FL - Chapter 102: Baron Villa

"Aside from the office and reception hall, this floor is mostly bedrooms." Mac opened a door onto an empty room. "They haven't been furnished yet. Would you like to design them yourself?"

The rooms were much larger than those on the second floor, clearly intended for important officials and honored guests. Louis's master bedroom was enormous.

"No need to make them elaborate," Louis said. "They only need to be comfortable and practical. Keep them simple."

Mac nodded. "Then I'll furnish them to the usual standard for Northlands nobility."

Louis turned to Sif. "You'll be working here often. Why not move in and spare yourself the trip every day? Choose one of the rooms on the third floor."

Sif's first impulse was to refuse.

Instead, she heard herself say, "...All right."

Her answer was quiet but clear, and an unnatural flush crept over her cheeks.

*It's only more convenient for work. And this place really is warm. There is no other reason.*

Mac coughed into his fist and discreetly looked away.

They continued upstairs. The wind struck them the moment they reached the fourth floor, carrying the chill of the heights and opening the sky around them.

"This is Crimson Tide Territory's final line of defense." Mac grinned and patted the stone wall, his voice full of pride. "Anyone who attacks us will break against this place."

He pointed toward the top of the wall, slipping in a practiced bit of flattery. "These arrow slits use your angled design. An enemy outside can't see the archers, while our men have an unobstructed field of fire. Attackers will be taking arrows before they ever reach the wall. A brilliant design."

Louis waved away the praise, though the pleasure in his eyes was plain.

"Over here." Mac led them around a corner to several wooden frames. "These are prepared emplacements for trebuchets. The weapons aren't installed yet, but the mounting slots are ready. Once we set them in place, they can fire immediately."

At the roof's edge, he indicated several pipe openings hidden beneath the eaves. "And these are the boiling-oil ports from your plans. If an enemy reaches the wall and tries to climb, we'll pour hot oil down and teach them regret."

Louis examined the inconspicuous openings. "Better than I expected. More refined than the original plans."

"There's more." Mac pointed to the timber braces along the stonework. "We can mount extra crossbows here or stock rolling stones."

He gestured below. "The southern mountain road and northern tree line are both completely visible. In wind or snow, we can hang windbreaks and cold-weather screens. The garrison could hold this roof for ten days or half a month without shivering."

Mac turned back to Louis. "Rest easy, my lord. With a hundred men defending this fortress, even several thousand attackers won't take it."

Wind whistled through the gaps in the stone, but everyone atop the fortress felt secure as a mountain.

After completing the tour, Louis had his answer.

The new fortress surpassed his expectations. It was safe and comfortable, with steady heat in winter and good ventilation in summer. Thick walls and watchposts formed a complete defensive line, while the living quarters within remained warm and quiet—a refuge amid the snowfields.

Its appearance suited him as well: plain without being crude, imposing without feeling oppressive.

Louis walked the fortress heights, studying the layered stone walls, the hot-water pipes circling the structure, and the watchtowers gleaming coldly among the distant trees. Every detail revealed the care Mac and the other craftsmen had invested.

"Excellent. Safe, comfortable, and exactly to my taste," Louis said with genuine approval.

Mac had waited tensely for his verdict. Now he released a long breath. "Your satisfaction is the greatest honor we could receive. But we only followed your vision. The remarkable part was your plan—from diverting the hot springs and regulating the geothermal heat to the overall layout."

Louis smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short. Without you and your people laying every brick, the finest plan in the world would remain empty talk."

"It was my duty." Mac straightened.

Louis grew serious. "Don't relax during the final work. Refine every detail. I intend to move in within a few days."

"Understood! I'll supervise the work myself and inspect everything again. We won't leave a single flaw."

Autumn deepened, and the wind acquired a bone-deep chill.

Several dozen riders traveled along a winding forest track, their horses moving at an easy pace.

A young knight in a black cloak led the column. He was handsome, but the smug curve of his mouth ruined the effect.

This was the newly titled Baron Villa.

He had once been no more than House Villa's third son—and an illegitimate one at that. He was barred from family banquets, and even the servants treated him like empty air. Villa had eventually abandoned the household and gone to waste his days in Frostspear City.

Then the battle at Snowhawk City killed his father and both elder brothers. Their bodies had not even been recovered.

For anyone else, it would have been a catastrophe.

For Villa, it was a dream.

The title, fief, household, and treasury had all fallen into his hands.

"Hahahaha! Heaven has finally opened its eyes!" His sudden laughter startled a nearby horse into snorting.

Giddy with triumph, Villa slapped the wine flask at his hip and called to the knights behind him. "Once we're home, I'll make all of you territory knights! Easy posts, plenty of wine, plenty of women—you'll lack for nothing!"

"Then we'll be relying on your favor, Lord Baron!"

"Hahaha! A house for every man, meat every day, and a woman every night!"

The column rang with drinking, boasting, and curses.

"Villa, is your father's young mistress still there?"

"Heh. Who knows?" Villa's mouth curled. "That woman is something else. Slim waist, long legs... one look at her makes a man ache."

"You filthy bastard. You're lusting after your own father's woman?"

"My father's dead. Why should he care? A devoted son ought to look after his stepmother."

His obscene laugh made his intentions plain. The riders behind him roared at the crude joke.

None noticed several figures gliding through the depths of the otherwise unremarkable forest.

The wind tightened. Dead leaves spun through the air.

*(End of Chapter)*