Leylo stood atop the highest tower of Ironthorn Castle, gazing down at the fortress that had just changed hands.
His original plan had been simple: pack up the resources, round up the captives, and haul them back to Blackstone to bolster his own strength. However, the Duke had unexpectedly granted him the entire Ironthorn Territory as compensation! It seemed his "cheap" father wasn't as cold and heartless as he had acted when Leylo first departed.
This outcome far exceeded Leylo's expectations. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. While Ironthorn was only half the size of Blackstone, its land and produce were far richer. Beyond vast farmlands, it boasted a medium-sized iron mine. If managed well, its future value would be immeasurable.
But one cannot become fat with a single bite. Blackstone's own development was still in its infancy; adding Ironthorn now would place a massive strain on his manpower and energy.
Leylo turned his gaze toward the square below, where Knight Bolin was directing soldiers to organize supplies. Bolin was one of his earliest followers—loyal, reliable, and composed. Recently, he had shown impressive ability in both civil administration and military training.
"Bolin!" Leylo called out.
Bolin ran up the tower stairs, his armor clinking softly. "My Lord, you summoned me?"
Leylo nodded, pointing at the busy scene below. "The situation here is a bit larger than we anticipated."
Bolin followed his gaze. "Indeed, My Lord. Ironthorn's stockpiles are substantial, especially the ore and grain reserves. The number of captives is also higher than estimated."
"Those are secondary," Leylo smiled. "The latest news is that the Duke has incorporated the entirety of Ironthorn into Blackstone."
"What?!" Bolin's eyes widened in disbelief, followed quickly by a look of sheer joy. "That—that is wonderful! Congratulations, My Lord!"
"Congratulations to us both, Bolin," Leylo patted his shoulder. "But this means a heavier burden. I must return to Blackstone to oversee things personally. Therefore, I want you to stay here and manage Ironthorn for a while."
Bolin froze for a second, then puffed out his chest. "If the Lord trusts me, I shall not fail my mission!"
"I believe in you," Leylo said firmly. "I will leave a portion of knights and soldiers to assist you. Your tasks are: first, pacify the people and restore order; second, inventory the resources for long-term planning; and third—most importantly—hold this place. Don't give any ill-intentioned fools an opening."
"Please rest easy, My Lord!" Bolin said solemnly. "As long as I draw breath, Ironthorn shall not fall into chaos!"
The Journey Home
Soon, Leylo had arranged everything. He set out for Blackstone with his main force, a long line of wagons filled with precious goods, and hundreds of dejected prisoners from Ironthorn.
The march wasn't fast, given the heavy loads and the tethered captives. Leylo wasn't in a rush; he used the time to digest the gains of this expedition and plan for the future. He watched the prisoners—mostly Monde's knights and elite soldiers. He didn't plan to turn them into slaves. Instead, he intended to absorb those with skills or good behavior into Blackstone's ranks once Monde was officially executed. Without a Lord to serve, their surrender would be a simple matter.
As the setting sun bathed Blackstone in a warm, golden hue, Leylo felt an indescribable sense of belonging. The soldiers and townspeople erupted in cheers as their conquering Lord returned. After delegating the aftermath to his lieutenants, Leylo headed straight for the clearing behind the castle.
As expected, the Storm Griffin was resting there. Nearby, the Dragon-Thorn Fruit tree swayed in the breeze, emitting a faint, exotic fragrance.
"Go, bring all the energy potions stored in the warehouse," Leylo ordered an attendant.
Before long, a heavy chest was brought out, revealing rows of potion bottles shimmering with deep blue light. Leylo nodded and looked at the tree. Originally, there were four plump fruits; now, only three remained. One had been "sampled" by a certain thief the night it was transplanted.
Leylo's eyes drifted toward a second-floor window. Moonlight was sprawled there lazily, her silver fur glowing in the dusk. She flicked her tail with boredom, seemingly uninterested in the commotion. Though Moonlight was a Silver Dragon, she had spent so much time as a cat that she had adopted the feline temperament—acting aloof, yet always watching Leylo from a nearby shadow.
Leylo reached out and plucked a Dragon-Thorn Fruit. It was the size of a fist, crimson and covered in fine spikes that felt warm rather than sharp.
The moment he plucked it, a scorching gaze landed on him. The Storm Griffin stared intently at the fruit, its sharp eyes filled with a longing so intense it was as if the fruit were the world's most precious treasure. Its beak clicked softly, and a low croak rumbled in its throat. It clearly wanted the fruit badly but lacked the audacity of the "Little Tyrant" Moonlight to steal it.
Leylo chuckled. He weighed the fruit in his hand and gave it a light toss.
"Caw!"
The Storm Griffin let out an excited cry, stretched its long neck, and caught the fruit mid-air, swallowing it in one gulp.