The Unfrozen Port (2)
When Ruby was young, I had used a mineral called firestone to turn an entire garden into a sea of flames. I remembered the firestone bill alone running past a million bhat per year.
Firestone was a substance that radiated light and heat when ignited. The core of my plan was to harness it to melt the frozen port.
So where did Daoist arts fit in?
Firestone alone couldn't melt a sea. Even millions of bhat had only managed to warm a single garden, so thawing a frozen ocean would require thousands, hundreds of millions of bhat worth of the stuff. At that point, the tail would be wagging the dog.
Daoist arts would serve to spread the fire energy of the firestone across the entire port. Think of it as a kind of amplifier.
I prepared travel provisions for the port northwest of the holy city. My companions were Uld, Opils, and four escort knights.
"Isn't the escort party a bit too small?"
Opils spoke in a worried tone.
"The north of the holy city lies close to the Demonic Realm. Public sentiment is concerning as well, and with only four knights, Your Grace's safety—"
"Didn't you say we're going to a small fishing village?"
"That's correct."
"Then there's nothing to fuss over. We're not going to be fawned on."
What was the point of dragging a full escort to a tiny village that hadn't even been incorporated into a barony? The fishermen would just be wasting their winter provisions on us.
"Uld."
I extended my hand toward Uld. It was to help her mount her horse. Basic etiquette — a nobleman assisting his fiancée onto her steed.
But Uld didn't grasp the meaning of my outstretched hand. She leaped onto the saddle as nimbly as a swallow skimming water, then noticed me standing there awkwardly and asked as if puzzled.
"Lord Iden?"
"...Never mind."
I'd definitely seen her reading a book of etiquette, but apparently she'd skipped chapter two.
I mounted my own horse. It felt strange riding something other than Ruby after so long.
Ruby had been included in the diplomatic mission to the Subterranean World at the Zaktar Kingdom's strong request. The plan was for her to tour the region for two months, displaying her majestic presence.
The journey from the holy city to Miren Port was a five-day ride on horseback. Since the port wasn't functioning as a port at all, there wasn't even a proper road.
Snowstorms battered us throughout the journey. Maps proved of little use, and signs of human presence grew increasingly scarce.
It was five days after leaving the holy city when the western coast finally revealed itself.
"Wow..."
Uld breathed in awe.
"The sea really is frozen over."
It was my first time seeing a frozen sea as well. Snow had piled thickly atop the ice, making it look almost like an extension of the land.
There was a village too. Shabby shanties stretched in a long line along the rocky shore. Opils muttered under his breath as he counted.
"Twenty-six households. The population is probably around eighty."
Just as I'd heard, Miren Port was no port. It may have borne that name in the past, but now it was nothing more than a remote backwater.
Children's laughter carried on the wind. In this bitter cold, small figures were darting about in every direction.
"People!"
"We have to tell the grown-ups!"
The children had been romping about excitedly, but upon spotting us, they scurried off and hid in a corner.
"They're wary of outsiders."
"They have little choice. This is a place beyond the reach of the duchy's administration."
Administratively, Miren Port was classified as a directly governed territory of the ducal house. In practice, however, it was as good as abandoned.
Collecting taxes required building roads and providing administrative and security services. What would be left after investing that much in a village the size of a grain of rice? That seemed to have been my predecessor's judgment.
"Hey, who goes there?"
A group of fishermen approached. They wore thick leather clothing and carried harpoons and nets. Their bushy beards and weathered skin told of a life that was anything but easy.
"It is His Grace the Duke. Kneel and show your respect."
"His Grace the Duke?"
The one who appeared to be their leader stepped forward boldly. He was a towering giant of a man, an anchor tattoo etched on his forearm — a sailor's mark, most likely.
"Which one of you is the Duke?"
The man tilted his head sideways and asked the escort knights.
"The one standing before you, you insolent fool."
"That's some bootlicking bullshit right there."
The man snickered.
"We may be ignorant worms who never got schooling, but you think we wouldn't recognize the Duke? If you're going to run a scam, at least do it properly. This little runt here is spouting off about being the 'Shield of the North.'"
"That's right, buddy. If you're the Shield of the North, then I'm the Harpoon of the North!"
"What kind of Duke with nothing better to do would come to a backwater like this?"
"He's got nothing to do, that's why. Now get lost before I skewer you with this."
The fishermen each threw in a jab, waving their harpoons threateningly. From the looks of it, news of the title changing hands had never reached this place.
"You heard him, right?"
The leader said.
"Get lost while I'm still talking. If you think fishermen are pushovers, you're in for a rude awakening. We make our living hunting sea monsters."
"That's right! We've even fought knights before!"
"These insolent bastards dare to speak to His Grace like—!"
The escort knight was about to explode.
"Enough."
I raised my hand to signal him.
"My apologies, Your Grace."
The knight bowed his head and quietly stepped back behind me.
I could see the fishermen's eyes wavering. Someone muttered, "No way, it can't be."
"Hey, you."
I called out to the giant before me. He was about eye level with me on horseback.
"What do you want?"
"What's your name?"
"If you're going to ask someone's name, you should introduce yourself first."
