Chapter 539 – Culling Games.

Roland’s workshop doors closed behind him with a resonant thud as he set off for Arthur’s estate. The journey was brisk and his mind was already whirring with the implications of Arthur’s summons. Clad in his runic armor and cape, he strode through the familiar city streets until he arrived at the vine-draped gates of Arthur’s estate, a new feature which apparently the young lord liked.

A pair of vigilant guards at the entrance immediately recognized him. One of them stepped forward and offered a crisp salute. Normally, he would have already been surrounded by guards, but he had managed to order them to stop following him constantly as it still annoyed him to no end.

“High Knight Commander Wayland, welcome back to the lord’s estate.”

The guard’s voice rang out loud and clear, almost as if he intended to alert everyone of his arrival. Sure enough, a group of soldiers, maids, and a few butlers quickly gathered to escort him inside. Ever since he had received his newly elevated title and with the estate now wealthy enough to hire more staff – he had become quite a prominent figure. As Arthur’s right-hand man and the undisputed powerhouse of the operation, he was revered by some and resented by others

“At ease…”

He spoke shortly and strode forward. The staff knew he was a man of few words and wisely kept their interactions brief. As he walked, he took a moment to survey the estate. The villa’s expansion was well underway, steadily transforming it into something grander – closer to what a noble’s mansion should be. It was even beginning to remind him of his old home.

‘Arthur will probably need to host a few parties to gain allies. Nobles do love their gatherings… I really hope this isn’t about that.’

With their operation expanding and Arthur’s influence growing, other nobles were beginning to take notice. While many lesser nobles – barons and knights had already pledged their loyalty to Arthur’s siblings, not everyone had been claimed. Some were still waiting for an opportunity to prove themselves to more influential figures. It wouldn’t be surprising if their affairs soon took on a more diplomatic nature. Securing new contracts with merchants and craftsmen could also be highly profitable – after all, not everything had to rely on the dungeon’s resources.

One of Roland’s biggest concerns, however, was noble gatherings. Attending such events would require Arthur to leave Albrook, and Roland wasn’t entirely confident in the abilities of his two knights. They were still relatively new Tier 3 class holders, which meant the danger was very real. If Arthur’s brothers decided to mobilize their forces while he was traveling, Roland feared that the two knights along with Mary – might not be strong enough to protect him alone.

That left only one solution: if Arthur began traveling, Roland himself might have to serve as his main bodyguard. It was a role he would rather avoid as he already had enough of his own problems to deal with. One way to alleviate this issue was to establish more teleportation gates, allowing Arthur to travel directly between cities. The problem, however, was that such gates were rare and typically housed within mage towers. Roland had a plan to address this limitation, but it still required someone to travel physically—just not Arthur himself.

Something like a golem drone could work, he mused.

Lost in thought, he finally arrived at the entrance. His boots echoed against the polished marble floor as he strode through the grand hall of Arthur’s estate. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows, casting warm patterns across the floor. The estate buzzed with quiet activity—servants moved gracefully between rooms, soldiers stood at attention, and attendants exchanged hushed remarks.

As soon as the guards recognized him, a chorus of respectful salutations rang out.

“High Knight Commander Wayland, welcome back!”

One of the guards, his voice brimming with pride, shouted the greeting with particular enthusiasm. His eyes gleamed with admiration, something Roland still found difficult to stomach. His goal was to train these men, strengthen them, and eventually step down from his command. More than anything, he longed for a simple life. But with recent events unfolding, that dream felt further away than ever. At this rate, he wouldn’t find peace until he reached Tier 4 and had enough power to force it.

Roland inclined his head in acknowledgment and moved on. Soon, he entered a quieter wing of the estate, where the formal greetings faded into respectful silence. The corridor led him to a heavy oak door, intricately carved with the Valerian emblem – Arthur’s study.

