CHAPTER 187: KELLERMAN EARLDOM

CH187 Kellerman Earldom

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The Kellerman Family were a noble house whose fief bordered both Earl Drake Fury’s Dankrot Plains to the south & west and the harsh Ironmourn Desert to the north.

Unlike the Fury lineage, the Kellerman Family’s power was consolidated within the main branch. Their lesser branches held only political positions but no direct claim to the fief land itself.

Officially, the entire Kellerman territory was an Earldom. Yet it stood at the very threshold of ascending into a Marquisate. A sliver more land—and the title of Marquis would be within reach.

Publicly, the Kellermans were viewed as an honourable family, with over five centuries of legacy, and goodwill among both commoners and nobles alike.

Their only open and longstanding rival were the so-called ’upstarts’ of the Fury Family—especially the Fury patriarch, Earl Drake Fury.

The Kellermans had once been strong allies of the Schaumer Family—the very house that Drake Fury annihilated in his rise to power.

It was well-known that the Schaumer Earldom had been a vassal of the Reichert Duchy. What wasn’t as widely known was that the Schaumers had succeeded in drawing the Kellermans into the Reicherts’ influence as well.

In return, the Kellermans had been promised support—military and political—to expand their holdings and rise into a full Marquisate, just as the Schaumers had been poised to do.

But those dreams had turned to ash when Drake Fury and his Wolves of War swept through the Schaumer territories like a storm of death.

With his union to the Holt Family—and through them, ties to the Machholts—the Reichert Duchy had prudently withdrawn its ambitions from the Northwestern region.

They abandoned the Kellermans and their lofty aspirations.

Unable to challenge the Holt Marquisate, let alone the powerful Machholt Grand Duchy, the Kellermans redirected their bitterness toward the Fury Family.

Thus began not a rivalry, but a deeply rooted enmity.

Yet despite their hatred, Earl Kellerman was no fool. He knew the Kellermans were not bred for war. They could not match Drake Fury—’The Mad Earl’—or his battle-hardened Wolves of War and the soldiers of the Fury Family.

If the powerful Schaumers had been trampled, then the Kellermans would fare far worse.

And so, they waited.

They planned.

They gathered strength behind masks of diplomacy, biding their time for the day they could strike a decisive blow against the Fury name.

Now, with a little help from an unexpected ally, the time had finally come.

But before the grand undertaking could begin...

Some sacrifices had to be made.

-

One Week prior to Alex’s Platoon return to the Northern Dankrot Fort...

Location: City of Werth — Kellerman Family Fiefdom

The City of Werth was the largest Kellerman fief city situated near the southern edge of the Ironmourn Desert.

It sat close to a wind-carved natural passage—a narrow valley-like gap that cut through a portion of the otherwise treacherous Ironmourn region.

The passage was too narrow to allow for large-scale military movement—covert or otherwise. However, it served as a rough civilian route through the desert to the northern nations.

Thanks to this precarious yet invaluable trade artery, the City of Werth had grown into a bustling frontier hub.

It marked the beginning of a perilous but highly profitable trade route through the Ironmourn Desert to the Dwarven IronHammer Empire and the Elven Elarion Empire—two great powers north of the Arun Continent.

It was a fact that a significant portion of the Kellerman family’s wealth came from this very city. To call it important would be an understatement.

As a result, the city was always managed directly by the head of the family and served as the official training ground for the heir-apparent to the Kellerman seat.

That wasn’t an ironclad rule, but an unspoken tradition that had held true for most generations.

Nearly every Kellerman family head had spent their formative years managing the City of Werth in some capacity before eventually ascending to the title of Earl Kellerman.

The city’s economic relevance, paired with its close proximity to the volatile and hostile lands of the Ironmourn Desert, meant the Kellermans poured considerable funds into equipping and maintaining a strong City Defence Force.

Ordinarily, this force would be more than sufficient to repel the occasional Wildkin raid or bandit incursion. However, a large portion of Werth’s defenders had recently been reassigned by the family for other purposes, leaving the city more vulnerable than usual.

This sparked unrest among the citizenry. Some grumbled in private, while others boldly speculated about a coming conflict between noble families, with the Fury Family being the most commonly named target.

The city remained abuzz with such rumours... until everything changed.

—

The City of Werth was encircled by twenty-metre-high special stone walls, patrolled day and night without pause. Every hour of every day, there were boots on the ramparts.

Lieutenant Hans, a grizzled veteran and commander of one such patrolling platoon, stood at his post, scanning the horizon with a distant gaze.

Southward lay comforting grasslands—lush, green, and vibrant.

