The Magicless Lord Steps onto the Dung Heap (1)
The carriage jolted and rattled every time its wheels hit a rut in the frozen dirt road, the wooden frame shrieking in protest. The shock traveled straight through the thin cushion to my ass.
"Ugh!"
"Ow!"
Groans escaped from both of us unbidden. It felt like my spine was screaming. No suspension on this cheap-ass cart. The empire's northern winds cut like knives through flesh. And outside the window, an endless snowy landscape devoid of color. Everything perfectly mirrored my shitty situation.
"Young master."
My personal maid, Ella, sitting across from me, fixed her blue eyes on me and spoke up. She was bundled in three layers of blankets, but they couldn't stop her breath from fogging white. Whether from the cold or the grim future ahead, her face was pale as death.
"What?"
"Did you maybe short the coachman on his pay?"
"Nah, paid him full price."
"Then he's definitely trying to assassinate us. No other explanation for bouncing us around like luggage. My tongue nearly got bitten off back there!"
Ella stuck out her tongue and grumbled. When the family notified me I was getting kicked out, all the other servants bailed—except her, the one who packed her shit and hopped on this cart. Loyalty? Hell no. Orphan with nowhere to go; ditching this would leave her starving. Survival buddy, basically.
"Hang in there. We're almost there."
"You said that three hours ago. Be honest—does this Eisengrad we're headed to even show up on maps?"
"Of course. Empire's northernmost mining town. Strategic stronghold."
"'Strategic stronghold' usually means 'first to die in a war,' right?"
"Ahem..."
Her sharp jab hit home; I swallowed a dry cough. Couldn't really argue.
Kyle von Airhart. Third son of the Airhart count family, dubbed the Empire's Sword. But born mana-blind—no magic whatsoever. In noble society, that's not like not knowing how to use a smartphone on Earth. It's like missing limbs or being illiterate. Dead weight, family disgrace, useless fuck, cripple. That was me for the last twenty years.
The second I hit adulthood, Dad appointed me lord of some northern frontier dump. Go to a place that fits your station and live quietly without staining the family name. His parting words.
Lord of a domain? More like pre-exile exile. Any normal noble kid would despair, bite their tongue, or booze themselves to death. Hell, I considered it for a second.
But as I eyed the rock face of a passing cliff, I smirked to myself.
That's limestone. Main ingredient for cement. And those red rocks over there... gotta be iron ore.
Dad's rundown of my "domain"—really my prison—had my brain spinning. Yeah, I'm Kyle von Airhart in this world. But back on Earth, I was a mil-sim addict, mechanical engineering major, full-on gearhead who'd probably flunk out. Got chewed out by profs daily, but drafting blueprints, wiring circuits, cranking machines—that was my joy.
Magic here's cool, sure. Fireballs on command, people shredded with a gesture—convenient as fuck. But folks are missing something. Magic's an imperfect miracle; science is perfect law. Miracles flop if the caster's off or mana dips. Physics? Universal, equal opportunity. Seventh-circle archmage heart or goblin heart—doesn't matter. A lead slug at Mach 1 punches a hole either way.
Not sour grapes 'cause I can't use it. Even in this fantasy world, physics should hold. It better.
"We're here."
The coachman's voice came after what felt like forever, and the cart ground to a halt. End of the road.
I stretched my stiff legs and shoved open the door.
Whiiiiiish—!
A blade of north wind slapped my cheek the instant it cracked. Felt like minus twenty Celsius easy—murderous cold. My nasal passages froze solid.
"Fuuuck, it's cold."
Classic winter line as I took in my domain, Eisengrad.
"..."
"...Wooow."
Soul-less awe from Ella behind me.
"Young master. Impressive."
"...What is?"
"I was wrong. This ain't a war-death trap. It's already dead without war."
Her poison was spot-on. Walls crumbled to rubble piles. The so-called lord's castle was a hole-riddled wreck, basically a giant ruin. Villagers shambling around? Less serfs, more beggars.
"That's the... lord's castle?"
Ella pointed. Half the front gate gone, crows circling a gloomy husk.
"Yup. My house. And your new workplace to clean."
"For real? Sleep there and you won't just get lockjaw—you'll freeze solid by morning. I'm not unpacking. Can't we turn back?"
"Got anywhere to go if we do?"
"...Haa."
She sighed like the earth's collapsing, slung her dragging bag over her shoulder, and marched ahead. Grumbles aside, maid's gotta maid.
We passed the busted gate into the courtyard. Worse than outside. No weeds—just frozen dirt. Mystery white mounds piled mountain-high, abandoned god-knows-how-long.
"Eek!"
Ella pinched her nose and glared.
"What reeks? Rotten eggs mixed with piss—stabbing my nose!"
"Huh. Smells familiar."
I sniffed. Amid the frigid air, a sharp, ammonia tang.
This is...
I approached a mound. Bat colony up in the wall cracks, endless guano piling below.
"Young master! What're you doing? Gross!"
Ignoring her shriek, I scooped a gloved handful of the white powder. Rubbed it between fingers—crystalline crunch, nose-stinging ammonia.
"Hmmm..."
My lips curled ear-to-ear without thinking.
These fantasy idiots buy magic scrolls but wouldn't know treasure underfoot if it bit 'em. Guano. Potassium nitrate source. And that makes gunpowder's momma. The devil's brew that toppled empires on Earth, turned knight plate into museum junk. Here for the taking.
Part of my plan locked in already. Exile blues? Vanished. Mood skyrocketing—someone might think I'm nuts.
"Ella, grab a shovel."
"Huh? Why... too hopeless, gonna bury yourself? Sorry, ground's frozen solid."
"Nah. Gotta shovel this shit up."
I blew off her self-burial pitch, eyes gleaming at the dung field.
"All money. Priceless black gold."
"......"
Ella eyed me like cold and shock snapped my mind. She reached for my forehead, serious.
"No fever... Young master, snap out of it. It's bat shit. Shit!"
"Yup, shit. Process it right, and it'll burn hot as hell."
I dusted my glove and eyed the castle. Crumbling walls, starving peasants, stench. Hell to others. To me?
Natural fortress. Resource jackpot. No-interference lab paradise.
"Ella."
"Y-yeah?"
"Don't unpack."
"See? We're heading back, right? Right?!"
Her face lit up. I chuckled and shook my head.
"Nah. Gotta gut the whole place first. Bedrooms or whatever—rip it all out, turn it into a workshop."
"...Huh? Workshop?"
"Yeah. Gonna make this dung heap the noisiest spot in the empire."
Machine blueprints flashed in my head. Heart pounding like a pump.
World-changers ain't fancy wands. It's crude, loud, stinking steel and powder.
"Heat first. Something that roars without firewood."
I kicked the frozen castle door.
Bam—!
Ancient wood splintered, kicking up white dust.
"Cough, cough."
For a legend's start? Pretty rank and dusty first step. But hey, great things begin humble.