Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

Just as Lynn turned around, Earl Lehman's voice came from behind him.

"Lord Lynn, wait!"

Lynn's expression turned serious, and he subtly tightened his grip on the tear gas canister in his pocket.

"Is there anything else, Your Excellency?"

Lynn turned and looked at Lehman.

He was ready; he would throw the tear gas canisters as soon as the other side made any unusual move.

"Lord Lynn, if you leave like this, I'm afraid my youngest son will disown me as his father."

Lehman shrugged, his tone slightly mocking.

ha?

Lynn stared at Lehman, somewhat bewildered; this was the first time he had shown such an expression all day.

"Um... what does Your Excellency mean by this?"

He was a little confused, but he could sense that the atmosphere was much more relaxed than before.

"Haha, it means exactly what it says, Mr. Lynn." Lehman stood up and walked to Lynn. "My youngest son hopes you can stay for a simple meal. After all, he will never forget you, his savior."

He paused for a moment, then added, "By the way, Lord Lynn, you don't need to call me Earl anymore; just address me by my first name."

"After all, this is a common situation between allies."

Lehman deliberately emphasized the word "ally".

"ally?"

"Yes, allies."

Lehman stepped forward and patted Lynn on the shoulder: "Let's talk about the specifics over dinner."

……

Meanwhile, at Rock Fortress.

The fortress stands amidst the mountains, its gray-black stone walls gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

This is the heart of Duke Ivan's territory in the South, and also the largest military fortress in the South.

It is said that this fortress has never been breached since the first duke.

Karl Booth stood on the fortress wall, looking down at the noble procession arriving below.

Almost all the lords, big and small, from the Southern Territory have come to today's punitive expedition.

Earls with real power, viscounts with only titles, and even barons from a few remote areas—as long as they had troops to send, all received invitations.

One after another, ornately decorated carriages entered the fortress, and people dressed in various noble costumes alighted from them, entering the main castle surrounded by servants. Flags fluttered and emblems jingled, creating a lively scene.

Karl twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that was devoid of warmth.

A campaign rally.

Ha, that sounds nice.

It's just that the Duke summons all the important people in the Southern Territory for a meal, announces the new king's orders, and then everyone just gathers some soldiers to get by.

Fighting? That's something for country bumpkins. They just sit in their castles, wait for the battle reports to arrive, and then add their names to the register of merit.

He knew these nobles all too well, because he was one of them himself and knew how arrogant they usually were.

But now he knows even better how difficult Lynn Cole is to deal with!

Carl turned around and went back into the house.

The room was warm and cozy with a fireplace burning.

The table was set with exquisite pastries and fruits, as well as an opened bottle of red wine. A servant stood in the corner, head bowed, waiting to be served.

But he didn't touch those things.

He sat in the chair, staring at the huge map of the southern border on the wall.

On the map, Gray Rock Town is just an inconspicuous little dot.

But it was this tiny spot that caused him to stumble twice, both times ending up badly injured.

Although he fared better than Gavin, he only lost a portion of his troops.

But he understood that if Lynn wasn't dealt with this time, he would only grow stronger.

The forces behind him will not let him off the hook either.

Considering that Lynn had come to such a remote and inaccessible place as Grayrock Town, and that he had gained such strength in just about half a year, Karl couldn't help but shudder.

Karl only hoped that the new king's order would make Duke Ivan take it seriously.

There was a knock on the door.

"My lord, the Duke requests your presence in the council chamber."

Carl stood up, straightened his collar, and went out the door.

……

The council chamber was already full of people.

On either side of the long table, more than twenty nobles sat or stood, some talking in hushed tones, others flipping through documents in their hands.

At the far end of the hall, Duke Ivan Sullivan of the Southern Territory sat in the main seat, talking to a middle-aged civil official.

Carl found an inconspicuous spot to sit down.

He glanced at the people present.

Almost all the lords, large and small, from the Southern Territory had arrived. A few came in person, but most sent representatives.

In the corner sat several simply dressed middle-aged men—the stewards or knights of the small territory, there to obey their master's orders.

Carl discovered that Gavin, Earl Lehman's chief knight, was also there.

Lehman actually sent people too... Well, it's the new king's order after all, so they have to do something to show their respect.

Karl looked away.

"Gentlemen."

Duke Ivan spoke.

The hall fell silent.

Ivan stood up and walked to the center of the hall.

He was in his fifties, with gray hair, but his back was straight and his eyes were like an eagle's.

To be able to hold this position for so many years, one must be no ordinary person.

"As you all probably know to some extent, the reason I've gathered you here today is because of the new King's orders." He waved the documents in his hand.

"Three days ago, news came from the capital that His Majesty George VII had ascended the throne, and his first order was to gather all the forces in the southern border to attack Lynn Cole, the lord of Grayrock Town."

Ivan deliberately emphasized the word "all".

People started whispering among themselves.

"What is the reason for the new king issuing such an order?" someone asked.

"Cultists," Ivan said. "His Majesty has determined that Lynn Cole is a cult member, and that his weapons and knowledge come from the cult. The monsters in the East are also the work of the cult. Therefore, we should clear out the South first, and then support the East."

The chatter in the hall resumed.

"Cultists?"

Are those rumors true?

"I knew something was off about his stuff..."

Those present were clearly familiar with Lynn's "famous name," and many of his territories even had exclusive products made by Lynn.

Karl listened to these comments and sneered inwardly.

Hmph, cultists.

They will probably never know that the person standing in front of them is the real cultist.

It is even less likely that they would know that His Majesty George, who has now ascended the throne, is also controlled by cultists.

Cult? What cult?

I am a devout believer of the End Order, fighting for the future destiny of all mankind.

These idiots will never understand.

