How to Ace the Test
"Someone came to see me?"
"He says he's Mulat, an envoy sent by Baron Karaton of Wood Pigeon's Perch."
I set down my paperwork and crossed my arms, having just heard a thoroughly unexpected report from the gate guard first thing in the morning.
Wood Pigeon's Perch. I was sure I'd heard that name somewhere before... now where was it?
"I intend to visit a nearby manor called Wood Pigeon's Perch."
Ah, that's right.
It was the place Louis said he was heading after I turned down his investment pitch. Somewhere about a day's hard ride from here, if I remembered correctly.
Another manor lord sending an envoy all this way to deliver a message... what could this be about? And a baron, no less, meaning he held an officially granted title — a slight rank above a minor border lord like me.
"Show him in with proper courtesy."
"Yes, my lord."
Whatever the reason, I couldn't very well turn away an envoy from such a man. I hurried over to the mirror to check my appearance and finished preparing to receive him.
Before long, two soldiers escorted the envoy in. He entered the room with confident bearing, drew one foot back, and bowed low and slow in greeting.
"Mulat, envoy of Baron Karaton, humbly greets Lord Reus of Crow's Head Valley."
"A long road — you've earned your rest, Mulat. Make yourself comfortable."
Somewhere between turning fourteen and twenty, I had worked hard to figure out how to carry myself with a lord's dignity. This sort of manner was part of that.
With my own people I could afford to be informal, but I couldn't allow myself to be looked down upon by anyone from the outside.
The envoy straightened the moment my gesture released him. Standing tall with his chin lifted high, he cast his gaze around my office.
"Rather more... modest lodgings than I expected, my lord?"
"I'm hardly in a position to indulge in luxury."
He wasn't being sarcastic — he was genuinely tilting his head at me as if to ask, How do you live like this? — and I answered him plainly.
"I understand you made a great contribution to the development of fertilizer."
"Not entirely wrong, but not entirely right either."
"How humble of you. Though I understand you saw fit to carve your own name into it quite boldly, for all that."
This is driving me insane. I'd been waiting for that line to come up, but I never expected it to pop out this fast.
I had anticipated that the fertilizer would bring enormous change to agriculture. Naturally, I'd also expected it to spread across the continent through the merchant guilds.
But... but you see, I never once imagined it would go out into the world with my name plastered proudly across it! Who does that?!
Since our own estate didn't bother buying fertilizer — we all simply made it together — quite a bit of time passed before I learned that fact.
By the time I found out and scrambled to contact Nerga, Reus Compost was already being sold in every direction, or so I was told.
Distributed through the merchant guild as it was, practically every trader in the region knew of it, and among the farmers actually using the stuff — well, need I say more.
Perhaps because of that, the merchants who came calling afterward believed I must have accumulated a mountain of wealth, pitched me enormous investments, and when I refused them, left shooting me looks that said how stingy.
This envoy Mulat must have felt much the same, because he shot me a sidelong glance that practically read, Crafty bastard, pretending to be frugal. I know your game.
You people... yes, I have some breathing room now, but not nearly as much as all that!
"Mulat, more to the point — I hear you carry a message. What's its content?"
"I shall deliver it at once. Baron Karaton wishes to hold a Friendly Exchange with you, Lord Reus."
"A Friendly Exchange? What's that?"
"Allow me to explain. Last year, our Wood Pigeon's Perch..."
A little before Reus met with Mulat.
Ahem, ahem. Laura stifled a cough as she stepped outside and began the slow walk toward the keep.
Her head had at least stopped spinning like it had two days ago, and figuring she could manage a day's work at this level, she had resolved to come in after all.
"Shoves through half the official correspondence with slapdash approvals the moment I'm gone, and then has the nerve to tell me to rest. I can't live with this man, honestly."
Her mouth grumbled, but her mind kept circling back to the day Reus had come all the way to her home. The image of him, worry written across his face, urging her to rest properly... it wasn't as unwelcome a thought as she'd expected.
Honestly, the man can't function without me. Hmm? Now who is that...?
She spotted a man being escorted into the keep by one of the sentries, and her eyes narrowed to slits.
His clothes were quite fine — no way he was some wandering vagrant. His posture between the sentries was far too upright, she didn't recognize his face, and his horse was tied up near the keep.
Not from here. Riding in on horseback like that... an envoy sent by another manor lord?
Medieval manors lived by the principle of self-sufficiency, each fending for itself. With barely enough hands to manage everything happening within their own borders, no lord had leisure to spare for other domains.
And yet someone had gone to the trouble of sending an envoy on horseback — proof that the lord who dispatched him possessed real power.
Unease quickened Laura's steps. An envoy would inevitably be brought before Reus, so her destination was naturally his office.
