Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

Two days later.

Viscount Raymond's territory, an unassuming little castle.

Raymond has locked himself in his room and hasn't left for two whole days.

He is afraid.

How scared are they?

I was so afraid that I dared not turn off the lights at night, so afraid that I would tremble at the slightest sound, so afraid that I could see the torn corpses when I closed my eyes.

He wasn't unfamiliar with dead people.

In war, how can soldiers not die? Although he had no prior experience on the battlefield, he had seen many deaths in places like the Southern Territory.

When he was young, he would occasionally hear his father tell stories about how cruel the battlefield was, with corpses strewn everywhere.

But he didn't expect it to be so "cruel," and he had never seen such a way of dying.

That was a way of dying that my father would never mention in his stories.

The horrific scene of seeing no people, only explosions, hearing loud bangs, and then people inexplicably turning into clumps of flesh and clouds of blood mist in front of him kept flashing through his mind.

That wasn't war at all.

That was a one-sided massacre.

In Raymond's memory, only those rare mages in legends could create such a grand effect.

"My lord," came the butler's voice from outside the door, trembling slightly, "a few people have arrived outside, saying they're from... Grayrock Town."

Raymond suddenly jumped up from his chair.

Gray Rock Town?

Isn't that the devil's territory?!

"What...what are they doing here?" His voice changed.

"N-I don't know." The butler's voice trembled. "But...they brought a box and said...they said it was a gift for you."

Gift?

What gift?

Could it be some kind of hellish contract...?

Raymond's mind went blank.

He wanted to refuse, to say "I don't want to see you," but the words stuck in his throat.

He dared not refuse, unaware of the consequences that would follow.

What if?

What if those people are just here to deliver a message?

What if we drive them away and Lynn sends troops to attack us?

He gritted his teeth, walked to the door, and opened it.

"Let them in," he said. "Well...get the guards ready."

……

Fifteen minutes later, Raymond sat in the drawing room, with three people standing in front of him.

The leader was an ordinary-looking man dressed in ordinary clothes, but he had something he had never seen before hanging from his waist—an iron pipe, slightly longer than his arm, the purpose of which was unknown.

But Raymond could probably guess that this unknown object hanging where a sword should be was most likely the rumored "forbidden weapon".

If he hadn't experienced the Battle of Dark Raven Pass, given his personality, he would definitely have scoffed at this thing.

But now, all he hopes for is that the iron pipe won't be pointed at him.

Behind the man were two young men, one carrying a wooden box and the other carrying a strange object—somewhat like… a pipe? But not quite.

"Viscount Raymond," the leading man spoke, his tone fairly polite, "My name is Corbin, and I come from Grayrock Town. Our lord has asked me to deliver a message to you."

Raymond swallowed hard.

"Wha...what did you say?"

Corbyn did not answer directly, but nodded to the young man behind him who was carrying the box.

The young man stepped forward, placed the box on the table in front of Raymond, and opened it.

Raymond looked down and his face turned deathly pale.

The box contained a human head.

Carl Booth's head!

Those eyes were still open, wide open, as if they had seen something terrifying before they died. The cut below the neck was clean, as if it had been severed by some sharp weapon.

"This...this..."

Raymond's face twitched. He tried to stand up, but his legs were too weak to support him.

"Earl Carl is dead." Corbyn's tone was calm. "In the Battle of Raven Pass, you lost nearly two thousand men and three hundred were captured. On the eastern front, Earl Willard's men were all wiped out. Willard himself was killed in battle, and Patrick was seriously wounded. Of the two thousand men, less than five hundred remain."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "As for us, we suffered zero casualties."

Corbyn's failure to inform the other side about the cannon explosion only diminished their respect for him.

He recounted the battle to Raymond in a calm manner, as if it were a trivial matter.

Corbin gave this point with an innocent smile, a smile his older sister, Lia, had taught him: "The lord sent me to ask you a question—are you... still going to fight?"

Raymond opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

beat?

Hit his mother's head?

His territory only had a small population; of the 150 people he took out this time, less than 50 escaped back.

Let alone attack, he can't even defend.

"I...I don't want to fight," he said with difficulty, "but...but it's His Majesty's order..."

Corbyn looked at him, his smile widening.

The smile was neither warm nor malicious.

"Viscount Raymond, the lord has asked me to ask you one more question—do you know why you are still alive?"

Raymond was stunned.

"Because you ran fast enough," Corbyn said. "If you had run slower, this head might not be Carl's now."

Raymond broke out in a cold sweat.

"My lord asked me to tell you that he is not an unreasonable man," Corbin continued. "You nobles have no grudge against our lord. You are only sending troops because you are following orders. So as long as you stop fighting, Lord Lynn will let bygones be bygones."

Raymond's eyes lit up.

"Is...is this real?"

"Of course," Corbyn said, "but on one condition."

"What are the conditions?"

"You must publicly state that you will no longer participate in the military operations against Grayrock," Corbyn said. "Not only you, but you must also help Lord Lynn contact the other minor lords—those who have also fled or are too afraid to fight. Let them sit down together and make this clear."

Raymond remained silent for a few seconds.

He certainly understood what this meant.

This means allying with Lynn, or rather, surrendering.

But from another perspective, this may not be a bad thing.

With weapons and methods like Lynn's, the entire Southern Alliance couldn't defeat him. How could a mere viscount like him possibly win?

not to mention……

"Lord Lynn also said," Corbyn added at the opportune moment, "that those willing to maintain peace with Grayrock Town can trade normally from now on. Cement, medicine, instant noodles—you've probably never seen these things before, but you've at least heard of them, and you can buy them all."

Raymond's heart skipped a beat.

Cement, medicine, instant noodles.

Of course he knew about those things. They'd already driven up prices to astronomical levels in the capital, especially the kind of medicine that could cure diseases; a single bottle could sell for dozens of gold coins.

If he can buy these things...

"Is what Lord Lynn said... true?" he asked.

Corbyn nodded.

"Lord Lynn keeps his word."

Raymond took a deep breath.

He knew what he was doing.

Betray the Allied Forces, betray Duke Ivan, and possibly even offend the new king.

But if he didn't agree, Raymond was almost certain that Lynn's army would be at his doorstep in a few days.

They won't talk to you about imperial laws.

and……

It has benefits.

There are real and tangible benefits.

"I agree," he replied.