Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 119: Chapter 114: The Law is Not Retroactive

「On the third day, at dawn.」

Inside the Lord’s Mansion office, a secret meeting about the "Strong Foundation Plan" was in progress.

"Separating... no, stripping the frenzied elements from the bloodline... then using the neutralizing properties of Moonlight Grass to pacify them... Heavens, Velin! This idea... it’s the kind of thing only a madman could cook up!" Valerius’s brow was furrowed, and he alternated between nodding and deep thought. "But... theoretically, I can’t find any flaws! Even without any precedent, it’s worth a try!"

Kael, who had been standing silently in the shadows, broke the master’s optimistic mood. "Xiaolan has been initiated as a Ranger. She’s a natural, no doubt, but she seems to have something on her mind. She lost her balance and fell again during training last night."

"The list of materials for the first phase of the experiment has already exceeded three hundred Golden Suns." Caroline, dressed in a smart black business suit, tapped a finger on the ledger. "And that’s not even counting the additional ’PR’ costs we’ve incurred to delay Banaby. Velin, I need a guarantee. A guarantee of the success rate."

Her eyes, fixed on Velin, were filled with cautious scrutiny.

Just as Velin was about to speak, the heavy oak door to the office was thrown open with a loud BAM.

Banaby’s obese figure appeared in the doorway. Behind him, eight of the Marquis’s guards filed in, their hands resting on their sword hilts, their cold gazes seeming to measure the necks of everyone in the room.

"Klein! My patience has run out!" The shrill voice shattered the harmony in the office.

Caroline was holding a cup of steaming black tea. The sudden intrusion made her hand tremble, and a few drops of scalding liquid splashed onto the back of her hand, leaving an angry red mark.

"Envoy, did Marquis Minas Hill neglect to teach you any manners?"

"Manners?" Banaby sneered, waving a hand dismissively. "Miss Channing, this is a matter between a lord and his vassal. I advise a merchant like yourself to stay out of it! Even if your Golden Sail is as rich as a kingdom, you wouldn’t want to take a tour of the Noble Court, would you?"

It was a blatant threat. Caroline’s expression darkened completely.

Pleased with her reaction, Banaby turned his head, his pudgy finger jabbing so close to Velin’s face it nearly touched his nose.

"Now, I order you to hand over all the spoils! Otherwise, in the name of the Marquis, I will..."

He was cut off mid-sentence, his pupils suddenly contracting.

On the windowsill, having appeared from nowhere, stood a massive albatross with a wingspan of nearly two meters.

Its feathers were pure white as snow and its posture was elegant. A pair of intelligent golden eyes coolly surveyed the tense, confrontational scene in the room, exuding an air of uncommon spirit.

A Wind-Whisper Albatross! The type of messenger nobles used to deliver top-secret correspondence!

His heart skipped a beat as a strong sense of unease washed over him.

Banaby’s gaze drifted uncontrollably to the albatross’s leg—where an open message tube was tied.

There was no mistaking the insignia branded upon it.

It was not the twin swords of House Minas Hill.

Instead, it was a design of tulips and thorns, crowned with an ornate set of scales—the crest of the Haidi Duchy’s highest governing body, the Noble Council.

The Noble Council?!

’Why would those old masters in the Royal Capital send a letter to this pauper?’

Banaby’s sense of unease intensified. He had the sinking feeling that events were spiraling out of his control.

"It seems the Envoy is in a terrible hurry." Velin slowly rose to his feet. The humility he’d shown for the past few days fell away like a mask, replaced by a gaze so cold it chilled Banaby to the bone.

He followed Banaby’s gaze to the albatross and smiled faintly.

"Looking for this?" Velin calmly produced a document from within his coat.

Banaby’s breath hitched in his throat.

The young lord gently unrolled the scroll of fine parchment. As he did, a faint magical glow on the seal dissipated—the highest-grade tamper-proof ward.

He didn’t read the letter, instead turning his gaze to the horrified Banaby.

"Envoy," Velin’s voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Allow me to ask you a question. On what date did the ’Act of Jurisdictional Transfer for the Haidi Duchy,’ issued by the Imperial Regent, take effect?"

The question gave Banaby pause, but he quickly seized on it like a drowning man grasping a lifeline.

"Of course I know! March first, Imperial Calendar 776!" He puffed out his chest, certain he had seen through Velin’s bluff. "And you, Klein, you didn’t scurry your way to this swamp until May! Don’t tell me you can’t even do the math! That law applies directly to you!"

"So you did do your homework, remembering the effective date." Velin smiled, then turned, pulled his old Pioneer Knight edict from a desk drawer, and SLAPPED it on the table.

"Then allow me to remind you. My edict," he tapped a finger on the date, "was issued on February 12th, Imperial Calendar 776, granted directly by the Noble Council!"

"A law that takes effect on March 1st is supposed to govern something that happened in February?" He took a step forward, bearing down on the now-ashen Banaby. His voice dropped low, full of mock deliberation. "Envoy, you are a nobleman yourself. Surely you’ve heard the phrase?"

He enunciated each word as if passing judgment: "The. Law. Is. Not. Retroactive."

"My allegiance, from the very beginning, has been to one power and one power only: the Noble Council, acting with the authority of the Grand Duke!" Velin’s voice turned sharp and cold, filled with an authority that permitted no argument. "Not some Marquis Minas Hill from Sword Tooth Province!"

Banaby’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t get a single word out.

"Oh, right." Velin said, as if just remembering something. He held up the new document he’d just received and spoke in a declarative tone, addressing everyone present, but especially the eight bewildered guards.

"Just moments ago, I received official word from the Noble Council. They have approved my pioneering efforts and recognized my claim to fifty thousand acres of land in the Gray Sea Marsh."

Velin paused, then unfurled the document with a sharp SNAP.

On the parchment, the magical seal of the Noble Council pulsed with an authoritative light, illuminating Banaby’s face, now twisted in fear.

Finally, he looked at the eight guards, his gaze perfectly calm.

"Now, I would like to ask you gentlemen. In a barony that answers directly to the Council, to draw your swords on a Lord appointed by that same Council."

He smiled, showing a flash of white teeth.

"Is that not... a declaration of war?"

CLANG—

With a sharp clatter, one of the guards could no longer hold his sword, and it fell to the floor.

It was followed by the sound of more weapons clattering to the ground, one after another.

The whole world seemed to fall silent.

Only the sound of Banaby’s ragged, heavy breathing, like air from a broken bellows, echoed through the office.