Two guards were stationed outside, having taken over for Gareth and Morien, who were occupied elsewhere. Mary, the strongest among Arthur’s inner circle aside from Roland himself, was undoubtedly inside. Upon seeing him, the guards stepped aside without hesitation.

“The Lord is expecting you, High Commander.”

Taking a steady breath, Roland pushed open the door and stepped inside, already familiar with the room. To his surprise, Arthur wasn’t seated behind his desk. Instead, he stood by the window, gazing outside, while Mary quietly prepared tea. He seemed rather consumed with some thoughts and didn’t notice he was there until the door was closed.

Roland paused in the doorway, his gaze settling on Arthur’s reflective profile as he surveyed the barracks in the distance. The soft clink of porcelain accompanied Mary’s careful preparation of tea at a side table, a quiet counterpoint to the urgency simmering beneath the surface.

“Arthur.”

Roland began after making sure that all sounds were blocked from getting out. He did not see himself as a follower but as an equal to Arthur.

“You wanted to see me?”

Arthur slowly turned, the weight of his thoughts evident in the crease of his brow. His eyes indicated that he had not slept for a while.

“Yes, Roland my friend, come and sit down, we need to talk about something.”

Arthur gestured toward a pair of high-backed chairs near the window. As Roland moved to join him, the quiet murmur of the estate outside seemed to fade, replaced by the weight of the moment. He eased himself into one of the chairs, accepting a cup of tea from Mary, who remained silent. A few moments passed before Arthur finally spoke.

“Have you ever heard of monster culling?”

“Monster culling? Yes, but isn’t that due in a few years?”

Roland nodded, finding nothing unusual in the question. The culling was a scheduled eradication of monsters whenever their populations grew too large. It took place in various regions of the kingdom, primarily targeting invasive species like goblins, which reproduced at an alarming rate. The process was especially urgent when a goblin king emerged, as such elite monsters posed a serious threat.

Dragnis Island, however, was unique. Its culling was tied to a different source – the super dungeon. This ancient dungeon had never been fully cleared, and its final boss remained undefeated. Some even speculated that if the dungeon’s guardian, the dragon, were ever slain, the entire volcano would collapse.

Uncleared dungeons carried a greater risk of dungeon breaks – violent outbursts where monsters spilled out in overwhelming numbers. On Dragnis Island, this occurred like clockwork every fifteen years. A wave of creatures would flood down from the volcanic region, forcing a large-scale defensive effort.

Roland had been aware of this before coming to the island. In fact, when he arrived, only a year or two had passed since the last culling. By all accounts, there should still have been several years before the next one. Yet, if Arthur was bringing it up now, something must have gone wrong.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“My father, the duke, sent me a letter…”

“The duke?”

“Yes, my father. Duke Alexander Valerian…”

Roland noticed Arthur pause for a moment after uttering his father’s full title. It was a fleeting hesitation, but it spoke volumes. The young lord’s relationship with the duke seemed troubled and was perhaps not unlike Roland’s own strained history with his father, Wentworth Arden.

“The duke sent me a letter this morning. A call to arms, to be exact. The culling is coming sooner than anyone anticipated, and we’re being forced to participate.”

“It’s that bad?”

This was unexpected news. Normally, the monster surge wouldn’t reach as far as Albrook. Only cities closer to the volcanic core of the island were usually affected, with the main city – where the duke resided bearing the brunt of the assault. That was where the dungeon’s entrance lay, and where the main Valerian forces, supported by hired adventurers, would make their stand.

During these waves, some monsters would inevitably stray from the central conflict, attacking outlying settlements in smaller skirmishes. To counter this, other nobles were tasked with mobilizing their private armies to defend their territories. However, if Albrook itself was being called to arms, it could only mean one thing – this time, the monster surge was far worse than expected.

“Good, then this will be easier to explain.”

Arthur’s gaze shifted toward his teacup. After taking a slow sip, he continued.

“You probably don’t know this, but the nobles like to play a game during the culling – one that we’ve been invited to take part in.”

“A game?”