Chapter 62: Pull Them All Out (3)
Chapter 62: Pull Them All Out (3)
But those weren't the words he needed to say right now.
"Ahem. Even we don't know the full extent of the Young Master's talent and ability. Calling him a 'genius' is an insult to his true worth."
This was the truth.
Setting aside Patrick’s personality, no one could deny his capabilities.
April, who was far stronger than Sanson back in the territory, was a powerhouse who had reached the 6-Star Realm. She was only one step away from the 7-Star Realm—the realm of superhumans.
Yet, when Patrick sparred with her, he toyed with her while yawning.
Even the soldiers who lived and breathed alongside Sanson couldn't begin to guess the current depth of Patrick's power.
The moment Patrick finally stepped out into the world, the continent would begin to shift violently, centered around the massive typhoon that was Patrick Schneider.
Whether he would become a hero or a villain remained to be seen, but it was certain that Patrick’s very existence would be etched into the continent’s legends.
"That Young Master told us he would make sure we never regretted our choice."
"..."
"If you accept the offers from other nobles now, you could become knights immediately. You’d be promised good pay and excellent treatment. But in exchange, the chance to be part of that great legend will vanish forever."
The soldiers stirred at Sanson’s explanation. They, too, felt there was logic in his words. Then, Sanson bowed his head to them.
"I’m not asking this as your Guard Captain, but as a brother born and raised in the same hometown. Please, reject their offers and stay in the territory."
"Captain... No, brother. Didn't the Young Master say those who want to leave are free to go?"
"He did. My holding you back right now is my own decision."
"Why? Why are you trying to keep us here, brother?"
"Because I can't just stand by and watch."
"Watch what?"
"You lot, who are no different from my own flesh and blood, throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime because of a wrong choice."
"..."
Sanson’s words struck the soldiers like a physical blow, leaving them in silence. With his head still bowed, Sanson continued.
"I’m begging you. Trust the Young Master. If you can't do that, then trust me. I will never let you regret this. I swear it on my life."
The soldiers didn't answer.
They simply remained silent, their expressions heavy with deep thought.
* * *
A few days later.
"Alright, time to head home. But..."
Patrick spoke listlessly as he looked at the soldiers lined up in the territory.
"Isn't the headcount a bit off?"
Before Patrick’s eyes, the soldiers stood in a perfectly straight line.
Not a single spot was empty.
All 100 members of the Schneider expeditionary force had decided to remain in the Schneider territory.
At that sight, Patrick smirked.
"You pathetic, brainless idiots."
"Hey, why are you like that?"
"What else do you call people who kick away their own good fortune? You brainless idiots."
The soldiers reacted violently to Patrick’s words.
"You said thank you! You said you were grateful!"
"Yeah, yeah! You said it with your own mouth!"
"Say it again! Right now!"
Patrick pointed a finger at himself, looking as if he had never heard such a thing in his life.
"Meeeeeeee?"
"..."
"I don't think I ever said thaaaaat?"
The soldiers went ballistic at the sight of his infuriating expression.
"Argh, seriously..."
"How can someone be so rude? Honestly?"
"We were the morons for expecting anything in the first place."
"Just one hit. I just want to punch him once."
"I want two."
Watching the soldiers' intense reaction, Patrick chuckled.
"Whatever. Let's just go home. Be careful with the luggage, it's expensive. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. We get it."
"What did you expect from that man?"
"Let's just grill Brother Sanson later."
"Why me?"
Once everyone had packed their gear, Patrick took the lead and started the march.
"Let's move, you grateful bastards."
He did say it, at least.
Was the "bastards" at the end bothersome?
'Like I care.'
Patrick chuckled to himself as they set off.
* * *
Strictly speaking...
The plan Patrick and Baron Schneider had devised before leaving the territory was a total failure.
They had left saying they would just keep their heads down and return without drawing attention, but perhaps that was impossible from the start.
In truth, they thought it was just a bandit subjugation, but the appearance of a Dark Mage was the first problem.
The moment that Dark Mage started playing tricks at the banquet, Patrick caught everyone's eye. Even before that, his soldiers had utterly crushed the troops of another territory.
