Chapter : 101
Roy approached, positioning his filthy hand beneath the gleaming steel nozzle. But unlike Lloyd instructing Jasmin, Roy didn't tell the attendant to pump. He reached out with his clean right hand, his fingers exploring the unfamiliar mechanism, feeling the smooth travel of the pump head, the subtle resistance of the internal spring. Impressive resilience, he noted. Simple enough for anyone to operate, yet feels robust. He pressed down himself.
Click-hiss.
The rosemary-scented cream dispensed onto his soiled hand. He pumped again, ensuring a generous amount. Then, signaling the attendant for the water bucket (also retrieved silently), he began the cleansing process, just as Lloyd had done.
He worked the creamy soap into the dung, feeling the same surprising richness of the lather, smelling the clean rosemary scent battling the earthy odor. The lather itself feels different, he analyzed. Not thin and quick to dissipate like cheap soap. Dense. Stable. Clings effectively. He rinsed under the stream of water the attendant poured. He watched, fascinated despite himself, as the muck dissolved, washed away completely, leaving his skin feeling… astonishingly clean. Cleaner, somehow, than scrubbing with the harsh lye blocks ever achieved. No residue. Rinses completely. Remarkable.
He dried his hand carefully on a fresh linen towel the attendant provided. He examined his skin closely. No redness. No tightness. It felt smooth, comfortable, carrying only the faint, pleasant scent of rosemary. He compared it to his right hand, untouched by the experiment. The difference was subtle but undeniable. The washed hand felt… better. Revitalized. Less… punished by the act of cleaning. Milody was right. Velvety.
"Revolutionary," Roy murmured aloud, the word escaping him unintentionally. He wasn't just talking about the soap anymore, though its effectiveness was undeniable. He picked up the dispenser bottle again, turning it over and over, his engineer's mind, long dormant beneath the layers of ducal responsibility, clicking into high gear. "This mechanism… the pump, the valves, the spring return…" He peered closely at the nozzle, the precision fit of the steel cylinder into the oak body. "Where did he learn this? Master Elmsworth teaches resource allocation and trade theory, not fluid dynamics or precision mechanics! The weapons masters teach bladework and tactics, not valve seating and spring tension! Even the court artisans, skilled as they are, work primarily with precious metals and ornamentation, not functional micro-mechanics like this!"
He knew, with absolute certainty, that this wasn't something Lloyd had been taught. Not by Elmsworth, not by any other tutor Roy had employed. Lloyd’s formal education had been broad but conventional, focused on estate management, history, diplomacy – the skills deemed necessary for a potential administrator, compensating for his perceived lack of martial or magical prowess. Nothing in that curriculum covered the design and fabrication of miniature hydraulic pumps from scratch using shaped Void steel. Unless... A thought flickered. The true Ferrum power... the Steel and Fire... I know its potential for shaping, for destruction. Could it also possess such intricate creative capability? Could Lloyd have unlocked an aspect of the bloodline even I haven't fully explored? It seemed unlikely, yet the evidence was in his hands.
"Alchemy," Roy mused, thinking of the soap itself – the transformation of fat and ash water (according to his informant), the perfect saponification, the balanced essence temper implicitly demonstrated by the lack of irritation. That required knowledge, precision, control over chemical reactions. "And craftsmanship," his gaze returned to the bottle, "of an incredibly high order." He felt the smooth finish of the oak, the flawless gleam of the steel. This wasn't the clumsy work of a novice; it demonstrated an innate understanding of materials, of form, of function.
Where did this come from? Roy asked himself again, the question echoing in the quiet study. This sudden flowering of unexpected talent? He had always kept a subtle but pervasive watch over his son – tutors reported diligently, retainers like Ken provided observations. There had been no hint of this hidden aptitude, this sharp, inventive mind, this… genius, lurking beneath the surface of the quiet, unremarkable boy. Could he have been hiding it all along? Practicing in secret? Why? Fear of judgment? Lack of opportunity? Or was it truly… new?
Unless… The catalyst theory returned, stronger now. The marriage. Rosa Siddik.
