Chương 62: I need Your Help

Jack was sitting quietly. Resting on the center of his wooden desk was the whistle. It was the artifact Inquisitor Silas Thorne had practically forced upon him months ago, accompanied by an incredibly strange, out-of-character apology. Jack picked the whistle up. He rolled it between his fingers, feeling the smooth, cold surface of the bone. He had spent the last few days thinking about this decision. Traveling to the Western Market City was no longer a luxury; it was a strict necessity.

He needed clear glass for the winter greenhouses, spatial rings for hauling timber and coal, and magical heat runes to replace physical fires. If he wanted his fief to survive the next winter and continue expanding, he had to integrate proper magical artifacts into his infrastructure. But the roads connecting the northern territories to the western cities were notoriously long and dangerous. They were plagued by bandit clans, wandering beasts, and corrupt regional toll guards who loved to extort minor nobles.

Jack could not take his skeletons. A single slip-up, a single instance of a cloak blowing open to reveal white bone in a crowded market, would result in his immediate execution by the Holy Church. He couldn't even take Elias. Jack had thought about bringing the fire mage as a bodyguard, but the logistics were a nightmare.

If he took Elias into a massive market city filled with tens of thousands of people, Jack would have to actively suppress the dead man's blank stare, manually force his lungs to simulate breathing every few seconds, and puppet his vocal cords if anyone spoke to him. Doing that continuously in a highly stimulating, crowded environment would drain Jack's Iron Core dry in a matter of hours. He would pass out in the middle of the street. He needed a living, breathing escort.

And there was no escort in the entire continent more formidable than a Gold Core Inquisitor of the Holy Church.

"Well, Silas," Jack murmured to himself.

"Let us see how far your strange new loyalty goes." Jack brought the whistle to his lips and blew. There was absolutely no sound. The golden veins on the black bone flared with a brilliant, warm light for a single second, and then faded back to a dull gleam. Jack pulled the whistle away from his lips. He spoke clearly into the quiet room.

"Frost-Grip fief. I require an escort for travel." Jack set the whistle back down on the desk, closed the drawer, and went back to reviewing his ledgers. The call was made. Two full days passed. The village continued its busy, productive routine. The fifty new bonded laborers were fully integrated into the daily workflow. The coal mine was producing record yields, the logging camps were bringing in massive amounts of timber, and the southern fields were entirely green with crops.

On the evening of the second day, a sudden, massive gust of wind struck the valley. It wasn't a natural mountain breeze. It was a concentrated blast of air that flattened the tall grass in the fields and rattled the wooden shutters of the village cabins. High above the valley, Silas Thorne was slicing through the summer sky. The Gold Core Inquisitor was flying at an incredible speed, his pristine white and gold robes snapping violently in the wind.

Flying for two days straight required a massive, exhausting expenditure of mana, even for someone at his high stage, but Silas had not stopped to rest. When the whistle had pulsed in his quarters in the capital, he had immediately taken to the sky. As Silas decelerated, hovering high above the Frost-Grip valley, he looked down at the settlement. His sharp eyes instantly picked out the changes since his last visit. The village had grown significantly.

He saw the new, long wooden bunkhouses built near the edge of the palisade. He saw the massive expansion of the plowed fields. He quickly counted the people moving around the village square and the forge.

"The population has doubled," Silas thought to himself, his expression remaining entirely neutral. Silas immediately understood. The boy-lord had purchased a large batch of slaves. It was a very common practice among the nobility, especially in the harsh, labor-starved territories. Silas didn't mind it at all; in fact, he found it highly pragmatic. Silas angled his body downward and descended rapidly toward the castle on the mountain slope above the village.

He landed on the stone courtyard just as the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in deep shades of orange. He did not land with a massive crater or a shockwave of magic. He simply touched down lightly, the heavy gust of wind fading away as his boots hit the stone. The wooden doors of the castle immediately opened. Karen stepped out into the courtyard, accompanied by two young women. The two women were slaves Jack had purchased from Merchant Vane.

Because they were skilled indoors and physically weaker than the men, Giles had assigned them to work in the castle as maids under Karen's direct supervision. There were now five female workers managing the castle's laundry, cleaning, and cooking.

