Exiled from the Start and Dominating the Wasteland with an Intelligence System Chapter 85 : Chapter 85

Chapter 85. Making a Deal with a Snake

The lord’s hall of Runestone City carried the cold chill of newly seized territory.

Sabda sat in the high-backed chair that symbolized power, one hand stroking the icy obsidian armrest.

Standing before him was a ssenger clad in an over-robe bearing the crest of a certain count’s house from the Western Frontier.

He was bowing slightly, his posture respectful.

“...You are saying,” Sabda said, a hint of amusent in his voice,

“that the Baron Pendragon of Obsidian Territory may have found so extraordinary... treasure deep in the wasteland?”

The ssenger imdiately nodded, his tone steeped in mystery.

“Yes, Your Excellency.

My master is extrely concerned about this matter.

You know, the speed at which Baron Eli has risen is simply too abnormal.

We tracked down Caron, the steward of the Nors rchant Guild who supplied him with large quantities of goods...”

He paused and studied Sabda’s expression.

Seeing that the other man rely raised an eyebrow, he continued.

“After so... friendly questioning,

Caron revealed that not long ago, Baron Pendragon purchased two batches of slaves from their guild in one go.

The first batch was five hundred people. The second batch was another five hundred. The total ca close to a thousand.

And before that, he had also purchased a vast quantity of grain, enough to sustain a large population for several months.”

Sabda’s tapping fingers ca to a stop on the armrest.

A thousand slaves? A vast stockpile of grain?

Even he, after plundering Runestone City’s treasury and seizing its savings,

would have suffered badly if he had tried to produce that much money at once. It would have emptied more than half the coin purse he had only just ward in his hands.

Black Territory and Lucerne City had both only recently endured a beast tide and war. Where had such deep financial resources co from?

Unless...

“Minerals?” Sabda muttered under his breath, his brows knitting tightly.

“Iron? Silver? Gold?”

The tales of wealth buried beneath the Western Frontier had never ceased.

Had that white-haired whelp really stumbled into such luck?

The thought stung his heart like the bite of a venomous snake, sour and bitter all at once.

None of it showed on his face. He asked evenly,

“Then tell .

Why would you and your master bring such important intelligence all the way to ?”

He placed deliberate emphasis on the word “master,” his tone probing.

A fawning smile imdiately spread across the ssenger’s face.

“Naturally because you are a noble and illustrious... dici!” He tried to offer a resounding complint.

The word “dici” struck one of Sabda’s rawest nerves like a needle.

He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze turning icy as it fixed on the ssenger.

What he hated most was when others attributed his achievents to the great house behind him.

As though Sabda dici himself were nothing more than a useless man borrowing strength from his surna.

Yet in the complacency that had overtaken him after capturing Runestone City, he had entirely forgotten one thing.

Without Calvin, the Gold-Tier Knight sent by the ducal estate of the Southern Frontier, and without that contingent of elite soldiers,

he might still be licking his wounds in the ruins of Shadow Vale.

“As I am now,” Sabda said, his voice rising as he coldly cut the ssenger off,

“I am the Baron of Runestone City! Sabda!”

He deliberately stressed “Baron of Runestone City,” trying to cover over the mark he had borne since birth with this new identity.

Standing slightly behind Sabda, Ragnar frowned almost imperceptibly.

He understood this young lord’s obsession all too well. But this urgent need to prove himself, this constant emphasis on his own standing,

only made Sabda appear childish and insecure in the eyes of the truly intelligent.

Ragnar’s lips moved faintly, but in the end, in order to preserve his lord’s authority at this mont,

he chose silence.

Only his gaze toward the ssenger carried a trace of sympathy.

The smile on the ssenger’s face instantly stiffened, and fine beads of sweat appeared at his temples.

Damn it. He had tried to flatter the man and kicked the horse in the hoof instead.

Rubbing his hands awkwardly, he hurried to recover.

“Yes, yes, yes!

Baron Sabda, wise and mighty, whose prestige shakes the Western Frontier.

He quickly changed tactics and turned the conversation.

“My lord, my master truly did send here in all sincerity to seek cooperation with you.

The growth of Obsidian Territory and Lucerne City has already given rise to our shared... concern.

My master has promised that he can provide you with assistance!”

“Assistance?” Sabda leaned back in his chair, a faintly mocking curve at the corner of his mouth.

“It would not be free, I assu. Tell , what do you want?”

The ssenger felt a surge of joy in his heart. He knew there was an opening and quickly laid out the bait.

“Once the matter is settled, the Black Territory Valley built by Eli will naturally belong to you, Lord Sabda.

As for Lucerne City... that will be taken over by my master.

Any resources discovered within both territories will be divided equally between our two houses.”

