Chapter 22
Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Preparations for the Leap (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
When we came, it was just Helmut, Baldt, Ella, four escort soldiers, and a few carts loaded with sugar. But on the way back, the procession had grown much larger.
Eight 500-kilo carts packed with quilted armor and weapons for outfitting the serfs, one cart with high-quality tools, six carts carrying slaves, one cart of food for the journey back, and two carts of hay.
When ordering from the Doge's merchants, I'd vaguely thought there'd be a lot, but seeing it in person was overwhelming.
Just lining up the carts in a row would probably stretch about 30 meters, right?
Because the procession was so long, it took a full two weeks to get back to Windheim.
And as soon as we returned, I mobilized all the slaves to work on sugar production.
Even though we provided them with better food and working conditions than the other slaves, at first they had no intention of working hard at all.
Baldt, watching them, got angry and asked if we shouldn't whip those ungrateful slaves or give them severe punishment—they were slacking that much.
So, as an incentive, I promised that anyone who worked for ten years would earn the right to farm land like the serfs. Suddenly, they started working diligently.
If they keep this up, we could produce not just 200 carts of sugar, but 300.
Since they promised to buy everything we made, it's like the money's multiplying, isn't it?
We'll earn money from the sugar, and with food now overflowing, the territory reforms should go smoothly too.
Today, for once, I'll sleep until the sun is high in the sky...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ My lord, Young Master Siel von Kroitel, wasn't originally this exceptionally capable or one to achieve such remarkable feats.
That said, his abilities weren't inferior to those of other noble young masters.
In fact, he was above average compared to the heirs of other noble families.
He had the martial prowess to enter the Knight Academy, which is hard even for children of noble houses.
According to the other stewards and administrators, he could adapt well even if he went to something like the Administrative Academy.
He especially took after his father, Baron Excellency Kroitel, in respecting knights older than himself and never treating stewards or maids roughly.
Furthermore, he even showed kindness toward lowly serfs.
That was why all us retainers, myself included, sincerely respected and followed him.
But a few years ago, after passing the academy entrance exam, he rebelled—or rather, outright refused to go. That's when something changed.
As I was lost in those thoughts, I felt someone tap my back from behind.
"Baldt, where did Helmut and the other mercenaries go?"
I turned around, looked at the young master, and replied.
"They've gone to eat right now, sir."
"I see. So, when do you think they'll be back?"
"Probably soon. They started cooking about an hour ago."
The young master nodded and replied.
"Got it. They wouldn't drink before training today, would they?"
"No, sir. Even if they love their drink, they won't touch alcohol before training."
He was keeping a slight distance from me compared to before, and he no longer seemed faintly intimidated in front of Baron Excellency Kroitel.
It was a bit regrettable that he was distancing himself from me, who'd served him for years now, but seeing his confident demeanor since his injury made him look even cooler.
"Alright then, let's go, Baldt. Hurry. Once they finish eating, they'll head straight to the village training ground."
"Yes, sir."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ On the way to the training ground, the village we passed through had changed beyond compare from when we first arrived here.
Back when Bailiff Mars was in charge, everyone's eyes were sunken, and they were so poor they couldn't even mend hole-ridden clothes.
They lived with holes in their walls unfixed, and neither the village stables nor homes had enough food to last the winter.
But now, the serfs' eyes held hope for tomorrow. No one wore holey clothes like before, even if they were a bit worn.
Of course, no one lived in houses with holes anymore. Stables had cows or horses, and homes stored enough grain to last at least until next year.
As we walked, a serf carrying a basket full of bread spotted the young master, smiled warmly, bowed deeply, and greeted him.
"Good day, sir."
Normally, the young master would just give a slight wave and pass by, but this time he paused and replied to the serf.
"Doing well, are you? Speak up if there's any discomfort."
"No, sir. Thanks to you, we're eating delicious bread like this every day."
Hearing that, the young master pointed to one of the breads and asked with a smile.
"Mind if I have one?"
