Savages Can't Grasp a True Toplaner's Heart
These uncivilized medieval bastards didn't get the heart of a great top laner.
Six seconds of invincibility followed by a ranged AoE to pop off in a teamfight? Nah, that ain't top. That's mid-lane mage bullshit. A real top laner's picture is something else entirely. And for the record, not dropping below 1 HP ain't "invincibility." Nah, a true top laner charges in unstoppable, weaves through the enemy backline like a ghost, clings to life with lifesteal, and smashes the heads of those hated ADCs. That's the real deal.
In that sense, the pendant Valerius had snagged was exactly the kinda thing he'd been dying for.
"F-Fuck, that guy's gotta be a mad dog."
"...You think he's just too soft on his men?"
"Does that look like a face from babying his subordinates? That's the grin of a guy who's thrilled!"
Yanes and Sophia's chatter drifted over, but it bounced right off Valerius, whose mood was riding sky-high. Leading the way with that shit-eating grin plastered on, he guided the party out of the dungeon.
They'd gathered up anything salvageable from the golem wreckage and stacked it near the entrance.
"We'll come back once we've got the setup ready."
"Sounds good."
There were still spots they hadn't checked out, so they left it for later. Dwarf tech held massive value on its own—and with a chat to Yanes later, they could turn it into solid merch.
"First up, the Grand Duchy."
Dungeon objective cleared. Time to handle Rozanica's lord's request.
They rounded up the loosened horses and hitched 'em back to the wagons. At the mention of the Grand Duchy, Yanes's cheeks flushed.
"Hoping for that New Year's gala in three months?"
"...Yeah. Ain't it a chance to rub shoulders with the North Grand Duke?"
The North Grand Duke was busy. Fucking busy. Barbarians and monsters pouring in from above, those goddamn central nobles nipping at his heels from below. Toss in snowstorm monster raids and the like, and the guy had zero breathing room. Plus, the North's geography was a pain in the ass.
Opportunities to meet him? New Year's gala or the Serpia family's birthday bashes. He wasn't big on the luxury anyway.
"You'll just get a quick glance, tops."
Someone like Yanes? A face in the crowd was the best she'd get. That was the perk fallen nobles-turned-merchants scraped by on.
Come to think of it, how the hell did she catch Isolde's eye in the original story?
"You ever plan to settle in the North for real?"
"Nah. Spirits were my only goal."
Yanes sure didn't show big ambitions for the North. Tough conditions made it a bitch to really rake in profits as a merchant. Sure, now she had Valerius—that golden lifeline (maybe)—but still.
"Anyway, don't get your hopes up for the Grand Duke. Dude's swamped."
"...Yeah, figured."
She'd hoped a connection might pay off as a key asset, but Yanes knew her place. Normally she'd scheme some way to make ties, but now? Just swallow the regret.
"Can you crack the tech?"
"Just bits and pieces. Other scholars would help, but..."
"Nope."
Tech sharing in a medieval world with no copyrights? Fuck that noise. Grant's network might be safer, but mages? Hard pass. Ma Tower ties were shit anyway.
"Guess I'll sit this one out, then."
"Like you could go in that state anyway."
"H-Hey, gimme a month and I'll be fine!"
"Bullshit. Minimum three months."
"Eek! Don't talk back! I've got special potions!"
"Yeah. Sure. Gonna chug 'em. Fucking chug 'em."
Kyaaak! Leaving the wailing Yanes in the dust, Valerius stared ahead.
"Road lookin' good?"
"Murky. Not lost, but it's a hassle."
"Tch."
Goddamn snowstorm. Blizzard passed, but the drifts had reshaped everything. Without Raven's pathfinding chops, this trip would've sucked balls.
Raven eyed the arms-crossed Valerius, then cleared his throat.
"Ahem. We get some R&R in the Grand Duchy?"
"Gonna whore it up again? Told ya, man, you'll die of the clap."
"Do you have to phrase it like that? And nah, not for that."
"Then what?"
Raven glanced at the wagons, then leaned in to whisper.
"Snagged some barbarian gear off those savages."
"...Yeah?"
"Yup. Their bows are killer, right? Thinkin' of grabbin' one."
"Gotta clear time if we're auction-hunting."
Raven was a beast of a sniper. Crossbows mainly, but bows too. Barbarian bows especially—top-tier performance, auction hotcakes every time they nabbed some.