Chapter : 102
He pictured Rosa again, her cool beauty, her formidable talent, her icy reserve. He remembered the reports from informant about the initial tension, Lloyd’s exile to the sofa. Could that friction, that challenge, that constant proximity to someone so obviously powerful and perhaps dismissive, have somehow… ignited something in Lloyd? Forced him to confront his own perceived inadequacies? Awakened a dormant potential through sheer force of ego, of needing to prove himself? She wouldn't have intended it, of course, Roy mused. Her motivations seem entirely focused on her own power, her own path. Detached. Logical. He recalled Jason Siddik, Rosa's father – a pragmatist, shrewd, protective of his family, especially since his wife Nilufa's long illness. Rosa likely inherited that focused pragmatism. Her presence wasn't meant to be motivational, merely… present. Yet the effect… the timing was undeniable. Before Rosa? Lloyd drifted. After Rosa? Lloyd… ignited.
Thank you, Lady Rosa, Roy thought, a rare, genuine smile finally touching his lips as he stood alone in his study, the revolutionary soap dispenser resting in his hand. Your presence, your coldness, your likely unintentional pressure… it seems you have inadvertently done this family, done my son, a greater service than any political alliance could have achieved. You provided the flint. His own hidden steel provided the spark.
He looked at the bottle again, the smile lingering. Lloyd wasn't a fool. He wasn't mediocre. He possessed a hidden brilliance, a unique blend of talents Roy hadn't foreseen. This invention, born from whatever strange confluence of events had transpired, was proof. His heir was not a liability. His heir was… intriguing. Full of surprises. A complex equation Roy was only beginning to understand.
The thousand Gold Coin investment no longer felt like a gamble on a foolish whim. It felt like seeding the first venture of a mind capable of seeing the world differently. A mind potentially capable of leading the Ferrum family into a new era. The soap was secondary. The mind that conceived it, the power that crafted the dispenser – that was the real asset. This investment wasn't just about potential profits; it was about fostering this unexpected brilliance, understanding its source, harnessing its potential for the good of the Duchy. He needed to know more, see more. The assessments by Elmsworth, Grimaldi, the artisans – they weren't just due diligence anymore; they were intelligence gathering on his own baffling, suddenly remarkable son.
The future felt suddenly, unexpectedly, brighter. And it smelled faintly of rosemary.
—--
The heavy oak doors of another place, the Central Guild Hall swung inward, admitting Lloyd Ferrum into the familiar cacophony of the main chamber. The air, thick with the usual blend of sweat, ale, oiled leather, and simmering ambition, seemed to part slightly around him. It was his second visit in as many days, a frequency unheard of for the usually reclusive heir.
Heads turned. Conversations didn't just pause this time; some ceased entirely, replaced by watchful silence. The whispers were still there, frantic currents beneath the surface noise, but the tone had subtly shifted. Yesterday's open mockery, the blatant disdain fueled by jealousy over his status and his wife, had curdled into something more complex. Wary curiosity. Grudging acknowledgment. Resentment, perhaps, now sharpened by the undeniable fact that the 'drab duckling' had taken a notoriously dangerous contract – the Cursed Wool – and walked back out, apparently unscathed, leaving terrified scavengers in his wake (news, Lloyd suspected, traveled fast on the Guild grapevine, likely embellished with every telling).
Perception management, stage one: complete, Lloyd thought, a flicker of grim satisfaction warming him despite the ever-present need for more System Coins. They don't have to like me. They just need to stop assuming I'm helpless prey. He scanned the hall, noting the hardened adventurers who now met his gaze with neutral assessment rather than dismissal, the younger hopefuls whose sneers were replaced by uncertain frowns. Even the air of jealousy felt different – less dismissive, more… grudgingly intense. Good. Let them wonder.
He walked directly towards the main counter, his stride measured, confident. The same young clerk with the ink-stained fingers was on duty, looking perpetually harassed by the demands of a dozen adventurers clamoring for attention. As Lloyd approached, the clerk looked up, recognized him instantly, and his reaction was telling. No wide-eyed alarm this time. No panicked warnings or desperate attempts to dissuade him. Just a flicker of surprise at his quick return, immediately masked by professional efficiency. The clerk straightened slightly, offering a brief, almost imperceptible nod – not of deference, exactly, but of acknowledgment. An acknowledgment that Lloyd Ferrum, against all odds, was apparently capable of handling himself, at least sufficiently to survive a trip into cursed territory.