"Please do, sir."
The young master broke the bread in half and handed one piece to me, telling me to eat.
I bit into it, and a subtle mix of rye and wheat's nutty flavor with a hint of sweetness spread in my mouth.
After finishing his piece, the young master smiled and said.
"Delicious. Good bread. I'll be off now."
"Thank you for enjoying it, sir."
And with that, the young master quickened his pace toward the training ground.
Once we were a bit farther away, he asked me.
"Baldt, do you know why I bothered responding to that serf and eating his bread?"
"No, sir. I don't."
The young master let out a sigh and said.
"That serf is the next village head of Hans Village. So, even though I'm their lord, I thought it best to show him a good example rather than treat him like the other serfs."
I was shocked that the lord himself remembered the face of someone who wasn't even the current village head, just the next in line.
No matter that this place only had about 3,000 people, there was no need for the young master to memorize the faces of such lowly folk.
Yet he did...
"He'll go back boasting, 'The young master remembered me.' Naturally, his father will hear it and become even more loyal, seeing how much we care."
"...I see."
"A lord ruling a small territory like this has to do at least this much. Let's hurry."
The young master called it just 'this much'...
But from what I knew, most other lords in his position didn't even make that effort.
If they bothered memorizing their bailiffs' faces, that was considered having interest in the territory.
That's why the village serfs followed him even when he sometimes pushed too far ahead—because of things like this.
The meticulous attention toward the serfs from a lord with so many accomplishments must be what created these miracles.
Looking at it that way, the young master really has matured...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ When I arrived at the training ground, the mercenaries were standing there with tense expressions.
At the front, Helmut wore half-plate armor, and beside him was the cart of weapons and armor I'd brought.
A bit farther off stood the young serfs.
A moment later, Helmut spotted the young master from afar and approached first to greet him.
"You've arrived, sir."
"Good work. Everything alright?"
"Yes. I've explained everything to the other mercenaries."
"Begin."
At those words, the mercenaries in front of Helmut grabbed quilted armor, helmets, and weapons from the cart.
Everyone donned helmets and quilted armor. Some took spears over 4 meters long, others shields and swords, and some large shields and crossbows.
"Attention!"
Helmut's booming voice echoed across the training ground, drawing all the serfs' gazes.
Confirming that, Helmut smirked briefly, then continued.
"From now on, stand in front of the mercenary holding the weapon you want! You'll learn to wield it. Once chosen, no changing your mind—decide carefully!"
At that, the serfs all started moving toward their preferred weapons.
They seemed to want flashy gear since they were training for war anyway—almost all headed to the sword-and-shield mercenaries.
A few who looked smarter went to the crossbow users.
Fools. Swords and shields might look cool, but they're the ones who die most.
Spearmen look riskiest up front holding the line, but when infantry formations break, that's when sword-users get slaughtered.
A moment later, Helmut sighed deeply, probably realizing this lineup would spell disaster, and spoke up.
"Swords and shields are fine, but spears aren't bad. Actually, safer than swords—think it over again?"
The serfs began murmuring.
"...But swords are cooler than spears, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. And look at war drafts—sword-users die less than spearmen."
"Bounty rewards are higher too..."
"But Sir Helmut said spearmen are safer..."
"Ugh, tough choice."
After murmuring a bit, everyone except a few sturdy-looking ones switched to spears.
I picked like that back in my armory days too... Now I can use them all.
Lost in memories as I watched the trainees, the young master approached me.
"Sir?"
"You go help too. Helmut can't handle it alone."
"I'm observing their training methods to step in midway. Their style differs from what I learned."
The young master gave me a look like he thought that was ridiculous.
He probably couldn't grasp why basics like sword and spear drills would differ.
"Sir, Helmut's a mercenary from the Zenobia Republic who came here, while I was from Franci. Different mercenary guilds too, so jumping in blindly won't help."
Only then did the young master nod in understanding.
"I see. Ah, training's finally starting."
"Yes, watch closely."