Chapter 187: Kellerman Earldom
CH187 Kellerman Earldom
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The Kellerman Family were a noble house whose fief bordered both Earl Drake Fury’s Dankrot Plains to the south & west and the harsh Ironmourn Desert to the north.
Unlike the Fury lineage, the Kellerman Family’s power was consolidated within the main branch. Their lesser branches held only political positions but no direct claim to the fief land itself.
Officially, the entire Kellerman territory was an Earldom. Yet it stood at the very threshold of ascending into a Marquisate. A sliver more land—and the title of Marquis would be within reach.
Publicly, the Kellermans were viewed as an honourable family, with over five centuries of legacy, and goodwill among both commoners and nobles alike.
Their only open and longstanding rival were the so-called ’upstarts’ of the Fury Family—especially the Fury patriarch, Earl Drake Fury.
The Kellermans had once been strong allies of the Schaur Family—the very house that Drake Fury annihilated in his rise to power.
It was well-known that the Schaur Earldom had been a vassal of the Reichert Duchy. What wasn’t as widely known was that the Schaurs had succeeded in drawing the Kellermans into the Reicherts’ influence as well.
In return, the Kellermans had been promised support—military and political—to expand their holdings and rise into a full Marquisate, just as the Schaurs had been poised to do.
But those dreams had turned to ash when Drake Fury and his Wolves of War swept through the Schaur territories like a storm of death.
With his union to the Holt Family—and through them, ties to the Machholts—the Reichert Duchy had prudently withdrawn its ambitions from the Northwestern region.
They abandoned the Kellermans and their lofty aspirations.
Unable to challenge the Holt Marquisate, let alone the powerful Machholt Grand Duchy, the Kellermans redirected their bitterness toward the Fury Family.
Thus began not a rivalry, but a deeply rooted enmity.
Yet despite their hatred, Earl Kellerman was no fool. He knew the Kellermans were not bred for war. They could not match Drake Fury—’The Mad Earl’—or his battle-hardened Wolves of War and the soldiers of the Fury Family.
If the powerful Schaurs had been trampled, then the Kellermans would fare far worse.
And so, they waited.
They planned.
They gathered strength behind masks of diplomacy, biding their ti for the day they could strike a decisive blow against the Fury na.
Now, with a little help from an unexpected ally, the ti had finally co.
But before the grand undertaking could begin...
So sacrifices had to be made.
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One Week prior to Alex’s Platoon return to the Northern Dankrot Fort...
Location: City of Werth — Kellerman Family Fiefdom
The City of Werth was the largest Kellerman fief city situated near the southern edge of the Ironmourn Desert.
It sat close to a wind-carved natural passage—a narrow valley-like gap that cut through a portion of the otherwise treacherous Ironmourn region.
The passage was too narrow to allow for large-scale military movent—covert or otherwise. However, it served as a rough civilian route through the desert to the northern nations.
Thanks to this precarious yet invaluable trade artery, the City of Werth had grown into a bustling frontier hub.
It marked the beginning of a perilous but highly profitable trade route through the Ironmourn Desert to the Dwarven IronHamr Empire and the Elven Elarion Empire—two great powers north of the Arun Continent.
It was a fact that a significant portion of the Kellerman family’s wealth ca from this very city. To call it important would be an understatent.
As a result, the city was always managed directly by the head of the family and served as the official training ground for the heir-apparent to the Kellerman seat.
That wasn’t an ironclad rule, but an unspoken tradition that had held true for most generations.
Nearly every Kellerman family head had spent their formative years managing the City of Werth in so capacity before eventually ascending to the title of Earl Kellerman.
The city’s economic relevance, paired with its close proximity to the volatile and hostile lands of the Ironmourn Desert, ant the Kellermans poured considerable funds into equipping and maintaining a strong City Defence Force.
Ordinarily, this force would be more than sufficient to repel the occasional Wildkin raid or bandit incursion. However, a large portion of Werth’s defenders had recently been reassigned by the family for other purposes, leaving the city more vulnerable than usual.
This sparked unrest among the citizenry. So grumbled in private, while others boldly speculated about a coming conflict between noble families, with the Fury Family being the most commonly nad target.
The city remained abuzz with such rumours... until everything changed.
—
The City of Werth was encircled by twenty-tre-high special stone walls, patrolled day and night without pause. Every hour of every day, there were boots on the ramparts.
Lieutenant Hans, a grizzled veteran and commander of one such patrolling platoon, stood at his post, scanning the horizon with a distant gaze.
Southward lay comforting grasslands—lush, green, and vibrant.
But turn north, and the view twisted into sothing altogether different.
