Chapter 188.5: Interlude Eugene 2

His breakthrough with represented the final significant hurdle between him and Prestige.Eugene felt the itch in his bones. He knew, without being able to pinpoint the reason, that it would take very little to push him over the edge.

For a long time, he had seen the great heroes of the Kingdom as beyond reach. His master, chief among them, had felt too distant for him to grasp.

Deep down, he still viewed himself as the little boy who was rejected by his father, who had to sweat and scrape for every level.

Who had to delve into forbidden magics he couldn’t hope to comprehend to finally become who he believed he should be.

And yet, here he was, on the brink of greatness. A single trip into the Green Ocean could elevate him to level one hundred, and then he’d become the one others would regard as a demigod. He would finally catch up to his father.

Oh, he knew that even that step wouldn’t be enough to make him the strongest. Arthur had decades of experience over him, and Marthas was likely a whole rank above even the seasoned adventurer.

But it would create a clear separation between him and the citizens. He would become a true Lord, not just in name, but in fact.

“Are you sure hosting the King’s Shadows won’t require special preparation?” Elena asked, and he could see the worry etched in her expression despite it being outwardly calm.

She was far from reaching Prestige herself, but she had recently started training hard for the first time in years, aware of the scrutiny that his crossing the threshold would invite.

“I doubt they will stay for long enough for any preparation to matter, but if it makes you feel better, we can have the Golden Horn reserve its suite for a week.” He murmured, slowly dipping some oil onto his polishing cloth and passing it over his blade.

His new rank wouldn’t be something he could hide, nor would he want to. Mages far more powerful than he would immediately inform the Royal Court of his achievement, being capable of sensing such shifts as soon as they occurred. It would only take a few hours before the King’s Shadows visited him to formalize his ascension.

That would bring a plethora of responsibilities and, more importantly, attention that he was not accustomed to.

Although he was already the Lord of Floria, he was not the Warden of the West, despite being the designated first line of defense against the Green Ocean; such a title belonged to the Duke of Alluria. Consequently, he had very sporadic contact with the high nobility.

Until now, his duties had been confined to maintaining peace in his town and monitoring the Green Ocean for signs of instability.

Technically, he should have reported the dungeon immediately after its discovery, but given the presence of the Fae Court, he was able to avoid doing so by officially attributing the changes to their influence.

They were a known entity, and as long as they didn’t directly threaten the border, he could handle them as he saw fit.

It also helped that he hadn’t been the one to destroy the core. Marthas didn’t need to answer to the King for his actions, and if any problem arose, it would be Alluria’s Bishop who would handle the matter.

Not that there weren’t consequences downstream anyway, as he’d noticed with the influx of interested parties that had appeared as of late.

“I’ll handle that, then. You make sure you have everything you need.” Elena murmured, ghosting past him and gently caressing his face.

“Love you!” He shouted at her retreating back, earning a flying kiss and a foxy smile.

“Love you too.”

With a sigh, Eugene set down the polishing cloth. His sword didn’t require a fourth coat, but he had been so anxious that going through the motions of a lifetime of caring for weapons calmed him down.

“I’m really there, aren’t I?” He asked himself, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

It felt surreal. He had known it would happen someday, given the trajectory he had been on, but he had always seen it as something distant. A goal he would reach once he was well past his forties, at the very least.

Instead, a fire had been lit under him, and he’d crossed the gap in just one year.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Alright, that’s enough moping. I have duties to attend to.” He decided, standing up with a groan. Just because he was about to reach Prestige didn’t mean his Captainship was over.

Rather, it would become even more involved. His responsibilities would increase significantly, as the only lord on the border of the Green Ocean capable of resisting its more powerful denizens.

“Gotta enjoy the easy life until I can,” he decided with a lopsided smile, closing the house behind him and taking in the sunny fields.

The Purification of the Ashes had done its job, and thriving vegetable patches extended as far as the eye could see. If anything, the ritual had been too effective, forcing the local farmers to work double shifts to harvest everything before the next round could come in.

“Lord Crowley!” a farmhand shouted in greeting from where he was measuring the size of the pumpkins, which seemed to have grown another inch in a single night.

“Ho! Everything okay?” He asked, getting a thumbs-up.

“Aye! We’re on track with the schedule thanks to the beastmen pulling their weight!” the man replied, and Eugene hummed, waving him off as he walked down the path to Floria proper.

That was something he hadn’t expected. Sure, Sashara’s intervention had effectively frozen the brewing conflict, forcing the beastmen leaders to put a stop to their rebellion lest they face mutiny from their own people, but few had believed things would change.