Afterward, on the battlefield, he had tried to hide his tracks by giving the credit to Viscount Frace despite playing a decisive role, but...
In the subsequent duels between soldiers, Oliver had toyed with the opposing knight. Then, Patrick had crushed the face of Viscount Valsen, who had acted rudely out of spite.
And to top it all off, he had staged a spectacle where all 100 soldiers manifested Aura in front of all the Eastern nobles.
"When we all pulled out our Aura like whoosh, the surrounding lords' jaws just hit the floor."
"I know, I know. And then they asked you to become their knights, right?"
"I've heard this story ten times already."
"Ten times? That's not enough. You need to hear it a hundred times. So, Baron Helsing said to me—"
"Aaaagh! Someone shut this guy up!"
The other soldiers covered their ears and screamed at Oliver’s bragging.
These were the soldiers who hadn't joined the expedition, and they were inwardly feeling regretful about missing out.
'Tsk, if we were going to make a scene anyway, we should've gone too.'
'Che, what a waste.'
'Next time, I'm definitely going.'
The soldiers who stayed behind couldn't help but feel disappointed.
While the others were supposedly "playing around" on the battlefield, they had been undergoing hellish training.
Who would put them through hell while Patrick was away?
Who else could it be?
[Get up. The Young Master's training menu isn't finished yet.]
[Wa... Wait a second, Miss April.]
[The Young Master isn't even here, let us rest a bit...]
Thump!
[You dare to disobey the Young Master's instructions?]
A clear footprint was stamped into the training ground floor—a floor so hardened that even a hammer blow wouldn't leave a scratch.
April spoke, her eyes flashing with killing intent.
[Disobeying the Young Master's orders is no different from committing treason against him. You're doing this knowing that, right?]
[No, we didn't mean it like that...]
[We just...]
[Just what?]
At April’s chilling gaze, the soldiers hurriedly strapped on their sandbags and resumed training.
[Let's train! Train!]
[Uwaaaaaah!]
[I love training the most!]
In some ways, April was a more terrifying opponent than Patrick.
Patrick would go a bit easy on soldiers who had truly reached their limit, but April had no such mercy.
Regardless of limits, if anyone failed to complete the training manual Patrick had assigned, she treated them not as a dropout, but as a traitor.
Every time the twin swords in her hands glinted, the soldiers felt a genuine sense of crisis—that their heads might actually fly off—and they pushed past their limits.
Can limits be surpassed so easily?
When a person's life is on the line, they find a way to do anything.
"Next time the Young Master goes somewhere, I'm following him no matter what."
"Me too, me too."
"I just want to go anywhere April isn't. She's scary."
"Just 'scary'? Did you see her eyes when she mentioned treason? She looked insane."
"I saw it. Haaa... I really thought I was going to die."
"If we hadn't gotten up, she definitely would've killed us."
Regardless, the terrifying April had returned to her primary(?) duty as a maid and vanished from the training ground.
After that, Patrick should have been the one hounding them at the training ground, but...
"We haven't seen the Young Master lately. Where is he?"
"I think he went to the Orc village to do something."
"What's he planning?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?"
Everyone turned their attention to Oliver at his last remark.
Under the collective gaze of 'What kind of nonsense is he going to spout now?', Oliver spoke.
"He's either researching new ways to torment us, or he's plotting a way to make money. It's one of the two."
"Hmm..."
"That actually makes sense."
Even though it came from Oliver, it was quite logical.
* * *
Patrick was indeed at the Orc village, busy with something.
It wasn't necessarily something only Orcs could do.
However, since security was paramount, he decided to set up the operation in the Orc village.
"You just need to make sure no one approaches. Can you do that?"
"Of course we can."
Turanta, the chief of the Red Rock Tribe, pounded his chest firmly.
"But what is this thing that needs such protection?"
"Something that makes money."
"Hoho. Money. Money is good."
"..."
"With money, we can buy human food and booze. Money is a wonderful thing."
The Orcs of the Red Rock Tribe had been persuaded by Patrick to coexist with humans.
