The Start of the Rehabilitation Project
Rodin cracked his neck once, as if the whole thing was a massive hassle. Crack. Pop. The sound of his joints snapping into place echoed unnaturally loud. Dragging his pickaxe along the ground, he walked alone toward an army of hundreds. Sparks flew as the tip of the pickaxe scraped against the stone floor.
The five hundred elite knights drew their swords in unison, all of them leveled straight at Rodin. But in his eyes, they weren't threatening warriors at all. They were nothing more than annoying weeds that had come to ruin his peace, Veronica's sleep, and his precious cabbage patch.
"Looks like today's fertilizer harvest is gonna be bountiful," Rodin muttered under his breath.
The moment the words left his lips, a vivid blue sword aura exploded from the tip of his foot. The earth screamed as it split apart, and a heavy shockwave snapped the surrounding trees like twigs.
"Th-this aura...! Could it be... the legendary... Sword Master? That's impossible!"
The messenger's face turned ash-gray in an instant. He instinctively tried to wheel his horse around, but it was already too late.
"All troops, charge! Kill that bastard! He's only one man!" the messenger screamed.
Hundreds of cavalry thundered across the ground toward Rodin. He slowly lowered the pickaxe from his shoulder, gripping it properly. Then he swung it once, with all his strength.
"Shut up and die. And don't wake my wife."
KWAAAAAANG—!
As Rodin's pickaxe cleaved through the air, a colossal sword aura capable of shaking the entire mountain surged forward like a tidal wave, swallowing the army whole.
Early dawn. The front yard of the stronghold.
Thick morning fog clung to the ground before the main gate of Black Mane Mountain Stronghold. The path that should have been wrapped in silence rang with a bizarre metallic scrape.
Scraaaaape— The sound of a heavy iron mass dragging across the dirt.
Out of the darkness emerged Rodin, a crude pickaxe slung over one shoulder. Behind him, the field where the Empire's elite knights had set up camp with such arrogance just hours earlier now looked as if a massive herd of wild boars had rampaged through it. The terrain was utterly devastated.
The five hundred knights? They were gone. Only broken sword blades, crushed helmets, and ownerless boots remained, scattered across the ground as silent witnesses to last night's "weeding."
"Ugh, my back. Those weeds were tougher than they looked," Rodin said with a huge yawn as he stepped into the yard. Not a single drop of blood stained his clothes. He looked as calm as a man returning from a casual morning stroll.
"B-Boss...?"
Dagan, who had been trembling behind a gate post, crept out. His gaze fixed on the forest path behind Rodin—where the very geography had been rewritten.
"You really took care of all five hundred by yourself? And what happened to that hill over there? Did you redraw the map with your pickaxe?"
"Shut it. I just chased off some pests that were disturbing my sleep and cleared a few rocks that were in the way of my field work," Rodin replied, waving his hand as if it were nothing.
"Hey, Dagan. Go collect all that scrap metal lying around. Imperial armor ought to fetch enough to cover next season's fertilizer."
"Hiiik! R-Right away, Boss! As expected of our leader—the strongest farmer in all humanity!"
Gil, equally moved, wiped away tears as he rushed off pulling a cart.
Rodin watched his subordinates hurry away and scratched the back of his head.
What a pain in the ass... Maybe now I can finally grow my cabbages in peace.
But contrary to his hopes, the lady of the house was already hatching another colossal plan.
Inside the stronghold's makeshift office.
Rodin sat crookedly on the sofa, staring blankly at the thick stack of documents Veronica had thrust at him. Even though she clearly hadn't slept a wink, her eyes sparkled like jewels.
She set down a steaming cup of tea in front of him and spoke.
"I'm sorry, Rodin. My thinking was too shallow. I shouldn't have brought outsiders in and prodded at your old wounds."
"As long as you know. And don't ever call in any more mercenary types. They make me sick."
Rodin took a sip of tea. Veronica met his gaze without flinching and cut straight to the point.
"Then I have a suggestion. If we can't trust outsiders, we'll just make our own people."
"Make what?"
"Train those ragtag bandits yourself. If even one-tenth of the legendary Mercenary King's skills are passed on to them, most knight orders will look like a joke."
Rodin nearly choked.
"Those idiots? Princess, it'd be a hundred times faster to teach swordsmanship to cabbages. Their heads aren't filled with brains—they're filled with air."
"I'll provide all the administrative support so you don't have to strain yourself. You just need to share a little of that overwhelming power. To protect our home."
At the words our home, Rodin's hand froze.
Veronica gently placed her soft hand over his and whispered.
"Yes. This is our territory—the land where you and I can peacefully plant cabbages and grill meat. The only ones who can protect it are you and the people you raise."
