"I've heard of you before, Cerys warrior!" Antoine interrupted Aldric before he could even open his mouth.
"Captain Emmus and the surviving sailors, as well as the refugees from Rogue Camp, have all been praising your bravery at the orc encampment. Your deeds in this battle don't surprise me at all — you were born to be a hero, my boy!"
Clearly, during the day that Aldric had been unconscious, Acting Lord Antoine hadn't been idle. He had already investigated every single person involved in the incident, ensuring that any loose ends were tied up.
Even the blacksmith, Gloin — who shouldn't have had any reason to be here — had been pulled into this division-of-spoils meeting thanks to his connection with Vittoria. That alone proved Antoine's thoroughness.
His meaning was obvious: as long as no one challenged his claim to the lordship, he was more than willing to slice up the pie generously enough to keep everyone satisfied.
"A castle, a stretch of land, and one powerful weapon from my own vault — do these please you, hero? They are what you rightfully deserve." His tone relaxed for the first time, his expression softening.
A servant stepped forward, presenting a rolled document trimmed with gold leaf. Antoine tapped it with his short scepter, imprinting it with his magical seal, then looked up with a faint trace of expectation in his eyes. "And if you're willing to settle here permanently, I'll even grant you a noble title."
He exhaled deeply. Whether or not Aldric was satisfied, this was the highest level of sincerity he could offer. The chorus of astonished whispers from below confirmed that his performance was convincing enough.
But Aldric's first thought was: What the hell am I supposed to do with a castle and some undeveloped land?
He was a player — someone constantly running around the world, with no guarantee he wouldn't die at any moment. What use did he have for an empty estate? And even if he became a noble of Port Anthony, so what?
In a few days he'd switch to another region, and who would even recognize a backwater noble title then?
He glanced toward his mentor, Sir Gonz, silently asking for advice. After all, his teacher still technically held a noble title — maybe he'd have some interest in the offer.
But the witcher looked calm and detached, returning Aldric's gaze with eyes that clearly said, You earned this. You decide what to do with it. I'm not getting involved.
It was Vittoria, standing beside him, who was silently gesturing like a madwoman: Important objective — take it!
Huh? Aldric raised an eyebrow, mouthing back, What for?
The female warrior's eyes widened. She repeated the gesture even more emphatically, mouthing the words: Warband! Warband!
Because of slight differences between Empire Union and Cathay tactical hand signals, her gestures were confusing. But when she finally remembered that players could simply send messages to one another, Aldric received her message:
"Accept it! With land ownership, you can establish a warband!"
Ah, so that's what she meant.
Before the silence could drag on too long, Aldric accepted the gilded deed from the servant who had been waiting awkwardly at his side for several minutes. He bowed slightly toward Antoine. "I thank you for your generosity, my lord."
Antoine's strained smile finally relaxed. A dirty political transaction had just been sealed with polite ceremony.
As for the late young Count Anthony — who had died full of hatred? No one cared.
The rest of the meeting quickly became dull. Now that he had secured mutual understanding with the witchers, Antoine reverted to his usual upper-class demeanor — warm, false, and endlessly verbose.
One after another, the people receiving rewards came forward. The church representatives had long since reached agreements with Antoine behind the scenes; what took place here was just for show.
A few surviving guards from the lord's castle were praised with words like, "XXX, you have done well — Port Anthony will forever remember your loyalty!" and then were dismissed to collect their payment outside.
Eventually, only Vittoria and the dwarf Gloin remained uncalled.
"Dwarf Smith Gloin," Antoine declared solemnly, "you provided vital intelligence during this crisis, contributing greatly to the city's survival. I hereby announce you an honorary councilor of Port Anthony! Furthermore, your forge shall operate tax-free for the next two years."
In truth, Antoine had no idea who this short, bearded dwarf even was, nor what intelligence he had supposedly provided.
But for the sake of the dwarves' reputation, no one mentioned the fact that Gloin had sold out his client. The acting lord was simply reading from a prepared script. A tiny blacksmith's profits meant nothing to him. If granting the title helped secure the witchers' support, why not go along with it?
"Thank you for your generosity, my lord!" Gloin's face split into a wide grin. "I, Gloin the smith shall continue to serve this city with all his heart and strength!"
He could hardly believe his luck — when the female warrior dragged him here that morning saying something good was going to happen, he hadn't believed her.
"Vittoria Gabriella…" Antoine read the final name on his list. Having chaired this meeting for hours so soon after the recent chaos, he was exhausted. Seeing that only one name remained, he relaxed a bit too much and let out an enormous yawn.
That yawn, however, made Vittoria feel insulted. The female warrior, famous for once crippling her superior in a fit of rage, instantly entered her Rage Mode.
Though others might not have noticed, Aldric saw it clearly — her aura surged, and her entire body seemed to grow slightly taller. A faint translucent armor shimmered around her, flickering in and out of view with every movement.
Each step she took made the marble floor echo. Her heavy boots struck the stone like hammers, sending tiny tremors through the hall. People hurried to get out of her way, instinctively clearing a straight path toward Antoine.
The acting lord froze mid-yawn, his lips still parted. Though he quickly forced his expression back under control, he couldn't stop his fingers from nervously rubbing the scepter or his toes from twitching.
"Vittoria Gabriella," he stammered, "one who fought side by side with the warrior from the Cathay…" He glanced at her furious expression and immediately changed his prepared speech. "—one of the heroes who saved this city! Your valor shall not be forgotten!"
He swallowed. "As a reward, you may enter my treasury and select one—" He paused as he noticed a deep boot print cracking the polished stone at her feet. "—no, make that two items of your choice!"
"Thank you for your generosity, my lord," Vittoria replied smoothly, satisfaction flickering across her face as she bowed and turned away.
Antoine wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Well then! The city has endured great hardship and now faces the task of rebuilding. Everyone must continue to work diligently. That will be all for today!"
Before anyone could even stand to salute, he hurriedly ended the meeting and fled the hall. Without a doubt, this was one council session he would never forget — especially the part involving the players.
(End of Chapter)