among nobles.

Just then, Baron Hiddink appeared beside them. With a reserved and dignified smile befitting his status, he naturally joined the younger generation's conversation.

He first made a few polite inquiries about the restoration of the territory, then changed the subject, his tone becoming serious and full of praise.

"Speaking of your father, Sir Reyes," the Baron's gaze deepened, his voice carrying an undeniable certainty, "his valiant figure remains vivid in our memories. In terms of skill and courage, he was undoubtedly the foremost warrior in Campnorshire. With such a strongman at the front, we, his colleagues in charge of logistics, felt truly at ease and could rest easy."

This lavish praise, like a pebble thrown into calm water, immediately stirred up barely concealed anger and dissatisfaction in the eyes of the Wolf Hair Territory members opposite them. However, the speaker was the esteemed Baron Hiddink, and they had no choice but to suppress their emotions, daring not to utter the slightest rebuttal.

As is well known, Baron Hiddink himself did not participate in this campaign.

It wasn't out of fear of battle, but rather because of the memory left by the last war. A serious injury left him with a limp, and now he often needs to rely on a cane to maintain the dignified demeanor befitting a nobleman.

However, his absence has been made up by his two sons, especially his eldest son, who has already been promoted to Silver Knight at the young age of twenty-seven and is undoubtedly a remarkable talent among the younger generation in Campnorshire.

“When Reyes returns from the front, I will definitely invite him to my territory for a good drink!” The baron smiled and turned his gaze back to Kruze, his tone warm. “You young people should come along too.” He paused, then added with a touch of infectious energy, “I always enjoy talking with talented young people like you; it makes me feel a few years younger.”

Kruse immediately bowed, politely expressing his gratitude and honor.

However, the "young man" mentioned by the Baron clearly had a strict definition.

His gaze and enthusiasm were not equally extended to everyone present; for example, Lista and the others were completely ignored by the Baron.

They lacked a sufficiently distinguished status, and their fathers' power and position were not worthy of someone like Baron Hiddink condescending to offer them goodwill.

This silent distinction precisely outlines the clear and ruthless line within the aristocratic class.

Just as Baron Hiddink was about to turn around and exchange pleasantries with the other guests, Kruse stepped forward at the opportune moment and presented him with his carefully prepared armed sword.

“Uncle Hiddink,” he said respectfully, yet subtly closing the distance between them, “this is an armored sword that I forged myself, a masterpiece that took a lot of effort to create. I brought it here today as a gift for you.”

Upon hearing that it was a weapon crafted by Kruse himself, Baron Hiddink initially did not pay much attention, maintaining a polite smile on his face.

What amazing feats can such a young knight create?

However, when his gaze fell upon the sword and he saw the unique, winding patterns that resembled stars or intricate silk, his composure was instantly replaced by shock, and his eyes shone with disbelief.

“This…this pattern…” He almost held his breath as he carefully took the longsword, his fingertips trembling as he traced the cool, magical patterns. “Could this be from the same source as that patterned dagger that caused a sensation in Campno County some time ago? Good nephew, is this sword…truly from your hand?”

(End of this chapter)