Chapter 163

Great merit?

Upon learning the terms Nalxi and others had negotiated with the tribal chieftains, Gervas exclaimed, "Well, damn!"

He had only intended to casually rescue the main army and avoid being trapped behind enemy lines.

He never expected such an unexpected bonus—he had seriously underestimated the importance of these dozen or so heirs.

And this truly was great merit!

Restoring the situation was great merit; reclaiming territory was an even greater achievement.

He just wondered whether the higher-ups would swallow up much of it.

If they didn't swallow it, wouldn't he at least be granted a viscount title?

Meanwhile, the tribes were already impatient; seeing this, the nobles wasted no time and immediately began negotiating with the tribes.

No one would release the hostages based solely on the chieftains' promises.

But if the tribal chieftains swore oaths before their God of the Hunt, it would be different.

After nobles swore oaths before the God of Glory, a few shameless individuals might still break their word.

But among the tribes, such a thing would never happen.

The tribes placed greater emphasis on faith—faith was their greatest spiritual pillar.

So if one swore an oath before the God of the Hunt and then failed to keep it,

not only would that chieftain be shunned by his own people,

but the entire tribe would be despised by all other barbarian tribes.

"I, Chieftain of the Silver Moon Tribe, swear before the God of the Hunt: once the nobles release all tribal heirs, we shall immediately withdraw all tribes from the Griffon Kingdom's border—including the city of Pakka…"

"I, Chieftain of the Black Tiger Tribe, swear before the God of the Hunt…"

"Nobles, are you satisfied now?! Will you release my offspring?!" The Black Tiger Chieftain and several others glared fiercely at Gervas—they already knew this young noble had kidnapped their children.

Nalxi and the others also immediately turned to Gervas, since the hostages were still in his hands.

"Of course!" Gervas was straightforward—he ordered his subordinates to release all the tribal heirs.

Once the bound tribal heirs returned to their respective chieftains, the exchange was complete.

The Silver Moon Grand Chieftain also kept his word—he immediately ordered his men to sound the retreat horn.

Cavalry would also be dispatched to notify the scattered units.

Before departing, the Silver Moon Grand Chieftain looked at Gervas. "Young noble, could you tell me which family you come from?"

One does not strike a smiling face; the Silver Moon Grand Chieftain's tone was amiable, so Gervas replied politely, "The Gail Family!"

"Then which family are you from?"

"The Gail Family?" The Silver Moon Grand Chieftain frowned.

He knew all the prominent noble families of the Griffon Kingdom—but he had never heard of the Gail Family.

The Silver Moon Grand Chieftain switched tactics. "Noble, what is the name of your domain?"

"Are you trying to find me for revenge, Grand Chieftain?" Gervas challenged. "Of course, I'm not afraid—my domain is called Stormhold!"

"Stormhold?" The Silver Moon Grand Chieftain's confusion deepened.

He naturally could not imagine that this man who had accomplished such a feat came from an obscure little family.

On the Griffon Kingdom's side, however, some nobles who heard Gervas's domain name exchanged glances and whispered among themselves.

"Grand Chieftain, the army is ready to retreat!"

"Then let's go!"

Seeing he could extract no further information, the Silver Moon Grand Chieftain did not linger.

He gave a command, and departed with the chieftains.

Seeing the tribal army finally withdraw as agreed, Nalxi let out a long breath.

"Just now, when you heard 'Stormhold,' your expressions seemed off—what's going on?" Nalxi asked the nobles.

"Lord Nalxi, Stormhold lies in the kingdom's southeast. It's said to be a land of death—three nobles have died there within ten years…"

"Three nobles died in ten years?" Nalxi blinked, then turned a puzzled gaze toward Gervas.

What exactly was this man's status? If he came from a great family, why would he assign such a domain to an heir?

"Report!"

As Nalxi and the others puzzled over this, a frantic report interrupted his thoughts.

At first, he and the nobles assumed some change had occurred among the tribes.

But when the cavalry reported that Marxis the Marquis had arrived, everyone was stunned—and delighted.

…

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace!"

Amidst the greetings, Marxis the Marquis rode into camp clad in full armor.

Though born into a great noble family, Marxis was a second son.

His current status and achievements were earned through years of battlefield service in his youth.

Moreover, Marxis the Marquis was one of the kingdom's titled knight-strength warriors.

"Nalxi, what happened? Where are the enemies?"

Marxis scanned the camp—it was battered, but no enemies were in sight.

On his way here, he had encountered fleeing nobles who told him the camp was on the brink of collapse.

Yet upon arriving, he found no crisis at all.

Nalxi and the nobles exchanged smiles and stepped forward quickly. "Your Grace, the enemies have withdrawn—and they've promised to retreat beyond Pakka City!"

"Retreat beyond Pakka City? Meaning they're pulling all the way out past the border? How is that possible?" Marxis was stunned.

"Your Grace, this is how it happened…" Nalxi did not delay—he immediately recounted everything that had transpired that night.

"You led three hundred men into the enemy camp while it was empty and successfully captured all the tribal heirs?" Marxis stared in disbelief.

He was a seasoned warrior—he knew how impossible such a feat was.

"Where is Baron Gervas?"

At the question, all the nobles turned toward Gervas, who stood slightly behind.

"You're Gervas?" Marxis immediately sized him up.

"Yes, Your Grace!" Gervas bowed respectfully.

"Have I met you before? Why does your name sound familiar?" Marxis frowned.

Gervas was caught off guard. "Your Grace, I've never met you before."

But then one of Marxis's subordinates suddenly remembered something and whispered, "Your Grace, if I recall correctly, the man who slew the Black Tiger squad and reclaimed Lord Levin's head was also named Gervas!"

Marxis's eyes widened. "So you're the one who reclaimed Lord Levin's head?"

Gervas now understood—he remained calm. "Yes, Your Grace. I previously served with the Left Wing Army and did slay a two-hundred-man Black Tiger squad, while reclaiming Lord Levin's head."

"Good! Good! Good!"

Marxis said nothing else—only repeated those three words.

The surrounding nobles all looked at Gervas with envy.

Though Marxis the Marquis was only a titular noble, he was one of the King's most trusted commanders.

He could speak directly to His Majesty.

Furthermore, he hailed from the Duke of Vitt family—if one could gain Marxis as an ally, one's future was limitless.