The Father's Legacy

The saddle and the stirrup.

In moments like this, Jeron realized that a low level of civilizational development wasn't entirely a bad thing.

Since the concepts of the saddle and the stirrup did not exist in this world, they would serve as weapons capable of completely reversing the tide of battle at a truly critical moment.

According to objective historical records, there were countless instances where armies equipped with stirrups and saddles defeated forces more than twice their size.

This wasn't achieved through complex tactics, but simply through the sheer physics of open-field combat.

From a military science perspective, crushing an army twice your size in a pitched field battle without employing any stratagems was normally considered impossible.

Assuming the quality of the troops was comparable, such an outcome was mathematically highly improbable.

But what if they had saddles and stirrups?

It meant they could overturn absolute odds.

He would keep this as a trump card, saving it for a war where they would have to wager everything.

The next crucial piece of information was dust explosions.

Jeron had actually heard of dust explosions before.

In novels and movies, people from medieval settings often triggered dust explosions with ease, but he now learned that the actual physical conditions required were quite demanding.

"So the particles have to be extremely fine."

Jeron didn't know exactly how small 10 to 100 micrometers felt, but by medieval standards, finding a material ground finely enough to trigger a dust explosion would be incredibly difficult.

Unless their technology advanced significantly or they imported machinery capable of producing microparticles, it meant he would ultimately have to farm the materials from Earth.

There were several other drawbacks as well.

In the case of flour, about 500 grams per cubic meter was required. While an explosion could occur with just 100 grams, the destructive power would be quite weak.

Among the powders used for dust explosions, cornstarch was the absolute best, and sugar was far superior to flour. The finer the powder, the greater the explosive force.

Beyond the powder itself, the moisture content also had to be extremely low. If the particles contained too much moisture, no explosion would occur.

Jeron summarized and wrote down the necessary conditions for a dust explosion:

1. The particle size must be under 100 micrometers.

2. The particles must be completely dry.

3. It is difficult to trigger an explosion in high humidity or rainy conditions.

4. A sufficient concentration of the combustible powder must be suspended in the air.

Despite these tricky conditions, a dust explosion was still highly viable as a decisive weapon.

If he could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trigger one, the sheer force of the blast and the collateral damage would utterly shatter the enemy's morale.

In an era where powerful offensive magic was rare and mages seldom appeared on the battlefield, a dust explosion would do more than just inflict physical casualties—it would break the enemy's spirit.

"As expected, something this effective isn't easy to pull off."

Even as Jeron resolved to manufacture and deploy these trump cards, he recognized the difficulty of aligning all the necessary conditions in the heat of battle.

The saddle and stirrup required absolute secrecy, while the dust explosion demanded a perfect alignment of environmental factors.

He would have to keep an eye out for fine powders during his farming runs on Earth and ensure they were stored in bone-dry conditions to maximize their effectiveness.

He planned to prepare both of these methods slowly, saving them for the great war to come.

"I'll need to farm even harder."

Ironically, this meant Jeron would have to scour the supermarkets of Earth even more thoroughly. Since the survivors on Earth were starving and struggling to find even canned food, it wouldn't be easy. However, if he could locate an intact logistics warehouse, it would serve as both a food supply and an arsenal.

Lost in thought, Jeron suddenly glanced out the window.

The darkness was slowly receding, and a rooster crowed.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

As the bells rang out, soldiers with booming voices climbed the watchtowers and began singing the new territory song.

The morning bell has rung, a new dawn has broken.

Let us all rise and build our new home.

A good land to live in, built by our own hands~

"I ended up staying awake all night."

The territory, which had been asleep through the night, was waking up. People of this era had little concept of precise time. They woke when the sun rose and finished their work when it set. Which meant Jeron had to start moving now as well.

***

Before the sun had even fully risen, Jeron summoned Birken, the merchant leader.

Standing beside Birken was a woman who looked remarkably like Sir Leila.

Though she shared a striking resemblance to Leila, her aura was entirely different. The woman before him met Jeron's gaze with eyes full of curiosity.

"Hello, Lord Jeron?"

"Ahem! Show proper respect to the Lord."

"But sister said the Lord isn't that stiff of a person."

"If you behave like this, I will have no choice but to exclude you from the merchant group."

"Oh, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brother. Don't be like that."

Thud!

Birken immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the floor.

"Forgive us, my Lord. She is the youngest of our family. I brought her along because she has a sharp mind for business, but it seems I have made a grave mistake."

"It is fine."

Jeron gestured for Birken to stand. The girl hadn't done anything particularly offensive; she was merely curious about him. If she had talent for business, there was no reason not to employ her.

She curtsied gracefully once more.

"My name is Ceria. I look forward to working with you!"

"A very bright young lady. Are you Sir Leila's younger sister?"

"Yes! We were born a year apart, so there isn't much of an age difference."

Sir Leila was in her early twenties. This meant that this bubbly young lady was also older than Jeron. Moments like this always reminded Jeron of his physical age on the Karen Continent.

Jeron lined up bottles of liquor and various jewels on the table.

