Chapter 393 - 271: Westwood Laine Castle Gathering

Chapter 393: Chapter 271: Westwood Laine Castle Gathering

"Yes, my lord."

Fass and his party moved slowly along the winding mountain road, the clip-clop of hooves sounding harsh in the quiet valley.

On the plains, wherever there were mountain ranges, hills, or valleys, one would inevitably find a castle. They were simply natural defensive locations.

Any family with long-term plans would continuously invest time and energy into constructing such fortresses.

This wasn’t just about controlling and intimidating their own fiefdom; it was also about securing a private sanctuary for their family.

Count John was in a rather miserable position. His sanctuary was Ximira Castle, which Henry had seized right from the start. That was why John had been so furious at the time. ℯℯ𝘭.

He had originally planned to grant the castle as a fief to a mid-ranking noble. This would distance the fortress from himself and prevent it from drawing too much attention.

But now, it had all blown up in his face.

John: Damn it!

As they drew closer, the silhouette of the ancient castle grew sharper.

It stood atop a hill like a weather-beaten giant, silently telling tales of past glory and present desolation.

The castle walls were mottled and scarred, the erosion of time having left its deep marks. The once-tall towers now appeared slightly crooked.

Even so, it still exuded an air of majesty—the last vestige of the Earl Clan that had once controlled Baltahan.

Fass gazed up at the castle, a wave of emotion washing over him. He had heard the stories of this family—a tale of incredible glory followed by a swift decline.

This family had once been the masters of Baltahan, controlling its fertile lands and possessing immense wealth and formidable military power.

Their castle had been the heart of the entire region, with endless caravans passing through and trade flourishing.

However, as trade routes shifted and new commercial powers emerged, they attempted to adapt but lost their way in the process.

The failure of this commercial transition caused the family’s economic foundation to collapse in an instant.

A series of subsequent military defeats sent the family’s power plummeting.

For generations, they struggled to reclaim their family’s honor, but fate seemed to have sealed their doom. They ultimately lost Baltahan and were forced to retreat to this remote military fortress, just to eke out a meager existence.

Although they still held the title of Count, the title itself felt like a brand of shame.

It was like a sword that was never unsheathed, constantly inflicting pain and reminding them of their family’s decline.

The castle gates slowly swung open, and a man who appeared to be the butler emerged. His face was etched with fatigue, but his eyes held a glint of vigilance.

It was clear that few nobles came to visit. The butler seemed a bit stunned; he clearly hadn’t expected any visitors at all.

Fass swung himself off his horse, straightened his clothes, and strode forward with a steady gait.

"I am Baron Fass d’Arcos, here to pay a visit on behalf of the great Count Henry," Fass said, his voice calm.

This family was complex and sensitive; he had to tread carefully. One wrong word could easily offend them.

The butler was taken aback for a moment, but then a respectful smile appeared on his face. "Ah, Baron Fass. Please, follow me. My master is inside the castle."

Though this family had completely withdrawn and tried to diminish its presence, it didn’t mean they were blind and deaf. They had done their homework on Henry, the young noble who had risen meteorically with rapid and untamed growth in recent years.

Fass followed the butler into the castle, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

The interior of the castle was somewhat dilapidated. The once-magnificent murals had faded, and the exquisite tapestries were covered in dust.

Even so, one could still feel a glimmer of its former splendor. As the saying goes, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse.

They passed through a long corridor and finally arrived at a spacious study.

In the study stood a massive oak desk piled high with all sorts of books. A middle-aged man sat behind it, his eyes filled with an unyielding fortitude.

Fass understood then. ’This negotiation is as good as won,’ he thought. ’For a noble who refuses to accept his fate, the mere sight of opportunity is enough to stir his inner greed.’

"Baron Fass, welcome to my domain." The man stood, offering a slight, sincere smile.

Fass bowed slightly. "My Lord Count, it is an honor. I am an envoy of the great Count Henry. I have come today to discuss matters of great importance with you."

The man nodded and gestured for Fass to sit. "I know why Count Henry sent you, and I have a general idea of his plan. Your movements have been rather conspicuous. Even my supply convoys know that a certain nobleman is rallying reinforcements and supporters for Count Henry."

Fass laughed heartily, explaining that with time being short and the task being urgent, his itinerary was practically an open secret.

"To be honest, I have been waiting for you."

The Count regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. ’Why did I just blurt out my true thoughts like that?’ He glanced at Fass’s expression. ’Ah, well. What’s said is said. Might as well continue.’

Fass smiled faintly, understanding perfectly that this would be another negotiation based on tacit understanding. ’This is better, actually,’ he thought. ’Knowing the outcome makes the process much easier.’

The Count’s tone became firm and brooked no argument. He cut straight to the chase. "Baron Fass, since we’re being open with each other, let’s not waste time on pleasantries. I am clear on Count Henry’s plan, and I have my own conditions."