There, nothing but endless red sands stretched to the horizon—an alien, brooding landscape that seed to drink the sunlight and return only silence. A region steeped in old blood.
The tales of the desert’s origin whispered across Hans’s mory.
’Could it really be true?’ he wondered. ’Did an ancient civilisation truly reach too far, daring to tamper with the Natural Laws, only to be struck down for their hubris?’
In his younger years, Hans had served under the Kellerman family’s living legend—Count Justin Kellerman, the fad Family Guardian.
He still rembered the day the Count stood at this very post, gazing into the desert, when he spoke words Hans would never forget:
"Always rember—the Natural Laws are as cruel as they are kind. Honour them from a distance, and fear them when you co too close. Only then can one avoid ruin born from ambition beyond their due.
"Never forget: the Natural Laws are cruel. And none more so than Ti."
It was only now, decades later, as Hans neared his fifties, that he finally grasped the full weight of those words.
’Indeed... ti is cruel,’ he sighed. ’Even without being specifically targeted for one’s hubris, ti robs us all—youth from the young, mories from the old, joy from laughter, grief from sorrow. Ti is the fairest thief of all. With ti, children are born, and with the sa ti, they grow closer to death.’
’Ti raises empires, only to tear them down. So why tempt fate? Why reach for dominion over such a force, as if it would ever yield to mortal hands?’
Hans shook his head and stared again into the Ironmourn Desert’s blood-hued dunes.
’Maybe... maybe that’s why they tried it. Maybe they knew ti would take their empire eventually. So they tried to outrun it, to master it, to escape its grasp.’
He exhaled deeply.
’But perhaps so things were never ant to be touched.’
Lieutenant Hans shook his head, trying to banish the nagging, pointless thought.
"Lieutenant Hans, how’s the patrol?"
A large, burly man strolled over, an axe slung casually over his shoulder.
"Boring as always—just the way I like it," Hans replied dryly.
The man laughed heartily. "You’re still the sa, sounding like an old man."
"I am an old man," Hans clapped back. "And you’re no spring chicken yourself, Boris."
"Speak for yourself." Boris thumped his chest with a grin. "I’m in the pri of my life."
"Sure... sure." Hans waved him off with a smirk.
Boris ca to stand beside him, eyes sweeping over the distant ridgelines.
"What do you think about the recent withdrawal of our forces?" he asked. "You think war’s brewing?"
"Who knows? Nobles are always trying to expand their holdings, even when they already have more than they can ever need." Hans shrugged. Then, as if rembering sothing, he added, "Maybe the city lord’s trying to redeem himself... after he ruined that trade deal between the Kellerman Family and the Elarion Empire’s elven elder."
"It must’ve been a real ss if even rank and file like us heard about it."
"Hmm. True." Boris scratched his chin. "The young lord’s probably scrambling to earn rit before his siblings pounce. Explains why he and most of his vassals left the city last night."
"They must be planning sothing they don’t want anyone seeing," Boris added casually.
"Oi, are you trying to get us killed?" Hans snapped. "You can’t just say things like that out loud."
"Relax. It’s just us soldiers here," Boris replied, unfazed.
Hans exhaled, then asked in a lower tone, "If the young lord and his vassals are gone, then who’s running the city?"
"The deputy commander of the City Defence Guard," Boris said.
"That guy?" Hans was stunned. "The young lord actually left him in charge? Isn’t he from his sibling’s faction?"
"Yeah, that’s why I found it odd too." Boris nodded. "But who knows what deals nobles make behind closed doors. Maybe they struck so kind of arrangent."
"I hope you’re right..." Hans muttered.
But the unease in his gut only deepened. Sothing about the situation felt off. Very off.
Three decades of serving the noble house had taught him not to ignore the signs—and right now, every bone in his body was screaming in alarm.
HOOOOORN!!!
Just as he tried to make sense of his gut feeling, a blaring horn shattered the stillness.
"It’s... It’s the Wildkin!!!" soone shouted.
The sound was unmistakable—an bone horn, reserved for one thing alone.
A Wildkin raid.
Panic rippled across the defence force. No one had spotted them.
The enemy had reached the outskirts of the city... undetected.
[Eagle Eyes]!
Lieutenant Hans activated the staple skill of his Archer archetype, Sniper Class. His pupils narrowed, vision sharpening until the distant terrain ca into clear focus.
And then he froze.
His spine ran cold. A chill crept through his limbs.
His eyes widened in horror as realisation set in.
’So that’s why the young lord...’
Out on the horizon, thundering across the grasslands toward the City of Werth, was—
A massive Wildkin Horde.
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