City of Desire [Kingdom Building]

Chapter 533: Jorston Fortress

"It's enormous!" gasped Eva.

"It is," I said as I looked out the window at the fortress encompassing several hills.

It is massive and imposing. Just looking at it would make most enemies give up on attacking it.

However, the enemy it was made to defend against would not hold back.

"It seemed bigger than even Mirador Hold," said Jill. Looking at it, awe-filled eyes.

"No, it isn't bigger than Mirador Hold."

"It is about the same size. It looks big because of its height," stated Zela, shaking her head.

It surprised me when I thought about it and recalled the information I had read.

It is about the size of Mirador Hold.

The Mirador Hold is an over thousand-year-old fortress made to stop the undead of Navr. It had been destroyed many times and rebuilt, with many parts lying on runes.

The empire had only patched up the wall and fixed the needed parts.

It is a Jorston Fortress. It is the immense fortress of Mahal.

It is at the boundary. I have to pass through it to cross to the other side.

We had left Karzan before the sun had even risen. Thanks to the good roads, our journey had been fast.

Now, it is only ten and a half. If everything goes well, I will be on the other side before the afternoon starts.

Minutes passed, and soon, we were in front of the massive, dark gates of the fortress. The lieutenant colonel moved and showed them our documents.

I could feel the eyes on the carriage and the skills they were using.

I could repel them, but I didn't.

However, I moved instantly when the skills moved toward me and others—repelling them with the weight of my class.

Surprise flashed in their eyes. Some even took a step back in backlash.

I am fine as long as the skill looks at the carriage, but targeting us is crossing a boundary.

A few seconds later, we got the go-ahead, and the carriages entered the fortress.

At eleven, I will meet with the second in command of this place before leaving. It is a courtesy meeting that will last only a few minutes.

After that, I will leave this fortress and move to the Baxzar.

The carriages stopped, and I got out. Immediately, I saw the man coming toward me, and when I saw his rank. I couldn't help but get a bad feeling.

'It seemed like I might not be able to leave quickly,' I thought as the man stopped before me.

"Welcome to Jorston Fortress, Lord Silver," greeted the man. "Thank you, Colonel Strack," I replied to the man.

"Our General is having a small gathering and hopes you and your entourage will join him," he requested. "It would be my honor," I replied since declining isn't a choice.

The man smiled and led us to the main building of the fortress.

I talked with him while looking around the stronghold. Mirador Hold and this might be the same size, but that is the only similarity.

Unlike Mirador Hold, this fortress is very well-maintained, well-staffed and well-armed.

I could feel the wards they had around the fortress. They are powerful. It must be robust to hold back the Baxzar's armies and monsters.

Dane would need massive money if he tried to take the Mirador hold to this level.

He doesn't have even a fraction of that money. Nor is he trying to. His immediate concern is building his army.

Soon, we reached the red metal door, and the man opened it, taking us inside.

"Lord Silver. Master of Velvet Garden. Lord of Greltheaven and Panar," the herald announced before announcing my sister and Baron Husk.

The colonel said it was a small party, but over a hundred people were present, and one instantly caught my eye.

I am surprised he is here.

"Lord Silver, thank you for accepting my invitation," said the blond man in his early sixties.

He is a short man, and even a little thin, with an average face.

He seemed to have a personality that no one would remember or forget after one glance, but that would be a grave mistake. He is one of the most powerful men in Mahal.

"It was my honor, General," I replied to the man.

I talked to him briefly and mingled with the other people. It is a good thing that I have read through all the information on essential people in Mahal.

I glimpsed a few familiar faces and knew how to converse with the unfamiliar.

"I have a mine that delivers very pure Grade IV Yrgus crystals. We are restricted from selling them for money unless we get something in exchange, like the essence," said the middle-aged man.

"Of course, I am interested in Yrgus crystals. Please have your men contact my people to sort out the details." I replied to the man.

Yrgus crystals are substantial, and I would like to get purified ones, but I will not say anything more about this now.

Nevertheless, making a deal at a party, as this man suggests, is out of the question. He must talk to my people if he wants to sell to me.

He pressed at that, but I handed him to Baron Husk and moved to another person.

I had just finished with him when I came face to face with the man with pale blond hair and piercing blue eyes. I have wanted to meet him since I saw him.

