Chapter 61
Episode 61
"Appropriate rest, my ass. People need to be squeezed dry after all."
"Huh? Why are you saying something so terrifying all of a sudden?"
Dwain, who was organizing the approved documents, asked with a startled expression.
"Oh, no. Just... something absurd happened."
The more Logan dwelled on his sense of betrayal, the more miserable the daily life of a certain dwarf in the workshop became.
Though there had been minor variables in the production of crossbows, overall, nothing posed a significant problem.
No—in fact, progress had accelerated even further.
Hamar, whose dark circles had deepened to the point where his entire eyelids had turned blackish, managed to produce crossbows for all the soldiers within just a few weeks.
Thanks to this, the soldiers' training gained even more momentum.
Above all, the greatest achievement was the completion of MacLaine Town—a settlement with housing for ten thousand households—where residents from the two castles began moving in as planned.
"Waaah! Mom! Is this really our house?!"
"Wow! It's huge! Are we really going to live here?"
"Y-yes. I suppose so. How did this...?"
A woman with a baby strapped to her back and front burst into tears at her children's words.
A two-story wooden house.
Though each floor was barely twenty pyeong (approx. 66㎡) in size and awkwardly cramped next to neighboring homes, none of that mattered.
Compared to the tattered thatched hut they had lived in their entire lives, this house might as well have been a palace.
"I thought we wouldn't make it through this winter... This is truly, truly a blessing."
The tears streaming down her face were those of relief—like a person on the brink of death catching a glimpse of light.
"But Mom..."
"Sniff. Hmm? What is it, sweetie?"
"Will Dad be able to find our house?"
"...Yes. If our Anna listens to Mom, eats well, and grows up healthy, Dad will surely come back to us safely."
"Really? You promise?"
"Yes."
The conversation between the four-year-old girl and her mother.
The eldest, now twelve and old enough to understand death a little, covered his eyes as he looked up at the sky.
Seeing this, the mother clutched her aching chest once more.
Just a few months ago, all she could think about was following her dead husband to the grave.
'They gave us food, a house like this, and even land to farm...'
Now, she had a reason to live.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
She bowed repeatedly toward the distant nobles—those who would never see or hear her gratitude.
Even her resentment toward the nobles who had started this pointless war seemed to fade slightly.
Most of the migrants were those who had struggled the most in the original two castles, so they all cheered in delight at their new settlement.
Though each individual voice couldn't be heard distinctly, the collective murmur spread throughout the town, creating an atmosphere of bright optimism.
Even the very person they were thanking could feel that energy distinctly.
"It feels livelier with more people. A pleasant sight."
At Clayton's words, Logan nodded.
"But it needs to grow even more. I can still see plenty of space for more houses."
MacLaine Town would become the heart of the territory, continuing to expand in the future.
From the top of the magic tower, Logan looked down at the town and smiled brightly.
"The village construction is complete, and the crossbows should be finished by the end of this month as promised."
"Good. Well done."
"......"
"What? Why aren't you leaving?"
"Well, uh... I..."
"Ah, right. I should give you this."
Thud.
Logan placed a massive lump of silvery metal in front of Hamar, who was hesitating.
"Wh-what is all this?!"
"What else? Mithril. Make some weapons for the knights."
"......"
"What? Isn't working with rare metals part of a dwarf's romantic ideals?"
"Uuugh... Romantic ideals..."
"What, you don't agree?"
"N-no, it's not that. Sigh... Yeah, it is romantic."
"Right? Exactly! Then go enjoy your vacation to the fullest. Six months should be enough, right?"
"Huh? Vacation? And six months?!"
"I gave you a ridiculously long break—don't tell me you don't want it?"
"N-no way! Absolutely not! Thank you!"
"Good. Enjoy processing the mithril and savor that proper romanticism. I'll be looking forward to seeing what magnificent weapons you forge."
"...Huh? Weapons...?"
"Ah, lucky you. A romantic vacation with mithril. Six months should be enough for eighty, right?"
"Ha... This damn..."
"What?"
"N-nothing."
The dwarf bowed his head, fists trembling, but in the end, he said nothing more.
Spring approached.
Preparations for the next leap forward were steadily progressing.
"The reclamation is proceeding smoothly. If anything, the only downside is the lack of manpower relative to the land's size."
"Isn't that irrelevant?"
"Indeed. This year's harvest looks very promising."
The bald head of Rugel Hais, the food supply officer, gleamed under the spring sunlight as he smiled brightly.
His smile perfectly reflected the current atmosphere in MacLaine.
"Rumors about our plains and town have even spread to other regions."
"What did you say?"
Logan showed more interest than expected at the offhand remark, prompting Rugel to elaborate with slight confusion.
"...Yesterday, a dozen or so refugees arrived in town. Judging by their appearance, they seemed to be slash-and-burn farmers who heard rumors from the merchant guild supplying us with food."
"Hmm. Faster than I thought."
"Yes. Since they were refugees, they probably came on a whim, hoping for the best."
In this era, most commoners belonged to a nation or territory, paying taxes with income earned through their work.
But just as not all rulers were wise, not all territories were livable.
In places ruled by tyrants or ravaged by war, many would flee into the mountains.
Even those who managed to survive by slash-and-burn farming would eventually hit their limits or be discovered, forcing them to wander as refugees in search of a new home.
The fact that they had come solely based on rumors of a vast new plain—without any official announcement—meant their situation must have been dire.
And if more like them continued to arrive...
Heh...
"Why—why are you smiling so ominously?"
Dwain, standing beside Logan, shuddered with inexplicable unease and asked.
"It's nothing."
"That doesn't sound like nothing."
"Don't worry about it. Anyway, you took in those refugees, right?"
