Derek accepted the mission, fully aware of the dangers and difficulties involved. To the lofty figures above, this so-called hero was likely just a valuable pawn. Sending him to Saint Milian Province conveniently blocked the Holy Cross Kingdom's counterattack.
If he succeeded, everyone would be pleased. If he failed, it wouldn't greatly matter—better him than some worthless nobody. Derek understood this and willingly played the pawn. The arrogance and disdain of the higher-ups provided his opportunity.
While baron and viscount titles seemed prestigious, Derek truly cared about commanding the Saint Milian Legion. Perhaps this was mere pity for cannon fodder, but to Derek, it meant everything—prestige and legitimacy. Officially, the Saint Milian Legion could operate throughout the entire province, stationed wherever needed. Deep in enemy territory, no one would micromanage him. Any imposed quotas were laughable.
"One day, you'll regret this," Derek thought as he swiftly took command of the new Saint Milian Legion, filled with skilled soldiers from the Second Legion. Earl Pereira had been generous here—he hadn't padded ranks with militia. Despite some private meddling, it exceeded Derek's expectations.
Now in power, Derek naturally placed trusted people in key positions. His method was simple: a glance at the system panel. Those listed might not be entirely loyal, but those unlisted were certainly untrustworthy. While others still prepared, Derek completed initial integration and quickly departed.
During this time, a Ferreira family letter arrived. Several relatives sought his protection, bringing news of Baron Ferreira.
"Pereira's granddaughter?" Upon hearing this, Derek understood the Earl's generosity. He agreed instantly. Love? A laughable concept in this era. As for frail commoners, he had even less interest. Without political considerations, his potential bride pool was already limited, barring peculiar tastes.
"Tell Father I agree, but the marriage must wait until Saint Milian Province stabilizes," Derek replied to Baron Ferreira. He visited Earl Pereira before leaving, subtly conveying his agreement. Then, he acquired another batch of weapons and provisions. This marriage deal was worthwhile.
...
In Saint Milian Province, barbarians mobilized. This southern raid wasn't difficult; the challenge lay in holding their gains. Given the three southern nations' strength, the Barbarian Kingdom faced certain defeat. Once the military machine started, it wouldn't easily stop. But the barbarians couldn't continue covert development. With growing population and strength, they needed more trade and external resources. Small-scale smuggling operations couldn't meet a country's needs. Recognition required flexing military muscle.
The Holy Cross Kingdom had always been their primary target. Its corrupt church and nobility made ideal smuggling partners. However, establishing diplomatic relations proved difficult—such a rigid, holy kingdom wouldn't easily agree.
The Lokian Kingdom's unexpected resurgence forced hasty plan adjustments. Originally, barbarians would repel the Holy Cross Kingdom's first attacks while secretly transporting people and supplies home. In winter, they'd hand Saint Milian Province to the Lokian Kingdom, letting the war-ready countries tear each other apart. This would give barbarians room to strengthen.
Changing plans forced adaptation. They'd captured only a tenth of intended resources and people, suffering considerable losses. If the rested Lokian Kingdom entered the fray, would it lead to a slaughter? These concerns plagued Barbarian strategists. Yet they dared not delay—further wait risked greater losses from a combined assault.
Frontline barbarian commanders, aware of the plan, complained about unreliable Lokian allies while hastily transporting captives. They underestimated Derek's speed. At the Holy Cross Kingdom's border, the new Saint Milian Legion intercepted a barbarian unit.
"What's this about?" the nervous barbarian officer asked, unfamiliar with the Saint Milian Legion and outnumbered. Simon thrust the inter-country exchange documents at him. "Saint Milian Province transferred to the Lokian Kingdom half a month ago. Our countries have diplomatic ties. Are you breaking the treaty?"
The shocked officer replied, "I follow orders. Take issues to our commander."
Simon waved dismissively. "Seize them!"
He feared no barbarians—mere defeated dogs. The unprepared barbarian officer and his troops were quickly captured by the ready Saint Milian Legion. Resisting guards were cut down.
"You're violating our nations' treaty!" the officer shouted, enraged and shocked.
"I'm stopping slavers," Simon calmly replied. "Evidence is here—people and documents. Your response?"
Legally, Simon was right, but reality proved more complex. The incident escalated quickly. Supply-moving barbarians halted. Nearby troops closed in, but the resolute Saint Milian Legion unfurled double-headed dragon banners, capturing people before barbarian forces. When barbarian commander Wilson arrived, tension peaked.
Derek appeared, meeting Wilson face-to-face. "Viscount Derek, are you provoking war between our nations?" Wilson threatened.
Unintimidated, Derek countered, "Let's war then. At worst, I lose my title."
Wilson deflated, unable to afford war after their efforts.
"This is your fault. Release my men," Wilson said, attempting control.
"No, you violated the treaty. You've no right to touch anything in Saint Milian Province. Wait for our full takeover before withdrawing. I've caught your criminals. Thank me—unless this was officially sanctioned by your Barbarian Kingdom?"
Wilson couldn't admit that. Treaties might be scrap paper to the strong, but the Barbarian Kingdom was needy here. Derek, psychologically advantaged, feared no barbarians.
For three days, Derek and Wilson were locked in negotiations. Derek refused to yield an inch, and Wilson, frustrated, nearly walked out multiple times. But Derek's response remained the same: war. Wilson couldn't handle this stubborn, relentless man.
