The Territory's Specialty
Since the Count was wearing a mask, Jeron had no choice but to wear one as well.
A noble—especially a ruling lord—had no need to feign humility. However, if doing so could leave a favorable impression on the other party, he was willing to lower himself as many times as it took.
"I did not think it was something to boast about. To seek gain solely through my acquaintance with His Grace the Duke would be utterly shameless, would it not?"
"Hahaha! A remarkably humble young man. If only all the nobles of the kingdom were like you. Most of them are arrogant and live only for their own vanity."
The Count clicked his tongue lengthily and moistened his throat with tea.
Until now, the Count's smiling face had been rather businesslike, but now a sense of genuine warmth began to show.
Jeron spoke with utmost politeness.
"I, too, find that deeply regrettable."
"Some do not hesitate to use such connections to pressure their superiors. The order of the kingdom is truly crumbling. Had you been one of those people, we would not be meeting again after today."
The Count began to speak more freely.
Most of it was a stream of lamentations.
He criticized the central political circles for engaging in power struggles on the eve of a great war, and grumbled that the youth of today had thrown their manners out the window.
Jeron focused all his energy on empathizing with Count Hanes's words.
Having lived in the modern world, listening to an old man's complaints was not a particularly difficult task.
Perhaps because of this, the Count took quite a liking to Jeron.
"I have spoken too much of my own thoughts. It is not often these days that I see an outstanding young noble, so my words ran long. Haha, surely you had a reason for seeking me out?"
"Not at all. Is it not only natural for a newly appointed noble with ties to the North to pay his respects to Your Lordship?"
"Hahaha, a truly well-mannered young man."
Click.
Jeron placed three antique-looking cases onto the table.
He could practically hear Count Hanes swallowing hard from across the table.
A few months ago, Jeron had made a deal with Count Hanes. He had traded a dragon ring—presumed to be an artifact—for a mana breathing technique of equal value. The Count believed he had profited, and Jeron felt the same, making it a highly satisfactory transaction.
The cases, just large enough to hold a single pen, were finished with gold leaf. They contained fountain pens he had recently acquired from a stationery store.
"These are small tokens of my gratitude."
"Th-this is hardly a small token, is it? Paying a visit is already enough, yet you went to the trouble of bringing gifts."
A flurry of emotions crossed Count Hanes's face: anticipation, excitement, and a touch of concern.
Though presented as a gift, a superior noble was expected to reciprocate with even greater favor. That was the custom of this era. Even Duke Langton had exerted his influence to obtain what he wanted from Jeron.
The Count opened a case with a slightly trembling hand.
"Oh!"
It was a gasp of genuine astonishment.
Jeron sat in as polite a posture as possible.
The value of an object always depended on the recipient. The fountain pen was covered in geometric patterns, which to Jeron's eyes looked like a failed attempt at being fancy. If it had looked impressive to modern eyes, the design would have gone to a luxury writing instrument manufacturer rather than a stationery store in front of a middle school.
But to a noble of this era?
My choice was correct.
The Count's expression made it absolutely clear. Nobles had a tendency to obsess over exquisite writing instruments. In a world where the illiteracy rate exceeded ninety-nine percent, writing was considered the exclusive domain of the nobility.
"This piece looks as though it could not possibly be the work of human hands."
"It is nothing grand. It is called a fountain pen, and it is used for writing."
"A fountain pen?! Does that mean documents written with this instrument will be preserved for ten thousand years?"
"Well, who can say? I am not entirely sure myself."
If one translated the name literally, the Count's interpretation wasn't entirely wrong. Strictly speaking, it meant a pen that could be used for ten thousand years, but if the Count wanted to misunderstand it that way, Jeron saw no need to correct him.
The Count held the fountain pen up to the sunlight as if handling a sacred relic. The gold-leafed geometric patterns shimmered like a hologram.
"Th-this is unbelievable!"
It almost looked as if it were imbued with mana. Honestly, if a pen meant for studying was made to look this flashy, how could anyone focus? Of course, that was merely Jeron's modern common sense.
"I have also brought ink to accompany it. Its quality is unlike anything in this world. I hope you will use it for your most important documents. The fountain pen works on the principle of ink flowing down through a tiny groove carved into the nib."
"This microscopic groove here?"
"Yes, indeed."
That was enough. Jeron refrained from further explanation.
The Count was barely suppressing his wild excitement.
What is this? Magic? These elegant lines and this extraordinary aura... Ink flows down through that microscopic groove? Is such technology even possible?
The Count filled the fountain pen with ink and tried signing a piece of papyrus.
Scratch, scratch.
The lines flowed smoothly. It truly seemed like an object from another world.
At this point, the Count began to feel a sense of burden. Having received such an incredible item as a gift, he was at a loss as to how he should repay the favor.
After a moment of thought, the Count spoke.
"Is there anything you require? A noble must return a favor when a gift is given."
"I did not bring this expecting anything in return, but..."
"Come now, speak. I am Count Hanes."
That single sentence explained everything. He was the commander of the North, a great noble, and a man regarded as the very symbol of wealth. To accept such a gift and offer nothing in return was something the Count, a noble to his very bones, could never bring himself to do.