The man didn't lose an ounce of his confident bearing. I liked him.
Changing the weather wouldn't magically conjure a port. I'd need help from locals who knew the area well, and the man's group looked like perfect candidates.
"I'm Iden Esterji. If you know my father, you've heard my name too."
"Ha! That's some convincing nonsense. You're the most convincing con man I've seen come to rob our village. But if you're going to claim to be the Duke's son, shouldn't you have hired a few more mercenaries, 'Mister Iden Esterji'?"
Behind me, I could hear the knights grinding their teeth.
We did look rather shabby for a ducal procession. I'd traveled light since this was a rural hamlet with no nobles to meet, but maybe I should have brought an army if I'd known.
"My name's Groll. Now that you've heard it, get lost."
"Groll, is it."
I smiled.
There were plenty of ways to prove my identity to them. That could wait. There was something more pressing in what the man had said.
"Did you say you've fought knights before?"
"Why, did it sound like a joke?"
Groll bared his canines.
"Don't let appearances fool you — my nickname is the 'Harpoon King.' I've got an Awoken Ability too."
"Whose knight were you?"
"Baron Torres. If you don't believe me, go ask him yourself."
"How did you come into conflict with the Baron?"
"That wasn't a conflict, that was highway robbery. He shows up out of nowhere demanding eighty percent of our catch. Beating the shit out of someone like that isn't even a crime under the law."
I turned to Opils. He adjusted his glasses and answered.
"I've heard the name. He's likely a vassal of Count Andrassy."
I'd said that collecting taxes required providing administrative and security services. Land without that much value was bound to be abandoned.
This Torres fellow seemed to have come up with a genius solution. Instead of the troublesome work of providing services, just draw your sword and take what you want.
But there was a more fundamental problem.
"Opils, didn't you say Miren Port is my directly governed territory?"
"Th-that's correct. It seems that after being neglected for so long, the lower noble has forgotten his place."
The balls on this guy. A lower noble laying hands on the ducal house's directly governed territory.
He probably figured Miren Port would never be developed again. Who would expect the Duke to care about what happens in a backwater like this?
"...Something's off."
Groll tilted his head.
"Our Duke definitely isn't some young pup, and he wouldn't come all the way here with just six people... But something about this feels off, I tell you."
"Could he actually be the real Duke?"
A man standing behind said uncertainly.
"I think I've heard that one of Duke Drek's sons is named Iden. And if I remember right, that person's distinguishing feature was..."
"What feature?"
"White hair, and supposedly incredibly handsome."
Groll stared intently at my face, then shook his head.
"Then it's not him. This runt isn't much to look at."
Suddenly a killing intent shot out from behind me. Uld was glaring at Groll with murderous eyes.
"And look at those knights over there. Their armor's giving off a faint glow — isn't that Oradium?"
"Oradium?"
The fishermen stirred. Identity could be faked, but equipment didn't lie. What lord in the duchy other than me would equip their personal knight order with Oradium?
"Maybe they just polished their armor really well. Don't get worked up."
Groll insisted stubbornly.
"You're a fun one, Groll."
I smiled at him.
"If I had more time, I'd play along longer, but we have a busy road ahead, so let's wrap this up."
"And how exactly do you plan to wrap it up? Let me be clear — we don't owe you high-and-mighty lords a damn thing. I don't know who you are, but if you're hoping we'll pay taxes, wake up from that dream."
"Then I suppose I'll have to make you owe me first."
I drew a single talisman from my coat.
Puppet Arts,
The Chapter of Animated Figurines.
This was the technique I'd used when fighting the flame giant. I'd made snowmen with it and set them against the giant in battle.
Animated Figurines had been my favorite among the techniques I'd learned from my master. I never much cared for direct physical combat.
Rrrrrrumble...
The ground beneath us began to shake as if in an earthquake.
"Wha—?"
"An earthquake?"
The fishermen lost their balance and staggered.
Crack, crack-crack——!
The earth split open, and massive arms of stone shot upward.
"Monsters!"
The fishermen cried out in shock. Our knights, on the other hand, didn't so much as flinch. They'd guessed what was coming the moment I drew the talisman.
"B-Boss..."
The fishermen retreated shakily. And the giants weren't just one. Identical figures were springing up in countless numbers, surrounding the village.
Now that I'd reached the Nascent Soul realm, Animated Figurines had become too small a vessel to contain my Daoist power.
So I dismantled the core principles of Animated Figurines piece by piece and forged a far more powerful new technique.
Namely——
Puppet Arts,
The Chapter of Myriad Soldiers Created.
This was the first technique I had ever created myself.
"Kneel."
Grrrind...
The giants slowly knelt before me. The sight of hundreds of clay figures kneeling on a snow-covered plain carried an epic, sweeping grandeur.
The clay figures were laborers for the massive construction project about to begin. Part of the reason I'd brought fewer people was because I'd planned to use Puppet Arts from the start.
"Y-you're... you can't be..."
Groll swallowed hard. Thick beads of sweat were running down his temples.
"You can bet it's exactly what you think."
I looked at him with a mischievous smile.
"The Duke who isn't much to look at."