Rodin looked up at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh. It seemed this princess had him completely wrapped around her finger.
"Haa... You're seriously a genius at working people to the bone. Fine. Starting tomorrow, I'll show them hell. I'll train them so hard they won't even have the strength left to scream. Don't come crying to me later."
Veronica smiled in victory. It was the historic moment when the continent's mightiest legion began to take shape.
The next morning.
KWAAAAAANG—!
The center of the training yard split open, sending a massive cloud of dust into the air. The bandits, who had been sound asleep, screamed and tumbled out of their beds.
"Wh-what the hell?! Is it an ambush?!"
"Fire! No, it's an earthquake!"
The bandits, still in their underwear, scrambled into the drill ground. There stood Rodin, with none of his usual lazy demeanor. His eyes were as cold as a hawk eyeing prey, and in his hand was a pickaxe rippling with blue aura.
"If you're not lined up within three seconds, I'll plant you in the field as fertilizer instead of people this morning. One."
"Aaaaaagh! We're lined up! We're lined up!"
Dagan and Gil frantically kicked their subordinates into formation. Rodin didn't even glance at a clock as he spoke coldly.
"Starting today, you are no longer bandits. You are the guardians of this territory... No. You are elite soldiers who will protect my precious cabbage patch. My method is simple. I'll work you until you're on the verge of death. If you actually die, we'll just bury you and recruit someone new."
Rodin pointed at the mountain peak with his pickaxe.
"Right now, each of you carry one of those rocks you see up there and run to the summit and back ten times. Anyone even one minute late gets a personal pickaxe lesson from me. Begin!"
"P-Please spare us!!! This isn't training, it's torture!"
The bandits' desperate screams echoed across the mountains, but there was no mercy in Rodin's expression. He swung his pickaxe, striking precisely at their heels to drive them up the slope.
Under the blazing afternoon sun, the training ground had become literal hell.
Dagan crawled along with his tongue hanging out, a massive rock on his back. Gil's eyes were half-vacant, as if his soul had already left his body.
Rodin sat in a chair under a shade canopy, lazily swinging his pickaxe. Every swing sent sharp gusts of wind that barely missed the hair of any slacking bandits.
"Hey, Dagan! Why are your legs shaking like that? With legs that weak, how do you expect to protect cabbages? You couldn't even catch a single cabbage worm!"
"Boss... it's not my legs... it's my soul... my soul is leaving my body...!"
"Shut up. One more lap. Before my pickaxe flies out of my hand."
At that moment, Veronica appeared with an angelic smile. In her hands were cool iced water and a steaming meat stew.
"Everyone, just hang in there a little longer! It seems Rodin really cares about all of you. He's even giving you personal one-on-one lessons like this."
"Chief Administrator... this isn't love, it's abuse... No! I mean, it's love! Aaaaaah!"
The smell of meat brought life back into Gil's eyes, and he started running again with renewed vigor.
Veronica approached Rodin and gently massaged his shoulders.
"Don't be too harsh. What if they actually die?"
"Don't worry. They're like weeds—they won't die that easily. And Princess, don't baby them too much. Fertilizer needs to be worked hard to turn out right."
Rodin grumbled, but he accepted the cool cup of water she offered and let a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
Even in the midst of hellish training, a strange vitality had begun to fill the stronghold.
As the sun set and darkness fell over the stronghold, the grueling day finally came to an end. The bandits lay sprawled across the training ground, sleeping like corpses. Rodin, rolling his stiff shoulders, returned to his bedroom.
He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Just then, the door opened softly and Veronica slipped inside. She carried a basin of warm water and a clean towel.
"What is it? Why aren't you sleeping? It's a hassle."
"I need to reward our lord for all his hard work today."
Veronica naturally knelt at his feet. She placed his rough, scar-covered feet into the warm water and began to wash them with careful hands.
"Hey... You're supposed to be an imperial princess. This is something maids do. Hurry up and go to sleep."
Rodin tried to pull his foot away in embarrassment, but Veronica gripped his ankle even tighter.
"This is something your lady of the house is doing for you. Not as the Empire's Princess Veronica, but as the Veronica of this stronghold. Thank you, Rodin. For not running away and staying here. And for picking up the sword—no, the pickaxe—again for my sake."
Her sincere gaze pierced straight into Rodin's heart. Unable to handle the embarrassment, he turned his head away.
"...If I ran away, there'd be no one left to handle the books. You know I can't do math, right? I'm just staying because it's too much of a hassle to leave."
Rodin reached out with a casual hand and gently stroked her soft hair. Veronica buried her face in his lap and narrowed her eyes like a contented cat.
Between the two of them, a solid, unshakable trust had taken root—one that needed no fancy words.