"Welcome, Inquisitor Thorne," Karen said, bowing her head deeply. The other two immediately followed suit, bowing with practiced, calm submission. Silas looked at the three women. The two new maids were calm. They were slaves; they were used to lowering their heads to powerful people. But as Silas looked at Karen, he frowned. Karen's head was bowed, but her hands, gripping the fabric of her apron, were shaking. Her knees were trembling slightly. Silas was confused.

He was a Gold Core mage, and he knew that his natural magical pressure could suffocate ordinary humans. But because this was a friendly visit—a visit he was strictly ordered to make by the High Cardinal—he was actively suppressing his aura. He wasn't leaking a single drop of magical pressure. He just felt like a normal man.

"Why are you trembling, girl?" Silas asked, his voice calm, as he slowly walked toward the open castle doors.

"There is no need to fear me today." Karen flinched slightly at the sound of his voice. She remembered the last times this man had visited. She remembered how he had insulted the late Lord Frost-Grip, and how he had casually leaped over their village walls, radiating a power that made it hard to breathe.

"I… I apologize, My Lord," Karen stammered quickly, her voice tight.

"Yes. There is nothing to fear. I am sorry for my behavior." The other maids glanced at Karen from the corners of their eyes, deeply shocked. For the past days, Karen had been a confident, strict, and capable head maid who managed the castle with a firm hand. Seeing her suddenly acting like a terrified mouse in front of this handsome priest immediately told the twins that this man was incredibly dangerous, and that there was a dark history here.

"Lord Jack is expecting you," Karen continued, forcing herself to stand up straight.

"He will meet you in the Great Hall for dinner shortly. Until then, please allow us to show you to a guest room so you may wash the travel dust from your robes."

"Lead the way," Silas said simply. An hour later, the Great Hall was lit by warm oil lanterns. Silas and Jack sat across from each other at the long wooden table. Maids moved quietly around them, placing wooden plates of roasted fresh bread and steamed root vegetables on the table, exactly as Karen had instructed them from the kitchens. Jack leaned his cane against the table and picked up his knife. He looked completely relaxed, playing the part of the gracious host.

"The population has increased quite a lot since my last visit, Lord Jack," Silas noted, taking a sip of clean water from his cup. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Yes," Jack replied smoothly, cutting a piece of meat.

"I purchased fifty bonded laborers from a guild broker. Building a fief requires hands. Hiring professional guild carpenters and other workers by the day is incredibly expensive, and they leave when the snow falls. Slaves are a permanent investment. They will learn the trades eventually." Silas nodded in agreement, picking up his own knife.

"You are correct, indeed. It is how the Empire builds its roads and deep mines. A harsh method, but a necessary one for a growing territory." They ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was simple but incredibly well-prepared. Finally, Silas set his knife down and looked directly at Jack.

"I came as quickly as I could, Lord Jack," Silas said, getting straight to the point.

"Why did you call for me?"

"I need to travel," Jack answered simply.

"To the Western Market City." Silas raised an eyebrow.

"The summer fair? It is a massive event, true. But it is nearly three weeks of travel by carriage from these mountains. Why the sudden urge to leave your comfortable valley?"

"Because wood and raw iron can only take a village so far," Jack explained, leaning forward slightly.

"My people are working themselves to the bone hauling heavy loads. I need spatial rings for my miners. I need magical heat runes to maintain my greenhouses through the next winter so we don't burn through our coal reserves. I need clear glass. I cannot buy these things from the basic provisioners who travel the mountain passes."

"Greenhouses?" Silas interrupted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I have read many imperial texts, Lord Jack, but I am not familiar with that term. Is it some kind of northern architecture?"

"It is just a minor invention of mine," Jack replied smoothly, waving a hand to dismiss the topic.

"A wooden building with a glass roof to trap the sun's heat. It lets us grow vegetables in the snow. But the glass I currently have is poor quality. I need better materials." Silas studied Jack's face. It was a logical reason for a young, ambitious lord to travel.

