The Amber Sword V3C93

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Chapter 93: Return to Cold Fir Castle  

The portcullis rose with a groan, and the black carriage glided into Cold Fir Castle like a ghost. The atmosphere within the fortress seemed to still instantly—mercenaries paused in their tracks, watching silently. Everyone understood:  

The young lord had returned.  

Though Yuta remained at the Shafrend Mines, and no one had yet brought news of the underground events to Cold Fir, every soul in the castle knew that Brandon had taken control of the mine with scarcely more than twenty men, doing so quietly and without resistance.  

What kind of skill was this?  

Though the young lord’s abilities were already legendary in their minds, this latest feat only solidified his image as an omnipotent figure.  

When Brandon stepped out of the carriage, he beheld the castle bathed in the muted greens and silences of late autumn. The first lord of Cold Fir had carefully chosen the trees within its grounds to ensure they remained verdant even in this season. Yet little had changed since his departure, save for the diminished presence of Grudin’s touch—the curtains in the rooms now bore the soft, creamy hue he preferred.  

Though Brandon didn’t know how Fleur had divined his tastes, the meticulous care shown by the elder of the wild elf sisters—who followed him like a stern secretary—warmed his heart. There was something comforting about the change, making the castle feel more like home.  

Home.  

For Brandon, the word felt distant and unfamiliar, almost irrelevant. Buchi’s old house lingered in his mind as a symbol of his starting point in this world, but it wasn’t home. Perhaps there was still a place in Braggs he could call home, but whenever he thought of it, a barrier stood between him and that idea. As long as doubts lingered in his heart, he couldn’t face it with ease.  

But today, stepping out of the carriage and taking in every detail of this quiet, ancient castle, a sense of solidity washed over him. Whether it was the trees, the spotless rooms, or the people standing nearby, everything carried an aura of calm and belonging.  

He felt it: he had come home.  

Unconsciously, Brandon closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Only then did he truly feel like the master of this place—every person here, every gaze upon him, acknowledged it.  

What did they hope for? Stability? A better life? For the first time, Brandon felt he wasn’t fighting alone. So many dreams now aligned with his own, regardless of their ultimate goals. He believed, with unwavering confidence, that he could satisfy them all.  

Opening his eyes, he saw Fleur standing before him, arms cradling her notebook, posture impeccable. Even the most exacting etiquette instructor would find no fault in her demeanor.  

To Brandon, this elven maiden had seamlessly assumed the dual roles of secretary and personal maid—a task assigned by Tiger Finch. Yet she performed her duties with unmatched diligence. Though Brandon, once a recluse, harbored no particular fetish for uniforms, he appreciated Fleur’s attentiveness. Meeting her gaze, he murmured softly:  

“Thank you.”  

Fleur raised her deadpan eyes briefly before lowering them again. Her silence spoke volumes—she was evidently pleased with his gratitude.  

“How are things?” Brandon asked.  

“Chael is still in his room,” Fleur replied. Though technically a maid, she possessed upper-tier silver-rank strength—an honor few dukes could claim in their personal attendants. Of course, shadow guards were another matter entirely.  

Using an upper-tier silver-rank Elementalist as a maid was enough to shock anyone privy to the truth. Thankfully, Tiger Finch and the others hadn’t revealed their full strength yet, or Clenxia and Frein, leaders of the two mercenary groups stationed here, would have been utterly astonished.  

The boost in Rubis’ Mercenaries’ power stemmed from Brandon’s recent decision to attach The Everwoven Myriad card to their ranks. While the card’s effects fell slightly short of expectations, raising them only to upper-tier silver-rank, it still meant that Brandon now commanded a force composed of such formidable individuals. Upper-tier silver-rank soldiers could secure positions as company commanders in the kingdom’s second-tier legions. Moreover, Rubis’ mercenaries boasted respectable military discipline, leading Brandon to consider them as potential pillars of his officer corps.  

Yet summoning creatures came with complications. No soldier would willingly charge alongside an officer who could simply respawn after death. This dilemma had Brandon rubbing his temples—not from the issue itself, but from the scarcity of talent around him. Beyond summoned beings, he struggled to find anyone capable of shouldering significant responsibilities.  

Antietta, though sharp-minded and far-sighted, still lacked experience in his eyes. Admittedly, Brandon’s standards bordered on perfectionism. After all, his own journey—centuries navigating blood-soaked battlefields and aristocratic intrigue within the game—had honed his judgment to an almost unattainable level. To him, even Antietta’s brilliance paled slightly.  

Yet among the mercenary leaders, Antietta was widely regarded as an exceptional strategist. Her insights were meticulous, her demeanor calm, and her foresight unparalleled. She often left others bewildered during meetings, yet no one could deny the wisdom in her words. Speculation ran rampant about her origins—perhaps she was one of those elite advisors cultivated by ancient noble families to serve their heirs. Frein, with his cavalry background, sometimes eyed her with suspicion, wondering if her role extended beyond mere counsel.  

Such whispers weren’t uncommon among the mercenaries. Antietta’s authority and trust from Brandon exceeded typical bounds, leading some to conclude that she must be more than just an advisor.  

Brandon remained oblivious to these nuances, while Antietta herself feigned ignorance, allowing the misunderstanding to persist.  

Outwardly, Brandon’s dissatisfaction with Antietta was evident, yet it wasn’t seen as disfavor—it was interpreted as a sign of high regard. His critiques, though harsh, were rarely unfounded, further elevating his stature in others’ eyes.  

“What is excellence? This is excellence,” became the prevailing sentiment. Consequently, Brandon was increasingly viewed as a scion of one of the ancient noble houses, sent to hone his skills in the field.  

Only Yuta, the female mercenary leader, harbored doubts about this theory. Clenxia and Frein trusted their instincts, believing Brandon destined to lead them to greatness.  

Aside from Antietta, the only other individual Brandon valued was Frein. The former Karasu cavalry captain stood out among the mercenaries—calm, disciplined, and competent. In Brandon’s view, Yuta’s flaw lay in her excessive attention to detail. While caution was natural, especially for women, overindulgence in minutiae hindered broader vision. This explained why Frein and Clenxia adapted quickly to his group, while Yuta remained somewhat aloof.  

The mining incident appeared to resolve her doubts. She’d assured him he could leave Shafrend in her hands, trusting him not to exploit her absence. This gesture marked a turning point—she finally entrusted her subordinates in Cold Fir City to him.  

But it was too late. Clenxia and Frein had already found their niches, leaving Yuta trailing behind. Thus, Brandon held little hope for her leadership.  

Clenxia, though capable, was overly sly. Brandon wouldn’t grant full trust until he was confident in his ability to rein him in. Leadership required discernment, a lesson he’d learned well as a commander.  

Frein, however, was different. Bold yet composed, he understood the situation clearly. His only flaw was a narrow perspective. Reflecting on this, Brandon chuckled inwardly. How much could one expect from a former cavalry captain?  

They weren’t players, after all—they lacked the meta-awareness that allowed players to stand on equal footing with the great nobles of this world.  

People could grow, but Brandon lacked the luxury of time. His enemies were already far stronger, and they wouldn’t wait for him to gather strength. Watching Frein and Clenxia nearby, Brandon shook his head.  

Where were the talents he needed?


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