Chapter 591: Clayhill and Haywood

Proofread By Thomas F

Baron Haywood

“Let’s hope the undead don’t attack and kill us all,” Viscount Clayhill said, his voice laced with mock concern as we walked down the ramp of the yacht, docking at the overcrowded port.

“Don’t worry, Viscount. If the undead does come, I’m sure they’ll make a special exception for you,” I replied with a smirk. He grinned back, though the underlying tension was evident.

It was a valid fear, but we were here to enjoy ourselves. We deserved it—after everything we’d endured over the past six months. The enemy had overrun our territories, and what was left of our armies was quickly absorbed by the imperials and other nobles.

We came here to escape the nightmare that started the moment the emperor died.

However, it isn’t the main reason we have come here. We have come for the business that could tremendously affect our future.

“Welcome to Greltheaven, Viscount Clayhill. Baron Haywood.” greeted a young, attractive woman.

She is beautiful, tall, with deep blue hair. She is wearing a red dress that fits her perfectly. Seeing her, Viscount Clayhill licked his lips lecherously.

Besides the woman, there are two men, both belong to the city.

‘We are being welcomed by a no-name whore and minor city official. ‘It wouldn’t have been the case. If we had our territories,’ said Viscount Clayhill, with privacy.

“The dominion of Greltheaven is honored by your presence. We hope you will enjoy your time here,” she added, leading us toward the carriage.

We stepped inside, and the carriage began to move.

I looked at the port; it is small but very crowded, likely only because of the opening.

“The nobles from Orlena’s side have also come,” I said, to which Clayhill laughed. “This bastard is playing both sides and doing it well,” he replied.

“It is only until one of them wins. After that, Silver will have to submit,” I replied, and Clayhill sighed.

We have chosen our sides, and I can only hope it’s not the wrong one.

However, if we still had our territories, we would be in much better condition than we are right now.

We could only hope that our side won, that they would appreciate our loyalty, and that they would return our territories to us instead of granting them to others.

However, the chances of that are slipping with every passing day.

With what remains of our armies are being cut away, little by little. Already, more than half of the men in our armies have been taken by others.

Soon, the carriage entered the city and began to move.

“You know, I came to its inauguration two years ago. The city then and now is starkly different,” said Viscount Clayhill, looking out the window.

I had an invitation but didn’t come. I wanted to, but the crown prince’s people warned me.

“So many orcs. Does the fool not fear the chaos that they might create?” I stated that when I noticed the orcs everywhere,

Most of them seemed to be in the army and city guards, looking at their uniforms.

There is a reason why the emperor expelled these filthy non-humans. Especially orcs; they are chaotic. Always hunger for conflict.

Soon, the legacy comes into view. We had heard so much about it that we instantly recognized it.

The vast park with a tower in its centre.

“Silver is extraordinarily lucky with this legacy. Nothing will harm him, no matter what he does,” said Viscount Clayhill, with an apparent envy.

He is a man who was barely able to escape from his castle before the enemy’s attack. If he had gotten caught, the consequences would have been terrible.

The masters of the legacies are the safest people in the world.

People will kill the kings, but not the masters of the legacy. Especially someone like Silver, who is the master of this massive legacy.

I’ve heard Silver’s legacy is vast enough to swallow over a dozen common legacies whole. There’s been no shortage of rumors about it.

The carriage took turns and soon entered the circle park, filled with people and orcs. I also saw a few elves, half-elves, dwarves, and giant bloods.

“Silver is doing everything that is anathema to the empire,” I said, my voice laced with disdain.

I don’t like orcs and other races. Even those elves are vicious and bloodthirsty. They wouldn’t hesitate to stab you after they fuck you.

“Stop the carriage!” called out Viscount Clayhill.

I looked at him in confusion, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he got out of the carriage. I followed behind and was about to ask him a question when my eyes widened.

“My god!” I cursed with my eyes wide.

“I had heard about this a few days ago but didn’t truly believe it,” he said, with a barely audible voice.

The tower garden was shrouded in a light mist of emotion essence, radiating from eerie, beautiful vines that clung to every surface.

The plants that fill it are the most exquisite I have ever seen. There are different kinds—not just flowering plants but all kinds of trees.

One seemed like a sapling or cedar tree, while the other looked like wheatgrass stalks.

Despite the variety of plants and the chaotic mix of colors, the garden looked stunning overall.

