Chapter 18: Demanding a Fief

The main fortress of Seayan City was called Gullcastle.

While Ravencastle’s outer walls were pure black, Gullcastle’s walls were painted entirely white, revealing the Faher family’s complete lack of aesthetic sense—they only knew how to apply thick coats of a single color.

It made sense that the ugly understood nothing of beauty.

Inside Gullcastle, the banquet hall was alive.

Voluptuous and beautiful maidservants moved gracefully among the guests, bringing lavish dishes and fine wine.

Faher men raised their glasses, laughing loudly and feasting, or pulling passing maidservants into their arms, lifting their skirts and groping them. The hall echoed with rude, boisterous laughter.

Only Reign sat alone in the front row, politely refusing all the maidens’ flirtations, allowing only Dia to silently pour his wine.

Elena sat beside him, elegant and aloof, gracefully turning down the advances of the men around them.

The Marquis Faher sat at the head of the hall, watching this seemingly ascetic young master, Reign, with growing displeasure.

Reign Faher was unlike any other Faher man in every conceivable way.

However, it was said that High Elves valued appearance above all—perhaps only his handsome, fair face could capture the heart of such a beautiful High Elf noblewoman.

“Reign!” the marquis suddenly raised his glass and called out loudly, breaking the lively noise in the hall. “Now that you’ve returned, tell your brothers and uncles where you have traveled these past years, and whom you have met!”

“Yes, tell us, Reign!” others chimed in eagerly.

Reign smiled coldly in his heart, knowing full well that what the Marquis truly wanted to know was the origin of the High Elf noblewoman by his side.

Standing under everyone’s gaze, he spoke clearly:

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to be brief.

“Eight years ago, on a certain night, I resolved to leave without notice. It was not out of a desire to betray the honored Faher name, but because I refused to rest on my family’s glory and live a mediocre life.

“I began traveling the world, setting foot in every corner of the continent. I crossed the frostbound tundra where snow never melts, drank and fought with the northern barbarians; I trekked the vast Red Earth Plateau and worshipped in the Light Temple atop the clouds.

“I also visited the warm and humid Gem Isles, where I met my beloved, the beautiful Elena Vladiscar.” Reign held Elena’s slender waist tenderly and spoke with deep affection. “She, too, refused to live a mundane life and chose to leave her family to travel and seek adventure, a choice that perfectly matched mine.

“We held a simple wedding in a small chapel by the sea, pledging to know and cherish each other for the rest of our lives, until we both return to the embrace of the gods.”

Elena was caught off guard by his sudden declaration but showed no trace of panic, maintaining a polite and composed smile.

Only Dia beside her was dumbfounded, so much so that she didn’t notice the wine spilling over the rim of her cup:

What? Reign and Elena are already married?

Then why does he still want me to keep him company at night?

The Marquis Faher, sitting in the highest seat, finally heard the answer he had longed for and his face creased into a broad smile that stretched the wrinkles on his brow.

Though this boy was unlike me, being handsome had its advantages. Even the High Elf nobility, who had long sealed themselves off from the outside world and refused foreign marriages, had been won over by my son.

“Apologies for not attending your wedding as a father,” the Marquis said, squeezing out a few tears before raising his glass. “To true love!”

The Faher family members looked at one another: What is true love? Does it add to the merriment?

But since the head of the family had spoken, they reluctantly followed suit, raising their glasses and calling out in scattered voices:

“To true love!”

Reign clinked his glass with theirs and drained it, then said:

“Father, I have established a family now, and I need my own fief.”

The hall fell utterly silent.

The imperial nobility’s fief system varied by province and region. In the empire’s core four territories, all land was already granted, strictly following primogeniture—only the eldest son inherited. The others, if capable, were arranged to manage family enterprises; if not, they were sent out to make their own way.

The Riverbay Province held no such concerns. As a border colony of the empire, vast unclaimed lands were abundant, so every son could receive a fief upon coming of age.

According to Faher family tradition, favored sons were assigned fiefs in the northwest, where the terrain was flat and the environment resembled the fertile lands to the north, allowing for comfortable tax collection from passing merchants.

Less favored sons faced a harder path, usually being granted villages deep in the southern mountains. The less favored, the closer to the southernmost Ravencastle their fief would be—where attacks by barbarians and wild elves were frequent.

There was, of course, a hell mode: the Salt Isles.

The Salt Isles lay northwest of Seayan City, scattered broken islands overseas. Many lacked fresh water, the soil was saline and barren, transportation was difficult, and venomous cobras lurked there.

Sons assigned to the Salt Isles usually refused their fiefs and quietly left the family to fend for themselves—after all, if they were given the Salt Isles, why would they want to stay and endure disdain?

The Marquis Faher looked toward Elena and quickly formed a plan.

That elf’s surname was Vladiscar.

High Elves had sealed themselves off for centuries, so the outside world seldom knew the details of their nobility, but the Faher family, with their smuggling network, had a few informants in the Gem Isles who could shed light on that surname.

If she truly was a High Elf noblewoman of great standing, then Reign could be granted the fief of Seven Rivers City…

As the Marquis pondered, Reign spoke:

“Father, I want the Salt Isles.”

The hall erupted in shock: What was Reign thinking? Had he lost his mind?

“The Salt Isles? Are you sure?” the Marquis frowned. “There are no secret gold mines there—only poor fishing villages.”

“Yes, I want the Salt Isles,” Reign insisted.

Silence fell again, as everyone pondered the meaning behind Reign’s request.

Reign Faher was clearly no fool; a fool could not vanish for eight years and return unscathed, much less bring back a High Elf noble bride.

But as the Marquis had said, the Salt Isles had no apparent advantages:

No farming was possible, trade paled in comparison to Seayan City, the islands had almost no natural resources—at best, one could fish and harvest salt, then beg for alms from Seayan City each month.

If not, the land would have been granted long ago—it was, after all, a sizable territory.

Elena, whose golden eyes flicked with certainty, knew this inherently wicked necromancer was undoubtedly brewing some unspeakable scheme.

It didn’t matter. She would be watching him closely.