"...Yes."
With land to spare, accepting refugees was hardly an issue.
"And precautions?"
"We briefed them on basic territorial laws and made it clear that causing trouble would get them expelled. We'll handle future refugees the same way."
"Good. Well done."
"Something about this feels unsettling..."
Logan ignored Dwain's muttering and simply smiled.
The rumor that MacLaine was accepting refugees spread like wildfire among slash-and-burn farmers and tenant farmers in the kingdom's southwestern regions.
By early summer, just a few months later, nearly five thousand refugees had already settled in the town.
Naturally, neighboring territories couldn't help but react sensitively to this trend.
"MacLaine Territory?"
"Yes. They've reclaimed the wasteland west of MacLaine Castle."
"Hah. That barren land?"
Count Max Pereta couldn't hide his incredulous expression at his subordinate's report.
When Haman Tesron had foolishly started a war last year only to be crushed by MacLaine, he had been somewhat surprised but figured it made sense.
Patrick MacLaine might have been lacking in many areas, but when it came to martial prowess, he was undeniably formidable.
Not to mention, he was insane enough to maintain an order of over fifty knights in the desolate MacLaine Castle.
Back then, he had assumed Haman Tesron had simply overplayed his hand against a territory with nothing to offer.
But this time, he couldn't help but be stunned.
"Was that land even reclaimable?"
"I found it so unbelievable that I looked into it—apparently, they tunneled through the mountains to divert water from the Luther River."
"...Tunneled through the mountains? Hahaha. They reclaimed wasteland by doing something that insane?"
"Yes. We sent people to verify, and it's confirmed."
"Hahaha. Forget how they even came up with the idea—did MacLaine have the funds for such a project?"
"There are rumors Tesron had a lot of spare money, or that the Grand Prince made a fortune through trade. Some say they struck gold, and others claim money rained from the sky..."
Count Max Pereta waved his hand, cutting off his subordinate's words.
"Never mind the absurd rumors. Let's focus on the facts. The wasteland reclamation is confirmed, right?"
"Yes. That much is certain."
"Then how much land do you think they've reclaimed? Compared to ours."
"...At least three times our size."
"Hmm. Even accounting for lower yields due to the land's original barrenness, that's still double ours."
"Correct."
If MacLaine's output was double that of Pereta County—which already boasted plains twice the size of Tesron's—it was an unbelievable level of productivity.
"Impressive..."
A neighboring territory had suddenly become rich overnight.
If he simply applauded and cheered for them, he wouldn't be a true noble.
At least, that's what his common sense told him.
"Hmm. We can't just let this slide... Can we fabricate a pretext?"
"We don't even need to fabricate one. Some of our tenants have fled to their new settlement. We can use retrieving them as our excuse."
Rihalt, his subordinate, answered as if he'd been waiting for the question.
"Oh, our tenants? My property? Then we can rightfully demand compensation. What should we ask for in return?"
"Whatever you desire—their land, or perhaps Tesron's adjacent plains. Though there is one problem..."
Rihalt trailed off, but the count understood perfectly.
"Tch. Right. It might be dangerous to take it all for ourselves, huh?"
Max Pereta clicked his tongue but didn't seem particularly worried.
Pereta County's military might was incomparable to Tesron's, which had been crushed by MacLaine.
They had over 120 knights and nearly 2,000 regular soldiers.
Moreover, they controlled two castles with a combined population close to 40,000.
In every aspect—from food supplies to infrastructure—they were confident they outclassed Tesron.
But.
"Soto Silvan. That bastard's in the way."
"Indeed. Getting stabbed in the back would hurt."
"Hurt? If that's all, I'd be lucky."
Max Pereta clicked his tongue as he thought of his rival to the north.
Though the man held the same rank, he controlled only one castle—yet its garrison was nearly equal to Pereta's combined forces from both castles.
Worse, he now bordered MacLaine's territory, just like Tesron once had.
A sworn enemy whose mere existence was a nuisance.
"Damn, this complicates things. Even if I've become a High Knight, taking on Patrick would be suicide, right?"
"Ghk!"
The sudden surge of the count's aura drained the color from Rihalt's face, but he nodded.
"Yes. Patrick MacLaine became a High Knight twenty years ago. It would be impossible for you to face him alone without heavy losses. If Silvan strikes from behind while you're weakened..."
"Right, that's what I thought. You've got a good head, boy."
"You honor me."
Though it might sound like disrespect to some, Max Pereta wasn't just greedy—he was also cautious.
No matter how much MacLaine had grown with an additional castle, he believed one year was too short to fully recover from war losses.
Still, he wanted to prepare for even the slightest possibility.
"Contact Silvan County. Their taxes are just as high as ours—they must've lost plenty of tenants too, right?"
"Of course. Those fools all think alike."
Both Pereta and Silvan imposed tax rates as high as 70%—among the highest in the kingdom.
If they joined forces, swallowing MacLaine whole would be effortless.
An alliance between two counties. MacLaine will have to choose between losing everything or most of it.
Max Pereta already felt like he was claiming the honey-drenched land for himself.
"Even if they crawl to MacLaine for lower taxes, they'll just raise them sky-high after the reclamation. Tsk tsk, pathetic fools. Can't see past their noses."
"Isn't that the commoners' limitation?"
"Exactly. That's why we're the rulers. Well, fine. Proceed."
"Yes!"
"Sharing is a waste, but what choice do we have?"
"A wise decision."
Even if MacLaine was intact—no, even if they were stronger than before—they couldn't possibly withstand an alliance of two counties.
MacLaine's sudden prosperity was nothing more than a feast laid out for the taking.
At least, that's what everyone present believed.