Chapter 227: Poland Bandit Group

The Band of Polant appeared after the Black Gold Brotherhood.

Though one resided on the southwest flank of Mount Wu, and the other on the southeast, their natures and deeds were strikingly similar—

attacking noble castles, seizing noble lands, carving out their own dominions.

Was Mount Wu Castle incapable of eradicating them?

The answer was no.

In the early days, several knightly orders of Mount Wu, joined by other noble contingents, had easily defeated them. But barely a year or two passed, and they sprang up again like mushrooms after rain.

Again and again, perhaps Mount Wu grew weary—or perhaps Vigins’ repeated mismanagement had bred deep resentment among his men. Over time, the campaigns against them weakened.

Now, the border had become a game of push-and-pull: today you strike, tomorrow I retaliate.

This stalemate, beyond claiming countless soldier lives, led to frequent changes in the lords of these frontier regions, leaving Mount Wu’s borders perpetually unstable.

Such disturbances in the Marquis’s domain were, of course, known to the King and the great nobles alike.

Legally, the Kingdom bore the duty to protect its lesser nobles—but only when their very status was threatened, as when the Band of Polant endangered Mount Wu Castle.

As for these petty skirmishes along the edge, the Audin royal house contented itself with expressions of concern; it would not send troops. To them, it was sometimes beneficial when their vassals clashed, draining each other’s strength.

Besides, Mount Wu Castle had never once appealed to the Crown or any other noble for aid—so why should they trouble themselves?

Roning pondered for a moment, wondering whether this latest Polant raid was routine—or if someone stirred it from behind.

But regardless, the Band of Polant posed no real threat to Mount Wu Castle, for the Fifth Knightly Order garrisoned it.

Could they even breach the Fifth Order’s lines and penetrate deep into Mount Wu’s territory? They lacked the strength for that.

“Rognar, did you hear any news of Count Auson on your journey?” Roning asked.

After Auson was stripped by Rulans earlier this year, he had returned to his domain, Black Serpent City. Roning, upon returning to Wu North, had paid him little heed.

“I did hear something.”

Rognar, perhaps like Marven, harbored a dislike for Auson—his face unconsciously curled into a smile as he spoke of him.

“Supposedly, since returning to Black Serpent City, Auson has been seeking healers far and wide, courting powerful mages for magical potions or other remedies to ease his injuries. He even extended an invitation to Lord Miloslav of Mount Wu Town—unfortunately, it was refused.”

Miloslav was the Seventh-Rank Archmage who crafted magical elixirs for Rulans, a Royal Viscount, an Honorary Count of Mount Wu, and the administrator of the Silva Magic Consortium in this land.

Though not a landholding noble, such a man wielded extraordinary influence. To refuse Auson’s plea was his right—and he faced no consequences.

Roning chuckled softly. “Auson thinks too highly of himself. If such wounds were easily healed, my grandfather would not have suffered for so many years without relief.”

Rulans possessed greater power, broader connections, and a more illustrious reputation than Auson ever had—and he had found no cure. How could Auson hope to?

Moreover, Miloslav, who had already eased Rulans’s pain out of loyalty to the Marquis, had now refused Auson outright. That likely extinguished even the faintest hope of relief.

“And what of Barrington? What’s his reaction?”

Barrington, Auson’s son, Dianie’s brother, the Baron’s Golden Knight.

“He’s furious. He’s even spoken of demanding an explanation from the Marquis. But Auson himself intervened, claiming it was merely a duel lost—and had nothing to do with the Marquis.”

Barrington probably only blustered about confronting Rulans. In truth, he dared not set foot in Mount Wu Castle.

At forty-four, a Golden Knight, Barrington’s talent was formidable. He had no desire to end up like his father, crippled.

“Barrington likely now handles all affairs in Black Serpent City. Auson, it seems, will retire as the Marquis has.”

Rognar sighed. The man had risen to Star-Class, dreaming of grandeur—how could he have foreseen such an end?

“Any news of the Black Gold Brotherhood?” Roning asked.

“Last year, though we didn’t crush them, we reclaimed several territories and inflicted heavy losses. Even if they wish to retake those lands, they’ll need ample grain and trained troops.”

He shook his head unconsciously. He believed the Brotherhood would lie dormant for another year or two.

“If Your Lordship wishes to know more, I’ll keep my ears open next time I ride out.”

Roning nodded. “I rely on you.”

He had already begun treating Rognar as an intelligence officer.

To him, no matter how strong the Black Gold Brotherhood might be, it could never outlast Mount Wu. There had to be a hidden patron behind it.

And if there was a patron, their resurgence was still possible.

But if the Brotherhood also moved, Mount Wu Castle would face a two-front war.

Roning, stationed at the northernmost edge of Mount Wu, had no fear of the flames spreading to Wu North—but preparations were still necessary. For instance, urging Ridal and Macken to train more soldiers.

A standard Viscount typically commanded four knightly squads. Roning still lacked two.

“How are the quality and condition of the five hundred-plus newcomers we brought back?”

“Passable, I suppose. After such a long journey, they’re all exhausted.”

Rognar shifted tone. “But among them is a mid-rank wandering knight named Kudore. Apparently, he once sought to join Baron Cora—but the latter’s finances and domain management collapsed, so he abandoned the plan.”

“At that moment, Anthony was recruiting free folk nearby, so Kudore followed him here to Timber Town.”

Though Wu North’s population now exceeded sixteen thousand, none among the purchased slaves or these two waves of free folk possessed the Gift.

To attract a wandering knight? That was promising.

“I might tell Anthony to not only recruit common folk, but also extend invitations to those with the Gift.”

Roning mused.

As they spoke, hurried footsteps sounded outside, followed by a sharp knock.

“Enter.”

Chahar burst in. “My Lord, Juweit sent word—Sim was beaten.”

Hmm?

Roning frowned. “What happened?”

“They say a new arrival caused trouble. Juweit and Sim went to intervene, but the man was violent—and stronger than both of them.”

Roning glanced at Rognar. The man looked awkward.

No need to ask—they both knew who the assailant was.

Juweit and Sim were low in power, but they were old hands. Only Ridal or Macken might discipline them—and even then, only in training or instruction.

To deliberately strike them, and wound one? No one had ever done that before.

“Let’s go see for ourselves.”

With nothing else to do, Roning was glad for the chance to meet these new arrivals.