Jeron realized things were proceeding perfectly.
"If you would be so generous... I would like to establish a branch of our merchant group within the Hanes County."
"Oh? That is only natural. How could I mistreat someone who has connections with His Grace the Duke? I hear your trading rights will be granted soon anyway."
"You already knew?"
"I would be a poor lord if I did not know of such matters. I have no intention of stopping you from paying proper taxes and opening a shop. Of course, I can help you secure a prime location. Though even that is hardly enough to repay a gift of this caliber."
Sometimes, this miserable world has its convenient sides.
Since the feudal system itself was built on contracts and obligations, things resolved themselves in this manner. Even without Jeron explicitly demanding anything, the recipient of the gift was the one growing anxious to pay him back.
Only now did Jeron bring up his main objective.
"In that case, I would like to request your assistance regarding magic."
"Magic?"
The Count's mind stalled for a moment. Jeron's request seemed so sudden and off-topic.
For an artifact of this caliber, he could have easily asked for far more. What did he mean by assistance with magic?
Jeron bowed slightly as he made his request.
"I have hit a wall recently. I have reached the point where I should form a circle, but without a master, it is difficult to achieve on my own. I hope Your Lordship can assist me with this. And if I succeed in forming a circle, I would also like to request a 1st Circle spellbook."
"C-could it be that you have succeeded in sensing mana and accumulating it within your body?!"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Oh!"
The Count looked genuinely astonished.
He had given up on magic ten years ago. He had made no progress, and mana was simply too scarce on the Karen Continent, making it a waste of time. To hear that Jeron had already sensed mana, accumulated it, and was now here to form a circle left him utterly shocked.
After pondering for a moment, the Count decided it was no loss to him at all. Obtaining a 1st Circle spellbook was hardly a difficult task if he set his mind to it.
"Assisting you is simple enough. However, whether you can form a circle or not depends entirely on your own comprehension."
"I ask for nothing more."
"Then there is no burden on my part. Come find me once your business is finished. Just send word ahead, and I shall be waiting."
"Thank you, Your Lordship."
"Think nothing of it. In truth, as a great noble, I feel rather apologetic for receiving such an extravagant gift in exchange for such minor assistance. I shall make sure to take care of the rest myself."
He is more generous than I expected.
He wasn't a great noble for nothing. Jeron hadn't expected anything more, but if the Count insisted on giving, he had no reason to refuse.
The commercial district of Hanes County.
With a river intersecting it in the shape of a cross, this territory was undeniably the transportation hub of the North.
Unlike the rest of the isolationist kingdom, Hanes County boasted a highly developed commercial sector, bustling enough to attract foreign merchants. Consequently, the regulations here were incomparably lax compared to other territories.
Shops lined the commercial district, and street vendors could be seen selling their wares everywhere.
Business was free, but taxes were collected strictly. Tax collectors patrolled the streets, monitoring the merchants with hawkish eyes.
The streets hummed with the chatter of countless passersby.
Jeron had never seen such a lively city. It was his first time seeing anything like it in his eighteen years in this world, and even during his life on Earth, this level of bustle was only found in the heart of Seoul.
People of all races could be seen here. International traders dominated the scene, and domestic merchants gathered to buy their goods, creating a sea of people.
However, the hygiene left much to be desired. All kinds of filth littered the ground, and fish entrails of unknown origin rolled about here and there. The theory that high heels were invented because of unsanitary streets seemed highly plausible.
Jeron disguised himself as a commoner and stepped out into the crowded street.
The street was so packed that he was constantly bumped by people. Occasionally, he stepped on something squishy, making him grimace, and the streets were filled with pickpockets targeting the purses of merchants. Every now and then, one would get caught, beaten thoroughly, and dragged off to the guard post.
Since bringing too many people would draw unwanted attention, he limited his escort to Sir Leila.
"It is so crowded that finding a building using only a map is no easy task."
"I, too, have never seen a place this chaotic."
Sir Leila was equally astonished. It felt as though tens of thousands of people were wandering around the commercial district alone. Once they entered the Count's territory, the sheer scale of the city was on a different level.
In the middle of the commercial zone, Jeron heard a familiar voice coming from the licensed street vendor area.
"Buy a flowerpot! These are rare roses harvested from the barbarian lands of the Great Snowfield!"
"Are those roses truly from the barbarian lands?"
"Of course they are. Have you been cheated all your life? Have you ever seen a rose of this color before?"
"Certainly not. That is why I find it so fascinating, pretty lady!"
"Then you must know how valuable these flowers are! This is not an opportunity that comes every day! The quantity is limited, so there is a purchase limit!"
"..."
A massive crowd was gathering. The person running the stall was none other than Miss Seria.
It seemed she had already finished loading the supplies onto the high-speed vessel and had stopped by before departure to show off her sales skills. Thanks to her talent, the various colorful flowers cultivated as the territory's specialty were being sold at astronomical prices.
"Only 500 gold! There are only 50 left! Step right up. Ten pink rose pots? That will be 5,000 gold. Thank you!"
It was an absurd markup. Even for a potted flower, how could such a price make sense?
Yet, it was working.
"Miss Seria is quite the salesperson, isn't she?"