This Godforsaken Medieval World
Chapter 2
Although it had long since perished, the time Jeron looked forward to most each day, with his memories of the modern era, was now.
Jeron, who bathed almost every day, was known throughout the territory as a peculiar oddity.
In this era, epidemics broke out at the slightest provocation, and water was blamed as the cause.
Because of this, people lived with a fear of water, and bathing itself was perceived as an extremely dangerous act.
When Jeron first began to enjoy bathing, he had to endure nagging not only from his vassals but even from his family.
But how could someone with the memories of a modern person not wash?
In the end, he secured the right to bathe by adding a few drops of that expensive holy water to each bath.
Splash.
As he soaked his body in the hot water, his blood circulation improved and his fatigue seemed to ease somewhat.
After spending all day dealing with people who had rigid ways of thinking, both his body and mind were quite exhausted.
Jeron closed his eyes and thought.
"Surely nothing has happened to Father, right?"
That was truly the worst possible scenario one could imagine.
Some might be desperate to sit in the lord's seat, but Jeron was not.
He was still struggling to adapt to the many shocking aspects of this culture, so a job leading such uncivilized culture?
Wasn't that truly an extreme job?
He had hoped to at least pass the time decently for about ten years, but if something happened to his father?
Jeron shook his head vigorously.
His long hair whipped around, scattering wet droplets everywhere.
"Let's not even think about such unlucky thoughts."
After washing, he headed to the lord's castle dining hall.
Marble was laid on the floor, but there were many cracked places, and a chandelier, a symbol of wealth, hung from the ceiling, but it was rusted in places and its shape was unrecognizable.
A chandelier didn't suit this poor territory.
So he wanted to get rid of it, but it was an heirloom passed down through generations, so he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.
In a space that looked to be at least 30 pyeong, a single long table sat alone.
On the worn table, a whole wild boar was laid out, and in the unidentified soup, a few vegetables floated.
Thankfully, there was a bottle of sour wine—this was exactly a noble's table.
"You worked hard again today."
"Yes, Mother."
Ophelia brushed back the hair falling across her wrinkled forehead.
She was in her mid-thirties, but her face looked at least ten years older.
It was heartbreaking to see his modern-era mother aging so rapidly, but in this era, it couldn't be helped.
Across from his mother sat his younger sister, Sharon.
She was a fifteen-year-old girl this year, with many freckles, making her look like a tomboy. She looked just like Jeron—clearly siblings at a glance.
On Earth, she would have been just a girl in the midst of puberty, but soon she would have her coming-of-age ceremony and begin looking for a marriage partner.
"You're here, Brother?"
"Yes. Nothing unusual today, I hope?"
"Of course not. I was diligently receiving my bridal lessons today."
"Good. You'll soon be an adult, so you need to prepare for marriage."
"Yes, Brother! I will definitely marry into a prestigious family and be of help to you."
"Right. Never forget that this is the destiny of a noblewoman."
Even as he said this, Jeron wanted to slap himself on the head.
Wasn't the very act of talking about marriage to a fifteen-year-old practically a crime?
Telling a middle school girl to get married?
But his mother and younger sister both took it as a matter of course.
In the medieval era, nobles always thought in terms of political strategy. Jeron was no different.
Last year, at seventeen, he had pursued a marriage alliance with the second daughter of the nearby influential Viscount Philip family, but the engagement was broken off, so he remained single.
Viscount Philip's house had unilaterally called off the engagement, preferring to align with an Earl's family rather than marry their daughter into the crumbling Perrow family.
To Jeron, that incident felt like a blessing from the goddess.
He hadn't wanted to spend his life with a woman who had a pug nose and a face full of freckles, and on top of that, the viscount's daughter had a horrendous personality, making her impossible to spend a hundred years with in harmony.
Baron Perrow was looking everywhere for a marriage partner for Jeron, but with rumors spreading that the barony was on the verge of collapse, marriage prospects were scarce.
Clink.
The butler tore off an entire boar leg and placed it on a plate.
The smell of blood was already rising.
If this was the case, he might as well have made barbecue.
In this damned world, it wasn't just the laws and systems that were uncivilized—culinary culture was also at its worst.
Gurgle, gurgle.
Jeron poured wine over the meat and waited a moment before cutting it.
The sourness and slight sweetness of the wine served as a seasoning, turning the tasteless food into something at least somewhat edible.
No one spoke much during the meal.
It felt more like eating to survive.
If he didn't eat, his stamina would drop, causing major disruptions to tomorrow's schedule, so Jeron forced the food down.
