Aethervancia Continent.
Continental Year 3072, June.
Klan Kingdom, Argentic Eagle Castle.
Morning light streamed through the stained glass windows into the room, casting mottled shadows on the stone floor.
Wulfrik opened his eyes and stared at the silk canopy embroidered with the family crest above his head for a moment before realizing he had once again awakened in this world.
"Fourteen years..."
He murmured softly, his young voice contrasting sharply with the mature thoughts in his mind.
Wulfrik wasn't originally from this world.
In his previous life, he had been a staff officer at a military academy on Earth, transported to this medieval European-like world through an accident.
When he was born as an infant into the Sowerbright family, those silver-gray eyes were destined for an extraordinary fate.
"There are no thousand-year empires, only thousand-year nobles."
This proverb, widespread across the continent, revealed the absolute dominance of the noble class over this land.
The Sowerbright family, as one of Klan Kingdom's most distinguished noble houses, had guarded the kingdom's southern borders for generations, possessing vast territories and a powerful private army.
And Wulfrik's father, Duke Frederick Sowerbright, had earned the fearsome title "Argentic Eagle War God" on the battlefield.
Three light knocks came from outside the door, their rhythm as precise as a military command.
"Young Master Wulfrik, are you awake?"
Butler Wilson's voice came through the heavy oak door, respectful yet dignified.
"Come in."
Wulfrik sat up in bed, habitually rubbing his temples.
Fourteen years of noble life hadn't completely eliminated that sense of identity displacement—every morning upon waking, the collision between his past life memories and present identity would leave him dazed for a few seconds.
The door opened silently, and a line of maids filed in, carrying silver washing implements and neatly pressed clothing.
Butler Wilson stood at the front, his graying temples combed meticulously, every fold in his black formal wear as precise as if measured with a ruler.
"Young Master Wulfrik, His Grace the Duke sent word this morning for you to see him in his study after breakfast."
Wilson took the hot towel from a maid and personally helped Wulfrik wash his face.
Wulfrik's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Duke Frederick rarely summoned him so formally, usually just making casual conversation during dinner.
This must be something unusual.
"How has Father's mood been lately?" Wulfrik asked casually while the maids helped him dress.
Wilson's fingers paused for half a second on the silver button: "His Grace has been... quite busy with official duties lately."
"The messengers from the royal capital have been much more frequent than usual."
Wulfrik understood.
The old king was aging and frail, and the open and covert struggles among the princes were no secret.
As the southern guardian who controlled heavy military forces, his father naturally became a target for various factions vying for his support.
In this succession struggle, the Sowerbright family was destined to be unable to stay neutral.
After getting dressed, Wulfrik stood before the full-length mirror examining himself.
The boy in the mirror had the Sowerbright family's characteristic dark gold short hair and silver-gray eyes. Though he wouldn't turn fourteen until next month, his height already approached that of an ordinary seventeen- or eighteen-year-old.
This body not only inherited the family's excellent bloodline but also appeared particularly upright and sturdy due to Wulfrik's deliberate sword training.
"Young master, your sword lesson is scheduled for this afternoon, but riding instructor Glenn says he just got a purebred foal and would like you to take a look."
Wilson handed him a cup of warm honey water, the amber liquid gleaming golden in the morning light.
Wulfrik took a small sip, the sweet but not cloying taste spreading across his tongue: "Tell Teacher Glenn I'll come by after sword practice."
He set down the silver cup, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers drilling outside the window.
"By the way, have there been any messages from the border patrol recently?"
"A report came in just last night, saying they found more traces of bandit activity near Black Pine Forest."
Wilson lowered his voice, "His Grace held a military meeting about it that didn't end until late into the night."
Wulfrik nodded thoughtfully.
The border bandit problem had persisted for months. If they were just ordinary bandits, with his father's thunderous methods, it should have been resolved long ago.
Unless... these bandits had backing from other forces.
...
After breakfast, Wulfrik walked through the corridor lined with ancestral portraits to the duke's study in the castle's east wing.
Four fully armed guards stood like sculptures outside the oak door. Upon seeing Wulfrik, they immediately saluted, their armor clanking crisply.
"Is Father inside?" Wulfrik adjusted his collar.
"Yes, Young Master Wulfrik," the lead guard replied quietly.
"His Grace instructed that you should go straight in when you arrive." He then knocked gently on the door.
"Come in."
A deep, powerful voice came from within, as cold and hard as clashing steel.
Pushing open the door, he was met with the unique scent of parchment, ink, and oak.
The study was spacious and bright, with three walls lined with bookshelves full of ancient texts and scrolls, while the fourth wall displayed a huge map of Klan Kingdom.
Behind the central oak desk, Duke Frederick was bent over studying military maps spread across the surface, silver threads gleaming among his dark gold hair in the sunlight.
"Sit."
The duke didn't look up as he pointed to the high-backed chair across from him.
Wulfrik sat quietly, his gaze sweeping over the bright red markings on the map—all border fortresses and strategic locations.
The Black Pine Forest area was specially circled, with small text annotated beside it: Suspected Shadow Wolf Bandit Group.
"You learned to read early and you're good with numbers."
Duke Frederick suddenly spoke, his finger still moving across the map.
"Wilson tells me you've already read through most of the military and historical works in the study."
Wulfrik nodded cautiously.
To avoid appearing too unusual, he had deliberately controlled the talents he displayed, but apparently he was still far more outstanding than his peers.
The duke finally looked up, those silver-gray eyes identical to Wulfrik's as sharp as an eagle's: "Tell me, if you were a lord facing increasingly rampant bandit groups on your borders, what would you do?"
Wulfrik's heart tightened.
This wasn't ordinary father-son conversation, but a formal assessment of his abilities.
He took a deep breath and decided not to completely hide his talents anymore.
"First, I would investigate the true background of these bandits," Wulfrik's voice was steady, unlike that of a fourteen-year-old boy.
"For bandit groups to exist long-term on the borders, either they have secret support from local nobles, or neighboring countries are manipulating them from behind. Simple bandit suppression treats the symptoms but not the root cause."
Duke Frederick's eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly, signaling him to continue.
"If it's the former," Wulfrik's finger lightly tapped several noble territories on the map.
"I would first cut off the connection between the bandits and their backers, applying pressure through political means."
"When necessary, I could unite with other lords to jointly impose sanctions."
He paused momentarily, observing his father's reaction.
The duke remained expressionless: "And if it's the latter?"
"If neighboring countries are behind it..."
Wulfrik's finger traced along the border line, "I would set ambushes on the main trade routes while sending small elite forces disguised as merchant caravans to lure the bandits into attacking."
"Once we capture prisoners alive, we could follow the trail to find their hideout."
His fingertip finally stopped at Black Pine Forest's location, "Additionally, I would strengthen the defenses of border villages and train militias so the bandits would have nowhere to strike."