Chapter 28

After nearly a week of resting in the castle and finalizing the endless paperwork, my title was official. I was no longer just Dirk Robinson Jr., that weird merchant from another world. I was now Baron Dirk Robinson Jr., with a stretch of untamed land nestled between the Elven forests and the borderlands—mine to shape, defend, and build.

When the king presented me with the deed, I didn't feel pride at first. I felt pressure. Expectations. This wasn't a game. This was people's lives, livelihoods, safety, and future. And I couldn't do it alone.

So, over dinner in the castle's guest chamber, I asked the most important question.

"I'm heading out soon to claim the land," I said, setting down a bowl of chicken stew. "But I don't want to do it without you guys. Are you… willing to come with me? To live there?"

The room was quiet for a moment, then Elvie scoffed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Seriously? I thought you'd never ask."

"I figured you'd need someone to keep track of all your weird wares anyway," she added, tapping her ledger. "Inventory's my domain now. Deal with it."

Ella grinned and raised her cup. "We're building a whole territory. Why wouldn't I want in? I call dibs on decorating your future manor though."

Miss Agnes adjusted her glasses and gave me a wry look. "I've worked enough years for the Merchant Guild, dear. If I'm going to handle finances, might as well do it for someone I trust." She lifted her quill and winked. "Besides, I've always wanted to run a proper treasury."

Igor leaned forward, his tone serious but excited. "We'll need more hands. My family back in the Elven town—they're skilled builders and shopkeepers. Give me a day there, and I'll bring you a full crew. Laborers, carpenters, crafters."

Then Felix cleared his throat. "I'll come, but…" he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I want to bring my wife and daughter. I owe them a safe home."

I nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely. Get them. Bring anyone you trust."

He gave a rare smile. "I'll speak with Lord Weslin through the Guild relay."

—

By morning, I'd formally appointed them:

Then came the king's parting gift—five royal-grade carriages, enchanted for durability, and enough supplies for months. Ten indentured servants, five royal-trained maids, and fifteen beastkin guards, all armed and loyal to the throne.

It was… a lot.

We set off that afternoon. The convoy stretched down the road like a miniature kingdom in motion. Carriages clattered under the weight of crates—some with enchanted tools, others stuffed with my Earth supplies. Ella added flags with my new crest—two branches of oak behind a gear.

The road was long. Some nights we camped beneath the stars, other nights near roadside inns. But what made those nights special were the meals. Earth food.

Mamon cakes, cup noodles, jerky sticks, chocolate packets, instant soup—I brought out different dishes each night. The first time the maids tried hotdogs, they thought I was feeding them meat from dragons. The beastkin guards nearly cried over chocolate.

That night, sitting around the fire with everyone content and laughing, something shifted.

Felix approached and knelt—not out of duty, but something deeper. "My sword is yours, Baron."

Elvie and Ella joined, arms crossed but respectful. "We're with you."

Agnes adjusted her robes and nodded. "To the end."

Igor raised his cup. "Let's build something that'll outlast us."

Something warm sparked in my chest. This wasn't just a group anymore. This was a team. A founding council.

*****

Arrival in the Elven Town

After days on the road, the crystalline spires and leafy architecture of the Elven town shimmered into view. Magic pulsed in every building, lights dancing through flower-covered archways and vine-laced towers.

We parked our convoy outside the gate, close enough to draw attention but far enough not to clog the entrance. The townsfolk stared—we must have looked like a traveling royal court.

"I'll head to my shop," I told the group. "Take care of your errands. Meet back at sunset."

Igor nodded. "I'll inform my family. They'll want to meet you soon."

Agnes tucked her resignation scroll beneath her arm and turned toward the Merchant Guild. "Time to close the books."

Ella and Elvie strolled toward their inn, chatting about what to pack. I could hear Ella teasing Elvie about organizing "personal assistant robes."

Felix stayed close as we entered town. "You sure they'll welcome us?" he asked.

"I think so," I said. "And if not… well, we're not here to stay long."

We stopped first at Dirk's Shop, the original one. It stood just as we left it, buzzing with curious elves buying fireproof matches and salves. I greeted Kael and Sylphy—my shop caretakers.

When I told them the plan, they didn't hesitate.

"You're building your own territory?" Kael's eyes lit up. "Then we're coming. This place was always temporary."

Sylphy nodded. "We'll gather our families. We'll join you when you're ready."

By the time night fell, the full party had reassembled. Our numbers had grown. Plans were in motion. And somewhere ahead… was our land.

And I was no longer just a merchant with a magical backpack.

I was building something real.

Two Days Later – We set out at dawn, the sun rising behind us in a haze of gold and lavender. Our convoy was a sight to behold—five royal carriages, loaded supply carts, a line of beastkin guards marching on foot, and my companions riding alongside me. This wasn't just travel anymore.

We were moving in.

The moment felt surreal. I, Dirk Robinson Jr., was about to step foot into my land. Not rented, not borrowed—but granted by the crown. The name had already been signed into official records:

Robinson Territory.

"Sounds noble," Elvie said beside me, glancing down at her notes. "A bit stiff, though. Maybe we can come up with a fancier name later. Like... 'The Golden Vale' or 'Dirkshire.'"

I chuckled. "Let's start with not dying of dysentery before we build bathhouses."

Ella leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms above her head. "As long as there's a good view and room for flower gardens, I don't care what we call it."

*****

By midday on the second day, we saw it in the distance.

The territory.

My first impression? It was not barren like I feared. Instead, it was… a village. A poor one, but alive.

Around 150 people lived there, by the rough count I made. Mud-bricked homes, wooden stalls, fields of wilted crops, and smoke rising from crude stone chimneys. Children with smudged faces ran barefoot, stopping to stare at the incoming convoy. Elders peeked out from thatched-roof homes. Farmers paused mid-till, gripping old hoes as we rolled in.

The road was little more than packed dirt, and dust kicked up with every wheel turn.

To the east stretched a thick, ominous forest with trees so tall they blotted out the sky. The western side revealed a massive lake, shimmering under the sunlight. Mountains loomed to the north, casting a protective shadow.

But it was the south that gave me pause—a dead stretch of cracked earth, darker and colder somehow. A villager once told me in passing that there were rumors of an ancient, unexplored dungeon hidden in that wasteland.

Our carriage came to a halt before the village's modest wooden gate. There was only one guard, an elderly man with a rusted spear leaning against a post that barely deserved to be called a watchtower.

"Who goes there?" he called out, not hostile, just wary.

I stepped down from the carriage and approached, brushing the dust from my cloak. "Dirk Robinson Jr.," I said, loud enough for nearby villagers to hear. "The new baron. I've been assigned to govern this land."

The guard blinked. "We heard rumors, but didn't expect a full parade…"

He turned, signaling toward a dirt path. "Old Beran's the town leader. Lives past the well. Follow me."

Old Beran was a bald man with a crooked nose, thick arms, and eyes that had seen war. His leather tunic was patched in too many places to count, and his boots had holes near the soles.

"So. You're the new noble they sent," Beran grunted, shaking my hand. "Can't say you're the worst we've had yet. At least you showed up."

I gave him a small nod. "And I don't intend to bleed this village dry. I want to build something that works—for everyone."

Beran gave me a skeptical look but didn't argue. "Your manor's north of town. Big wooden place. Falling apart. Full of rats last I checked."

"Great," I muttered. "Just how I imagined my future estate."