The happiest time was after the meal, when he could cleanse his palate with fruit and wine.
"Did you hear? They say war might break out soon."
"Yes, I heard. They say skirmishes are already happening at the border of the Lapis Kingdom. If the war escalates, we'll have no choice but to join in."
"It's such a worry. Just when things were starting to get a little better, another war."
"I think it can't be helped."
If war broke out, the Perrow barony, a direct vassal of the royal family, would also have to send troops.
That was the nature of the feudal contract—a relationship bound by agreement.
When the king granted territories to his contracted vassals, the lords in turn bore the duties of taxation and military service in exchange for their loyalty.
Within their territories, they held taxation rights, military rights, administrative rights, and judicial rights, ruling like kings, but when war broke out, they had to raise their own armies, often leading to economic collapse.
Of course, war wasn't all downside.
Assuming victory, they could receive slaves and spoils of war, and depending on their merits, they might be granted additional territory or even be elevated in rank.
War was a high-risk, high-reward arena, carrying both the danger of ruin and the possibility of advancement.
"Normally, capturing nobles in war meant releasing them for ransom, but the problem is that the Lapis Kingdom bastards—the epitome of brutishness—don't play by those rules. If unlucky, you could get captured and have your skin peeled off, or your head hung on the city walls as decoration? Of course, that's only if we lose."
After a long discussion about the war at the dinner table, Jeron returned to his room and fell asleep.
***
Early morning.
Jeron woke before sunrise and swung his sword in the training yard.
In a noble society that valued chivalry, swordsmanship was considered an essential virtue, but in this uncivilized world where one never knew when a blade might come at you, training was an absolute necessity.
And a war was coming, after all.
Now that Jeron had come of age, he would follow his father into battle.
This was a noble's natural duty.
Even in defeat, to avoid being captured, he could not neglect physical training for even a single day.
Still, Jeron's swordsmanship was of a considerable level—he had even been called a prodigy from a young age.
This was due to his past life experiences fighting variants, and by incorporating various modern swordsmanship techniques, it had become truly practical combat swordsmanship.
Because of this, Jeron possessed enough skill that he would not lose to most knights in one-on-one combat.
Swish!
The blade glinted faintly.
Only physical training and persistent practice were the paths to becoming stronger.
After moving for about an hour, he was drenched in sweat.
"Violet."
"Yes, Young Lord! Here I am!"
Jeron poured water over his head to cool down a little, then downed a gulp of water in one breath.
Feeling the heat subside somewhat, he wiped his face and body with a towel.
Unfortunately, this was the end of his morning wash.
Violet naturally took the laundry away.
Violet, fifteen this year, was a handmaiden who had served Jeron since childhood.
She attended to his needs well, and as she grew older, it became obvious that she had feelings for him.
But unless he planned to make her his plaything, there was no reason to touch her. Besides, her scrawny build wasn't really his type anyway.
Consistently ignoring her, Jeron went up to his room and put on light armor.
Just as he was tying his boot laces for the last time and about to start his day, a loud bell rang out.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bell installed in the bell tower only rang when a major calamity had struck the territory.
In other words, something had happened.
Sure enough, Garcia came running, panting heavily.
"Young Lord! They say barbarians have invaded!"
"What? Are they fleeing from our forces and pushing into the territory?"
"I'm not sure about that yet!"
"Then what do you know besides your talent for charming women?"
"I'm, I'm sorry! But more importantly—"
"Damn it! Issue the mobilization order immediately and prepare for battle!"
"Yes!"
In this world, it was very dangerous for people to venture outside the city walls.
It wasn't that there were no farmlands outside the walls, but outposts were installed and soldiers patrolled periodically, and even then, areas with frequent monster appearances were off-limits.
It wasn't surprising for starving barbarians or hordes of monsters to swarm in.
But the timing was inopportune.
Hadn't Baron Acre Perrow mobilized half his knights and three hundred soldiers for an expedition?
If the barbarians were being chased into the territory by allied forces, that was fortunate, but if the expeditionary force had been defeated and the barbarians were invading?
Jeron immediately rode his horse toward the southern wall of the territory.
But even before reaching the wall, the faint smell of blood was already wafting through the air.
And finally, when he reached the wall.
Hundreds of barbarians, their bodies dyed blue and wearing nothing on their torsos, were charging in, forcing themselves through the broken sections of the wall.
Jeron drew his sword and muttered.
"Ha... This damn medieval era! I'm so sick of it!"