"Very well, Ceria. Do you understand why I have summoned you?"

"Yes! I am to travel to the capital, win the favor of the Crown Prince's faction, and put the masterpieces up for auction to secure the highest bids."

"In addition to that, prepare to establish a branch office in Brancia ahead of time. The moment our trading rights are secured, I want us ready to open immediately. While our territory's goods will be sold far and wide, I predict the demand will be highest in the capital."

"This girl will do her absolute best!"

"Right... I see."

Hearing someone older than him refer to herself as 'this girl' felt a bit strange. According to Birken, Ceria was so dedicated to the merchant trade that she had chosen to remain unmarried. In this era, women's rights were severely limited, and no husband would allow his wife to wander the continent while neglecting her household. Since she possessed such determination alongside her business acumen, Jeron intended to make full use of her talents.

"We depart for the Count's territory at noon today. Ceria, make your preparations and get ready to head there as well. Once there, secure a fast vessel to take you directly to the capital."

"Yes! Leave it to me!"

When traveling with valuable cargo, waterways were far safer than land routes. The river pirates of this era mostly operated out of small rowboats, making them much easier to handle than mounted bandits on land. With fifty well-trained soldiers assigned to guard her, she would be able to reach the capital in relative safety.

"Sir Birken, you should also go and prepare for the journey to the Count's territory."

"I obey your command, my Lord."

Ceria flashed Jeron one last smile, bowed, and departed.

"What a bold young lady."

It was hard to believe two sisters could be so different. While Sir Leila quietly went about her duties, her sister Ceria was clearly a talker. She also seemed to have taken a liking to him. However, Jeron wasn't particularly fond of talkative women. Wasn't that the very reason he had barely managed to avoid marriage in his past life? If he had to choose, his preference leaned closer to Leila than Ceria.

***

The villa overlooking Lake Baitan.

The place where Jeron's parents resided could no longer be called a cottage. After continuous expansions over the past few months, it had transformed into a fairly sizable estate.

Following the family tradition, Jeron made it a point not to miss family meals whenever possible. Since he was leaving for the Count's territory at noon and wouldn't be able to join them for a while, he had come to visit early in the morning.

"So, you are heading to the Count's territory?"

"Yes, Father. I have some matters to settle there."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

Regardless of the news, Ark Farrow and Ophelia were busy spreading jam on freshly baked bread. Everything was made from ingredients Jeron had farmed on Earth. The bread was soft, the strawberry jam was sweet, and the instant corn soup was incredibly savory. Even back on Earth, Jeron had rarely enjoyed such luxuries.

Everyone ate in silence, focused entirely on the food. While they usually conversed during family meals, whenever Jeron brought food from Earth, they were too busy marveling at the taste to speak.

Only after the fierce meal concluded did Ark Farrow finally compose himself.

"Hahaha! I am living in luxury thanks to my wonderful son. It is a pity I won't see you for a week while you are in the Count's territory."

"I will leave some flour and jam behind for you to enjoy."

"You truly are a filial son."

In an instant, Jeron was labeled a filial son. Then again, spending one's later years eating good food and fishing without any stress was everyone's dream. Though in Jeron's case, he was a bit confused as to whether Ark Farrow and Ophelia were enjoying their retirement or their second youth.

Click.

Ark Farrow took off a ring he was wearing and handed it to Jeron. It wasn't the Lord's signet ring; that had already been handed down and was currently resting on Jeron's right middle finger.

"What is this?"

The craftsmanship was exceptionally fine for a medieval object. A pentagram was engraved into it, and engraving a sapphire with such precision must have cost an astronomical sum. It was a ring that felt out of place for a poor barony.

"Seeing how you have managed the territory so far, I feel this father of yours can truly retire in peace."

"...Weren't you already retired?"

"I was supporting you from the shadows. That ring is the symbol of the leader of Dark Moon, which operates in the northern part of the kingdom."

"What!?"

"Why look so surprised?"

"It sounds suspiciously like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a secret organization."

"It is indeed a secret organization."

"My word."

Jeron was genuinely shocked. He had thought expanding the territory and bringing in thousands of slaves during Ark Farrow's reign was already a monumental achievement, but to think his father had been running a secret organization right under everyone's noses.

"I, too, worked tirelessly for the revival of our family. Dark Moon is an organization I spent my entire life building. Its foundations were passed down through a few generations, but it was on the verge of collapse when I inherited it. Now, the network spans the entire north."

The more Jeron heard, the more astonished he became. Managing the entire northern region meant the organization was far larger than he had imagined. Even if it operated as a decentralized network with only a few agents per branch, it was still an incredible feat.

Jeron swallowed hard and asked, "And what field does this secret organization specialize in?"

"Information. I, as well as our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ancestors, knew that information is power."

"...!"

Jeron was struck speechless. He had assumed the Farrow family had merely scraped by in poverty, but his ancestors and his father had been working behind the scenes for generations to rebuild their house. Jeron couldn't help but marvel at the foresight of his father and ancestors, who had recognized the power of information in this medieval era.