CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30: THE NORTHERN WIND PROVINCE’S MILITARY COUNCIL

When Ryan returned to the Frozen Lands with grain and warhorses, Rosen had already returned two days earlier—bringing back Viscount Dragen’s reply.

"Deal."

Just two words, but they signified that the viscount had agreed to everything Ryan requested in his letter—both the grain and the warhorses.

"Not bad. From now on, this warhorse is yours."

Ryan patted Rosen on the shoulder with satisfaction. Rosen had represented Baron Ryan alone in meeting a viscount—he represented Ryan’s honor, and that of the Frozen Lands. Had he performed poorly, the viscount would surely have negotiated hard, just like Miles had.

Rosen looked proud, as though Ryan’s pat on the shoulder was already the highest of honors.

With the grain secured, Ryan could finally relax. The Frozen Lands could now accelerate its sweeping reforms and development.

"When we build the road next year, we can haul swamp soil from the marshes to enrich the fields. The southern forests could also be turned into orchards. If trees can survive the harsh winds here, surely fruit trees can too."

Standing atop what would become Fort Northgale in the future, Ryan held a birch-bark hot water bag in his hands and looked at his territory with satisfaction. At the foot of the mountain, Brand was training over a hundred soldiers.

He was teaching them the basic techniques of the combat skills he’d gained from the Deer Spirit’s blessing—skills that would help these soldiers in the future to break through to Bronze Knights.

Even if they couldn’t make that leap, techniques like Agile Footwork would greatly boost their combat strength on the battlefield.

Farther up the mountainside, over a thousand slaves were working hard to clear and till farmland. After returning, Ryan had announced an increase in the number of slaves who could become commoners. The first ten to qualify would enjoy eighteen months of tax exemption.

As for tax exemptions, Ryan didn’t care much. As a newly titled baron of the Northern Wind Province, his domain was exempt from paying taxes to the Empire for ten years.

Of course, this applied only to land directly owned by the lord. Lords themselves didn’t pay taxes. Taxes were levied on the commoners and various other holdings within the domain.

Free citizens paid taxes to the lord, and the lord then forwarded those taxes to the Empire.

So even though it was technically domain tax, due to the Empire’s exemption policy, the commoners didn’t benefit. They still paid taxes—but during the exemption period, the lord simply kept the money instead of handing it over to the Empire.

Thus, whether Ryan chose to waive some or not depended entirely on his mood. In the future, when his population increased, tax revenue would become meaningful.

What a lord—or minor noble—really had to offer up, in truth, was tribute.

Duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron—the five tiers of nobility. Lords beneath them were expected to pay tribute to the royal family and to greater nobles. It was part of the Empire’s feudal traditions.

Take Ryan, for example. As the lord of the Frozen Lands, a baron, he came from the Rimehart family, which was a count’s house. He was supposed to send an annual payment to the Rimehart family. This helped maintain ties between the houses. Though technically split, they were still one family—and they stood on the same side in the Empire’s political struggles.

It helped for negotiating favors—and posturing when needed.

The amount of tribute had no fixed rule; it depended entirely on the wealth of the domain.

Some lords could offer only a few hundred gold coins, while others could lavish tens of thousands.

Ryan figured the Rimehart family probably never expected to receive money from him—so he decided not to pay.

What the Frozen Lands used to be like, Ryan—as the current lord—was likely the last to truly understand.

"Still need Irina to dig up some news on Count Rimehart... but I’ll probably have to wait for spring."

With the granaries full, the Frozen Lands had entered a time of genuine peace.

Yet as half a month passed, the atmosphere in the Northern Wind Province grew increasingly tense.

Many lords were already aware: the orcs would be invading from the north this year—and they would be led by the notorious Black Goat Men.

Northwind Great City

As the only great city in the province, Northwind housed over 400,000 commoners. Outside its walls lay tens of thousands of fertile acres—arguably the most productive land in the entire province.

The provincial governor of the Northern Wind Province came from the Winter family—an earl’s household. This count was the only one who had survived the political power struggles following Grand Duke Meyers’s conquest of the region and had managed to stay.

Each year, the tax revenue from Northwind alone brought the Winter family untold riches.

That wasn’t all—they also controlled the province’s largest iron and copper mines. Deep within the mountains, they had even built the Winter family manor and a fortress said to be impenetrable.

At this very moment, in the governor’s hall of Northwind City, Earl Winter—who still appeared in his middle years—looked at the assembled nobles and opened his mouth to speak:

"All right, quiet down."

The hall soon fell silent, and the earl continued.

"Have all the province’s nobles arrived?"

The nobles looked at each other. The noble class wasn’t large—there were only so many in one province, and everyone more or less knew one another.

They didn’t seem to notice anyone missing.

At that moment, Viscount Miles stood up with the help of Kristan.

He was not only a viscount but also the governor of Zero Ferry County—one of the most powerful nobles in the province.

"Reporting to the governor: Baron Ryan Rimehart of the Frozen Lands in Zero Ferry County has not arrived. Perhaps he’s not coming."

When the name Rimehart was mentioned, many nobles exchanged glances—surprised. The more powerful among them turned toward Earl Winter and Viscount Miles, trying to guess what might be going on.

"That godforsaken place, the Frozen Lands? Even the orcs would starve trying to plunder it. Whether the baron shows up or not makes no difference."

The speaker was a middle-aged man also seated among the nobles of Zero Ferry County—Viscount Dragen.

"Arakel, this military council includes all nobles of the Northern Wind Province. No one can stand aside. The orcs are marching south. As nobles, we must lead the charge—not hide behind others. Otherwise, what makes us worthy of noble blood?"

Despite his age, Viscount Miles’s voice was forceful. With his centuries-old family line, his words carried weight—and indeed won some nods of agreement.

Could someone really afford to skip the province’s military council? Were they trying to isolate themselves?

"Hide behind others? Among everyone here, whose territory is closer to the orcs than the Frozen Lands?"

Dragen showed no fear of Miles. He had supporters of his own at his side.

As the two viscounts continued to argue, what should have been a discussion on how to defend against the orcs quickly devolved into a political split.

Anyone who knew history would clearly see it: one faction was composed of nobles who had once been part of the local aristocracy and sided with the Empire; the other consisted of nobles who had come from the Empire’s southern heartlands to take root here.

"Enough!"

At last, Earl Winter, dissatisfied with the fruitless argument, gave a sharp look to Viscount Miles before turning his gaze toward two others.

The Northern Wind Province had a total of three earls. These two, like Earl Winter, had once ruled this land before Meyers’s conquest. Even Grand Duke Meyers hadn’t managed to eliminate every local noble—many were still bound to him through marriage or shared blood.