Becoming Lord, and the Barbarian Blacksmith

Is this... for real?

Elena's sky-blue eyes trembled as if caught in a violent earthquake. After twenty-three agonizing days of breathless anticipation, a letter from Kyle had finally arrived.

What... what on earth is this...?

There was virtually nothing to read. The penmanship was exquisite—neat, elegant, and infuriatingly crisp. Exactly one single line.

"Yeah, preparations on my end are going well. I'm pretty busy, but don't worry."

That was the entire content of the reply she had waited so eagerly for from her childhood friend.

Is that... it?

Yes. That was it.

Don't mess with me! There has to be more!

Rustle, rustle, rustle!

Frozen in place like a stone statue or an ancient totem pole, Elena stood holding the letter as if time itself had stopped. When she finally snapped to her senses, pale as a sheet, she frantically shook the envelope, searching every fold and crease for an enclosure, another sheet, anything.

That really was all of it...

Her face drained of what little color remained. Despair painted her features as the soul seemed to slip straight out of her body, her very last shred of hope crumbling to dust.

A reply to the letter I poured my heart into for twenty days... and this is it?

Her delicate hands and cherry-red lips trembled violently like aspen leaves in a gale. The torrent of emotions held back over three weeks crashed over her like a midsummer squall—or a tidal wave barreling down upon a tiny, defenseless island. At this rate, the lovely little island named Elena dezel Arden would be swallowed whole by the sea.

And yet—

Ah...!

Elena was, after all, a heroine of the original story. She was no ordinary, fragile woman. In a romance fantasy, a true heroine weathered countless crises, emotional push-and-pull, and trials alongside the protagonist to make love blossom in the end. Elena dezel Arden was far stronger than she looked.

Of course! "I'm pretty busy, but..." That's what Kyle wanted to tell me!

She would find a way forward no matter what, just as she had nurtured feelings alongside that battle-manic idiot, Eugene Caesar. Back then, she had spun endless delusions out of Eugene’s meaningless mutterings, tenaciously triggering event after event. That sheer heroine tenacity now turned its full force upon Kyle.

You're busy, my friend Kyle... Just how overwhelmed are you? Ah... you petty jerk... You could have explained in more detail! Did you think I wouldn't understand? We have twenty-three years of friendship between us! I can understand anything!

The sheer speed with which the color returned to her cheeks was enough to send chills down one's spine.

Wait... could it be? Did he keep it short because he didn't want me to worry? Ah... that must be it. Oh, what am I like...?

In the end, Elena dezel Arden's self-hypnosis—or rather, her spiraling self-gaslighting—plunged straight into the deepest reaches of the abyss.

"Salvatore is far more barren than you imagine."

"I am well aware, Father."

All preparations for the departure to Salvatore were complete, and Duke Van Basten had called me in for a brief private audience before I left.

"To be frank, this father of yours still struggles to comprehend it. This sudden, drastic transformation in you."

For nearly a month, the Duke had watched me methodically organize everything for the journey.

And every time he looked at me, I could tell he was practically beaming with pride. Even if he tried his best to maintain that stoic ducal poker face.

In the original story, whenever the pathetic fool Kyle did anything, Duke Van Basten looked at him with scrutiny—watching to see if his arrogant son was being consumed by his own talent. This time was different. Looking at this reformed Kyle, the Duke’s eyes held curiosity, admiration, and genuine satisfaction.

Putting in the legwork himself, building systems from scratch... that was the son the Duke always wanted. Just like he was in his own youth.

Tasks the previous Kyle would have pawned off onto servants, I tackled directly. I critically reviewed existing workflows and rebuilt them myself whenever they fell short. Frankly, it was fun. Backed by the immense prestige of the ducal house, everything was ridiculously easy.

"I wish to see it for myself," I said.

Naturally, I couldn't tell him the truth, so I revved up my silver tongue once more.

"See what?" Duke Van Basten asked, his eyes filled with intrigue after a solid month of being swayed by my rhetoric.

"How far I can go. Stripped of my current outward prestige."

Complete nonsense.

Even if I went to Salvatore with nothing, Kyle de Rosen was an overpowered cheat character. Shaving off a bit of ducal backing was like dropping from a hundred to eighty at most.

"Very well. I shall watch over you from here. But do not shoulder too heavy a burden. You are still young."

The Duke smiled faintly. Even that small show of humility must have seemed like a cosmic upheaval compared to the image of his elitist snob of a son. Duke Van Basten’s warm, steady gaze brimmed with profound trust in the boy who had finally stepped onto the righteous path.

"Looking stunning as always, Noona."

"Ho-ho! You like what you see?"

