The Returned Lord Is a Genius of Gun Law - Chapter 19

chapter 19

The Return of the Lord is a Gun Law Genius – Episode 19

The Returning Lord: Gun Law Genius, Episode 19

Episode 19

The light in his office had burned continuously from dusk until the first hint of dawn.

Only the faint light of dawn filtering through the window mingled with the blue glow of the magic stone lamp that had remained lit all night, dimly illuminating the room. Yet Eugene remained seated at his desk.

A slight weariness from the all-nighter showed on his face, but beneath it lay a deeper shadow of anguish.

His gaze was fixed on a tattered piece of parchment and a small box etched with strange patterns lying on the desk.

More precisely, it was a short phrase written in the common tongue of the Amir Continent on the parchment.

The Argen of Dragonia

The two short words written on the parchment kept circling in Eugene’s mind.

He licked his dry lips and glared at the note again.

“The Dragonia Council…”

The name Dragonia was first introduced to Earth during the Great War.

It was a week after the Soviets dropped the Tsar Bomba on Arcadia, the capital of the Kingdom of Parjan, now Ground Zero.

On that day, when Moscow was reduced to ashes and burned to the ground by the sudden appearance of dragons, the message left by the dragons was as follows:

This is a warning from the Dragonia Council to Earth. Do not provoke us further.

The day the dragons, whose existence had only been vaguely suspected by Earth’s intelligence agencies like the CIA and KGB, first appeared before humanity was also the day the Soviet Union collapsed, the Great War ended, and the name “Draconian Council” was recorded in history.

Even decades later, almost nothing is known about the Draconian Council among humans. All they know is that it’s an alliance formed by the dragons, who had lived independently before the Great War, and that its leader is named Karzenen.

In Amir, stories about dragons had only been passed down sporadically as legends, so this lack of information was understandable.

The problem is, I have to go find one of them.

A bitter expression crossed Eugene’s face as his gaze returned to the words on the note.

Argen of Dragonia

“The word ‘Argen’ likely refers to a dragon. That would mean my father was connected to dragons…”

This was information he hadn’t found in his research on Baron Bayen Crocus. With so little to go on, Eugene could only speculate based on the scant details he had.

Finally, Eugene reached a conclusion.

“For now… I need to gather more information.”

The Black Serpent, the Imperial Court, Pavel Armandie.

He needed to obtain information starting with what was within his reach.

While the Dragonia Council was officially located on the opposite side of the Crocus territory, the whereabouts of the dragon Argen remained another matter entirely.

‘The Black Serpent and Pavel will arrive soon, so we can strike then. The royal family will connect with them before long.’

As he organized his plan, Eugene’s mind felt much clearer.

Yet, the weight of the tasks before him pressed down on his shoulders.

Just then—

Knock, knock.

“My Lord, I’m here for the morning report.”

“Enter.”

The new steward, Crawford, stepped in after Eugene’s permission. He glanced at the Lord’s weary expression with momentary concern before bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my Lord.”

“Yes. What do you have to report?”

Eugene, who had already regained his cool, detached demeanor, watched as Crawford opened the documents he’d prepared and began his report.

Most of the report concerned routine matters like the status of minor citizen petitions within the territory and patrol updates. Yet, Eugene listened intently to every detail.

How much time had passed?

“And…”

Crawford’s voice lowered slightly as he neared the end of his report.

“…there’s a rumor circulating from Primrose Territory.”

“What is it?”

At the butler’s words, which diverged from the usual mundane content, Eugene’s eyes sharpened.

“Lately, merchants in Primrose have been talking about knights they’ve never seen before staying within the territory. Their appearance and equipment are said to be quite different from those of the Primrose Knights.”

“Evidence?”

“That’s the problem—I only heard it as idle gossip, so I haven’t been able to secure any proof. I apologize, my Lord.”

“No, it’s alright.”

Eugene waved his hand at Crawford, who bowed his head with a look of shame, and fell into thought.

Primrose… I never expected her to stay quiet.

She had been quiet since her defeat in the Great Warrior’s Duel, but it seemed she had been acting behind the scenes.

“Knights I haven’t seen before… mercenaries, or perhaps from another domain.”

Having finished his thoughts, Eugene exhaled sharply.

“Keep a close watch. Report any movements within Primrose territory, especially troop movements or the entry of outsiders, no matter how trivial. And inform Captain Leon to raise our guard level by one notch.”

“As you command, my Lord.”

After Crawford withdrew, silence returned to Eugene’s chamber.

Eugene looked again at the chest and note on his desk.

Right, first… I’ll deal with what’s right in front of me.

Not a trace of fatigue could be seen in his eyes.

Deep within Primrose Castle, in Baron Gorban’s windowless study, only a cold and heavy atmosphere lingered.

The air was thick with the musty smell of old parchment and dust, creating an unpleasant atmosphere. Baron Gorban Primrose, the lord of Primrose, sat before his worn, mahogany desk, nervously tapping his fingers on the surface.

His gaze was fixed on the smooth obsidian orb resting on the desk—a magical orb commonly used for communication in Amir.

“By the power of magic, I command…”

After a moment’s hesitation, he seemed to make up his mind. He placed his hand on the orb and murmured the activation spell in a low voice.

Whoosh!