But turn north, and the view twisted into something altogether different.

There, nothing but endless red sands stretched to the horizon—an alien, brooding landscape that seemed to drink the sunlight and return only silence. A region steeped in old blood.

The tales of the desert’s origin whispered across Hans’s memory.

’Could it really be true?’ he wondered. ’Did an ancient civilisation truly reach too far, daring to tamper with the Natural Laws, only to be struck down for their hubris?’

In his younger years, Hans had served under the Kellerman family’s living legend—Count Justin Kellerman, the famed Family Guardian.

He still remembered the day the Count stood at this very post, gazing into the desert, when he spoke words Hans would never forget:

"Always remember—the Natural Laws are as cruel as they are kind. Honour them from a distance, and fear them when you come too close. Only then can one avoid ruin born from ambition beyond their due.

"Never forget: the Natural Laws are cruel. And none more so than Time."

It was only now, decades later, as Hans neared his fifties, that he finally grasped the full weight of those words.

’Indeed... time is cruel,’ he sighed. ’Even without being specifically targeted for one’s hubris, time robs us all—youth from the young, memories from the old, joy from laughter, grief from sorrow. Time is the fairest thief of all. With time, children are born, and with the same time, they grow closer to death.’

’Time raises empires, only to tear them down. So why tempt fate? Why reach for dominion over such a force, as if it would ever yield to mortal hands?’

Hans shook his head and stared again into the Ironmourn Desert’s blood-hued dunes.

’Maybe... maybe that’s why they tried it. Maybe they knew time would take their empire eventually. So they tried to outrun it, to master it, to escape its grasp.’

He exhaled deeply.

’But perhaps some things were never meant to be touched.’

Lieutenant Hans shook his head, trying to banish the nagging, pointless thought.

"Lieutenant Hans, how’s the patrol?"

A large, burly man strolled over, an axe slung casually over his shoulder.

"Boring as always—just the way I like it," Hans replied dryly.

The man laughed heartily. "You’re still the same, sounding like an old man."

"I am an old man," Hans clapped back. "And you’re no spring chicken yourself, Boris."

"Speak for yourself." Boris thumped his chest with a grin. "I’m in the prime of my life."

"Sure... sure." Hans waved him off with a smirk.

Boris came to stand beside him, eyes sweeping over the distant ridgelines.

"What do you think about the recent withdrawal of our forces?" he asked. "You think war’s brewing?"

"Who knows? Nobles are always trying to expand their holdings, even when they already have more than they can ever need." Hans shrugged. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "Maybe the city lord’s trying to redeem himself... after he ruined that trade deal between the Kellerman Family and the Elarion Empire’s elven elder."

"It must’ve been a real mess if even rank and file like us heard about it."

"Hmm. True." Boris scratched his chin. "The young lord’s probably scrambling to earn merit before his siblings pounce. Explains why he and most of his vassals left the city last night."

"They must be planning something they don’t want anyone seeing," Boris added casually.

"Oi, are you trying to get us killed?" Hans snapped. "You can’t just say things like that out loud."

"Relax. It’s just us soldiers here," Boris replied, unfazed.

Hans exhaled, then asked in a lower tone, "If the young lord and his vassals are gone, then who’s running the city?"

"The deputy commander of the City Defence Guard," Boris said.

"That guy?" Hans was stunned. "The young lord actually left him in charge? Isn’t he from his sibling’s faction?"

"Yeah, that’s why I found it odd too." Boris nodded. "But who knows what deals nobles make behind closed doors. Maybe they struck some kind of arrangement."

"I hope you’re right..." Hans muttered.

But the unease in his gut only deepened. Something about the situation felt off. Very off.

Three decades of serving the noble house had taught him not to ignore the signs—and right now, every bone in his body was screaming in alarm.

HOOOOORN!!!

Just as he tried to make sense of his gut feeling, a blaring horn shattered the stillness.

"It’s... It’s the Wildkin!!!" someone shouted.

The sound was unmistakable—an bone horn, reserved for one thing alone.

A Wildkin raid.

Panic rippled across the defence force. No one had spotted them.

The enemy had reached the outskirts of the city... undetected.

[Eagle Eyes]!

Lieutenant Hans activated the staple skill of his Archer archetype, Sniper Class. His pupils narrowed, vision sharpening until the distant terrain came into clear focus.

And then he froze.

His spine ran cold. A chill crept through his limbs.

His eyes widened in horror as realisation set in.

’So that’s why the young lord...’

Out on the horizon, thundering across the grasslands toward the City of Werth, was—

A massive Wildkin Horde.

***