Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: The Returned Lord of the Territory
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“Your Majesty! Duke Northmond is a defeated general! Even if we dispatch an envoy to the elves, sending a loser like him will only make those barbarians mock the Empire!”
“Who knows the elves better than Duke Northmond? The marquis is risking the Empire's future for his own petty grudges right now!”
Meanwhile, heated debates raged daily in the imperial palace of the Depord Empire. The issue at hand was the composition of the envoy to be sent to the elves.
Everyone acknowledged that the elves were no pushovers now that the Empire's all-out subjugation force had returned with what amounted to a crushing defeat. But that didn't mean the duke was incompetent.
Wasn't he the brilliant general who had repelled foreign invasions time and again? If anything, this outcome hit the Depord Empire even harder because of his reputation.
“...Duke Northmond, prepare the envoy's roster and submit it.”
The emperor's decision after a long silence twisted Marquis Edmer's face into a grimace like he'd just bitten into something foul. As a supporter of the Second Prince, having him lead the envoy and score a success would have bolstered their faction's standing considerably.
But with the emperor's word final, reversing it was impossible. Instead, he sought to insert his influence another way.
“Your Majesty!”
“Marquis Edmer.”
“How about including His Highness the Second Prince in this envoy?”
“You mean Adelgif?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“But Alfred has already expressed his desire to join the envoy.”
“His Highness the Second Prince is a master swordsman! After this war's outcome, those barbarians undoubtedly look down on us. Showing them His Highness's valor would restore the Empire's dignity!”
The emperor fell into thought. He'd leaned toward Alfred because the prince had begged to go, but if Adelgif wanted in too, that changed things.
He might be a provisional crown prince, but a crown prince was still a crown prince. Sending one to the elves as part of an envoy felt like overkill.
'If we send the crown prince, they might think we're desperate.'
The emperor's resolve wavered.
****
“My lord.”
“Gringem! It's been too long!”
Gringem looked several times more haggard than when he'd left to join the subjugation force. I pulled him into a hug and patted his back.
“Thanks for managing the territory so well in my absence. Hm... How about a baron's title at least?”
“Trying to collar me with that?”
Sharp as ever. I chuckled and looked around. Territory folk were showering me with flower petals, and what stood out next were the far busier streets around the castle than before.
Among the crowds, rough-faced men who screamed mercenary bowed their heads whenever our eyes met.
“Let's head inside first. I have reports to give. But who's this?”
Gringem's gaze shifted to Hillia behind me. Having been a merchant, he'd clocked her as no ordinary person right away. After a moment's thought, I decided to introduce her casually.
“A noble's child who followed me on this subjugation. Name's Rahil. Give her a room.”
Gringem eyed her suspiciously but bowed first since she was my guest—and a noble at that.
“While you were away, my lord, I increased the maids and manservants. The mansion's been fully renovated too.”
The mansion we entered behind Gringem was unrecognizable from before. Back when we'd sold everything for grain, it had been stripped bare save for the barest essentials. Now, new furnishings filled every gap.
“When did you get all this? Must be budget surplus, eh?”
“The territory's coffers are flush. No noble can hire mercenaries these days anyway. Bought some luxuries to maintain your dignity, my lord.”
The office was entirely refitted too—furniture, wallpaper, everything. Maids helped me out of my armor, and I sank into the chair. Gringem then hauled in thick stacks of paper and plopped them on the desk.
“Reports, my lord. Take a look.”
“Hm...”
Added watermills, expanded farmland, new reclamation facilities, drainage works, wall repairs, forge staffing, and more. The stack's thickness alone told of Gringem's ordeals.
“Wall repairs? Why? I thought we did that last time.”
“That was just patchwork. This fixed all the siege damage properly. A shabby castle makes visitors doubt the lord's stature.”
“Cost?”
“1,100 pounds.”
I gasped involuntarily. An unimaginable sum before, yet Gringem didn't blink. The budget must've grown.
I skimmed the reports, restacked them, and eyed Gringem. Time to pitch the new business idea I'd hit on recently.
“Remember that forest where magic beasts appeared? We cleared it.”
“Sent mercenaries, yes. You went with them?”
