Chapter 62
Chapter 62
"Everything seems to be progressing smoothly."
"Yes."
Logan responded with a confident expression to his father's satisfied smile.
"Good. What about the soldiers' training?"
"Aside from those temporarily assigned to maintain public order, the rest are undergoing rigorous training. Additionally, I've selected around 300 individuals who show exceptional talent and have them training exclusively, free from other duties."
"......Are you suggesting that 300 of them have the potential to become knights?"
"Yes. At the very least, that's what I believe."
Dwain, who had little interest in knightly training, merely clapped his hands with mild surprise. However, Heinkel, who had been silently listening to the father-son exchange, couldn't hide his incredulous expression.
Under normal circumstances, even if soldiers trained diligently, only one in a hundred would awaken their Force and earn the qualifications to become a knight after ten years of grueling effort. By simple calculation, out of 1,500 soldiers, only about fifteen would reach knighthood.
Yet Logan casually mentioned twenty times that number as if it were nothing, leaving Heinkel utterly dumbfounded.
But his lord merely nodded with a smile, unfazed by the absurd response.
"......Very well. If you say so, then it must be true."
No matter how well the household was doing, this bordered on delusion.
Heinkel had plenty to say, but the words stuck in his throat, leaving him opening and closing his mouth repeatedly.
But the Grand Prince didn't stop there—he took it a step further.
"I plan to maintain the current training regimen while expanding our forces annually. We'll also reinforce our horses and equipment each year."
"My lord! That's—"
"No, why?! In this peaceful era, such wasteful spending is absolutely unacceptable!"
Before Heinkel could voice his protest, Dwain, who had been smiling moments ago, suddenly flared up with fiery indignation.
'Mithril. This is just like the mithril incident all over again. Overspending is a habit—it must be stopped!'
Heinkel stared at Dwain with a bewildered expression, but fortunately, even the lord's face hardened this time.
"......Are you planning to wage war?"
"Sometimes, war is unavoidable, no matter how much one dislikes it. That's what I was taught."
I never taught you that.
Patrick swallowed the words rising in his throat with great effort.
Instead, he pointed out the harsh reality in a cold, firm voice.
"Our household is currently in a period of growth. Excessive military expansion could be seen as provocation by neighboring families."
"Exactly. You're absolutely right, my lord."
Heinkel nodded in agreement, while Dwain repeatedly flashed Logan a thumbs-up as if to say, See?
But—
"Even if we don't provoke them, they'll provoke us anyway."
Logan's bizarre statement left everyone dumbfounded.
"What?"
"MacLaine Town is now fully operational, and the wasteland has transformed into fertile plains. Both Silvan and Peretta territories impose exorbitant taxes, driving many peasants to flee. Do you really think those greedy bastards will just sit back and watch?"
"......You believe they'll invade?"
"Yes."
Logan's confident reply was immediately met with rebuttals.
"Whether it's Silvan or Peretta, they won't underestimate us! Our existing forces alone are more than enough to handle one of their territories!"
"My lord, you may not be aware, but they're too busy keeping each other in check! Without proper justification, they wouldn't dare invade!"
Heinkel and Dwain's arguments weren't without merit.
But Logan, who had already laid out his plans, had no intention of backing down.
"Captain, are you implying that if those two territories join forces, they could easily defeat us?"
"Ah—no, I meant that was the case in the past. Now, with our new weapons—"
"They don't know that. And justification? They already have more than enough."
"Huh?"
Mentioning justification—arguably the most crucial factor in wars between nobles—immediately drew everyone's attention to Logan.
"We've taken in many refugees, haven't we? How many do you think came from Peretta or Silvan? If I were them, that would be the perfect excuse."
The expressions of everyone in the office instantly darkened.
They had been so absorbed in the territory's prosperity that they had overlooked this glaring fact.
"W-wait! If you knew this would happen, you should've stopped it!"
Dwain shouted furiously, but Logan remained annoyingly calm.
"Why would I stop it? We're already short on labor."
"But it could lead to war— My lord, don't tell me...?"
"......Did you want war from the beginning?"
As Dwain's face paled, Patrick asked with a hardened expression.
"They're enemies we'll have to deal with eventually. If they're the ones who start the aggression, it'll make for a convenient pretext."
Logan, his gaze deep and unwavering, didn't bother denying it.
"My lord!!"
"Tch. How could you—"
"Haa..."
The atmosphere in the office instantly turned icy, and everyone stared at Logan as if he were a madman.