After speaking, he cautiously observed Sabda’s reaction,

waiting either for ecstatic delight or for bargaining to begin.

But Sabda’s face remained utterly calm.

He did not seize upon this tempting proposal concerning the division of spoils.

Instead, he threw out a more practical question.

“Help ? How?

Could it be that your esteed count can mobilize the western border army

and send a full force past the line to help attack Obsidian Territory directly?”

His tone carried skepticism and a trace of disdain.

The ssenger choked on the question. His face flushed slightly, but he forcibly suppressed the resentnt in his heart.

“My lord jests. Without a joint order from Sir Lucius and Marquis Marcus,

who would dare mobilize the border army? That would be treason!

However...” He straightened a little, regaining so confidence.

“Our count has an extrely close personal relationship with Marquis Marcus.

Within the bounds permitted by the rules, he can mobilize two hundred well-equipped household soldiers

and secretly support you under the pretext of suppressing bandits.

That is entirely possible. This is absolutely not a force to be underestimated!”

“Two hundred n...” Sabda repeated the number softly.

Then he turned to Ragnar beside him, seeming to seek his opinion.

Ragnar gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, his eyes conveying a clear ssage: reject it. The risk is too great.

These two hundred n were being offered as support, but who could say whether they had truly co to help?

And for such a small force, they were demanding an entire city and half the resources?

Their appetite was too large, and the price far too high.

Yet Sabda’s gaze lingered on Ragnar’s face for only an instant before returning to the ssenger.

A reluctant expression appeared on his face, as though he had weighed the matter carefully, and he spoke at a leisurely pace.

“Very well.”

Just as delight began to rise in the ssenger’s eyes,

Sabda’s tone suddenly turned, hard and unquestionable.

“But if all you are offering is two hundred n, and you expect to take an entire Lucerne City

and still demand half the resources, your appetite is a little too large!”

“Listen well. Go back and tell your master this.

I, Sabda, acknowledge his goodwill.

Those two hundred n—I will be waiting for them.

But once the matter is finished, only Lucerne City will belong to your count.

Obsidian Territory and everything in it, including anything that may exist within it, belongs solely to Runestone City!

As for dividing the resources equally? Forget it!”

He cut off any room for haggling with absolute finality.

Then he impatiently waved a hand.

“See him out.”

A guard imdiately stepped forward and gestured for the ssenger to leave, though the man was still standing there sowhat dazed.

The ssenger opened his mouth, as if wanting to fight for better terms.

But under Sabda’s icy stare and the guard’s unyielding gesture, he could only swallow his words.

With an expression far from pleasant, he bowed and followed the guard out of the lord’s hall in haste.

The heavy doors bood shut behind him, cutting off the light from outside.

Only the crackling of the fire in the hearth remained, its flas dancing in the hall.

“Sabda!” Ragnar could no longer hold back. He stepped forward.

“Why... why did you not reject him outright just now?

That was clearly what I ant!

To cooperate with greedy old nobles who have spent a lifeti perfecting cunning and calculation is no different from inviting a wolf into the house.

They are sending two hundred n. Who knows what they are really planning?

And Lucerne City... that will be an important stronghold in the future unification of the southwest.”

Sabda did not answer at once.

He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the hearth.

Feeling the faint warmth of the flickering flas, he stood there with his back to Ragnar.

The firelight cast shifting shadows across his handso, feminine face.

“Reject it?” Sabda’s voice was calm and flat.

“Why would I reject it? Isn’t this rather good?

We gain an additional two hundred fresh troops, even if only in na.”

He turned around.

“Ragnar, you saw the scattered intelligence the scouts brought back with their lives a few days ago.

The walls of Obsidian Territory are being raised. Its soldiers are drilling. The newly reclaid land stretches on in one broad expanse after another...

That is not the kind of scene that can be sustained by Lucerne City’s pitiful tax revenue alone.”

He paused, and his gaze grew dark and deep.

“That Eli Pendragon... he must have found sothing.

Sothing very big. It could be a silver mine, a gold mine, or sothing even more valuable.”

A cold curve lifted the corner of his mouth.

“So we need assistance.

We need soone to help us share the risk and test the true weight of Obsidian Territory.

A count of the Western Frontier? Hah. He thinks he is clever?”

Sabda strode up to Ragnar and extended a hand.

With his fingertip, he lightly brushed Ragnar’s taut cheek, tightened by anxiety and agitation.

The gesture made Ragnar’s entire body stiffen.

“They want to use , Sabda, as a spear.”

Sabda’s voice dropped very low, carrying the chill of a serpent and absolute confidence.

He withdrew his hand, a mocking smile spreading across his face.

“But a re count...

is not worthy of it!”