Chương 76: Meeting

The day of the meeting finally arrived. Inside the Great Hall of the Frost-Grip castle, the atmosphere was quiet and tense. The newly built wooden furniture gleamed under the candlelight, looking sturdy and respectable, though far from lavish. The long dining table had been filled with roasted meats, fresh bread, and root vegetables by the castle servants. Jack sat at the head of the table, his demeanor calm and unreadable. Standing just behind his right shoulder was Elias.

The undead mage wore a dark, heavy coat that concealed his pale skin, his wide-brimmed hat casting a deep shadow over his unblinking eyes. Jack didn't make Elias move or speak; he simply maintained a passive, low-level connection to keep the corpse standing at attention. The sheer stillness of the man made for a highly intimidating bodyguard. Sitting opposite Jack was Lord Alaric Vance, the ruler of a neighboring northern fief.

Vance was a heavy-set man in his late forties, draped in a thick velvet coat with silver embroidery that seemed entirely out of place in the rugged north. Standing behind Vance was his own right-hand man—a tall, muscular warrior with a longsword strapped to his hip. The man wore light leather armor, and Jack couldn't quite tell if he was a mage hiding his aura or just a seasoned mortal veteran.

"Lord Jack," Vance began, picking up his silver goblet.

"I must formally apologize. I am truly sorry that I could not attend your father's funeral anniversary earlier this year. I was… entangled by many pressing issues within my own borders."

"I understand, Lord Vance," Jack replied smoothly, his tone polite but distant.

"Everyone has their own difficulties to manage. I certainly cannot blame you for prioritizing your people. After my father's death and my own sudden illness, this fief was nearly brought to its end. We merely survived. But let us leave the past in the past. If I am not mistaken, Frost-Grip is still considered the poorest of the northern territories. I doubt you came all this way just to share a meal with me." Jack didn't press the issue of the funeral.

His memories of the original John Frost-Grip were still heavily fragmented, and he had no idea what kind of relationship his father actually had with Alaric Vance. A single slip of the tongue could reveal his ignorance. However, the fact that Vance hadn't bothered to attend the funeral strongly suggested they were not close allies. Vance set his goblet down, looking relieved that Jack hadn't taken offense.

"You are a pragmatic young man. I appreciate that. Let us talk business, then." Vance sliced a thick piece of roasted meat and took a bite, chewing slowly. Jack simply watched him, waiting.

"The truth is, Lord Jack, I need your help," Vance finally admitted, wiping his mouth with a cloth.

"If I do not secure assistance, my fief will not survive the upcoming winter." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I assume you are referring to the beast tides? I know they were severe last year, but the Holy Church deployed mages to the north. Surely they assisted your lands as well."

"Yes, yes, the Church mages took care of the beasts," Vance waved a hand dismissively.

"Though the Church never sends anyone above the Iron Core to this freezing wasteland, they did enough to cull the monsters. The beast tide is not my problem." Jack narrowed his eyes.

"Then what is?" Vance sighed heavily, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and lingering anger.

"After the winter ended, I traveled south to negotiate with the merchant caravans. After my return, I spent an evening in the castle of that bastard, Lord Mayhew. He poured me wine, and we played cards. I was completely drunk, and the man cheated me blind. He won everything. He emptied my treasury." Vance leaned forward, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper.

"We have nothing left. When the autumn merchants arrive in four months, I will not be able to buy grain, coal, or winter clothing. My fief's income is meager, just like yours. If my people freeze and starve, the Church will strip me of my nobility for gross incompetence." Jack kept his face completely blank, though internally, he was sneering. So that's the real issue. He doesn't care that his people will starve to death; he only cares that he might lose his noble title.

"I see," Jack said evenly.

"But you still have your castle. You still have your personal assets. Sell the silver, the gold, the velvet coats, and the expensive art that lines your halls. Liquidate the luxuries that serve no practical purpose, and you will have more than enough coin to buy grain for your people." Vance's face violently distorted. He looked around Jack's Great Hall, his eyes lingering on the plain stone walls, the lack of tapestries, and the simple, functional furniture. There was nothing here that screamed 'nobility'.

It looked like the house of a peasant who had just stumbled into money.

"What difference would there be, then, between myself and a common peasant?" Vance scoffed, his voice laced with disgust.

"A noble must live like a noble, Lord Jack. You may be comfortable sitting in this barren room you call a Great Hall, but I am not. I will not strip my ancestral home bare!"

"So," Jack said, his voice dropping a fraction of an octave.

"You are not willing to sacrifice your own comforts, but you still want to keep your title while your people freeze?"

"That is what puts me above them!" Vance raised his voice, slamming a fist onto the table.

"I don't know how you miraculously survived the winter without your father's magic, boy, but I am just a mortal man! If I let go of my wealth, I have nothing!" Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Vance's bodyguard immediately placed a heavy hand on his lord's shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in Vance's ear. Vance took a deep, shaky breath and sank back into his chair.

"I apologize, Lord Jack," Vance muttered, rubbing his temples.

"I got carried away. I am under an immense amount of stress. Please, forgive my outburst." Jack looked at the man with pity. He wasn't looking at a ruler but a parasite.

"What exactly do you want from me, Lord Vance?" Jack asked coldly. A hopeful smile broke across Vance's face.

"I want a loan. Just enough gold to buy provisions for this winter. I have asked the other northern lords, and they all shut their doors in my face. If you lend me the gold, I swear on my family name I will repay you next year. Even if I have to double or triple the taxes on the peasants, I will get you your money!" Jack stared at him. The sheer stupidity of the man was baffling. If you triple the taxes on a starving populace, they won't pay you. They will either die, flee, or burn your castle to the ground.