"Your Grace," a plump middle-aged nobleman stood up, "how many troops will you be sending?"

Ivan glanced at him dismissively: "Didn't you hear me? All of it!"

The plump middle-aged nobleman shrank back and sat down.

There is a play!

Seeing this, Carl's initial worries were greatly relieved.

Duke Ivan decided to carry out His Majesty's orders completely, which was somewhat expected.

Now, with George VII having just ascended the throne and barely settled into his seat, even a "neutral" like the Duke of Ivan had no choice but to obey his first order.

However, this old fox only says that; how many people he will actually send is anyone's guess.

The same applies to other nobles; the number of soldiers in their territories is ultimately determined by their own decisions.

Noblemen won't put much effort into things that don't bring them significant benefits.

However, it is much better than simply going through the motions. For example, once this order is issued, a count's territory cannot possibly send out a hundred or so people and then claim that this is all the troops in its territory, right?

Thinking this way, Karl felt a little more at ease again.

The meeting continued, with several nobles who were on good terms discussing in hushed tones how many troops to send.

"Alright," Duke Ivan said, interrupting the others. "Regarding the troop strength, each of your territories must complete the assembly by the end of this month. After you return, report the numbers to me first."

He tapped the table with his finger and continued, "Also, the order to suppress the cultists was personally given by His Majesty. Whoever contributes the most to this matter will naturally receive greater merit. When the time comes to reward those who have made contributions, don't blame me for not reminding you."

Upon hearing this, everyone's eyes lit up, and they all responded.

……

At the banquet after the meeting.

The long table was laden with food—roast suckling pig, stewed pheasant, candied fruit, fruit, and barrels of red wine.

The nobles clinked glasses and laughed, as if the talk of war they had just heard was merely something to discuss over tea.

Carl stood in the corner, holding a wine glass.

He was in a good mood. The thought that he would soon be able to complete the Lord's mission and advance further in his position within the church made him genuinely happy.

He took a small sip of wine and was about to go get something to eat when several elegantly dressed noblemen approached him, carrying wine glasses.

Karl squinted as he watched the group approach.

Leading the way was a plump middle-aged man, dressed in a dark blue suit with gold trim, and wearing a friendly smile on his face—Earl Willard, whose territory was to his north. He had dealt with Willard several times and was a typical opportunist.

The tall, thin man on the left is Viscount Patrick, Willard's neighbor; the two often appear together at various events. The slightly younger man on the right is Viscount Raymond, whose territory is closer to the east; they don't usually interact much.

"Count Carl," Willard raised his glass, his face beaming, "drinking alone here all by yourself? Come, come, let's chat."

Carl twitched the corner of his mouth and raised his glass to clink glasses.

"Congratulations." Patrick leaned closer and lowered his voice, "You were in a key position in this campaign against that Lynn guy. After the war, when it's time to reward those who contributed, you'll definitely get a good share."

Karl sneered inwardly.

Main force?

He was beaten badly twice, so where did he get the main force?

But he didn't show it, and simply said, "Of course, I will do my best to comply with His Majesty's orders."

"That's right, that's right." Willard nodded repeatedly: "We've all discussed it. Each family will contribute a few hundred people, making a total of two or three thousand, which will be handed over to His Excellency the Duke for unified command."

Patrick chimed in, "I can send four hundred, all able-bodied young men."

"I have three hundred," Raymond said. "They've all been in action."

Willard patted his round belly: "I have a lot of people on my side, I'll give you five hundred."

As Karl listened to the numbers, he quickly calculated them in his mind.

The Earl of Willard's territory could muster at least 1,500 men, but he only contributed 500.

Viscount Patrick's territory was not large, but four hundred men were only half of his forces.

Raymond's three hundred was even more perfunctory—no matter how small his territory was, gathering five hundred men wouldn't have been a problem.

"You gentlemen are quite generous," Karl said calmly.

"Well, this is His Majesty's order." Willard waved his hand. "Just a token gesture will suffice. Do you really expect us to send out all our troops? Forget about our territory? Forget about defending against monsters? Besides..."

He lowered his voice, his face displaying that "you know what I mean" expression.

"Does conquering a viscount's territory require so many men? Who is Lynn? He's just a penniless exile to the southern border. How many men could he possibly have under his command? A thousand? Two thousand?"

Patrick nodded in agreement: "Exactly. Gavin lost to him because Gavin wasn't good enough. He relied on the castle's fortifications and stayed put, resulting in his base being taken over. If it were us, it would definitely be different."

Carl tightened his grip on the wine glass.

He wanted to say: You guys don't know anything.

Gavin's defeat was not due to underestimating his opponent, nor because his castle was captured, but because the thing that kid had was too strange.

Those fire-spitting iron pipes, those exploding iron cans...

Don't these idiots have their own intelligence network? Even if they don't know Lynn's weapons, they should at least know about the strange and unusual items Lynn possesses.

Carl could only smile, trying to keep his tone calm: "Gavin was indeed... careless. But the weapon Lynn had was definitely something special."

"Weapons?" Willard waved his hand dismissively. "No matter how powerful the weapons are, can they stop a single charge from my knights?"

Upon hearing this, Carl nearly crushed the cup in his hand, but he forced himself to hold back.

"Don't get angry, they've never even seen that thing before," Karl consoled himself.

To be honest, he had never seen those weapons, but the battle reports didn't lie; his group and Gavin's main force had been completely wiped out in Grayrock Town.

Forget it.

Let them underestimate us.

If a real fight breaks out, it won't be us who suffers.

All I need to do is complete the tasks assigned above.

"You're all right," he said, raising his glass. "Then let's wish each other a resounding victory."

"A resounding victory!"

Several glasses clinked together, the liquid sloshing and reflecting the candlelight.

……