Storm Tower

Two sat down and looked at their mother, standing behind a glass wall, gazing out at the storm clouds below.

There is always a storm around the storm tower.

"It is likely that he advanced or will advance to Lv. 40," said the woman, surprising the man. "Impossible," he replied, but quickly controlled his expression, feeling his mother's gaze.

"It's unlikely, Mother. He clearly had help; there is no way he could kill the lich on his own," he added measuredly.

The old woman didn't say anything and turned to her oldest daughter. There is faint disappointment in her gaze, not as much as in her son, but some.

"I wonder if I would have been able to defeat the lich," she said, more to herself than her mother.

"You have enough aura control to escape from him, but to defeat him. You would have needed to be a Great Mage," she replied, with the last words being especially heavy.

It pains her whenever she hears those words.

"I have decided to join the war mother. I have studied enough. It's time I prove my mettle in battle." She stated.

Her sister, younger than her, had already climbed through it. She, being the oldest, was stuck in it.

"You can't. We can't be seen, taking the sides," opposed her brother, to which she sighed.

"I won't be taking part in the civil war. I will be fighting on the front against our enemies," she replied and turned to her mother.

"It's about time, dear daughter. I would need you to be strong to survive the danger we are to face," her mother replied with a smile on her face.

Hearing that, she felt relieved.

A moment later, the woman turned her eyes to her son.

"You will go to the Greltheaven. Negotiate for more essence and offer our Grade III legacy as a pawn," the woman stated.

"Why couldn't we just conquer Greltheaven, mother? We would benefit tremendously from it," he asked, and the woman laughed, as if he had told some joke.

It shocked the man; his mother rarely laughs.

"We are not strong enough to bear the weight of it, my son," she replied.

The man opened his mouth to ask her to explain, but closed it, seeing the expression on his mother's face.

"I will go to Greltheaven, mother," he said finally.

…

Eliyen Saelion

"My apologies, Mr. Silar, but currently we have no space for a large group such as yours, but a space will be open within two hours."

"We can make it available for special patrons like you, if you want," I replied to the man.

I am in the lobby, attending to important patrons who have suddenly started arriving since the morning.

Yesterday, the city was deserted, but now it is filled with people.

"Is there any space available in the casino? I will even take the common floor," he said. "My apologies, Mr. Silar, but there is not," I replied with professional regret.

"I hope the tower garden is open for us?" he asked finally. "Of course. I will even open the restricted space for you," I replied with a smile.

"Thank you, Madam Eliyen," he said, with a smile, hiding his irritation.

I was not joking when I said that important people have descended into Greltheaven since morning, and more will be coming.

Yesterday, everybody had abandoned the city because they thought there was no future for it. The undead will conquer it without a doubt.

Now, we have destroyed the Great Horde and even conquered another city.

Currently, Greltheaven is a place filled with potential where opportunities for financial gain exist. The place that has a Grade IV legacy, a lot of emotion, mist goods, mist plants, and many other things.

"We have another two hours here with fake smiles and sugared words," said Lorle, looking at the clocks.

It is usually the receptionist's job to greet and assist guests. Most of the time, the places are reserved. So, only those with reservations came, but this time is different.

So, we were sent down here to deal with the important patrons. We need to maintain a good relationship with them; it wouldn't be beneficial to displease these individuals.

"This was your job, you were good at it," I said to her. She used to work at the reception before she was selected as a trainee.

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"I was good, but that doesn't mean I liked it," she replied.

I feel jealous of her; every trainee is good and works very hard. Take Lorle, for example. She didn't like being a receptionist, but she still took the job and did it so excellently that she was selected as a trainee.

There is high competition among the trainees, and it has become more intense with the advancement of legacy.

After yesterday's victory, it became cutthroat.

We all know that a promotion is soon to come, and everybody wants it. Not for the money, but the power and influence that Madam could wield.

Even as trainees, we have power. Even angry people are polite to us. When we ask them something, they do it.

Madams have far greater power.

Soon, the door opened, and a middle-aged man walked inside. He nodded at us and took the third elevator, which would take him to the top floor.

It's not the elevator for patrons; it's the elevator that takes one directly to the top floor. It is for madams and important people.

"That is the sixteenth person who has gone through that elevator since our shift began," said Lorle. "Chief and the madam seemed to be meeting a lot of people today," I replied.

Usually, only people who come to meet Lord Silver go through that elevator.

Chief Carla has an office on the top floor, but she usually meets people in her office in the city, while Madam Caena rarely meets people.

Usually, Grade II madams handle them. Madam Caena only meets the important people.

All the people who took that elevator were important, including the man who just walked into the elevator.

"He went to meet the chief and the two madams. Madam Margaux is also there," she said with a smile, which tells me she knows something I don't.

"What is happening?" I asked. I am not above asking.

The woman smiled, but didn't open her mouth. I kept looking at her. "Fine, but you will have to weave me a sweater," she said. "Ok," I replied without hesitation.

