Free Web NovelChapter 120: The Nobles Arrives
Rain continued falling over Berm the next morning.
Not heavy rain.
Just steady gray drizzle covering the streets in damp mist while wagons rolled slowly through muddy roads beneath dark skies. Merchants pulled cloaks tighter across their shoulders while workers hurried between buildings carrying crates beneath canvas coverings.
The city felt quieter whenever it rained.
But even through the weather, rumors about Atlas still moved through Berm like wildfire.
The Thunder Soldiers.
The Flying Steel.
The men who destroyed the Black Hollow.
Every tavern seemed to have a different version now.
Some claimed Atlas commanded lightning itself.
Others insisted Marcus was a hidden royal from a distant kingdom.
One particularly drunk merchant reportedly claimed the Black Hawk helicopters were mechanical dragons captured from ancient ruins.
That story spread surprisingly far.
Inside Atlas Base, however, nobody cared much about rumors anymore.
They had work.
Lots of it.
The training grounds remained active despite the rain.
Mud splashed beneath combat boots while infantry squads moved through formation drills under Tomas’s supervision. The Falmouth veterans still stood out clearly from the newer recruits now.
Cleaner weapon handling.
Faster movement.
Better spacing.
Combat experience changed people quickly.
"Move!"
The squad pushed forward.
"Cover right!"
Rifles shifted instantly.
"Reload!"
Magazines swapped smoothly.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Tomas watched everything carefully while rain dripped from the brim of his cap.
Nearby, Rolf stood beneath partial cover beside several crates of training ammunition while looking miserable.
"I hate rain."
One recruit beside him blinked.
"You fought brigands and survived machine gun combat."
"Yes."
"And rain bothers you more?"
"Absolutely."
The recruit stared at him.
Rolf pointed toward the field.
"You can shoot enemies."
Then toward the sky.
"You can’t shoot weather."
Honestly—
Fair argument.
Meanwhile, inside the command building, the atmosphere felt more formal than usual.
Atlas personnel moved through the halls carrying documents while administrative staff prepared one of the larger conference rooms upstairs.
Because today was important.
Very important.
Count Valen’s delegation was arriving.
Elaina personally supervised the preparation herself while several staff members adjusted chairs, maps, and paperwork inside the room.
Marcus entered shortly afterward carrying a folder beneath one arm.
Elaina immediately looked toward him.
"You’re late."
"It’s three minutes."
"That’s still late."
Marcus glanced toward the room.
The long conference table had already been prepared. Maps of regional trade routes covered one side while Atlas operational papers sat stacked neatly near the center.
Elaina noticed him studying the setup.
"You said we control the conversation."
Marcus nodded once.
"Yes."
"Then the room should reflect that."
Again—
Fair.
Marcus placed the folder onto the table afterward.
"Status?"
Elaina checked her notes.
"Outer gate security already informed. Tomas assigned perimeter overwatch around the meeting hall."
"Visible?"
"Subtle."
Good.
Marcus did not want Count Valen feeling threatened immediately.
But he absolutely wanted the noble understanding Atlas remained organized and prepared.
Elaina continued.
"Rolf’s handling escort reception."
Marcus paused slightly.
"...Why?"
"Because you wanted someone who still looked approachable."
Marcus stared at her flatly.
"You’re using Rolf as public relations."
"Yes."
"That feels dangerous."
"It probably is."
Outside the base walls, the sound of approaching wagons eventually echoed through the rain-covered road leading toward Atlas Base.
Two horse-drawn carriages emerged from the mist accompanied by mounted guards wearing dark blue cloaks marked with silver insignias.
Count Valen’s banner.
The guards looked disciplined.
Not elite soldiers.
But professional enough.
The lead carriage slowed as Atlas Base finally came fully into view ahead.
And immediately, the delegation’s atmosphere changed.
Because Atlas Base did not resemble anything else in the region.
Concrete fortifications.
Watchtowers.
Steel structures.
Floodlights mounted along walls.
Vehicles parked beneath covered bays.
Even through rain and distance, the compound looked strange.
Modern.
Wrong.
One mounted guard quietly muttered beneath his breath:
"Gods..."
Another stared toward one of the watchtowers.
"Are those ballistae?"
"No."
The first guard frowned.
"Then what are they?"
Neither man knew the answer.
Because the mounted M240 defensive positions atop Atlas watchtowers looked nothing like medieval weapons.
Inside the lead carriage, Count Valen quietly observed the base through the rain-covered window while his adviser sat across from him reviewing notes.
The Count himself looked younger than most nobles of his status.
Mid-forties perhaps.
Dark hair touched slightly with gray near the temples.
Sharp eyes.
Expensive but practical clothing beneath a heavy traveling coat.
Not soft.
That was the first impression most people got from him.
Beside him, his adviser finally lowered the papers slightly.
"The stories were accurate."
Valen continued staring toward the approaching base.
"Yes."
Because even from outside the walls, Atlas looked more like a military installation than a mercenary headquarters.
And that alone changed things politically.