Prep funds and join the auction? Three days minimum. Grand Duchy to-dos: gala, slave auction, intel drop to the Bloodthorn nobles. Knock those out quick, and they'd have breathing room.
"Handle it yourself. Cash on hand?"
"Obviously. So no fuckups till after the auction."
"...Ain't fuckups. It's fair line trade."
"Sure, sure. I'll watch for counter-ganks."
Raven chuckled at their routine banter, now second nature.
The Serpia Duchy Capital, crown jewel of the North's top tier, still ran rich. Podzol soil meant fuck-all for grains, but plenty of fodder grew for livestock—horses thrived. Plus, mass sweet potato farms for army rations. Nowhere in the North matched its food stocks, but management stayed critical.
"Young master. Papers here."
"Thanks, Isolde."
In the manor office, the North Grand Duke's packed schedule fell to his kids. The sword prodigy son and sharp-eyed daughter? Talents even haters acknowledged.
"...Hoo. Food's short. Imports?"
"Secured plenty. Next month's haul fixes it."
Sigmund Serpia, the North Grand Duke's son, pinched his brow. Rations tight, and New Year's gala loomed.
"Tch. Skip the gala?"
"Young master, that's what draws the nobles—and their cash."
Gala spending wasn't chump change; couldn't blow it off.
"Fair. Oh yeah, they wanna scout marriage prospects at this one."
"About time, yeah."
Sigmund was twenty; Isolde, just turning nineteen. Slower than average.
"Hoo. Post-snowstorm grind. Star Wolves?"
"Patrolling lands, culling monsters."
"Can't turn every peasant into a soldier."
"Star Wolves gotta hustle more."
The private force Sigmund and Isolde built, the Star Wolves, peaked busy now.
"Gotta prep rewards for 'em."
"They'll be grateful."
Sigmund smirked at Isolde's words.
"Tell 'em to watch their step. Can't get exposed yet. You head out—I'll wrap this and follow."
"Understood, young master."
Sigmund gave a wry smile as she bowed crisply and left.
"Used to be such a cute kid, clinging and giggling. Grew up too damn fast."
Those hassle-filled days? Nostalgic now. Shaking off the pang, he dove back into work.
"Bella, fetch a drink."
"Yes, miss."
Back in her room, Isolde ordered a beverage from her maid, then sank into her work desk. Stacks of reports from her trusted aides waited.
Top one first.
"...Valerius."
Background on the man dominating her thoughts lately. Capital and pull meant fast, thick intel. A few bits jumped out.
Grant and grandson's savior. Hardcore emperor loyalist, anti-central nobles. Key player in Rozanica's boom—second city's makeover. No orphan climbs that political ladder.
His raw power and ballsy attitude caught her eye too.
"Miss. Shall I pour?"
"Thanks."
Bella topped Isolde's glass with Fillerbinker premium wine—prime stuff from the city next to Rozanica.
"Oh, miss. This vintage might be off-limits soon."
"Hm? Trouble?"
"Valbasor Brewery pulled out of Fillerbinker."
"Hmph."
Isolde's brow furrowed faintly. Her favorite North brew.
"Look into it. What's the deal?"
"Yes, miss."
No way she'd lose this winter ritual easy. To clear her head, she eyed Valerius's file again.
"Bella."
"Yes, miss."
"How much help would the South's war hero be for our cause?"
"..."
Her light tone belied heavy words.
"Be straight. For real."
"Star Wolves' intel says half our headaches vanish if he joins."
"Ha."
Isolde let out a dry laugh at the bombshell. Pulling Valerius into the Star Wolves.
"But tough, right? Grant's man means diehard emperor loyal."
Star Wolves hated central nobles and the throne. Surface emperor ally like Valerius? Iffy full collab.
"Still, common enemies."
"Central nobles."
"Yup. Plus, turns out he's weirdly attached to home. Leverage that?"
Recruiting him would be huge.
"Find a way."
"Yes."
Oh yeah, marriage talks.
"Better a war hero than some useless central noble."
"M-Miss! Marriage to a commoner? Absolutely not!"
Bella freaked at the offhand mutter. Isolde waved her off, sweating through the lecture.
Bella finally left, minding the late hour. Alone at last, Isolde hit the bed, booze-warmed.
Snuggling into the cozy quilt, she stared blankly at the dark ceiling. Valerius popped into mind unbidden.
Solid guy. Looks ain't bad. Bit mouthy, but...>
First time treated like that? Felt kinda fresh. He seemed averse to ties, but she'd force a meet later.
With that thought, she drifted off.