I am very busy with my work, and now that we have won, I will also be busy with the store.

I had brought it. It was not an easy decision with the undead coming, but I decided to have faith in Master Silver, and I did it.

"They are going to the madams to get their support." She replied mysteriously, which confused me even further. It felt like it was something I should know.

"Support for what?" I asked, and when she didn't open her mouth immediately, I glared at her.

"Gailhorn has just been conquered. Meaning, there will be a need for a Governor, and these people are going to madams asking for their support for it." She replied, finally.

It cleared things immediately, but also made me feel like an idiot.

We have been taught to pay attention to things, but I was so busy with my own thoughts that I didn't notice it at all.

"Though I don't think any of them have a real chance; only five have it, including two from Velvet Garden," Lorle added, making me turn to her once more.

…

Viscount Dunthorp

The door opened, and I walked into the private room of Sandlestone, one of the most premier restaurants in Namdar.

Wealthy merchants and nobles prefer it, but I come here less often than most.

I am saving money; I have money, unlike many nobles, but I do not want to squander it, now that my territory is gone. I need to use it wisely.

All seven of them have arrived; I seemed to be the last.

"Everyone," I greeted the seven of them. They didn't get up, which is fine, since it is not a formal gathering.

It is a small group comprising barons and Viscounts. Many nobles have found their groups since arriving in the Namdar.

"Take a seat, Viscount Dunthorp," said the old man in his Mid-sixties. "Thank you, Baron Fenleigh," I replied. He might be Baron, but he is most powerful in here in our little group.

I sat and nodded at the other nobles before turning back to Baron Fenleigh, who called the meeting.

"The reason for the meeting today is Greltheaven," he said. I heard the news, and it shocked me.

I expected it to be overwhelmed within minutes, but it seemed like they had annihilated he undead and even conquered a city they were occupying.

"What does it have to do with us?" asked Viscount Balwick. The man isn't clever, and he wouldn't have the Viscount title if his father and brother hadn't died in war.

Others understood it as their eyes became serious.

"Silver has proved that he could deal with the undead. Making Greltheaven a desirable city," he said, and paused to look at each of us.

Viscount Balwick opened his mouth, but seeing that the Baron wasn't finished, he closed it.

"We have lost our territory and our armies; not a single one of us even maintains fifty people. We have barely enough money to live and not lavishly."

"If we continue to live here, in this expensive city."

"The money will continue to slip until we have no choice but to take jobs, like teaching etiquette and whatnot to merchants' children, like many of our peers are doing!" he finished with his voice rising high.

There is an absolute silence, because everybody knows. He is speaking the truth.

From a force of hundreds and a staff of over fifty. I just have ten people in command and five household staff remaining. Even the place I live is rented now.

All of it costs money, and it is not coming back to me. It keeps me up all night.

I am less worried about reclaiming my territory and more concerned about the money, because I know it is nearly impossible to regain the territory, but money can still be earned.

I have cut many of my staff and expenses, but we are nobles. We have to adhere to certain requirements and maintain specific standards, which come at a cost.

To achieve that, my wife and I are considering teaching merchant children, just as many of my peers are doing.

A couple of years ago. I had not thought I would fall this low, but I have, and I have been thinking of ways to get out of it. I have even decided to shift to Inam.

Although it has also become expensive, with many merchants and nobles from the mainland moving there, it is not as expensive as Namdar, which is the primary destination for those escaping the war on the mainland.

"So you want us to move to Greltheaven?" asked Viscount Balwick incredulously. The older man shook his head. "That will be your decision," he replied.

"I am thinking of doing it. I had talked to Rutto earlier, and it felt like it was a wise choice."

"It is not expensive and bears a proximity to the merchant state."

"There is also a Grade IV legacy, and most importantly. If I move there soon enough, Rutto said he will help me get a job that won't be disrespectful to my title," he stated.

"You go there. I won't be living among the dirty fucking orcs!" replied Viscount Balwick.

I didn't say anything, but the thought was enticing me. It's not like I hadn't thought about it. Rutto had talked to me, offering many things, but I declined.

Greltheaven wasn't safe, but the impressive victory had changed things.

"I heard Marquess Grimvale is planning to offer territories," said Baron Rabal, and it made everyone laugh.

Yes, I heard it as well. It was the news that was most discussed until yesterday.

They will be barren territories—no cities, no mines, certainly nothing of real worth. At best, the Marquess might concede a patch of green here and there, but nothing more.

It will barely offer any income, but many would line up to get it.

It might be a barren piece of land, but it is still territory that they could lord over and pass to their children, keep their legacy alive.

Though that is not the reason, we all laughed.

"If we had such money, we wouldn't be sitting here discussing Greltheaven, Baron Rabal," said Viscount Raubas, making everyone laugh even more.

The territories may be barren, but they are expensive. Something we will not be able to afford, even if we pooled all our money together.

So, I didn't even discuss that topic with my family. I focused on the ways that are within my means.

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