"I cannot lend you the gold," Jack said flatly.

"What?" Vance's smile vanished.

"Lord Jack, I am talking about the lives of two hundred people!"

"I cannot lend you the gold because doing so will only make the lives of your people worse," Jack replied, leaning back in his chair.

"You will tax them into the grave to repay me, and the fief will collapse anyway. However… there is one thing I can do." Vance glared at him, his pride clearly wounded by being lectured by a boy half his age.

"If you won't lend me the money, what else is there?"

"A partnership," Jack said, intertwining his fingers on the table.

"The deal is simple. I will fully fund your fief's winter provisions, and I will continue to invest in your lands for the next two years. In return, after two years, you will repay me exactly five times the amount I have invested over the following three years. If you fail to meet those payments, I take permanent ownership of your fief."

"Five times?!" Vance erupted, half-rising from his chair.

"Are you insane? That is daylight robbery! No fief in the north generates that kind of profit! You are trying to steal my land!"

"Sit down, Lord Vance," Jack commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. Elias took a single step forward at Jack's command, his boots echoing loudly on the stone floor. Vance's bodyguard tensed, his hand hovering over his sword hilt, but Vance slowly sank back into his seat, eyeing the silent, imposing figure of Elias.

"Because of your outburst, the terms have now changed," Jack said calmly.

"I will add another condition. From the moment this treaty is signed until the debt is fully repaid, I will assume absolute administrative control over your fief." Vance's eyes widened in horror.

"You… you want to rule my lands?"

"You will remain the Lord of the fief," Jack clarified.

"You will keep your castle, your title, and your personal wealth. You can sit by your fireplace and drink your wine. But every decision regarding the land, the labor, the taxes, and the trade will be made by me. My orders will be absolute law in your territory, and you will not have the power to veto them. Say another disrespectful word at my table, and I will add a third condition." The Great Hall fell into a suffocating silence. Vance's chest heaved as he stared at Jack with pure hatred.

But as the seconds ticked by, Vance began to think. He looked at the deal logically. It was humiliating, yes. But it saved his title. He wouldn't have to sell his precious luxuries. He wouldn't have to deal with the filthy peasants or the grueling logistics of trade. He could just sit in his warm castle and let this arrogant boy do all the hard work. And if the fief failed to turn a profit, Vance could shift the blame onto Jack when the Church inevitably investigated.

"Fine," Vance spat out, his face pale.

"I agree to your terms." They spent the next three hours ironing out the exact wording of the treaty. Jack called the servants in to clear the table, and they finalized the documents. However, Vance refused to sign it right then and there.

"A deal of this magnitude," Vance sneered, adjusting his velvet coat, "requires a neutral witness. We will sign it in the presence of a Church official, so you cannot accuse me of foul play when the time comes to collect."

"Agreed," Jack nodded.

"I will send for an official." Vance did not stay another night. The lack of luxury in the Frost-Grip castle clearly grated on his nerves, and he departed with his bodyguard at first light the following morning. After watching Vance's carriage disappear down the mountain path, Jack walked into the courtyard and summoned Giles.

"My Lord," Giles bowed as he approached.

"Did the meeting go well?"

"Better than expected," Jack said.

"I assume the harvest preparations are complete and the field workers have some idle time?"

"Yes, My Lord. The crops are growing well, and there isn't much heavy labor required until it's time to reap."

"Good," Jack nodded.

"Gather the idle workers. Have them go deep into the woods and start logging the thickest timber they can find. Tell them not to break their backs—keep it at a steady, manageable pace. We are going to need a massive amount of building materials soon." Giles looked surprised but nodded.

"Understood. Will this timber be for trade, My Lord?"

"No. We are going to be expanding our operations," Jack said.

"I am signing a treaty with Lord Vance. I will explain the full details when the time is right, but for now, keep this between you, Barnaby, and Old Miller. Additionally, I want you to prepare the villagers for a major change."

"A change, My Lord?"

"Starting next month, we will begin integrating with standard market operations," Jack explained.

"The era of everyone just working for free rations is ending. You will all be receiving actual salaries—based on the amount of work and responsibility you handle. You will then use that money to buy your own goods, clothes, and extra food from the castle stores." Giles's eyes widened in shock. This was a monumental shift. It meant independence. It meant wealth for the common folk.

"Like… like a real city?"

"Exactly," Jack smiled faintly.

"Don't worry, the pay will be generous as long as the work is done properly. We need to improve the fief, and people work much harder when they can see the money in their own hands. I will finalize the wage structures by the end of the month."

"Yes, My Lord! Thank you!" Giles bowed deeply, his face flushed with excitement as he hurried off to organize the logging teams. Later that evening, Jack sat alone on his bedroom balcony, the cool night air brushing against his face. The stress of managing the fief, the undead, and the impending economic expansion was heavy, but he felt a sense of control. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small whistle Inquisitor Silas had given him. He blew into it.

I require a Church official to witness and validate a fiefdom treaty, Jack spoke into the magical artifact. Send a proxy. Jack lowered the whistle and leaned back in his chair. He had no idea why Silas had suddenly been called away, nor did he care. Poking his nose into the Holy Church's internal politics was a surefire way to get killed. All he cared about was that Silas was gone, meaning Jack had the freedom to aggressively expand his power in the shadows.

He just had to wait for the proxy to arrive, and Lord Vance's fief would effectively belong to him.