CH260 Profitable Lacuna
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Ashen Castle, City of Ashes, Drake Fury Earldom, Dankrot Plains, Greater Fury Lands, Northwest Virellian Empire, Arun Continent, Pangea Plain.
It had been a week since the battle and cleanup at the Northern Dankrot Fort. Aside from the soldiers stationed there year-round, most of the additional troops deployed for the campaign had already returned to their usual posts.
Alex Fury was no different.
By the third day after the battle, a carriage had been dispatched by Earl Drake Fury to bring him back to Ashen Castle.
While the details of the Fort’s defence had been kept mostly under wraps for reasons known only to Fury Military High mand, Alex still managed to gain prestige—especially among the two elite units he had worked with throughout the long campaign: the Dark Hounds and the Fangs.
Officially, only the title of Drakeslayer was permitted to circulate. However, unofficially—particularly among the Fangs—another name had starting taking sway; Silver Fang.
After the way he had led them to dismantle the Kellerman Army’s hidden supply camps with minimal casualties, Alex was recognised as an honorary member of the unit. This was further solidified by the backing of Major Aldrich Jaeger and Colonel Conrad Hoist, two of the Fang’s respected leaders. Then, someone with "keen observation skills" noticed that Alex was the only Fang with silver hair.
Thus, the appellation of Silver Fang was born.
Interestingly, while not yet as widespread, Alex preferred this nickname far more than Drakeslayer. The latter might carry more weight across the wider Arun Continent, but to him it felt pretentious and some worth edgy that it didn’t sit well with him. Even after bearing it for nearly a month, he still couldn’t get used to hearing people even whisper it behind his back.
By contrast, he genuinely liked the Fangs and felt honoured by their acceptance. They reminded him of the Spec Ops guys who helped him battle-test some tech his team made for the DoD, a tight-knit group who would always have your back through hell and high waters.
The name, Silver Fang, to him, carried a sense of camaraderie and pride. It was a title he could proudly own.
Titles aside, Alex soon discovered that this world’s bureaucracy was no less suffocating than the one he remembered from his past life.
He was required to write a full report of his campaigns—from leading the expeditionary force into the Northern Dankrot Forest, to spearheading Exercitus Alexii’s advance against the Wildkin to recover the captured Imperial lands within the Kellerman fief, to orchestrating the Fang’s raid on the Kellerman supply lines, and finally, directing the decisive defence of the Fort through his self-designed Grand Array formation.
At first, Alex thought it was a joke. But Lord Marshall Lawson quickly impressed on him the severity of the situation over the Rune Phone, stressing just how important the requirement was.
Apparently, many officers in Fury High mand were interested in the precise sequence of events. And while, as the heir of Earl Drake Fury, Alex could not be forced to ply like a mon officer, the alternative was hardly better—endless rounds of personal debriefings with every curious High mand officer.
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Writing one report that could be circulated—with the needed redactions, of course—was far preferable to repeating the same thing to multiple old foxes.
The choice was clear.
Thankfully, Alex was no stranger to drafting reports, even for impatient, non-technocrat high-ranking officers like generals. Within a few hours, he had the document written and submitted.
As a former mid to senior executive in a multinational pany, Alex knew the importance of dressing up a report to look presentable, and so he did just that.
At the end of the day, pretentious or not, it was far better to have the Fury Army’s Military High mand on his side than against him.
The report aside, the whole event brought to his attention the bureaucratic gaps of this world, and how he might not only help patch them but also profit from doing so... in more ways than one.
After finishing the report, Alex pulled out his phone and drafted a lengthy message to two particular gnomes—Baldrick Pinchcoin, the Chief Financial Officer of the DragonHold Enclave, and Cromwell Haggleworth, Chief Executive Officer of the Golden Palace Merchant pany—detailing a profitable venture that had just e to mind.
An hour of back-and-forth calls later, Alex was smirking.
Even just from listening to their voices, he could imagine Pinchcoin’s nose twitching wildly while Haggleworth’s eyes glittered like gold coins.
In their current state, Alex was certain he could demand eternal fealty from the two gnomes, and they would agree in a heartbeat.
All that remained was approval from either Zora or Merlin. One was his master, the other his fiancée. With both having interests aligned, Alex considered the deal as good as sealed—especially since it was a win-win for both the Enclave and the Palace.
Realising just how much he could change—and profit—by recognising the gaps around him, Alex reread his report and began brainstorming other avenues to pursue. It also gave him a chance to reflect in hindsight on his moves during the long expedition away from the Ashen Castle.
Without a shred of doubt, he had made mistakes—be it in battle, in mand orders, or in assumptions that could have spelled disaster on any other day against a different enemy.
As the heir of a noble house, Alex now carried responsibility not just for the livelihoods of a few tens people, like in his past life, but for the very lives of tens of thousands—at the very least. It would be negligence not to grasp at every possible improvement he could make.
For three straight days, Alex resumed his reclusive habits, locking himself in the Back Mountain Lodge’s study, emerging only to eat and train.
On the fourth day, without informing Udara or Fen, he mounted Dread and rode straight for the Ashen Castle—carrying a thick stack of papers to place before his father, Earl Drake Fury.
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