Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Territory Reconstruction Project (2)
Being a coastal area, there are many things to work with, but the current situation is, frankly, hopeless.
People are still living here, so the houses haven’t completely collapsed into ruins—but that’s about it.
Not a single piece of livestock like cows or pigs, which should be the village’s primary assets, can be seen.
Even the trees have had their bark stripped away, exposing the raw wood beneath.
The mercenary knight assigned as my escort sighed.
“If they’ve resorted to eating tree bark, they’ll soon turn into bandits.”
If someone were asked whether they would rather starve to death with their family or become bandits, most would choose the latter.
Only saints could endure such hunger and despair without wavering.
“Have you gathered all the villagers?”
“They’re assembled in the square in front of the chief’s house.”
If this were 21st-century Korea, I wouldn’t need to gather everyone.
I could simply discuss matters with the village chief and announce decisions.
But in a world where authority outweighs equality, the lord must appear in person to show both power and mercy.
Only then will the people feel secure.
As I approached, the mercenaries surrounding the villagers shouted:
“The lord has arrived! Show your respect!”
At once, the villagers knelt and pressed their heads to the ground.
This wasn’t the usual kneeling posture we imagine from medieval times.
The relationship between serf and lord is closer to that of master and slave.
“Raise your heads and sit comfortably. Who is the village chief?”
An elderly man with a bald head and white hair answered.
“I am Diego, the chief of this village.”
“The village seems to be in poor condition. Explain.”
Their appearance alone made it obvious.
The chief was gaunt, his clothes little better than rags.
The others looked barely better than famine victims.
Anyone who couldn’t grasp the situation at a glance would be a fool.
“My lord… please…”
The villagers bowed again and began to wail.
Hundreds crying at once—it was impossible to distinguish individual voices.
But the meaning was clear: hunger, death, desperation.
Feeling sympathy is natural.
But sympathy must not override authority.
“I asked you. What is the condition of the village?”
“As you see, my lord. Our food ran out a month ago. We have eaten cattle, chickens, even dogs. Anything edible, we have consumed.”
Diego wept.
I have never experienced starvation, so I cannot fully understand.
But watching one’s family die must be unbearable.
“At this rate, we will all perish. So… we planned to sell orphaned children to buy food.”
By modern standards, that would be unforgivable.
But here, it is considered rational.
When survival is at stake, sacrificing a few to save many is accepted.
“My lord, please show mercy.”
Of course, I would waive taxes and provide aid.
I had already brought grain, salt, and supplies with mercenaries.
But generosity without control leads to exploitation.
“I will decide what mercy to grant.”
Even in modern times, excessive aid invites abuse.
In this world, they would try to reduce taxes again and again.
So I must take something in return.
“What does this village produce?”
“We fish, gather shellfish, and farm. Nothing else.”
“I will decide what has value. Speak everything.”
Their perspective differs from mine.
What they see as useless may be valuable to me.
“…There is a weed on the hill that burns the stomach, and seaweed on the rocks by the shore.”
Seaweed?
That must be kelp.
Nutritious, and unknown here.
To me, it looks like brown gold.
“This year, your tax will be paid in that seaweed—100 kilograms. The rest, you will cultivate as I instruct.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“If you comply, your taxes are considered paid, and I will provide relief supplies.”
The chief looked stunned.
To them, this was an extraordinary favor.
“…Is that truly enough?”
“I am doing my duty.”
The villagers pay taxes; the lord protects them.
Anything less is failure.
“Then, in gratitude, I offer my daughter as your maid.”
Of course.
He wanted to secure favor through his daughter.
And I am a young noble—he assumed I would accept.
He presented her.
She was beautiful.
With care, she would be exceptional.
But—
“You dare try such tricks on me?! Do you wish to die?”
“I meant only goodwill—”
Most nobles would accept.
Even I felt temptation.
But I saw through his intent.
Using his daughter to maintain power.
I drew my sword and placed it at his neck.
“Do you think I don’t see your scheme?”
Even a foreman gains arrogance from power.
A village chief commands hundreds.
“That power exists only because I allow it.”
I had no intention of killing him.
Doing so would destroy stability.
But fear is necessary.
The chief trembled.
“Listen well. Do not challenge my authority.”
I plan to introduce valuable knowledge here.
Security comes from fear of the ruler.
“Respect me, and you will be fed and supported.”
“Ignore me, and you will suffer.”
I am no altruist.
I will not save the world.
But those under me will not starve.
Then I added:
“If seaweed alone troubles you, I will also take the orphans under my care.”
They would be trained and employed.
Among them, one girl stood out.
Black hair, pale skin, striking features.
Like a living idol.
“…What is your name?”
“Chloe, my lord.”
I have not even held a woman’s hand since coming to this world.
Having a beautiful maid would not be unreasonable.
“From now on, you are my personal maid. Stay by my side at all times.”