The moment she arrived and reached for the door—
"Mulat, more to the point — I hear you carry a message. What's its content?"
"I shall deliver it at once. Baron Karaton wishes to hold a Friendly Exchange with you, Lord Reus."
"A Friendly Exchange? What's that?"
"Allow me to explain. Last year, our Wood Pigeon's Perch brought in a bountiful harvest — thanks, I might add, to the Reus Compost we purchased through the trading house."
The conversation between Reus and the envoy had begun. Worried that the exchange might be cut short if she barged in now, Laura pressed herself against the wall near the door and listened intently.
The envoy's name was Mulat. The sender was Karaton of Wood Pigeon's Perch. That was what she'd gathered from the brief exchange.
"Ah, before that — I hear you have an aide, my lord. Where might she be?"
"If you're looking for Laura, she's on sick leave at the moment. She was in poor shape, so I've had her rest for a while."
"I see. Shall we continue? Thanks to the Reus Compost, we reaped a great harvest last year, and in the course of it, Baron Karaton naturally came to hear rumors of you, Lord Reus."
At the sudden mention of herself, Laura shrank back against the wall.
Why would he be looking for me? Don't tell me this has something to do with the previous lord?
"Hearing then that Crow's Head Valley had also enjoyed a banner year, the Baron could hardly contain his joy. 'Oho, both manors blessed with plenty — truly this is the will of heaven!' he declared. 'If we fail to celebrate this joyous occasion and give thanks, we may well invite divine punishment!'"
"Uh... right. Is that so."
What utter nonsense. Even Laura, eavesdropping from the hall, could only move her lips in a silent curse — she could easily imagine what Reus's face looked like hearing it in person.
"And so he has sent me to propose that you join us in a small Friendly Exchange, to be hosted on our side. A gathering at an appointed place where both parties share pleasant conversation and part on good terms — a sort of modest festival, if you will."
"A festival... not a bad idea. It would give the farmers, who do nothing but work, a brief respite."
"Precisely. However, mere conversation would grow dull before long, so the Baron proposes livening things up with a small 'contest.' What say you?"
A contest?
Right in the middle of a conversation whose true intent she couldn't fathom, that suspicious word had surfaced. A contest meant some manner of competition.
"A contest? What sort of contest?"
"A simple trial composed of three short matches. One in which the Baron is confident, one in which you, Lord Reus, are confident, and one chosen on the spot by mutual agreement. What do you think? Crystal clear, is it not?"
Reus's answer did not come. Please refuse, please refuse, Laura prayed over and over. The purpose behind such a proposal was painfully obvious.
"Hm, not a bad arrangement. Each side picking something they're confident in — even at my worst, I'd manage at least one win."
"Exactly so! And should one side sweep all three, feelings might sour — the Baron structured it precisely so that cannot happen. Such is his consideration."
That 'Baron' this, 'the Baron' that. The constant invocation grated on Laura's nerves so badly she wanted to throw the door open and walk in that very instant.
But the greater calamity was that Reus had accepted the proposal. Given everything she'd heard about Baron Karaton's character, this 'contest' was very unlikely to end as mere entertainment.
After that, Mulat and Reus went on negotiating schedules and settling on a venue for the Friendly Exchange, their talk stretching on for quite some time.
"The venue shall be a small island on the Welek River, ten days from now. Does that suit you?"
"Hm, that works. I'll need time to inform the people so they can prepare — that deadline is about right."
Hearing the Friendly Exchange all but settled, Laura closed her eyes. Even at the cost of committing a grave breach of etiquette, she should have simply barged in.
"Then, ten days hence, I shall see you at the appointed place."
"So we shall. Travel safely — and give my regards to Lord Karaton."
The moment the conversation ended and the office door swung open, Mulat stepped out and came face to face with Laura.
"And who might you be?"
"Laura, the lord's chief aide."
At the sound of her name, Mulat's eyes flicked rapidly up and down her for a split second. She caught that look — but deliberately said nothing, only gestured for him to move along with a sweep of her hand.
The moment Mulat descended the stairs and vanished from sight, she hurried into the office and shut the door behind her.
"What exactly are you thinking?"
Laura fired off the question the instant she stepped into the office, and all I could do was blink. Never mind why she was even here.
"Thinking about what, exactly?"
"I heard everything from outside. I'm asking what possessed you to accept such a suspicious proposal."
"No need to get so worked up. It's a proposal to have a bit of fun together, that's all. Besides, they were the ones who offered to shoulder most of the expense — we've no reason to refuse."
"That is not the point!"
Ahem, ahem.
When her raised voice brought on another coughing fit, I handed her a cup of water at once.
Only after she'd finally calmed herself and caught her breath did she continue.