At the outer gate, Atlas personnel already waited beneath the rain.
Rolf stood near the checkpoint wearing combat gear beneath a waterproof cloak while several infantrymen maintained security nearby.
The convoy eventually stopped before the reinforced gate barrier.
One of Valen’s mounted guards stepped forward first.
"Delegation of Count Valen requesting entry."
Rolf nodded casually.
"Expected."
The guard looked slightly uncertain afterward.
Probably because Rolf did not behave like ordinary soldiers or gatekeepers.
Too relaxed.
Too comfortable.
Rolf stepped closer toward the carriage afterward.
"Count Valen?"
The carriage door opened moments later.
Valen stepped out into the rain while studying the Atlas compound more carefully now.
And for a brief second—
The noble’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Because he immediately noticed several important things.
The guards moved with military precision.
The walls possessed overlapping defensive angles.
Personnel carried identical equipment and weapons.
Even the placement of vehicles inside the compound reflected logistical planning.
This was not improvised strength.
This was organized infrastructure.
Rolf extended one hand casually.
"Rolf." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
Valen looked mildly surprised.
Not by the name.
By the behavior.
Most people became stiff around nobility.
Rolf clearly did not care.
After a short pause, Valen shook his hand once.
"Count Valen."
Rolf nodded.
"Marcus is waiting inside."
No excessive ceremony.
No bowing.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The delegation eventually entered Atlas Base beneath steady rain while several infantrymen escorted them toward the administrative building.
As they walked deeper inside the compound, Valen silently observed everything around him carefully.
Training fields.
Vehicle bays.
Radio equipment.
Barracks.
Maintenance crews.
Everywhere he looked, Atlas resembled a professional standing force more than hired adventurers.
And the discipline unsettled him slightly.
Because private organizations were not supposed to look this capable.
One of Valen’s advisers quietly whispered beside him:
"This place feels like a fortress."
Valen answered softly.
"It is."
Inside the command building, Marcus waited near the conference room while Elaina reviewed final notes beside him.
Neither looked nervous.
But both looked focused.
Elaina adjusted several papers slightly before glancing toward Marcus.
"You know this meeting matters."
"I know."
"Potentially a lot."
"I know."
Elaina folded her arms.
"You keep saying that."
"Because I already understand."
She studied him quietly for a moment.
Then nodded once.
Good enough.
Moments later, footsteps echoed through the hallway outside.
The delegation had arrived.
Rolf entered first.
"They’re here."
Marcus nodded once.
"Send them in."
The conference room doors opened shortly afterward.
Count Valen entered alongside two advisers while rainwater still clung lightly to their coats.
For several seconds, silence filled the room.
Both sides studied each other carefully.
Valen observed Marcus first.
Younger than expected.
Calm.
No noble insignia.
No military decorations.
Yet somehow the room itself still revolved around him naturally.
Interesting.
Marcus studied Valen equally carefully.
Sharp eyes.
Measured posture.
Not arrogant.
That already separated him from many nobles.
Finally, Marcus stepped forward first.
"Count Valen."
Valen inclined his head slightly.
"Marcus Manfred."
The noble’s gaze shifted briefly toward Elaina afterward.
"And Miss Elaina."
She nodded politely.
"Count."
The formalities ended quickly afterward as everyone took seats around the conference table.
Rain tapped softly against the windows while silence settled across the room briefly once more.
Valen finally spoke first.
"I’ll be direct."
Good.
Marcus appreciated that already.
The Count folded both hands together atop the table.
"Falmouth changed regional politics."
Straight to the point.
Interesting again.
Marcus leaned back slightly.
"How so?"
Valen’s expression remained calm.
"Because a private military organization just demonstrated enough force projection capability to erase an organized criminal syndicate in less than a week."
The room stayed quiet afterward.
Because technically—
He was absolutely correct.
Valen continued carefully.
"Every merchant house now talks about Atlas."
Another pause.
"Every noble house soon will as well."
Elaina exchanged a brief glance with Marcus.
Because that was exactly what they expected.
Valen studied both of them carefully afterward.
"The question is whether Atlas intends to remain merely a mercenary organization."
There it was.
The real question.
Not about Falmouth.
Not about brigands.
About the future.
Marcus answered calmly.
"Atlas intends to remain professional."
Valen almost smiled faintly.
"That was not my question."
Interesting man.
Marcus rested both arms lightly against the chair.
"No," he admitted. "It wasn’t." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Silence lingered briefly again afterward.
Then Valen finally leaned back slightly.
"Good."
That answer actually surprised Elaina slightly.
The Count noticed immediately.
"You expected hostility?"
Elaina answered honestly.
"We expected caution."
Valen nodded.
"Wise."
Then after a pause:
"I did not come here to threaten Atlas."
Marcus watched him carefully.
"Then why are you here?"
Valen looked toward the rain-covered windows briefly before answering.
"Because Europe is changing."
The room became quieter afterward.
The Count’s eyes slowly moved back toward Marcus.
"And organizations like yours do not appear during stable eras."