Well, something had happened because a few days ago, he received a very interesting visit from a delegation of elders.

Not, he’d noted, from Wulla, who had been the nominal leader for years now. The old beastmen treated him courteously, displaying an energy he hadn’t seen them have in at least a decade.

They had offered their community’s services as farmhands, remarking that their own fields required only a limited number of workers. Given the prodigious growth resulting from the Purification of the Ashes, they wanted to assist their fellow townsfolk in maximizing their yield from the land.

Eugene had thoroughly questioned them on the details, even going so far as to establish a standard contract every beastman needed to sign before being allowed to work, yet they had complied with a smile.

Once, they would have seen it as an insult.

Having a true leader, regardless of age or experience, rather than someone who merely stepped in during a void of responsibility, would allow the beastmen community to attain official representation.

It went unsaid that when she finally returned and assumed the mantle of leadership, she would face not just a simple town Captain, but a Prestige Class, which would once again place her at a disadvantage.

But that was probably for the best. No one would raise a fuss about him allowing them too much independence if the power imbalance were that clear.

“Captain Crowley, sir!” A pair of his soldiers saluted from across the street, and Eugene nodded firmly.

“Continue the patrol, men!”

“Sir, yes sir!” They replied, before resuming their duties.

As Eugene looked around, he saw that things had finally returned to normal. After everything that had happened, it took a while, but the market was once again the bustling center he remembered, and people walked around without stress lines.

Not that the situation was entirely under control. Marthas had essentially seized the local spiritual leadership, especially since Vicar Alexander disappeared, and Sashara’s domain still hung like a heavy blanket, warm and suffocating at once.

Still, it served as a constant reminder of why he was pushing himself so hard.

Having to endure such a power play in his own town… Eugene was fairly certain his father would never have accepted it.

Of course, the old man would have been roasted alive by Marthas. The difference in strength was simply too great. Even after he finally achieved Prestige, he wouldn’t exactly be able to force his hand, but the attention such an event would bring would at least slow the Prelate down.

The presence of so many agents of the local nobility had already achieved that. However, until Eugene could ensure his people’s safety on his own, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

“What’s with the long face, Captain?” Darien grunted as he finally arrived at the barracks, and Eugene shot him a look.

“Still on that? There ain’t anything we can do unless you’re willing to ask for help from the Capital. I’m sure an enterprising Junior Minister would see the opportunity for some advancement in handling a religious takeover of a frontier town.”

It was during times like this that Eugene was reminded of his most trusted lieutenant's very unique sense of humor and surprising knowledge of political intrigue.

“Yeah, and then we’d become a special administration area subject to the crown’s direct attention and would lose even more out of it,” he shot back, earning a guffaw.

“Cut your nose to spite the face, ay?”

“Indeed.” He sighed, looking around. “How’s the latest batch coming in?”

Darien lost his humor and grunted, “Nothing that would serve us in case of an emergency. The kids have motivation, I can tell you that much, but it will be years before they are useful in a fight. Not everyone can be monsters like your spawn, you know?”

Eugene grinned, accepting the praise for what it was. Nick was certainly the flashier of his two sons, but if the reports he’d received about Devon were any indication, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

“Bah, wipe that proud grin off your face,” Darien grumped, rolling his eyes. “Someone is waiting for you.”

Eugene tried hard to control his expression, but considering the look his friend directed at him, he hadn’t been very successful.

He hoped that his show with Ebenezer Greene would be enough to demonstrate to the interested parties flooding into Floria that he couldn’t exactly be strong-armed, but it seemed some never really learned.

The person waiting for him outside his office, however, was not just another pompous fool trying to impress him by flaunting their wealth and noble connections.

Indeed, it was something entirely different. Casually leaning back against the wall was a man bearing the golden insignia of the Royal House. His uniform was made of the finest cloudsilk, embroidered with thousands of tiny runes—the work of a Prestige craftsman, no doubt.

That alone would have marked him as a very important man if it weren’t that no one else seemed to notice him. In fact, the soldier serving as his secretary for the day, the guards standing outside his office, and even Darien didn’t seem to find him more interesting than the wallpaper.

“I live to serve the crown!” Eugene shouted as he dropped to one knee.

The King’s Shadows were to be regarded as extensions of his will and appeared only on very specific occasions.

He knew one would come after he achieved Prestige, but it seemed something had accelerated the timeline.

The man’s eyes glinted with untold power, and everyone but Eugene halted, as if time had suspended. “Lord Crowley. The King has declared that you are to receive a chance at advancement. Follow me.”