Chapter 69: Next steps

Phield was a little surprised as well. He genuinely couldn’t tell whether it was luck or skill—hitting it on the first throw was impressive either way. The pigeon’s condition wasn’t too bad; its right wing was injured, turning it into a ground-bound bird, waddling around and staring blankly in all directions.

“I’ll heal it.” Clara gathered her courage, clenching her fists tightly. With tears welling in her eyes, she pleaded, “Please don’t kill my sister. I beg you. I’ll do anything.”

“I never said I was going to kill anyone,” Phield replied, giving himself an out. “After all, the Nightfall Domain has never issued a decree forbidding bird hunting.”

Imperial law only stated that land belonged to the nobility. Only territory-specific decrees issued by the nobles themselves extended ownership to rivers and the sky.

“However, the pigeon does belong to my private property,” Phield continued calmly. “Your punishment is corrective labor. Every evening, you will clean the chicken coop—shoveling manure—for one month. No pay. Any objections?”

“Huh?” The sisters were completely stunned.

Phield frowned slightly. “You do have objections?”

“N-no! None at all! Thank you for your mercy, my lord!” The two cried out excitedly, overwhelmed with relief and joy.

They had never imagined the punishment would be this light.

Was cleaning chicken manure even a punishment? For sisters who had worked the fields since childhood, it was nothing more than daily routine.

“Go to the enclosed yard behind the grand winery and find the steward Kaor. He’ll tell you what to do. Start today.”

After dealing with the matter, Phield watched the two girls run off and said with genuine confusion, “Why do they look happy even after being punished?”

Ashina blinked playfully. “Maybe they feel honored to work for you?”

The two returned to the room, only to find that Rosalia had somehow already come back. She was sitting at the desk with her long, pale legs crossed, drinking Phield’s red tea—while holding his development plan, wearing a completely baffled expression.

“Why can’t I understand a single word of what you wrote?” Rosalia flipped the pages back and forth, utterly confused.

Of course she couldn’t. It was written in a language only Phield himself understood.

“That’s exactly the effect I want,” Phield shrugged. “Otherwise, if a few spies sneak in one day and read all my little secrets, that would be a real loss. Since Rosalia’s back too, let’s talk about the reconnaissance corps.”

Phield then explained the details of this expedition to Ashina.

“Whether we save Sherry Gassina or not—and yes, there’s also the possibility that we accomplish nothing at all. Let’s not discuss that possibility for now.”

He pointed at a paper map of the Northern Border Province. The three outermost domains were Cloud Veil Domain, Dawnfall Domain, and their own Nightfall Domain. These connected to High Castle Province and Rick Province. Cloud Veil Domain also led to the homelands of the elves and dwarves. Historically, it had been a battleground where elves, dwarves, humans, and beastmen clashed—meaning the corrupted monsters there were far stronger than those in Nightfall Domain.

By comparison, Nightfall Domain and Dawnfall Domain were shielded by imperial defense lines and periodic purges conducted by royal and church forces. Truly powerful corrupted beings were rare there. The deeper one ventured into the Northern Border Province, the more terrifying the enemies became.

Meanwhile, Claudia Road was the only mandatory route from the Viscountcy of Griffin into Nightfall Domain.

“If they still have mounts,” Phield said, “they could reach Nightfall Domain in about a day.”

He felt conflicted about the idea of rescuing anyone, unsure whether it would yield any tangible benefits.

“Gassina?” Rosalia said thoughtfully. “If I remember correctly, that’s a great noble house with over six hundred years of history. Devoted to the Goddess of War, known for courage and loyalty. Deeply trusted by the royal family—one of the few dukes with real authority.”

The empire had seven prince-electors. In theory, the imperial throne was decided by vote. In reality, the throne had always belonged to the Griffin family. Even though the former empress had turned the Northern Border Province into a corrupted wasteland, the current empress was still a Griffin. The nobles of the Northern Border didn’t vote against her—mostly because they were already all dead.

Beyond that, the empire had thirteen dukes and sixty-seven marquises.

Less than one-third of them actually held real power. Most ducal lands existed in name only, with their territories governed directly by imperial officials.

“The authority of the Gassina family isn’t even one-thousandth of what it was ten years ago,” Phield said, spreading his hands with an amused expression. “They’re loyal hounds of the empress, that’s true. But who was the vanguard against the beastmen? The Gassinas. Whose lands were swallowed by the gray fog? The Gassinas. Who formed the backbone of the expeditionary force? Still the Gassinas. And now the main force of the reconnaissance corps is also them. The Gassina family is practically extinct.”

In short: they were so overworked that one person ended up doing the entire company’s job.

“Pfft—” Rosalia spat out her tea, then wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “Then Sherry’s value just took a massive hit.”

As a noble, Rosalia knew exactly what Phield cared about.

Profit.

For nobles, sworn promises of benefit—or legally binding agreements—actually meant something. If they could save Sherry and negotiate properly, Phield stood to gain.

“Assuming she’s even alive,” Phield said as he sat down, glancing to his left at the still-confused Ashina, then to Rosalia sipping tea.

Aside from himself, everyone participating in the discussion was a Divine Chosen.

There would be more Divine Chosen in the future. Would they vote then? Either way, the final say would still be his.

“Honestly, it’d be best if she were dead,” Rosalia said bluntly once she shifted fully into a profit-oriented mindset. “Then the remaining equipment and treasures would all be ours, without extra trouble. But a total wipeout is unlikely. The reconnaissance corps must have Divine Chosen escorting them. At worst, they’ll just be in terrible condition.”

“If they’re in really bad shape,” Phield said coldly, “we either take their Divine Chosen—or kill them all. If they’re still functional, then we see whether helping them yields benefits, or we negotiate terms directly with Sherry Gassina.”

Negotiating with other nobles was completely different from the original owner’s saintly habit of throwing money around. This was real, tangible profit.

“Wouldn’t that expose the domain?” Ashina asked.

Phield replied methodically, “That’s not an issue. First, they’d be clearing corrupted creatures along the way, reducing pressure on us. Second, the legal authority of Nightfall Domain rests with me—no one in the empire can seize it at will. Third, Nightfall Domain currently has no value.”

The Nightfall Domain mattered deeply to them, but in the eyes of normal nobles, it was worthless. Otherwise, the Northern Border Province would have been carved up long ago. No one wanted to invest precious resources into a corrupted land.

The only real concern was hostility from his own family. But that ship had sailed the moment Phield went to Maple Leaf City—his survival was already exposed.

“Nightfall Domain can’t stay hidden in the gray fog forever,” Phield said calmly. “Eventually, people will know. Of course, the most critical things—like the existence of Divine Chosen—cannot be exposed at all for now. That’s something I must arrange very carefully.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep