Chapter 520 — Heading South
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
"I… my lands keep me busy, I could not go in person," Count Pompey wiped his shiny forehead again, too embarrassed to say the words "did not dare to go." "But I have kept watch on the place and sent envoys there. Boulder City is full of magical devices built by the Cecilians, and there is a vast market. They opened the sluice gates of the Gorgon River and allow merchant ships from Spirit Plain to dock at the wharf beside the market quarter. That market draws a great many merchants—you know how it is: once merchants see money, they will risk their lives…"
Victoria made no reply, only glanced coolly at Count Pompey before her.
He too was the descendant of a grand knight who had once won shining honors on the field—yet after so many generations of ease and privilege on the peaceful Spirit Plain, the spirit of valor and daring had long since drained from that bloodline. Still, as the holder of this land, the count had at least done a little of what was his due, learning as much as he could of the situation at Boulder Fortress.
Outside the castle, the sound of wind and snow had gradually died away.
Duchess Victoria rose to her feet, and the black-haired maid Maggie, standing in attendance, at once stepped forward to smooth the slight creases in her gown. The ruler of the North looked at Count Pompey, who had risen as well, and said evenly, "Do all you can to compile a tally of the Southern Marches' trade with Spirit Plain over the past year; a tally of how many merchants have dealings with them; a tally of the merchants they have sent out; and also what goods they chiefly purchase since Boulder Fortress changed hands."
This time a trace of sweat truly broke out on Count Pompey's round face. "That… very well, I will do all that is in my power…"
To extract a few reliable figures from those heaps of chaotic, mountain-high papers was no simple matter; and many merchants who took back roads, or who bribed soldiers, would never appear on the tax collectors' lists at all. As the ruler of this land, Count Pompey could not even say clearly how many merchants came and went through his domain in a given month—but since the duchess had given the order, he must fulfill it as best he could.
It seemed tonight would be a sleepless one.
Looking at Count Pompey's troubled expression, Victoria sighed inwardly once more.
Keeping tallies, registering persons, codifying laws… seven years ago, at a council in Silverhold, the Duke of the Eastern Marches had put forward these very concepts. He had learned such things from the Typhonians and had striven to teach them to the people of Ans as well. Yet seven years had passed, and now the Eastern Marches had become a rebel army, while the demands Grand Duke Silas Loren had set out at Silverhold had still not spread to the southern reaches of Spirit Plain…
Silas Loren… have you lost sight of hope?
Victoria Wilde left the castle's inner court, and after passing through the mottled corridors of the ancient outer wall, she came to the terrace at the very top of Pompey Castle.
The wind and snow had stopped, yet now and then flakes still drifted down from the night sky—snow gathered on the towers and rooftops, shaken loose by the night wind. These flakes swirled around the terrace and of their own accord kept more than ten meters clear of Duchess Victoria, as though in awe.
Compared with Winterhold, built upon the mountain peaks and looking down over a thousand li of ice and snow, the family castle Count Pompey took such pride in seemed low and shabby; yet it still occupied the finest terrain and possessed a fine terrace. Standing there, directly in Victoria's line of sight lay the unbroken mountains of the Southern Marches' pass, and amid those mountains, Boulder Fortress.
Between them stretched an almost wholly open plain.
No wonder Count Pompey could neither eat nor sleep in peace.