Heinkel and Dwain twisted their faces in silent frustration, unable to voice their curses, while Patrick made his displeasure known more directly.
"If this was your plan, you should've discussed it beforehand!"
"If I had, you would've opposed it, wouldn't you?"
The shameless reply made everyone clutch their chests as if their hearts had been crushed.
Patrick, too, could only grip his throbbing head, overwhelmed by a sudden headache.
'Did I hand over authority too soon?'
Just as he sighed deeply in self-reproach—
"My lord!"
A servant burst through the door.
"Messengers from Silvan and Peretta have arrived! They say they have matters to discuss regarding escaped peasants—"
The timing was uncanny, freezing the already tense atmosphere even further.
But—
"Well, it seems things have already begun. Shall we discuss how to proceed from here?"
A faint smile curled at the corner of Logan's lips.
"Oh! Lord Rihalt, is it?"
"Indeed. And you must be Lord Hemil?"
"That's correct. It's an honor to meet you. For someone so young to be entrusted with such an important mission—you must be exceptionally capable."
"Hardly. I'm just fortunate. The honor is mine, meeting the influential figure of Silvan territory."
Three escort knights and fifteen attendants—
By conventional standards, both delegations were minimally staffed.
Given that they were essentially envoys sent to intimidate, their modest numbers should have been cause for concern. Yet, the two middle-aged men exchanging pleasantries showed not a hint of worry on their faces.
"Let's enjoy some proper hospitality for once."
"They wouldn't dare slight us so blatantly."
"Hahaha. If they have any sense, they wouldn't. We even sent word ahead."
If anything, they seemed almost excited.
The knights escorting them wore similarly relaxed expressions.
But the next day, as they passed Tesron Castle and slowly entered what was once barren wasteland, they unconsciously halted their steps.
"Good heavens. Is this real...?"
"It's all so green. Like sprouting wheat..."
"Incredible."
Just as they marveled, every field in sight was lush with verdant crops.
For those who remembered how it used to be, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous.
'The yellow sandstorms that once swept through this wasteland—now, the only yellow in sight is that distant wall-like structure...'
"Uh—Lord Hemil. What do you think that is, way over there?"
"A... fort? Hoh. To think they've built one so large already."
The others, overhearing, turned to look at the earthen wall in astonishment.
"That's a fort?"
"Even if it's just earthworks, how could they erect something so massive without word getting out...?"
Speechless, the group continued eastward, only to be stunned once more as the town came into view.
Dozens of mounted figures approached, causing peasants to clear the path—revealing a broad stone road connecting east and west.
"A paved road..."
The spacious road, at least five meters wide, stretched straight through the green fields toward the distant fort.
This alone was already beyond their expectations, but after riding for another half-day, the fort (?) greeted them with another shock at its entrance.
"Halt!"
"Who goes there?"
The fort's gate, built from a three-meter-high earthen wall, wasn't particularly grand or ornate.
Yet, the soldiers addressing them drew their attention—not because the gate was shabby, but because—
"They're not knights... Judging by their unmarked armor."
"Right. But for regular soldiers to be armed like that... MacLaine must've made quite a fortune."
Half-plate mail, greaves, gauntlets, swords at their waists, and spears in hand—
The soldiers' equipment was so impressive it could pass for that of knights.
The fort's inexplicable scale was matched only by the shock of seeing such well-armed troops.
Caught off guard, the envoys failed to respond immediately, prompting the soldiers to glance back uncertainly.
Then, a knight clad in armor emblazoned with a flame crest—who had been signaling something deeper inside—approached.
"I am Dygrom, a knight of MacLaine. State your business, guests."
The knight's gaze shifted to the banners behind Hemil and Rihalt.
A flag bearing crossed longswords amidst flames, and another with an eagle soaring above flames—
The unique heraldry marking them as noble envoys meant they couldn't be rudely dismissed.
Not that this paltry force could stop a delegation with six knights even if they tried.
'To build such a massive fort yet station only one knight and five soldiers at the gate...'
Rihalt almost laughed at himself for having been even slightly nervous earlier.
"As expected, their military strength is..."
Hemil, likely thinking the same, smirked and met Rihalt's eyes.
"All the better for us."
A neighboring territory weak in arms but rich in resources—
What more enticing prey could there be?
"We are envoys from the Viscounties of Silvan and Peretta. We bring word for the Baron of MacLaine."
