Chapter 53
Episode 53
The next day.
"The lord himself will personally teach intermediate swordsmanship."
Upon hearing this unbelievable announcement the previous day, the knights of MacLaine had gathered at the training grounds since the crack of dawn.
"Did our family even have an intermediate swordsmanship technique worth passing down?"
"Maybe he just means he'll share some practical tips?"
"But he's already given us plenty of advice. If that's all there is..."
"Ah, come on. He's not the type to bluff."
As the knights murmured among themselves, their voices gradually growing louder—
From the corner of the training grounds, a familiar middle-aged man slowly walked in.
The moment they sensed his presence, the knights immediately bowed their heads in unison.
"We greet the lord!"
"We greet our master!"
Though their greetings were formal and respectful, Patrick's expression as he looked at them was far from pleased.
"...So it's true. You've really split into two factions. Since when did our knight order become two separate groups?"
At his incredulous tone, the knights flinched simultaneously.
As he had said, the knights were currently divided into two distinct groups—41 on one side, 32 on the other—standing apart as if they were strangers.
One group consisted of the original MacLaine knights, while the other was made up of defectors from Tesron.
"I understand that it's not easy to grow close after having once fought each other to the death."
Serving two masters was considered a lifelong dishonor for a knight—but this hadn't been a war between nations. It had been a territorial conflict within the kingdom.
Moreover, with their former lord dead and his bloodline extinguished, the Tesron knights had only one path forward—and that path wasn't dishonorable.
"Still, if you truly understand a knight's duty, I thought you'd gradually improve. Instead... tsk."
Despite his exasperated click of the tongue, his aura only grew more oppressive.
The dawn light filtering in behind the red-haired, red-eyed middle-aged man seemed to take on a bloody hue for a moment.
"While I remained silent, I heard some absurd rumors. Territorialism? Slacking off? I didn't want to believe it. But... I don't even need to investigate to know they're true."
Every time their lord's dissatisfied gaze swept over them, the knights couldn't help but break out in cold sweat.
And Patrick's aura was still intensifying.
"You've grown too comfortable. Too well-fed. While I trained myself half to death to grow stronger, while my son ran himself ragged for this territory..."
Though his steps were slow and deliberate, the pressure he exuded was greater than ever.
"And here you are, knights sworn to protect this land, squabbling like children over wounded pride. I've been too lax with you. Ah, it's my fault. All my fault. Right?"
Finally, the full weight of Patrick's aura crashed down upon the entire knight order.
Heinkel, standing at the front, instinctively realized that their lord had grown even stronger—breaking through a decades-long plateau.
Under normal circumstances, he would have rejoiced at this.
"No, my lord!"
But right now, with their lord glaring down at them, all he felt was tension.
"Absolutely not!"
Feeling the murderous aura and the unusual atmosphere, the other knights also hastily waved their hands in denial.
"No, it is my fault. So I've decided to take a more hands-on approach from now on. That alright with you?"
"Of course, my lord!"
"Good. Then first..."
Gulp.
As the knights nervously watched their lord—
A crimson blade of light, over two meters long, erupted from the wooden sword Patrick held.
"Ghk—!"
"W-What is that?!"
Even the knights who had been skeptical widened their eyes in shock, now certain that their lord had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
"Swordsmanship is best learned through the body. Step forward. One at a time."
But for them, this was nothing short of a disaster.
Watching their despairing expressions, Patrick's face hardened further.
'If I grind them into the dirt, they won't have the energy for petty thoughts.'
To leave his son a proper knight order—
He was prepared to endure any hardship.
Having finished his morning training and meditation, Logan was on his way to his office when he ran into Dwain in the hallway.
Instead of exchanging greetings, Logan cut straight to the point.
"Did you post the recruitment notice for soldiers?"
"Yes. Recruitment will begin in both castles at the start of winter. Feran, who's in charge of enlistment, was bewildered by the sudden expansion plans—but money isn't an issue."
Logan coughed awkwardly at Dwain's oddly phrased response.
"Ahem. Money is one thing, but work still requires manpower. Lend him a hand where needed..."
"With this much money, what's there to worry about? Things will work out."
Dwain's grinning face showed not a trace of concern.
'...This old man has definitely changed.'
Logan sighed but didn't feel the need to intervene.
"Well, from now on, Father will also be overseeing the regular soldiers' training."
"Wasn't the lord supposed to be handling the knights' training?"
"Soldiers are just knight candidates in the broader sense. Who knows? Under Father's guidance, more might awaken their aura."
Placing the right people in the right positions was basic territory management.
He intended to keep his father so busy that he wouldn't have time to regret handing over full authority too soon.
"Haha. Well, do as you see fit."
Fortunately, Dwain—who had somehow turned into a yes-man—didn't object at all.
"The villagers have all returned after finishing their work, right? We'll need to gather them again in about a month, so let them rest well until then."
"You mean the village construction project? The notice has already been posted. The villagers' response has been positive."
"...Positive?"
They were being asked to labor at the onset of winter—when they should be resting.
"They've seen enough of your generosity to accept it willingly."
"Huh..."
Though he still couldn't quite wrap his head around it, Logan decided to take it as a good thing and moved on.
"You're providing food as well, aren't you? Besides, it's their own homes they're building."
Now that he thought about it, Dwain's explanation made sense.
"And when recruiting soldiers—"
"AAAAAAAH!"
At that moment, a bloodcurdling scream—one that drowned out Logan's voice—echoed from the distance.
Both men turned their heads simultaneously.