Not all plants in the tower garden are beautiful. There are some really ugly ones, but even they looked lovely in the legacy’s colorful mist.

“It is a twelve-acre garden circling the legacy tower. The sheer amount of essence required to grow these plants is more than what a small legacy of the same level could produce,” said the Viscount.

Hearing that, I couldn’t help but sigh.

“This feels too wasteful,” I said, but Viscount Clayhill shook his head.

“Far from wasteful. Even with inefficiencies of the network vines. Silver would earn far more from this than the emotion essence,” he replied, shocking me.

I have difficulty believing that, but Viscount Clayhill knows his stuff.

His territory was a major producer of medicinal plants and around a quarter of its revenue used to come from that.

Many people move around in the garden, drinking in those wonderful smells and sights.

“Ahhh!”

Seeing them, a question couldn’t help but rise in my mind, but before I could even process it, a painful scream pierced the air, providing the answer.

I had been wondering how Silver could leave such treasures so exposed, with barely any guards around.

But now, I realized: He’s not leaving it unprotected.

Some kind of invisible enchantment covered them. That seemed to be such a painful shock that it had brought the man to his knees.

We entered the tower garden. Looking at every plant, smelling every smell.

Right now, most of these plants are small. Once they mature, this garden will become truly beautiful.

“This garden will give him a lot of power,” I said. To that, Viscount Clayhill nodded.

Emotion essence is the most coveted substance in the world. It grants immense power to sovereigns and masters, but these plants—that feed off that source—are even rarer than the essence itself.

We explored it briefly before walking toward the tower as the meeting time approached. We will be staying here for a few days.

Finally, we reached the tower and entered the building. The moment we did, the light smells became intense; simultaneously, the power of legacy filled me.

I had expected it to be light, like the mist surrounding the outside, but now I understand that the mist was there to nourish the plants. It was a careful balance, and I found this place to be the most powerful of all the Grade III legacies I had visited. Its subtlety only made its strength more apparent.

“Viscount Clayhill, Baron Haywood. Welcome to Velvet Garden,” welcomed a purple-haired woman as we looked around the lobby.

At the familiar art pieces and skeleton that I had seen before, but in the mist, they looked even more beautiful.

“Please follow me; I will lead you to your meeting,” she added. She walked toward the elevator, with Viscount Clayhill ogling the woman from behind.

We stepped inside, and it moved. Passing floor after floor. I wish to explore each of them now; I have heard quite a lot about them, but the meeting is important.

Soon, we reached the top floor, and the elevator stopped.

We exited into a magnificent hall decorated beautifully. The colorful mist made everything more exquisite, from massive crystal chandeliers to high-grade ashir marble.

There are people, but unlike most legacies, I have been in. It’s not crowded. Every seat is filled, but it is not crowded.

Space is a luxury in every legacy, but they didn’t seem to care about it on this floor.

Soon, the woman stopped beside a private hosting room.

“Please,” she said as she opened the door for us, and we entered the luxurious room.

There are already three people waiting for us. One is familiar, and the other two are wearing an army uniform. One didn’t have a hand, while the other was just another orc, as predictable as they come.

Seeing him, my expression couldn’t help but sour.

It’s one thing to see orcs from a distance but quite another to have one standing right in front of you.

The anger surged through me like a hot wave I struggled to control. I wanted to spit, walk away, and show my disdain, but I held back. I needed things from Silver, and it wouldn’t do to leave in such a childish, dramatic huff.

“Viscount Clayhill, Baron Haywood. Thank you for coming,” said Rutto as all three of them stood up in greeting.

Rutto was the one who had invited us with the offer.

“It is our pleasure, Lord Rutto,” replied Clayhill while I could barely force myself to nod.

“This is Major General Hiren and Lt. Colonel Ralrik,” Rutto introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you, Major General Hiren and Lt. Colonel Ralrik,” repeated Clayhill, shaking their hands while I only nodded.

Even that took a great deal of effort.

There was silence for a second when the door opened, and servers put drinks in front of us. That distracted me for a moment.

I took the familiar drink, but when I took a sip. It felt completely different.

“The legacy; it really is amazing,” praised Viscount Clayhill as he took another sip of amber liquid from the glass.

“I am sure you have got the chance to review the proposal. What do you think about it?” asked the one-handed man.

“It is risky for sure, and Greltheaven is quite elusive to what they are offering in exchange for it,” said Viscount Clayhill, activating his skill.