By now, the barbarians had learned Derek's reputation. This was the same Viscount Derek who, in a single battle, decapitated thousands of their kin. The barbarians despised braggarts, but men with bloodstained hands like Derek were met with both hatred and fear. Wilson knew Derek wasn't bluffing. If it came to battle, the fragile alliance between their nations would shatter, and Wilson wasn't confident in defeating Derek. His military record was terrifying—no commander could claim to outmatch him. And in recent days, Derek's Saint Mililan Legion hadn't been idle either, rooting out barbarian infiltrators, engaging in skirmishes that only heightened the tension.
Wilson saw the unrest in his troops growing and finally conceded. "I surrender," he admitted grudgingly. "Release my men. That's my bottom line. Otherwise, I'd rather go to war."
While Wilson had stepped back, he couldn't allow his subordinates to remain imprisoned. His reputation was at stake. Derek understood this; pushing Wilson too far could lead to chaos, perhaps even a war that disregarded treaties. "Alright," Derek agreed, "but you'll have to do me a favor."
Wilson, further aggravated, couldn't believe it. He had truly never encountered someone so ruthless. But he had no choice but to nod. He knew this favor could carry serious consequences, but Derek had cornered him.
Thus, the massive population relocation began. The barbarian invaders rounded up serfs from the Saint Mililan Province, planning to transport them back to their lands. However, Derek had them reroute, leading them in the opposite direction for a few days. As the Saint Mililan Legion arrived to confront the barbarians, the two sides engaged in tense negotiations. Eventually, they reached an agreement: the captured serfs would remain in place, and the barbarians would hand over the defensive lines.
Coincidentally or not, these serfs were resettled in the Augusta Domain. When our unyielding Viscount Derek returned to his lands, he found himself with tens of thousands of new mouths to feed. Compassionately, he offered them aid and issued an order allowing the serfs to cultivate land around designated villages. Moreover, they were granted freedom. As for the food shortage? That wasn't a concern—after all, the Lock Kingdom had already promised several years of grain aid.
While the Saint Mililan Legion recruited soldiers from the surrounding regions and assumed control of the defenses, Derek was busy. He wrote letters calling for reinforcements from the homeland and initiated construction within his territory—planning towns, building military camps, training blacksmiths, and other craftsmen. He also began recruiting the newly freed serfs into his private army.
Of course, the emancipation of the serfs wasn't the revolutionary moment he had imagined. Many serfs remained indifferent, oblivious to the true meaning of their newfound freedom. Derek quickly realized that the accounts in the books he had read might have been overly romanticized. However, with time, as the serfs realized that no one could arbitrarily take their lives without consequence, that they could own private property, and even shape their destinies, they would come to revere their benevolent lord.
For now, the ample food supply was enough to lift spirits.
While managing these efforts, Derek, taking advantage of the North Province nobles' slow progress, seized valuable resources—mines, estates, and official positions in various towns. He appointed individuals to these positions himself, even forging deeds for unclaimed properties. He saw no reason to let such opportunities go to waste. This swift and bold maneuvering earned him a reputation as a plague upon Saint Mililan Province.
Naturally, he had to ensure the rights of the merchants, missionaries, and nobles already established in the region. These were the rules of the time—a necessary part of the social contract. But with a new protector in place, didn't they owe some protection money?
By the time the first wave of Northern Province troops entered Saint Mililan, Derek had already claimed his territory. The other nobles hadn't grasped the subtleties of the game as quickly as Derek had, but they were shocked by his speed. After quickly organizing their troops and pushing the barbarians back, the plan had been to support Derek and join him in reaping the spoils of war. It would have been perfect timing—avoiding the early struggles while preparing their armies. Together, they could have harvested the rewards. But when they finally arrived, they realized Derek had already driven off the barbarians. They were too late.
Earl Pereira was the first to arrive and began employing tactics similar to Derek's, though with more flair. The other nobles followed suit, staking their claims. The fact was, Derek couldn't possibly consume the entire pie by himself. In some ways, the local powers in Saint Mililan should have been grateful to Derek. Many of the latecomers were even more brazen, openly pillaging without pretense. Those who had already been squeezed by Derek found themselves counting their blessings—at least Derek had left them something.
And so, another half-month of chaos ensued. Saint Mililan Province remained in turmoil. Some unlucky nobles discovered their lands nearly emptied of people, only to learn that the barbarians had done the damage. As for Derek, even though people knew he had profited greatly, no one dared challenge him. With the Saint Mililan Legion growing in strength and bolstered by his private forces, few in the province could oppose him.
Without realizing it, Derek had gone from a small-time knight to a force to be reckoned with—a tiger firmly rooted in Saint Mililan.
But as much as Saint Mililan remained chaotic, it was no longer Derek's primary concern. His rapid rise in power meant little if he couldn't hold back the inevitable counterattack from the Holy Cross Kingdom. If he failed, everything he'd gained would vanish, and he'd be left with no choice but to flee abroad.
The Lock Kingdom's invasion had jolted the Holy Cross Kingdom's typically sluggish bureaucracy into action. While they believed they could fend off the barbarians, their old adversaries, the Lock Kingdom, were an entirely different threat. Once entrenched, driving them out would be a far greater challenge.
Derek couldn't afford to focus on anything else and hurried to the frontlines. From the first day he set foot in Saint Mililan, he had never overlooked the possibility of a counterattack from the Holy Cross Kingdom. That's why the castle beneath his feet had been under constant construction since its founding. He concentrated all available resources into fortifying this stronghold, preparing for a long war of attrition. This wasn't a battle against the barbarians, where risks had to be taken. His goal now was simple: hold the line, consolidate his gains, and bide his time.
"In a year," Derek thought, his eyes steely with resolve, "the tides will turn, and who's fighting whom will be anyone's guess."
But until then, he was prepared for bloodshed. No one would pass through here on his watch.