Thus, they decided to begin with polite probing.
But the knight's stiff expression didn't soften at Rihalt's words.
"What business do two viscounties have—"
"We were informed that prior notice was sent. The details will be discussed directly with the Baron—"
"How dare a mere knight block the path of an envoy! Can you bear the consequences if problems arise?"
Tsk.
Rihalt clicked his tongue as Hemil's haughty outburst ruined his attempt to gently pry for information.
Not that he had grounds to stop him.
The knight grimaced slightly and took a step back.
"Follow me. I'll escort you."
Hemil wore an arrogant expression, as if demanding why the knight would yield so easily.
Rihalt suppressed another sigh but followed without complaint—there was no need to stir trouble.
Beyond the humble gate lay a sight even Rihalt had never seen before.
A massive cross-shaped boulevard, uniformly constructed houses, and unfamiliar facilities—though some emitted unpleasant odors, they were captivating nonetheless.
It lacked the refined elegance of famous cities but had a rugged, fresh charm.
And most strikingly—
"Kyahaha! Try and catch me!"
"Hey! You're 'it' this time!"
"I did it twice, so you have to do it twice too!"
"Kids, we have important guests! Don't run over there!"
Bright-faced villagers, free of shadows—
Such cheerful expressions were rare in Silvan territory, and Rihalt couldn't look away.
Perhaps it was their unusually clean appearance.
'Fascinating.'
Of course, some sights stood out uncomfortably.
A handful of villagers hiding upon seeing their banners—likely escaped peasants from their own territories.
Yet, their choice was understandable. This place truly seemed idyllic.
'Definitely worth taking.'
Suppressing a smirk, Rihalt casually addressed the knight leading them.
"An impressive place, Sir Dygrom. It rivals many castles."
"Huh? Ah... thank you."
Perhaps due to Rihalt's respectful tone—unlike Hemil's—Dygrom offered a small smile.
"Whoever conceived this must be quite visionary."
Rihalt tossed out another compliment to lift the knight's mood, but the reply caught him off guard.
"All of this is thanks to our Grand Prince."
"Excuse me?"
"The creation of this town and the reclamation of the wasteland—all were conceived by our Grand Prince."
"......I see."
Wasn't MacLaine's Grand Prince barely in his twenties?
Baffled, Rihalt pressed further, but the answers remained consistent.
—Our Grand Prince is wise, valiant, and leads the territory's development with greatness...
'This is exhausting. This bastard...'
He had hoped to gather some intel, but all he got was flattery.
This guy must be a real bootlicker.
Resigned, Rihalt gave up on further questions.
Better to trust his own observations.
As he scanned the surroundings, Hemil's haughty voice cut in.
"By the way, what's that stinking ditch? Why would they—"
A small canal running alongside the road, carrying wastewater—
An unsightly blemish in an otherwise clean town.
But to Rihalt, who recognized it—
"A sewer?!"
His mind reeled at the sight.
"Hm. You're familiar with it? Yes, that too was the Grand Prince's idea."
Though Dygrom nodded reluctantly at Hemil's displeasure, his tone brimmed with unmistakable pride.
Of course, Rihalt interpreted it differently.
"That's... truly remarkable."
"Yes, indeed. The Grand Prince is extraordinary."
'No, I meant you. You're going places... Tsk tsk.'
As if the Grand Prince personally designed such things.
Even he, who served under a tyrant, didn't grovel this shamelessly behind his back.
Rihalt couldn't help but admire the knight's dedication to flattery.
That aside, the town's infrastructure was impressive.
Most castles in the Grandia Kingdom were centuries old, making it difficult to implement modern sewage systems like those in imperial cities, which had been developing for over a hundred years.
Many nobles, aware of the benefits, still avoided the expense.
Thus, most castles reeked of filth and rot.
As someone who had studied administration at the academy, Rihalt had always wanted to introduce proper sewage systems first.
Of course, his lord had flatly refused due to the costs.
'They say cities with sewers have drastically lower rates of disease and epidemics.'
Yet, this massive fort had such advanced facilities.
'Well, this confirms it.'
MacLaine had clearly struck gold somewhere.
The plains, the fort, the sewage system—
All required massive upfront investment with no immediate returns.
Which meant—
'I can demand even more than I initially planned.'
As Rihalt pondered comfortably, the road through MacLaine Town soon reached its end.
Once past the eastern gate—similar to the western one—the distant silhouette of the old MacLaine Castle came into view.