The Convergence of All Magics

It was no wonder Jett's thoughts had taken such a turn. Kael was simply too young. Though his mage robes lent him some semblance of dignity, every damned noble Jett had encountered was the same—outwardly polished, inwardly rotten, concerned only with causing trouble.

A deep disappointment flickered in Jett's eyes, his gaze dimming. So the Sacred Council has truly abandoned the Lafei Plains—not only reducing garrison numbers and slashing budgets but even sending an under-twenty brat as the new lord...

Kael caught the skepticism in Jett's expression but merely smiled. "Commander Jett, enlighten us about the Lafei Plains. We've only just arrived and know little of its current state." He made no mention of Jett's doubts, instead steering the conversation toward practical matters.

As the garrison commander, Jett's understanding of the territory far surpassed Kael's and Amelia's.

With a sigh, Jett lowered his voice. "Lord Earl, I've been stationed here for over a decade. These three-thousand-mile plains were once fertile and prosperous, bordering both the Guyi Empire and the Maide Kingdom—a legendary military stronghold across the three continents! That's precisely why the Sacred Council claimed it as their own."

"However..." His tone darkened. "The Guyi Empire and Maide Kingdom have been locked in perpetual conflict. Though neither dares openly seize Lafei territory for fear of the Council, the endless wars have decimated our population. With no unique resources and constant flooding... well, you see the result." He spread his hands helplessly.

Kael's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't add up. Given its location between two empires, trade caravans should be thriving here. It shouldn't be this desolate."

No matter how he looked at it, the Lafei Plains' strategic position was undeniable. Such prime real estate couldn't possibly lack merchant traffic.

Jett studied Kael with newfound surprise. So this brat actually understands geopolitics? Maybe he's not just another spoiled noble after all. Straightening slightly, he exhaled. "Lord Earl, the truth involves what we call... the Three Plagues of Lafei."

"Three Plagues?" Kael leaned in, sensing a critical revelation.

Jett sighed, his voice hushed. "Though the Lafei Plains lie between two great kingdoms—where trade should flourish and merchant caravans abound—this land has become a den of bandits. Several notorious brigand groups operate here, some led by warriors of the eighth tier or higher. They raid, plunder, and vanish before we can retaliate. For years, we've been powerless against them."

Bandit groups!

Kael's expression darkened. So this was where the brigands lurked—and with eighth-tier experts among their ranks!

An eighth-tier warrior was a formidable force on the continent, yet here they'd stooped to banditry. It spoke volumes about the gangs' ruthlessness—and why the garrison had failed to root them out.

"Jett, if these bandits are such a scourge, why hasn't the Council sent reinforcements?" Kael's tone turned grave.

"We've pleaded with the Sacred Council headquarters time and again," Jett said bitterly. "They've dispatched troops, but the brigands seem to vanish like ghosts the moment aid arrives, only to resurge later. It's been... exhausting."

Kael's eyebrows rose. Guerrilla tactics. These outlaws were more cunning than he'd assumed.

When the enemy retreats, we pursue; when they advance, we withdraw; when they tire, we strike. A textbook insurgency.

Tucking this knowledge away, Kael pressed on. "So the bandits are one plague. What are the other two?"

Jett drew a steadying breath. "The second is flooding. As you've seen, the plains suffer relentless rains—the Lafei River's levees breach constantly, displacing villagers and devastating livelihoods."

"The floods alone stretch our garrison to its limits. Worse, the land lacks trees to anchor the soil..."

"Erosion," Kael murmured. The plains' ecological collapse was obvious: unchecked rainfall, scant vegetation, and topsoil washing away by the ton.

Planting trees might mitigate the disasters. The thought took root.

But planting trees here?

Kael shook his head again, surveying the barren plains and relentless downpour. Establishing vegetation in such conditions was virtually impossible.

With every word from Jett, Kael and Amelia's expressions grew graver. Amelia tightened her grip on Kael's hand and asked softly, "Commander Jett, what is the third of these three plagues?"

Only then did Jett truly notice Amelia. He had glanced at her earlier but now looked properly—and froze. Her ethereal beauty, accentuated by the rain, and her flawless features left him momentarily stunned.

Such a woman... His gaze flicked back to Kael, his assumptions hardening. Definitely a spoiled noble—can't even visit a backwater like this without bringing a beauty along.

Though Amelia wore armor, Jett dismissed the idea that she might be a formidable warrior. In his eyes, she'd be lucky to rank beyond the third or fourth tier.

Clearing his throat, Jett continued, "The third plague is funding and population. The Lafei Plains house fewer than ten thousand souls. Without people, there's no tax base, so our finances have always been... dire."

"Doesn't the Sacred Council provide subsidies?" Kael's eyes narrowed.

"They do, my lord." Jett held up a single finger.

"Ten thousand?"

"No. One thousand gold per month." Jett sighed.

One thousand gold monthly?

Kael's frown deepened. That pittance could barely sustain a handful of officials, let alone a territory. Still, he recognized this as the Council's standard token support—local lords were expected to rely on taxes and other revenues.

But the Lafei Plains had no taxable economy. Here, the subsidy wasn't supplemental—it was the lifeline.

"Then how many troops are stationed in the Lafei Plains?" Kael pressed further.

"Fewer than a thousand—and their equipment is outdated, unchanged for years," Jett admitted with a sigh. "Worse still, we owe substantial back pay to the garrison. Recruiting new soldiers is impossible under these conditions." Helplessness flickered across his face.

"Population. Funding." Kael exhaled sharply. Hearing Jett lay out the three plagues laid bare the dire state of the territory he'd inherited. Yet this was hardly unexpected—the Sacred Council would never have handed him fertile, prosperous lands.

His eyes glinted with quiet resolve. One step at a time. The bandits were the most immediate—and solvable—problem.

Just as he mulled this over, a commotion erupted ahead: shouts, the rumble of hooves, and raucous laughter cutting through the rain.

Jett's expression tensed. "It's them—the Nomad Bandits!"