"And you require an escort because the western roads are thick with bandit clans and corrupt toll guards," Silas deduced.

"But what about your mercenary? Elias, I believe his name was. Why not simply take him? He seemed quite capable with a blade during the winter." Jack did not blink.

"Elias's contract was only for the winter defense. When the snow melted and the spring caravans arrived, he took his pay and moved on to other wars. He is no longer in my employ." It was a smooth lie. In reality, taking Elias was impossible.

"He has gone his own way," Jack continued out loud.

"And that is the reason I called for you, Inquisitor. You offered your assistance." Silas leaned back in his chair. He let out a light, genuinely amused laugh.

"I did offer my assistance, Lord Jack," Silas smiled, though his eyes remained sharp.

"And I will gladly escort you. But I must ask… how do you intend to pay for these magical artifacts?" Jack frowned slightly.

"I have wealth. My miners have found uncut mountain gems deep in the bedrock. And I have massive reserves of high-grade, smokeless coal." It was a carefully constructed half-lie. The human miners who operated the safe, well-ventilated main tunnel of the coal mine hadn't found a single shiny rock. The gems had been a complete, surprising accident.

Months ago, while his skeletal Night Shift was working to permanently seal off one of the highly toxic, gas-filled side-tunnels, they had cracked open a deep vein of raw gems. Since then, Jack had been secretly sending his undead workers back into that specific poison-filled shaft every now and then to dig deeper. They were slowly hoarding a fortune in gemstones that living human lungs could never reach. Silas chuckled again, shaking his head slowly.

"I do not mean to disrespect you, Lord Jack," Silas said gently, as if explaining the world to a child.

"You are certainly rich for a northern mountain lord. You have plenty of food, and your gems will buy you fine clothes, strong horses, and perhaps a single, very low-grade spatial ring if you find a desperate merchant." Silas leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"But the magical economy operates on an entirely different level," Silas explained.

"High-tier spatial rings, permanent heat runes, and other magical artifacts are not traded for raw rocks or coal. They are purchased with pure, minted Imperial Gold, or with Spirit Stones. At this current moment, Lord Jack, despite your bustling village… even I am much richer than you." Jack kept his face completely neutral, hiding his internal frustration. He had suspected as much. The shadow broker, Vane, had been happy to take raw gems for slaves, but magical artifacts were hoarded by the elite.

"I am aware," Jack replied calmly.

"Which is why I will also be needing your help with the finances." Silas stopped smiling. He raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not asking for a handout," Jack clarified, tapping his finger on the wooden table.

"I have two requests. First, I want you to use your influence and contacts in the Western Market City to help me secure a large-scale, long-term trade contract for my coal with the guilds. If they know a Gold Core Inquisitor is acting as a guarantor, they will not try to cheat a young northern lord. I want to establish a permanent export route." Silas listened, processing the sheer audacity of the boy.

"Second," Jack continued, looking Silas right in the eyes.

"I need capital now. I want a loan from you. You will lend me the pure Imperial Gold I need to purchase the artifacts at the fair. In return, I will pay you back from the profits of the new coal contracts, with a very generous amount of interest added on top." Silas stared at Jack for a long moment. A heavy silence fell over the Great Hall. The Inquisitor let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed his temples.

He was a high-ranking enforcer of the Holy Church, and this crippled boy was trying to use him as a bank and a business broker. But Silas had his orders. High Cardinal Xander had been absolutely clear: Aid the boy. Do not let him fail. Eventually, bring him to the continent of Atera.

"Very well," Silas agreed, his voice tight with forced patience.

"I will help you secure the coal contracts, assuming the buyers are legitimate. And I will lend you the gold, provided the interest rate is highly profitable for me. I am doing this only because my current orders are to assist this fief in its recovery."

"I appreciate it, Silas," Jack said, offering a polite nod. Jack took a sip of his water. He looked at the Inquisitor over the rim of his wooden cup.

"It is just my curiosity," Jack said, his tone turning inquisitive.

"But you seem quite changed. When you visited this valley a few years ago, you were… abrasive. Now, you are acting as a bodyguard and a financier for a minor house. Why the sudden shift in your behavior?" Silas looked down at his plate. He put on a mask of deep, solemn regret.