As faint magic flowed from his fingertips, the surface of the obsidian orb began to shimmer with a blue light.

Then, with a swish!

The darkness within the orb dissipated, revealing the imposing face of a middle-aged man.

Sharp, hawk-like eyes, tightly pursed lips, and a well-trimmed but flecked beard.

This was Count Bolton, his father-in-law and one of the most influential figures in the eastern provinces of the empire.

“My lord Count, I contacted you to express my gratitude,” Gorbon said, his voice dripping with deference as he bowed slightly. His face even betrayed a hint of servility.

“Thanks to the knights you sent, the morale in my territory has soared to the heavens. As the rumors said, your elite knights are truly exceptional—each one worth a hundred men. The upcoming operation will be a success. Rest assured.”

Gorbun, his face the very picture of servility, spoke in a boastful tone, praising the outstanding skills of the knights sent to him and expressing his confidence in the upcoming operation.

But.

“Gorbun, your honeyed words remain as cloying as ever.”

The voice of Count Bolton, returned, was as cold and sharp as ice.

“What I want isn’t your cheap flattery, but results.”

The icy rebuke pierced Gorbun’s ears like a magical needle through a magic orb.

He flinched momentarily but dared not retort.

Count Bolton continued, “This time, break the spirit of that brat Crocus once and for all, and seize control of the magic stone mine. Don’t foolishly send your own soldiers to the front lines. Use my knights to finish this quickly and decisively. Failure will not be tolerated.”

Count Bolton’s voice was devoid of hesitation or any emotion, containing only a cold, ruthless command.

He paused briefly, then added, as if to press his point further, “The distribution of mining rights will proceed as promised, but remember that the promise becomes meaningless if there are no results. I will not tolerate your incompetence derailing my plans any longer.”

“I will remember… I will remember, my lord!” Gorban replied hastily.

But Count Bolton, as if the answer wasn’t worth hearing, coldly severed the communication.

Pop!

The blue light vanished, and the magic communication orb returned to its original state as a lump of black obsidian.

In that instant, the ingratiating smile that had been plastered on Baron Gorban’s face vanished without a trace.

The space left behind was filled with a face twisted by humiliation and rage.

“That damn old bastard! He thinks he’s king of the world right now, but once I get my hands on the magic stone mine…”

The anger didn’t last long.

The humiliation was fleeting. As the thought of seizing the magic stone mine warmed his chest, a greedy smile bloomed on Gorbon’s lips.

“Once I secure the mine… that brat Crocus, and that old bastard too—neither of them will dare treat me so carelessly again. Yes, I’ll use this opportunity to seize true power in the East. Once I crush that damn brat…”

The young lord of Baron Crocus’s territory, and the contemptuous Earl Bolton.

The tantalizing thought that he would soon be rid of these bothersome obstacles made Gorbon lick his lips.

As soon as he received Butler Crawford’s report, Eugene immediately headed to the Magic Stone Mine. He needed to personally inspect the defensive fortifications being newly constructed at the mine to prepare for the unsettling movements occurring in Primrose.

“The trenches aren’t deep enough yet,” Eugene said, his voice cold as he pointed to the edge of a newly dug trench. “They need to be at least chest-high for an adult. And we need to reposition the embrasures more effectively. There are too many blind spots if the enemy approaches from that ridge.”

“Yes, my Lord! I’ll have them corrected immediately. We plan to complete the stockade along the entire perimeter by the end of today,” Jerome, who was in charge of the mine’s fortification efforts, replied, bowing deeply.

Eugene nodded, his sharp gaze sweeping over the surroundings, paying particular attention to the dense forest.

“The ambush from the forest side is the biggest concern. Visibility is poor and there are too many hiding places.”

“How is the trap installation coming along?”

“As you instructed, Lord, we’re placing them sporadically among the trees in the forest.”

“Tell them to be careful when setting them. One mistake could lead to a major disaster.”

“I’ll remind the soldiers once more.”

Nodding at Jerome’s reply, Eugene surveyed the surroundings.

Soldiers, covered in dust, were breaking a sweat as they dug trenches and moved massive wooden palisades into place. rifles with bayonets attached were set aside or slung over their backs. Amidst the noise and bustle, guards stood watch on the makeshift watchtowers, keeping a half-hearted lookout for any sign of the enemy.

The defenses were far from perfect, still in a state of disarray.

“No matter who the enemy is, this defensive line might not be enough. Ultimately, what matters is the skill of our soldiers and how well they use their firearms. We need to intensify training.”

Just as Eugene finished his thoughts and was about to issue his next order, a guard on the watchtower shouted urgently, “Enemy… no, an elf! At the edge of the forest, 11 o’clock! Approaching!”

The guard’s urgent cry shattered the silence.

Instantly, the soldiers working stopped their tasks, turned toward the sound, and awkwardly raised their rifles.

“All hands, cease work! Battle stations! Stay calm!”

As Jerome hastily shouted, trying to regain control of the soldiers, Eugene’s gaze passed over the chaos and fixed on a lone figure slowly walking toward them from the edge of the forest.

Recognizing the familiar figure, Eugene let out a wry laugh.

“…What a curious timing.”

The elf approached with a determined expression, holding a book titled Das Kapital in his hand.

It was Marek.