"..."
"..."
"...That sounded like it came from the training grounds?"
"Yeah. But right now, the knights are training there—"
BOOM!
"GYAAAAAH—!"
Along with the bizarre scream, a crimson light flared up—visible even from afar.
Then, as if responding to the voice, the figure of a burly knight went flying over the training ground's wall.
"S-Spare me...!"
"M-My lord, p-please...!"
"Ron! Snap out of it! Open your eyes!"
The closer they got to the training grounds, the clearer the desperate voices became—leaving both men utterly bewildered.
"Was knight training always... like this?"
Logan immediately recalled the absurd horseback training from before—
"No way..."
But it had never been this extreme.
"Must be a new training regimen Father came up with."
He's really resolved to toughen them up.
Though unexpected, Logan's reaction was merely one of mild surprise.
That was all.
Except—
"I-I'm in charge of soldier training starting today... GYAAH—!"
"I've left everything else to Logan. All you need to do is train with me for the foreseeable future!"
—He had just inadvertently learned that one of the knights' most important duties had also been delegated to him.
'Well, I'll be handling soldier recruitment anyway.'
Since he needed to raise the soldiers' standards regardless, it wasn't a bad arrangement.
However, there was something else he needed to take care of first.
"What in the world is Lord Logan thinking these days? Lately, he's been acting unilaterally..."
Such complaints had been frequently brought to Dwain's attention recently.
But—
"His Excellency surely has his reasons. Why are you questioning him? Now that we have a budget, you've forgotten your place?! Do you even know where that budget came from?! Huh?! Just do as Lord Logan says! If he says jump, you jump!"
The financial administrator who once listened to his subordinates and sought ways to save even a little money was nowhere to be found.
"L-Lord Dwain?"
There was no reasoning with Dwain now.
'Twenty years in administration. I never knew signing documents without budget concerns could feel this blissful.'
And he had no intention of tolerating anything that might disrupt that bliss.
"Y-You're going to spend gold worth ten million gold coins?! Why?! What in the world are you planning to do this time?!"
But Dwain felt as though he were watching the very money that had brought him happiness evaporate like mist.
"I'll pay it back double next month. Don't worry."
Even to a casual listener, it sounded like a scam—but the one saying it was the owner of the budget.
"E-Even so, I need to know why such an outrageous expense is necessary—"
"I'm buying mithril. A fair amount."
"...What?"
"Mithril."
"You're buying what?"
"Mithril. About 100 kilograms."
"WHY?!"
Dwain nearly had a stroke as he screamed.
Mithril—the "Silver of the Gods."
A rare magical metal imbued with inherent mana, boasting ten times the strength of refined steel at one-third the weight.
Found only in trace amounts within iron, gold, and silver mines, its value was a thousand times that of gold by weight.
No wonder Dwain was on the verge of losing his mind.
"What could you possibly need 100 kilograms of mithril for?!"
But as always, Logan didn't entertain objections.
"This 'why, why' nonsense. Aren't you tired of it?"
"...Huh?"
"If I were you, I'd be too exhausted to bother. Has anything I've done so far been wrong?"
"W-Well, no, but—"
The undeniable track record crushed Dwain's resistance under its weight.
Though he had plenty to say, the words died in his throat. Watching him suffer, Logan chuckled and finally explained.
"I'm getting the knights some new weapons."
"What?! Mithril weapons?! That's—that's financial insanity—!"
"Insanity?! I'm not giving them solid mithril weapons! Even with this much, the best we can do for the entire order is mithril alloy."
"Ugh... You've lost all sense of money since striking that gold mine..."
Seeing Dwain's despair, Logan added consolingly:
"Our knights have endured hardship while being paid less than those of other territories. It's time we treated them properly."
"B-But does it have to be mithril weapons?"
"We have the money, and we have the dwarves. What's stopping us? A month's profits should cover it—that's reasonable spending."
"R-Reasonable... Hahaha..."
Extravagance was a habit.
If Logan considered this reasonable, it meant such spending would only continue in the future.
In Dwain's mind, the once-bright future now darkened in real time.
'I should stop him. But how...?'
Yet the mastermind behind this extravagance had, as he said, proven himself with results every time.
Moreover, the gold mine was technically his personal property—leaving Dwain no grounds for objection.
"It's already decided, so just accept it. If you need funds urgently, delay other expenses."
Leaving behind not a discussion but a decree, Logan walked away.
Having made up his mind, he was now beyond anyone's dissuasion.
Thud.
"...My lord, you've moved on too quickly. Sniff..."
As the door closed, the administrator was left alone—with no choice but to weep where no one could hear him.
'A surefire way to strengthen our knight forces.'
Improving the quality of their equipment.
To some, it might seem like reckless spending—but to Logan, it was simply one of many necessary steps.
Ideally, he would have loved to gift them artifact-grade weapons, but equipping the entire knight order with artifacts was impossible—even with a gold mine.
'Giving solid mithril weapons to knights who are mostly average would just be wasteful—they'd be too light for proper use anyway.'
After considering everything, this was the most rational choice.
Even mithril alloy weapons would boost combat effectiveness by at least 10%, possibly up to 20%.
'Maybe I should get a solid mithril sword for myself?'
The mere thought brought a satisfied smile to his face.
As a knight himself, he wasn't immune to the allure of superior weaponry.
In his past life, he hadn't even seen a mithril alloy weapon—but now, he could afford to be a little greedier.
However—
["That's impossible."]
Philip's firm rejection instantly dashed his hopeful expectations.