Our departure for Salvatore was underway. After running a final check on the mercenary corps, Veronica pulled her horse up beside mine. I took a deliberate, appreciative glance over her magnificent figure. Our resident bachelorette thoroughly enjoyed that kind of attention.

"I went down there myself, and Salvatore ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠really is desolate," she said, shifting to business. "Far worse than my first impression."

"I imagine so."

"Setting that aside, though, it seems to me the real problem lies elsewhere."

"What kind of problem?"

For all her crude jokes and sly demeanor, Veronica was exceptionally dedicated to her work. Over the past month, she had personally ridden down to Salvatore multiple times. Her reasoning was sound: even if mercenaries aroused less suspicion than an aristocratic knight order, their sudden arrival would still unsettle the locals. As commander, she had gone ahead to break the ice and establish rapport.

"Young Master, public sentiment toward you down there is completely in the gutter. What on earth did you do to those people?"

Ugh... right in the shameful past.

"......"

Clop, clop, clop...

I fell silent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a moment.

That fucking piece of shit Kyle.

To be honest, this was a slight miscalculation on my part. While I had inherited Kyle’s memories upon transmigration, they didn't all download into my brain at once like an open book. They surfaced contextually, triggered by specific events and names. Once the Salvatore project began in earnest, the memories of what that idiot had done there rushed back in far more vivid detail than when I first possessed him.

It wasn't just harmless badmouthing behind their backs. He had acted like a total, unhinged menace.

No wonder the Duke looked at me like I was an entirely different person.

Looking down on the territory and its people with haughty elitism was just the baseline. He had gotten plastered and sexually harassed women. When the Duke tried to increase relief aid to the fief, Kyle had fought tooth and nail to slash it, arguing that freeloaders who didn't pay proper taxes didn't deserve a copper.

You brainless lunatic, you have to create an environment where they can pay taxes before you demand them!

"Noona, do you believe people can turn over a new leaf?"

Even with Veronica, laying out all that disgraceful conduct without filter was mortifying. It was better to talk around it.

"Not a chance. The biggest load of nonsense in this world is hearing that someone 'changed.'"

I completely agree with you, Noona.

"Then allow me to show you an exception. Using my own past—as the world's most wretched, irredeemable scoundrel."

"My goodness! Our precious Young Master was an irredeemable scoundrel?"

"Yes."

"Hard to believe. In the three weeks I've known you, you haven't seemed like that kind of person at all. And I pride myself on being a sharp judge of character."

"Which is why I intend to prove it."

Though Veronica maintained her usual smirk, her reaction betrayed genuine bewilderment. To the Red Fox Mercenaries, I wasn't just a generous client; I was polite, capable, and extraordinarily sharp.

In any case, I was going to scrub every trace of that worthless bastard Kyle from Salvatore.

"You will all be granted official positions."

Because our retinue was quite large, the journey took four days. Upon arriving at Salvatore Castle, the very first thing I did was grant official appointments to the local makeshift administrators.

There weren't many of them. A few estate caretakers, a warehouse overseer, a stablemaster, a handful of castle guards, and a clerk handling records. In the absence of a resident lord, these were the people who had kept Salvatore functioning against all odds.

"Us, My Lord? But we were merely holding down the fort..."

Despite their proven competence, they looked panicked at my offer of official standing. It was understandable—they weren't certified imperial administrators. They were simply sharp, proactive locals who had stepped up because someone had to do the work.

"Competence earns the title," I said smoothly. "From what I hear, your reputations are spotless. I see no reason whatsoever not to make your positions official."

A true leader rewarded that kind of talent. In fact, this was the exact first move Eugene Caesar had made upon taking charge of Salvatore in the original game. In short, their reliability was already proven.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Young Master!"

"We will give our lives to this work!"

"I should be thanking you. Thanks to your dedication, our administration can run without a hitch."

The administrators bowed so deeply their foreheads nearly touched the stone floor.

Why were they so profoundly grateful?

Because they had expected me to fire them the second I stepped through the gates. If it had been the old Kyle, he would have purged them instantly and installed useless sycophants from the ducal manor.

Yes, hold onto that gratitude and spread the word through the village. Tell everyone Kyle seems completely different now.

What would have happened otherwise?

"That bastard Kyle is just as rotten as ever."

"Look at how he threw us out after everything we did."

"He didn't even give us a chance."

Fired workers would have poisoned the well among the townsfolk outside the walls. I would have been doomed from day one.

Fortunately, I am not that idiot Kyle.

By embracing them warmly, I had turned them into my very own public relations evangelists in an instant.

"I was wondering what you were up to when you refused to bring any of your family retainers. Was this your plan all along?"

"What do you think? Impressive, wasn't it? I kept it quiet because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Are you really going to keep doing this, Young Master? You're going to drive this noona wild."