Chapter : 103
"Lord Ferrum," the clerk greeted, his voice level, professional, subtly different from yesterday's fearful stammer. "Welcome again. Do you wish to take the Wild Sheep contract again?" He kept his voice low, avoiding broadcasting the dangerous nature of the task to the entire hall, a professional courtesy Lloyd appreciated.
"The Wild Sheep contract is… no not today," Lloyd stated crisply. He gestured towards the crowded noticeboard. "I require a new contract. Something… local. Quick turnaround."
He walked over to the board, the whispers resuming behind him, speculation buzzing about the 'progressing' Wild Sheep contract and his need for 'estate channels'. He scanned the parchment notices again, bypassing anything requiring long travel, complex investigation, or significant brute force. His Void power was better suited for precision, his Spirit partner for swift, focused strikes. He needed something that played to those strengths, minimized energy expenditure, and offered a decent return relative to the time investment.
His eyes caught on a request pinned slightly higher than the others, written in the neat, precise script favored by scholars or healers.
[Urgent Request: Grove Guardian Leaves & Heartwood Stone]
[Source: Verdant Sentinels (Treant Variants)]
[Location: Sunken Fen Mire (Approx. 3 hours west)]
[Objective: Procure Twenty (20) Unblemished Verdant Leaves (Known medicinal properties) AND One (1) Intact Heartwood Stone (Naturally occurring spirit stone within mature Sentinels).]
[Reward: Apothecary Elara Vanya offers 7 Silver Coins per Leaf AND 15 Silver Coins for the Heartwood Stone (Potential Total: 1 Gold, 55 Silver).]
[Hazard Level: Moderate (Difficult Terrain, Ambush Tactics, Spirit Energy Drain Vines)]
Verdant Sentinels, Lloyd mused, accessing fragmented memories. Treants. Not the lumbering, stupid kind often depicted in tales. These were ambush predators. Rooted, appearing as ordinary moss-covered trees, indistinguishable from the surrounding fen flora until prey came within range. He remembered their primary weapon: whip-like vines, strong as steel cables, erupting from the ground or camouflaged branches, ensnaring victims. And the secondary threat: a subtle, constant draining aura that leached Spirit Power from anyone entangled or held close, using the stolen energy to fuel their own unnatural growth and regeneration. Dangerous, yes. Especially for unprepared travelers or those relying solely on close-combat skills. Getting entangled meant slow, certain death by energy drain.
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But the reward… 155 Silver Coins total. Over one and a half Gold Coins. Enough to cover today's System conversion and leave him with a surplus. Far better than chasing moths. And the hazard… Ambush tactics? Spirit energy drain? A slow smile touched Lloyd’s lips again. My Void sense can pierce camouflage. My wires can handle vines. Fang’s lightning ignores the draining aura and hits hard. This wasn't just a task; it was practically tailor-made for his unique, hidden skillset.
He decisively detached the parchment notice. Returning to the counter, he placed it before the clerk, whose eyebrows merely twitched this time.
"This one," Lloyd stated. "Verdant Sentinels. Sunken Fen Mire."
The clerk scanned the request, his expression remaining professionally neutral, though perhaps a touch more alert. "Acknowledged, Lord Ferrum. Treant variants. Moderate hazard due to terrain and energy drain." He didn't offer warnings this time, merely processed the information. "Standard one-week duration." He quickly logged the new contract, stamped Lloyd's copy, and slid it back. "May your hunt be efficient, my lord."
"It will be," Lloyd replied confidently. Tucking the new contract away, he turned and exited the Guild Hall, ignoring the renewed wave of murmurs and speculative glances. Let them talk. He had work to do.
Chapter : 104
The journey to the Sunken Fen Mire took just under the estimated three hours, a trek through increasingly damp, overgrown woodlands bordering the vast wetlands. The air grew heavy, humid, thick with the smell of decaying vegetation, stagnant water, and buzzing insects. The ground underfoot became soft, treacherous, sucking at his boots. Lloyd moved carefully, his senses on high alert. Fang padded silently beside him, his coat subtly darkened again for camouflage, brown eyes scanning the dense undergrowth, ears constantly swiveling.