"Do you know anything about Baron Karaton?"
"He's the lord of Wood Pigeon's Perch, he's three years older than me... that's about the extent of it? Everything I learned came from talking with Mulat just now."
"Then allow me to tell you the rest. The man has a reputation for cruelty. He offers others seemingly advantageous proposals, then quietly lays out a board on which only he can win, and lures his targets onto it without the slightest hesitation — despicable conduct, every time. And when something catches his fancy, whether goods or talent, he tries to take it all for himself, which is why people call him the Gluttonous Baron! I would very much like you to be aware of that!"
Having exhausted herself with that one-woman speech, Laura pressed a hand to her forehead. I did tell you to rest at home until you were better, though. Aigoo...
"That's not all. The attitude of that man Mulat just now..."
"You mean the way he looked down on me? I caught that too."
"...Wha—? Y-you knew?"
"Laura, I came here when I was fourteen, and six years have passed since. You know better than anyone how many people I've seen in that time. I can read a look of contempt just fine."
Taking on a slightly heavier air, I straightened in my seat, laced my fingers together, and met Laura's eyes squarely.
"You heard what the man said. He bows and scrapes and calls his own lord by his rank — 'the Baron,' 'the Baron' — but me? Just 'Lord Reus.'"
"You... you even noticed that?"
"Of course. He's got plenty of honorifics to choose from, so what's the intent behind tacking nothing but a bare 'Lord' onto my name? It's obvious — he's announcing he'll extend only the bare minimum of courtesy. That's why I repaid him in kind at the end, and called his master 'Lord Karaton' right back."
For the entire conversation, Mulat's manner had been steadily grinding at my patience. The envoy kept radiating this quiet condescension toward me, again and again.
It was only because he'd exercised some restraint with his words that I let him speak at all — otherwise I'd have thrown him out without hearing another syllable. If my temper ran a little fouler, I might have beaten him black and blue and sent him home.
When the water at the top runs clear, the water below runs clear too — or so they say. Given that the man Karaton chose to send as his envoy behaves like that, I had a fair idea what kind of lord he was himself.
"This is no mere friendly festival. Their side will almost certainly try to tear down your reputation, my lord. And they'll likely demand laborers from us as the stakes of the contest."
"Probably. What else is there to strip from this place but its people?"
"Then will you tell me why you accepted, knowing all that?"
"Every crisis is an opportunity, and every opportunity is a crisis. That's what my mother used to say. Flip it around — if I win on a board that Karaton rigged for himself, doesn't that spread my name and this whole estate's name far and wide?"
"It can't possibly be that simple..."
Ahem, ahem!!
Her coughing had grown fiercer — had talking this long strained her throat? I helped her sit upright. I felt only guilt toward her, pushing herself so hard out of concern for me, and for our entire estate.
Worried she might work herself into another fever at this rate, I slipped off the outer coat I was wearing and draped it over her shoulders.
"There, there. What's decided is decided — I can't un-ring this bell. I'm leaving in ten days, so just take care of yourself until then."
"Understood... I can't live with this man."
I had no reply for her flat declaration of despair. In her eyes, I was surely about to charge ahead on nothing but bravado.
But it wasn't as though I had no plan at all. The moment I confirmed Laura had gone, I hung a drawing of an open palm — the sign for do not enter — on the office door.
Then, stepping back inside, I clapped my hands twice. A round white orb popped into existence before me.
I pressed it to my mouth and blew into it like a balloon. The sphere swelled, then transformed into a double of me, identical down to the last detail.
"Take care of the paperwork here in my place."
"Understood."
The clone answered briefly, nodded, walked to the desk, sat down, and proceeded to do exactly what the paperwork required of it — look at it. Nothing more.
A clone conjured by clone magic could barely manage a few words and simply performed its instructed actions, and nothing else — which made it nearly useless in practice. But for fooling the eye? Nothing better.
With Laura gone, there was no one left to question me. I flung the wooden window open wide. And there it was—
Well, well~
Mulat, riding out of the estate on his way home, was just receding into the distance. What impeccable timing.
I cast invisibility over myself in the same breath, then took wing and rose on flight and levitation, halting in the empty air above Mulat's head and settling into a slow, unhurried pursuit.
A contest held at a Friendly Exchange hosted by Karaton... if Laura was right, it would be no pleasant game.
Now, a question: what is the dirtiest, most underhanded way to score a perfect mark on a test? The answer — find out the questions in advance.
'He wants to play tricks? Then I'll simply learn them beforehand and prepare accordingly.'
This was a countermeasure only a mage could take. Mulat, knowing nothing, was far too busy whipping his horse onward to notice anything at all.
'Yes, hurry on home. I'd love to get a good look at that precious Baron's face myself.'