“Something like that. Coincidence, really. But here's the thing we learned: those magic beasts weren't natural. They were artificially created.”
Oliver had said the ones in the forest were corrupted by some curse in a cave. That sparked an idea. Magic beast photocopier?
Magic beast hides fetch top coin. Properly processed, they're tougher and sturdier than regular leather. That's how I'd profited selling them before.
“Designate that area a controlled zone, breed beasts there—boom, mass-produced magic beast hides.”
If we can make them artificially, it's gold. Best part? Choose the type.
Turn wolves or dogs into magic beasts, hunt 'em—get the premium hides.
“Sounds solid.”
Gringem eyed me with interest, a good sign. He'd nix any pie-in-the-sky scheme, even from me.
“I'll have soldiers lock down the cave and order mercenaries to sweep the forest hard. If this pans out... we'll rake it in.”
I grinned, envisioning money piling up. Already coining it from mercenaries; add exclusive magic beast hides, and we'd be the Empire's richest territory.
[Controlled Zone]
Before launching the magic beast breeding plan, I had soldiers seal off the cave area completely. Then a massive mercenary sweep cleared the forest.
“My lord! You say magic beasts are man-made?”
“That's right. Doesn't sit well with you?”
Oliver, who'd ditched Cligrove to settle here, shook his head.
“Quite the opposite! Succeed at breeding, and we'll drown in hide profits!”
“Haha! That's just the start.”
Impressed by that little? My vision was bigger: theme the whole territory around magic beasts.
Hide processing as baseline, plus adventure tours for glory-hungry young nobles, or even a magic beast zoo.
Woof! Woof!
Wolves on steel chains entered cages near the cave. I watched contentedly. Magic beast cloning!
The next day, post-breakfast, buried in papers at my desk, I reconfirmed ruling wasn't the cushy gig fantasy novels made it out to be.
They paint lords lolling in idleness with 'rights over wilds' or whatever nonsense. Whoever spread that lie deserved throttling.
As I'd said before, lords wrestle paperwork mountains. Like why Joseon kings died young—you feel it here. I'd just offloaded to Gringem and forgotten.
“My lord. Letter from Lady Cligrove.”
Lenia's letter saved me from drowning in bureaucracy.
[To Viscount Lucas Kyle. As you predicted, Father has awakened. He wishes to see you...]
Cligrove's true master was back. That spectral figure hadn't lied.
“So... Cligrove's true lord has returned.”
This letter likely went to every local lord. A retired count's comeback was big news.
“Gotta visit Cligrove.”
I stood. Sorry, Gringem, but paperwork solo was hell.
*****
“Well, if it isn't Viscount Lucas Kyle!”
Willum greeted me at Cligrove. Still city guard captain, but promoted from baron to viscount? No complaints there.
“Sir Willum. Long time.”
“Heard about the subjugation force. You made a name for yourself... Might end up a count soon. Ha!”
As he bantered and caught up, his gaze drifted behind me—to the Landsknechts I'd handpicked.
Handpicked and drilled by Cutter back home, they were razor-sharp. Heavy gear, yet standing at perfect angles.
“Those the Landsknechts? Mercenaries, sure... But be honest. Private troops, right?”
“...Yeah, pretty much. I funded the training.”
Willum whistled, impressed by the investment.
“Can I go in now?”
“Whoops! Held up a busy man. The lady's been waiting anxiously—head on.”
The city buzzed with festival vibes. Citizens, thrilled at their true lord's return, boozed and reveled midday. Some recognized me, offering flowers.
Petals littered streets—must've happened for every noble arrival.
“Halt! Which house... Captain?”
“Valey?”
My old swordsman. Gear said vanguard to elite promotion. He doffed his helmet and bowed.
“Figured you'd come, Captain... er, Viscount. Go on in.”
“No check needed?”
I teased; he laughed heartily.
“What trouble from you? Anyone else, maybe.”
Free pass even at the mansion gates. Connections are king, huh.
Maids waited at the entrance—word had arrived.
“We've been expecting you, Viscount Lucas.”
“It's been a while. The lady?”
“Attending the count. And she said to bring you straight away.”
They hurried me along. Despite months in this mansion, they led to a room I'd never seen.