The first ones taken aback by the performance were the Red Fox Mercenaries. In truth, the display had been calculated with them in mind as well. It demonstrated that serving Kyle de Rosen offered something beyond mere coin and professional respect: genuine humanity. It inspired them to approach their duties with a personal sense of mission.

Judging by Veronica's expression, the medicine was already working wonders.

"In that case, Noona, I would like you to assume the role of Salvatore's Chief of Security."

Time to test the dosage.

"Alright. Leave it to me."

Despite being saddled with enormous responsibility right off the bat, Veronica accepted coolly. When even the humble folk of this backwater were giving their all—and being duly recognized for it—how could a veteran mercenary commander haggle?

"Advisor Ivan, please oversee the overhaul of the castle's defenses and the fief's border security."

"Understood. I shall commit myself fully, Young Master."

Had it not been for Ivan, I would have had to begrudgingly pull someone from the Imperial Knights, which would have been a logistical nightmare. But as the former discipline officer and vanguard captain of the Brass Knights—one of the continent's top three private orders—Ivan was more than qualified to construct an airtight defense system.

"Thomas, you will handle castle administration and fiscal management. Going forward, the fief's treasury will effectively integrate with the Red Fox Mercenary Corps' accounts."

"M-Me?!"

"Yes. Just submit any major expenditures to me for approval. That's how much I trust you."

"Ho-ho-ho! Thomas, you're going to work yourself into an early grave."

"Ugh..."

Handing over the domain's purse strings to a mercenary band was an act of reckless, absolute faith. Yet I wasn't worried in the slightest. Their integrity, too, had been thoroughly vetted in the original novel.

"Heading out already?" Veronica asked as I finished assigning authority to the rest of the Red Fox officers and prepared to leave the castle.

"Of course. I need to hurry up and shovel away the mountain of shit I left out there."

I was going to meet the villagers.

What I've set up so far is just the bare minimum.

No matter how small Salvatore was, and no matter how exceptionally capable the Red Fox Mercenaries were, running a territory smoothly over the long haul required far more hands. I needed people. Yet I had none. To begin with, the old Kyle had never kept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trustworthy allies close; he was too drunk on his own brilliance.

Structurally speaking, Eugene faced the exact same problem.

When Eugene Caesar first arrived in Salvatore, he was merely an up-and-coming swordsman. Politically, he had zero companions. Renown with a blade was an entirely different beast from governance. So how did Eugene solve it?

What choice was there other than opening his arms to the villagers?

Building Salvatore alongside its people—that was the core theme of the Salvatore arc in the game. In other words, I simply needed to follow his blueprint.

The only snag was the massive pile of dung the original Kyle had dumped on these people. That had to be cleaned up before any talk of cooperation could begin.

"Most of the villagers are openly hostile toward you, Young Master, but for some reason, the village chief didn't seem to hold a grudge when I spoke with him."

"That old man is just pathologically good-natured."

"Is that so?"

Flanked by Veronica and Thomas, I walked toward the village chief's house. For a long time, Salvatore had operated with the chief as its center.

"Besides, he's getting up in years, so he's practically just an elder advisor. The one who actually runs the village is someone else."

"Oh... I didn't know that."

Salvatore was a critical stage in the game The Swordsman the Young Ladies Are Obsessed With. Was that solely because of the Lumina meteoric iron and gold veins?

Hardly. The heroine who resides here is the real power player.

Indeed, one of the story's heroines lived right here, and she played a pivotal role in Eugene Caesar's mid-to-late game growth.

"It is an honor to see you again, Young Master. You must be exhausted from your journey, and I apologize for failing to greet you at the castle."

As we arrived at the modest cottage, the village chief—a man of about sixty-five—came out to welcome us, having already caught wind of our arrival.

"Not at all. Your warm welcome gives me strength. And... I must offer my sincere apologies for the grave disrespect I showed you during my last visit."

"Haha! Think nothing of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, Young Master. Please, pay it no mind."

Despite the terrible insolence he had suffered in the past, the chief accepted the apology with a gentle smile. In truth, the poor man had little choice. His guest was a high-born scion, while he was merely a sixty-five-year-old honorary figurehead.

"May I see your daughter?"

The true anchor of the village.

The heroine nestled away in Salvatore.

The chief's daughter.

"Ah, she only just returned yesterday and has been hard at work since early morning. Please, come this way, Young Master."

"Thank you."

The chief guided me with utmost courtesy, though it was obvious he was staying glued to my side out of sheer anxiety, desperate to mediate before any disaster erupted.

Led by the chief, I went to meet his daughter—

H-Holy... HOLY SHIT!

The sheer, overwhelming presence radiating from the chief's daughter nearly made me piss curses right on the spot.