Lloyd didn't rely solely on sight. He extended his Void sense, a subtle probing of the environment around him, feeling for life signatures, for energy patterns that felt… wrong. Normal trees had a slow, deep, earthy resonance. The Verdant Sentinels, he suspected, would feel different – a core of concentrated, waiting energy masked by a deceptive surface calm. He also kept a wisp of his Steel power active, ready to manifest wires instantly if needed.
They pushed deeper into the mire, the silence broken only by the drone of insects and the occasional squawk of unseen swamp birds. The trees here were ancient, draped in thick moss and creeping vines, their roots forming tangled islands in the murky water. It was easy to see how travelers could become lost, disoriented, easy prey.
There, Lloyd's Void sense detected it. Ahead, partially submerged in a pool of black water, stood a cluster of three large, moss-draped trees that looked identical to their surroundings. But beneath the surface camouflage, Lloyd felt it – a tight knot of focused energy, a predatory stillness that felt fundamentally different from the passive life force of the normal flora. Sentinels. Waiting.
He signaled Fang silently, pointing with his eyes. The wolf flattened himself slightly, muscles bunching, ready to spring. Lloyd melted behind the trunk of a genuinely inanimate ancient cypress, using it as cover.
Okay, tactical assessment, his internal monologue clicked into gear. Three targets confirmed. Likely more hidden nearby. Vines are the primary threat – range, speed, entanglement, energy drain. Need to neutralize vines first, then eliminate the core. Thicker wires needed, for binding strength against potentially powerful vine strikes.
He focused his will, drawing deeply on his Void reserves. The air around his concealed position shimmered faintly. Not hundreds of fine filaments this time, but fewer, thicker strands of gleaming steel extruded themselves from the Void. Perhaps fifty in total, but each noticeably more substantial than the wires used against the scavengers, closer to the thickness of tough fishing line, humming with contained kinetic potential. He directed them silently, weaving them through the intervening trees and roots, positioning them just below the surface of the murky water around the base of the targeted Sentinels. An invisible net of binding force, waiting to spring.
Now, the bait. He deliberately took a step out from behind the cypress, making himself visible, projecting the energy signature of a lone, unwary traveler stumbling into their ambush zone.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The placid surface of the black water around the three suspect trees exploded upwards. Not with water, but with thick, ropy vines, dozens of them, dark green and disturbingly muscular, lashing out with blinding speed from hidden points beneath the water line and from camouflaged branches overhead. They converged on Lloyd's position like striking snakes, aiming to ensnare, crush, and drain. The air crackled with the subtle energy-leaching aura they projected.
Spring the trap! Lloyd commanded mentally.
The fifty thick steel wires snapped taut simultaneously. They didn't slice; they bound. They wrapped around the lashing vines with crushing force, constricting, immobilizing, anchoring them to submerged roots or nearby tree trunks. The sound was a chorus of loud creaks and groans as tough vine met unyielding steel. Several vines were caught mid-strike, frozen inches from Lloyd, straining powerlessly against their metallic bonds. The ambush was instantly, effectively, neutralized.
The targeted Sentinels seemed to shudder, emitting a low, groaning sound that might have been surprise or rage as their primary weapons were rendered useless.
"Fang! Strike package Alpha!" Lloyd ordered aloud, pointing towards the nearest immobilized Treant.
With the piercing shriek of a thousand birds tearing through the humid air, Fang exploded from cover. His foreleg blazed with azure lightning. He didn't hesitate, didn't need to dodge nonexistent vines. He slammed the Thousand Chirp Strike directly into the base of the nearest Treant's trunk.
CRACK-BOOM! The impact was far more devastating against the wood than it had been against Redborn’s hide. Splinters flew. The trunk shuddered violently, a deep fissure appearing where the lightning struck, blackened and smoking. The Treant let out a drawn-out, groaning roar as its core energy destabilized.
Chapter : 105
Before it could recover or attempt any secondary defense, Lloyd acted again. A single, even thicker strand of steel, almost cable-like, shot from his hand, imbued with focused kinetic force. It struck the weakened trunk like a battering ram, punching clean through the damaged wood. The Treant groaned once more, then slowly, majestically, began to topple, crashing into the murky water with a tremendous splash. One down.