Five years with Patrick had been more than enough to soak even these simple Orcs in capitalism.
Humans were weaker than Orcs, but they were excellent at making the things Orcs desired.
Delicious food, and alcohol.
Other small items were useful too, but those two were what drove the Orcs wild.
The Orcs hunted monsters, humans exchanged those monsters for money, and the Orcs then used that money in human villages to buy food and booze.
As this cycle repeated, the Orcs had recently become completely enchanted by the magic of money.
[Oh, a Goblin. Let's catch it.]
[That's not worth much. Let's find a monster that pays better.]
[Ah, right. Let's hunt a Troll. A Troll.]
[Grizzly Bears sell for a high price too.]
When such conversations were common among Orcs out on a hunt, what more needed to be said?
"If we raise these for you, will you share the money with us?"
"Hahaha... Well, a little bit."
'I've ruined a perfectly good... Orc.'
As Patrick felt a twinge of regret, Turanta spoke with sharp eyes.
"Understood. Then we Orcs will do our best to raise these bugs."
"Just feed them mulberry leaves. Take good care of them."
"Got it. But what is the name of this bug?"
"Silkworms. These are larvae, but raise them well and increase their numbers."
This was what Patrick had scavenged while raiding the Dark Mage's base.
Silkworms.
They were the incredibly expensive insects that provided the raw material for silk.
For merchants of the Central Plains, the most reliable way to make a fortune was the silk trade.
Once you secured the goods, there was never any trouble selling them at a high price.
Silk was both a luxury and a highly sought-after commodity.
If one could take high-quality silk and transport it to the distant Western regions, they could make a literal mountain of gold.
Even domestic distribution was profitable enough.
Silk was treated as such a precious item that emperors would give it as a gift to high officials who performed great deeds.
In some regions, silk itself was so valuable it served as a substitute for high-denomination currency.
The moment Patrick saw the collection bins wriggling with silkworm larvae while raiding the Dark Mage's base, the silk trade flashed through his mind.
'Monster hunting has become harder because the Orcs are so diligent. I needed a local specialty we could consistently sell to the outside, and silk is perfect.'
The methods for increasing the silkworm population, reeling the silk from the cocoons, and even the process of weaving silk were all stored in his head.
He had observed the workings of a merchant group that traded silk in his past life.
'Though I'll probably run into some trial and error when I actually try to do it.'
That was why he needed to put a smart person in charge of the operation.
The person Patrick called was...
"Mother, do you think you could do this?"
"You want me to raise these bugs, reel the thread, and make fabric?"
"Yes. Do you think you can?"
"I'm not sure. I've never done it before..."
Ava sighed.
She had been a commoner before becoming the Baron's wife. Like most commoner women, she had experience with various household handicrafts.
She knew more or less how to spin thread, weave fabric, and make clothes. But...
"I've never done it with these kinds of bugs."
"You can do it. You just boil the cocoons of the larvae..."
Patrick gave a rough explanation of the silk-making process. Since he had only seen it a few times in his past life, his explanation was basic at best.
Anyone else would have been daunted by the task of producing silk based on such a vague description, but...
"Hmm, that makes sense. It sounds plausible."
Ava nodded, seemingly having understood to some degree. Patrick smiled at the sight.
'As expected of someone who had the Nine Yin Blocked Meridians. Her comprehension is on another level.'
Since ancient times, those who recovered from the Nine Yin Blocked Meridians always became exceptionally intelligent.
That was why he could entrust the silk production to Ava.
"This is a job only you can do, Mother. But there's one thing you must keep in mind."
"What is it?"
"Never. Never, never, never."
"Never?"
"You must not tell Father."
"Ah..."
Ava understood.
She loved and respected her husband, of course. But...
'He's not exactly the best person to partner with for a profitable business...'
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Thank you, Mother. If you need anything while working on it, just let me know."
"Alright. I will."
With that, Patrick finished the preliminary preparations for the silk business and breathed a sigh of relief.
Since he had entrusted it to the Orcs, security was tight, and if his mother took charge, it wouldn't fail.
Just then, April appeared silently before Patrick.