"Viscount Luran," I greeted a handsome man in his mid-thirties.

He is the same man who had fought with Knight Commander Valra in a duel in Owlspring. It was a fantastic duel, and he has become even stronger since then.

There is no public confirmation whether he reached Lv. 40, but if so, it would make him exceptionally powerful since the man is also an aura master.

"Lord Silver, I didn't expect you here. I thought you would take a sea route," said the man.

"I wanted to see the world," I replied to him. "Travel is good. I traveled through the continent when I was your age," he replied.

"If you don't mind me asking. Are you en route to attend the synod?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, and I was about to ask him something when his expression changed. His eyes turned toward the door.

I turned and saw the middle-aged man in dark blue entering the hall with his entourage.

"Count Wathall of Corvir," the herald announced.

The man looked around before his eyes spotted us, or rather Viscount Luran.

He came with measured steps.

People turned toward them. They were feeling the tension between them.

The man strolling into the has is Count Wathall. one of the most powerful men in the Mahal. He has an enormous army and is personally martially powerful. He has proved his worth in the eleven-day war.

He is a known Lv. 40 powerhouse.

Succession war isn't only taking place in the Harsoth Empire. It is happening in the Mahal, too, but it is being waged in the shadows.

The king is still alive, but due to the unique tradition of the Mahal, he will have to abdicate after the thirtieth year of his reign, which isn't far off.

Viscount Luran is in the first prince's camp, while Count Wathall is in the camp of the second prince.

However, this exchange might be related to an incident that happened a week ago.

The man finally stopped beside the Viscount Luran, who looked at him without an ounce of fear.

"You shouldn't have done that, Marcis," said Count Wathall. Every word came out of his mouth slowly and dripped emotion. It was clear that he was really angry.

"He challenged me," replied Viscount Luran with a shrug.

Seeing that, the Count had finally lost it, and a powerful aura burst out of him. The pressure instantly made many people fall to their knees, while some took support from the walls and columns.

The aura burst, surprised me, and it tried to suppress me before I released my own aura.

I covered myself with a layer of aura I had practiced daily before extending it over my entourage.

Most of them were behind me, but some were far away, and it was a considerable effort to cover them with it, but I somehow managed it.

Immediately, their shaking stopped.

Margaux, my sister, Zela, and others were fine, but the rest were heavily suppressed.

Margaux's daughter would have fallen. If not for her mother stopping her.

"He will be in bed for months!" said Count Wathall, taking another bold step toward the Viscount Luran, increasing the might of his aura.

However, it didn't seem to affect the Viscount.

Unlike him, I am doing everything I can not to let my aura collapse.

I had born a weight more significant than it, but then, I only needed to protect myself. Here, I am protecting over ten people, and it is demanding.

It is necessary to use every bit of my will to do that.

"Good. It will be a lesson for him not to challenge his betters," replied the Viscount.

It made Count Wathall so angry that he began to shake, but the next moment. He took a deep breath, and anger seemed to vanish with a smile appearing on his face.

Though, he didn't retract his aura.

"Enjoy the week you have because you will suffer the same fate as my cousin," promised the Count, making Viscount Luran smile.

"You are not that powerful," replied the viscount.

Anger flashed in his eyes again, but he didn't say anything. Instead, I watched him for a moment longer before he turned and stopped with his eyes on me.

"You are Silver, Master of Legacy," he said.

"Count Wathall," I replied, looking into his eyes without any strain.

Instead, there is a small smile, which seems to surprise him.

Bell pressed me with her aura daily, asking me to keep my expression unchanged. She says composure is a sign of a proper lord, and one should maintain it, even if walking on the blades.

On the first day, I sweated all over and nearly collapsed.

"It's nice to see you. We will talk more in Archmage City," said the man, walking away. He looked at the whole hall before finally pulling back his aura.

I did the same. I was feeling relieved, as it was very straining.

He talked with the General for a minute before leaving the hall.

"You have impressive control over your aura for someone who awakened it less than two months ago, Lord Silver," said Viscount Luran, his eyes serious.

"Thank you for your kind words, Viscount," I replied.

He had a lot of questions; I could see it in his eyes, but he didn't ask them, and I wouldn't have answered them.

The party continues for another hour, but the mood has shifted.

Now, more people are looking at me and speaking with much greater respect than before. I mingled with them before bidding goodbye to the host.

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