"Yes, I have changed," Silas replied, his voice dropping to a serious, repentant tone.

"It is because I severely neglected my orders and my duty. I was supposed to provide aid to the Frost-Grip fief years ago. My petty pride and my argument with your father caused me to abandon this valley. Because of my actions, your father fell ill and died, and many villagers perished in the following winters." Silas looked up, meeting Jack's gaze with, fake sincerity.

"I am deeply regretful for the pain I caused, Lord Jack," Silas said.

"When the Church superiors learned of my dereliction of duty, I was severely punished. I was stripped of my pride. That is why I am helping you now. I am strictly following my orders to make amends." It was a highly convincing performance. It was exactly what Jack expected to hear. But it was only a half-truth. Behind Silas's solemn, regretful eyes, a chaotic storm of anxiety and fear was raging.

"If you only knew the truth, boy," Silas thought bitterly to himself. For the past two months, ever since High Cardinal Xander had crushed him against the marble floor of the Grand Cathedral, Silas had been living in a state of absolute paranoia. He had returned to the capital and secretly used every ounce of his clearance and authority to dig into the Church's restricted archives. He had spent weeks trying to find out the truth. Why was Supreme Pontiff Valerius protecting necromancers?

Why did Xander know there were exactly sixty-nine of them? What was the grand, terrifying purpose of allowing the ultimate heresy to exist? Silas had found absolutely nothing. The records were clean. The conspiracy was buried so deep that even a Gold Core Inquisitor couldn't find a single loose thread. Silas had thought about reaching out to his old friends in the Inquisition, other Gold Core mages he trusted with his life. He had wanted to ask for their help to investigate the High Cardinal.

But he had quickly abandoned the idea for two reasons. First, he had no idea who else in the upper echelons of the Church was involved in the conspiracy. Second, if he dragged his friends into this and Xander found out, Silas would be signing their death warrants. He was completely alone. He was trapped in a game he didn't understand. So, when Jack's whistle had pulsed two days ago, Silas hadn't just rushed to the north because of his orders. He had rushed here because Jack was the only tangible clue he had.

The boy was the center of whatever dark plan the Church was brewing. Silas needed to stay close to him, observe him, and figure out exactly what made this young necromancer so important.

"I accept your apology, Silas," Jack said smoothly, breaking the silence and pulling Silas out of his dark thoughts.

"The past is the past. We focus on the future now."

"Indeed," Silas nodded, pushing his plate away. The meal was practically over.

"Tell me, Lord Jack. How many people are accompanying you on this journey to the fair?"

"Just two," Jack answered.

"Myself, and Karen as my attendant." Silas sighed, looking at Jack's wooden cane.

"I can take the two of you through the sky," Silas offered pragmatically.

"Using my wind magic, we could reach the Western Market City in a matter of days rather than weeks."

"No," Jack refused immediately. Silas raised an eyebrow.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"I am a man with a crippled leg and a weak constitution, Silas," Jack said dryly.

"And Karen is a maid. Being dragged through the freezing upper atmosphere at terrifying speeds for days on end by a Gold Core mage would likely kill us both from exposure and shock. It would not be a pleasing journey." Silas ran a hand over his face, realizing the boy was right. Mortals couldn't handle high-speed magical flight without severe physical trauma.

"You will have to wait, then," Silas said, standing up from the table.

"I will fly back tomorrow morning. I will purchase a proper, highly reinforced travel carriage and a team of strong draft horses. I will return here with it by next week. Then, we will take the road."

"That is acceptable," Jack nodded. The next morning. Silas Thorne stood near the open gates, his pristine white robes glowing in the early sunlight. He did not say goodbye to Jack or anyone. He simply bent his knees slightly and launched himself directly into the sky. A massive, echoing boom of displaced air shook the palisade walls as the Gold Core mage accelerated to a terrifying speed, disappearing into the clouds in a matter of seconds. Jack watched him go from the balcony of his castle.

The preparations were finally complete. He was leaving the safety of his frozen valley and stepping into the wider, incredibly dangerous world.