I also activated The Nobles Prestige but was surprised when I felt Rutto’s skill the next moment.

‘He wasn’t this strong last time,’ I thought.

Rutto was a courtier, living off his family’s name.

He was good at making connections and connecting people with the right people. It is how he had built enough political capital to get the position of guardian.

He resigned from that position to work directly for Silver, and quite a lot of people were shocked by that.

The other two had also activated their skills. Theirs were not weaker than Rutto’s. Significantly, the one-handed man’s skill suppressed ours.

They are above Lv. 30, but the one-handed man should be in the middle of it.

It’s very hard to reach that level, and according to our information, he is not even in the top three in Greltheaven’s army.

He is the fourth-highest ranked if the information is to be believed.

“Then I will be clear,” said the one-handed man.

“The dominion of Greltheaven will hire your armies. They will become part of the dominions’ army; we will fund their salaries,”

“When you need it, you will have a chance to get them back as long as they agree to return.”

“If you provide us enough numbers. The dominion will sell you the essence potions and other mist goods,” he laid out clearly.

They want what’s left of our armies, what remained after the imperial forces and other nobles took their share.

Just thinking about it fills me with rage—my heart burns at the thought. But the truth is, we’ve lost our territories, and it’s become nearly impossible to sustain our forces under our command.

We can’t keep them for long. They’re draining us dry, costing a fortune every single month.

“Sell us?” Viscount Clayhill asked, his smile turning into something far more dangerous, his skill growing in intensity. “We’re handing over our armies, and your only offer is selling us the essence potions?”

The man remained unfazed by the outburst, casually sipping his drink as if unaffected.

“The essence potions are rare, Viscount Clayhill. Even being given the chance to buy them is an honor, especially in times like these,” the man replied coolly, as if stating an undeniable truth.

His words dripped with arrogance, but unfortunately, he was right.

The essence potions are rare and expensive. Even for us, getting our hands on them was hard, but the war made it even harder. Getting your hands on a single bottle had become harder despite our connections and standing.

“Besides, you can take back your army whenever you are ready to liberate your territory, as long as they are willing to go with you.”

“You do not have that chance with the other nobles and the imperial army, who have taken your men,” he added before taking another sip of his drink.

The bastard is right. Every week, more and more of our people leave.

Joining the imperial army or the armies of various nobles and mercenary companies.

Not that we put much effort into making them stay. Watching them leave had actually lessened the financial strain on us, but if they all left, we’d be left with nothing. No weight, no influence.

It would make it nearly impossible for us to contribute to the liberation of our territories. Even if the emperor handed them back to us after reconquering them, our titles would be demoted, and our territories would shrink, along with everything else.

“Still, that doesn’t make it a better deal,” I said, forcing myself not to glance at the orc, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“It is, Lord Baron. Please look at these conditions; they are quite good,” replied Rutto, who forwarded us the two stacks of documents.

I picked it up and opened the file before activating Fast Reading.

I turned page after page. Reading every line carefully.

They stated everything clearly here, including the number of emotional essence potions they are willing to sell us for the number of men we will give them.

There are conditions such as level, rank, and experience.

They are also willing to incur all the traveling expenses and solve the political roadblocks we will face.

It is clear they have given it a lot of thought and are willing to spend a lot of money on it.

I am sure we aren’t the only ones; they have called in for this. When I was in Warsteel a few weeks ago, I heard over ten other nobles were invited.

It is from the emperor’s side only. I am sure they have also called nobles from the Princess’s side as well.

“We will need some time to think about it,” said Viscount Clayhill as he closed the file.

“Of course,” agreed the one-handed man.

A few minutes later, we walked out of the room and saw a familiar noble walking toward the room led by the same woman who had led us here earlier.

“What do you think?” asked Viscount.

“It is good, but I am not going to do it. I can’t have my army fight beside these filthy orcs; I will become a laughingstock in the empire,” I replied.

I didn’t even think about the undead. Fighting them is glorious, but not beside the orcs.

Hearing me, the expression on his face dimmed a little.

“You can’t be seriously thinking about it?” I asked, shocked.

“You know how the emperor will act. If he reclaimed all the territories, he would not give us ours back unless we contributed, and looking at how things are going, that is not going to happen soon,”

“I won’t be able to sustain my army for that long. There is no help from the emperor.”

“Instead, he is taking bites of our armies and insistently asking us for money and the things we hold dear,”

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