Chapter Three: The Border Earl

When he opened his eyes, Xius found himself lying in bed.

The sheets were delicate and smooth, lined with a thin layer of velvet that provided warmth without being overly heavy.

Not far away was a balcony; the window beside it wasn’t fitted with expensive glass, yet it was adorned with carefully crafted wooden lattices.

Xius turned over and got out of bed, walking over to push the window open. Bright sunlight poured in from outside, and the warm, humid sea breeze fluttered the curtains.

A few seagulls skimmed past the window, circling the mountaintop on the southern side of the island before suddenly diving into the azure shallows, snatching a small fish and stirring up a spray of white foam.

An elderly man in the manor was directing several servants washing the carriage. As if hearing something, he turned his head toward the balcony on the second floor, paused slightly in surprise, then placed his left hand over his chest and bowed respectfully.

“Good morning, Young Master Xius... Sir.”

Xius smiled and nodded, his gaze briefly resting on the reins in the servants’ hands and the carriage, then shifted to the fishing boats on the distant sea before turning back into the bedroom.

He needed to sort out his current situation.

According to the memories of this body, his origins this time were not bad: he was a border count of the empire—the lord of Castle Island.

Castle, meaning fire and light amidst the storm, was aptly named. The island lay in the Storm Ocean, and there was even a small volcano on it...

Xius shook his head; none of that mattered. What was important was—

A count! A nobleman with a title and real power over land!

Although border counts were somewhat unique, he could still wield authority on his own land... In fact, border counts held even more autonomy, as imperial law might not necessarily bind them within their territories.

All of this stemmed from the institution of the “border count.”

Xius’s eyes gleamed as he sorted through the memories in his mind.

Originally, he was the illegitimate son of a duke, one who wouldn’t inherit even if he eliminated a dozen elder siblings. Just then, the empress had instituted the title of “border count.” He had relinquished his surname, sworn loyalty to the empress, and obtained this title and territory.

That was this very small sea island before him.

“What? You say this island isn’t big enough to qualify as a count’s domain?”

Nonsense. The empress’s patent had marked a vast sea area. Not only was it a count’s domain, but it was larger than most marquess territories. The empress had even promised that all lands developed by border counts would belong solely to them.

Xius recalled the sea charts in his mind and couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

His territory was indeed sizable, but...

Almost all of it lay beyond the empire’s borders.

For instance, the Martha Archipelago within his domain was a pirate stronghold. Further west in the Storm Ocean, endless tempests raged, and even a stray gust could spell trouble for the tiny islands below.

What lay deeper in the ocean was uncharted on maps. Rumor had it that half-fish, half-human beings lived there, singing day and night to lure sailors astray. There were vast, boundless new continents where honey and milk flowed like rivers...

All of this was too ethereal to grasp.

At present, Xius had only a small island, an old steward brought along from his family, and a handful of servants. That was all the power he commanded.

Yet, he faced imminent threats: pirates nearby, unpredictable sea weather, and enemies across the water.

Yes, enemies across the sea. The empire had never lacked enemies. The empress had reigned for eleven years, each step taken on a path paved with blood and thorns.

And he, Xius, a newly appointed border count, was caught right in the middle of these formidable foes.

It felt like being thrown into the water, forced to become a fish before drowning.

Xius sighed.

Imperial support—likely only verbal at best. The warehouses overflowed with patents of nobility, countless border counts were sworn in daily, and just as many titles became vacant.

The empire was not short on ambitious men, and the empress was generous in granting titles, lands, and wealth. If you desired it, you only needed to reach out and take it.

A path paved with corpses and crowned with laurels—and now Xius was on it too.

“Why does becoming a noble feel even more dangerous?” Xius muttered to himself.

A servant knocked at the door. Xius searched his memories, then dressed with the servant’s help and stepped out.

The steward, who had been downstairs not long ago, was already waiting nearby, guiding Xius forward while describing breakfast.

“This morning we have fish pudding, pea and bacon soup, omelette pie, and the red wine is from the Pony Cellar...”

Xius looked at the half-length table laden with food, then glanced at the six or seven sets of utensils beside it, falling silent.

According to the original occupant’s memories, breakfast should last an hour to an hour and a half, including ten minutes to hear the steward’s report, seamlessly followed by morning tea.

He was to enjoy tea and read on the terrace until nearly noon, then ride out to inspect his lands.

Such conduct was the epitome of nobility and moral propriety. After all, he neither whipped and abused peasants for pleasure nor arbitrarily claimed lands as hunting grounds, forcing villagers to drive out wild beasts only to be shot by him.

He simply collected around eighty percent of the peasants’ harvest as tax.

Xius sighed.

“This, this, and this—pack them in a box to take with me. Prepare a horse; I want to tour the estate.”

He paused, then said to the steward beside him, “From now on, just prepare at most three dishes besides the staple food for breakfast. The red wine can be skipped, but keep that bowl of meat soup. Old Connor, you’re coming with me.”

Steward Connor looked somewhat surprised. Xius, as an illegitimate son, had always been meticulous about noble etiquette, fearing others would deem him lacking in noble demeanor. What was going on today?

Had he seen something on the balcony this morning?

The old steward seemed to suddenly realize something, his expression brightening with understanding. He nodded solemnly and left the room to summon the servants to prepare the horses.

Xius searched his memories once more. Then, with a sparkle in his eyes, he walked to a side room, pulled the necklace hanging around his neck, and inserted it into the lock on the door, turning it.

With a click, the door opened. Bathed in the sunlight streaming through the doorway, Xius peered inside.

This was his treasure trove, his greatest reliance on this island.

Documents, jewels, and various strange instruments filled the shelves.

His gaze passed over these to rest on a box in the corner.

He reached out and opened the cherrywood lid. Resting on velvet was a white flintlock pistol inlaid with ivory and jade, no larger than a palm, exquisitely crafted like a work of art.

Xius grinned, took out the pistol, and slipped it into his clothing pocket.