Fang was already moving, lightning gathering again, targeting the second Treant whose vines still struggled uselessly against Lloyd's wires. Chirp-SLICE! Another devastating impact. Lloyd followed up with a kinetic steel 'punch'. The second Sentinel crashed down.
The third Treant, sensing its imminent demise, seemed to panic. It thrashed its bound vines violently, and Lloyd felt a different energy signature spike – not vines, but a desperate release of its core power, attempting a localized energy drain pulse.
Not happening, Lloyd thought grimly. Before the pulse could fully manifest, Fang was on it. A final, furious Thousand Chirp Strike tore into its heartwood. Lloyd added one more kinetic steel impact for good measure. The third Treant collapsed into the fen.
Silence returned, broken only by the drip of water and the buzzing of insects. Three Sentinels down. The immediate threat neutralized. But Lloyd knew better than to relax. This was an ambush cluster. Where there were three, there were likely more.
He extended his Void sense further, sweeping the surrounding mire. There… two more, deeper in, pretending to be cypress knees. And… five… no, six… clustered near that patch of glowing fungi. And another couple hidden in the canopy overhead. Seventeen in total. A significant infestation.
Alright, Lloyd strategized quickly. Systematic extermination. Bind, strike, punch. Conserve Fang’s energy where possible, use my kinetics more. Maintain wire control.
The next hour was a grim, efficient process. Lloyd flushed out the hidden Sentinels, using himself as bait or directing Fang to provoke them. As soon as the vines lashed out, his pre-positioned or rapidly deployed steel wires bound them fast. Then came the one-two punch: Fang’s lightning strike to weaken the core, followed by Lloyd’s kinetically propelled steel slugs or rods to shatter the trunk. They worked in perfect sync, predator and master, lightning and steel, clearing the infestation tree by methodical tree. Fang took down nine, Lloyd finished eight using primarily his Void power after Fang delivered the initial weakening blow, carefully managing their combined energy expenditure.
Finally, the last Verdant Sentinel crashed into the mire. The oppressive psychic static lessened noticeably. The air felt cleaner, less charged with predatory intent. Seventeen hostiles neutralized.
Lloyd leaned against a cypress trunk, breathing heavily, feeling the familiar drain of prolonged Void power use. Fang slumped onto the damp ground beside him, panting, the lightning aura completely gone now, leaving him looking like a tired, oversized grey wolf.
"Good work, boy," Lloyd praised, scratching the wolf behind the ears. "Precision strikes. Energy management needs work, but effective." He looked around at the wreckage – splintered trunks, severed vines held fast by gleaming steel wires that now slowly dissolved back into nothingness at his command. Mission accomplished.
The System notification chimed almost as an afterthought.
[Task Progression: Verdant Sentinel Neutralization]
[Kill Count: 17]
[Reward Calculation: 1 SC per 5 Kills (Rounded Down)]
[Reward Issued: 3 System Coins (SC)]
[Current Balance: 50 (Previous) + 3 (Reward) = 53 SC]
Three coins, Lloyd thought, the familiar frustration bubbling up. Seventeen dangerous magical trees, hours of effort, significant energy drain… for three lousy coins. He shook his head. Need two more kills somewhere just to get that next coin. Pathetic efficiency. He reminded himself the real reward was the Silver from the Apothecary for the quest items.
He spent the next hour carefully harvesting the required materials. Twenty large, perfectly unblemished leaves, their surfaces cool and slightly rubbery, carrying a faint medicinal scent. He stored them carefully in an oilskin pouch. Finding the Heartwood Stone was trickier. He had to use his knife and Void sense to probe the shattered core of the largest Sentinel he and Fang had taken down, eventually extracting a fist-sized, irregularly shaped stone that pulsed with a faint, gentle green light. It felt warm, humming with residual Spirit Energy. He secured both pouches to his belt. Right. Time to get paid.
The walk back to the city felt longer, fatigue settling deep into his bones. He arrived at the Guild Hall just as dusk was painting the sky purple and orange. The evening crowd was building, louder, rowdier than the afternoon shift. He ignored the renewed stares, the nudges, the pointing fingers, and went straight to the counter.
