Episode 16 In Alta Zade
Baron Plian had been in high spirits these days.
When everything flows smoothly, feeling bad would be the strange thing.
Farewell to the debt that had always weighed on his chest.
Farewell to the perpetually gloomy faces of his subjects.
Lately the tenants walked around beaming, swinging the gleaming tools they had bought in the royal capital. With good tools they tilled the fields smoothly, felled trees in a snap, shaved wood with swift strokes—everyone was as giddy as Baron Plian himself.
Thanks to that, Baron Plian’s popularity within the domain was now likened to that of an angel.
The neighboring lords, too, had grown wonderfully cordial.
When he’d had no money and was in dire straits, merely asking a favor had drawn nothing but sour looks and a torrent of “helpful” advice.
“Hey, Baron Plian, you can’t do it like that.”
“I know, because I’ve tried it myself…”
What! When did I ever ask for your coaching?!
The baron’s irritation had always risen to the very tip of his throat, yet he could only swallow it, for back then he had been the one in need.
But those days were long gone.
Now the neighboring lords were nothing more than nodding dolls.
“Hmm? You want us to join forces and reclaim this land together? Hoho, splendid! Truly, Baron Plian—so wise!”
“Lower the tariffs between us? Oh my. Delightful. Thank you!”
Day by day the baron’s shoulders climbed higher.
So this is how sweet success tastes…
Even the problem that had plagued him for ages had been solved at a stroke.
All the fertile, wide land of Alta Zade—over which he had long been at odds with Viscount Felix—had been incorporated into the barony!
That held truly special meaning.
After all, a noble’s power ultimately sprang from the land.
It was a colossal achievement, raising the rank of House Verité, merely a baronial family, by a whole tier!
And to think it had been accomplished with no more than a single bottle of wine and a cart of grapes……!
Long live His Majesty, King of the Kingdom of Grand Dublanc!
Long live my son Perseta as well!
“Father? Why are you suddenly throwing both hands in the air…?”
“Hum! Ahem! It is nothing at all.”
When Zwart, who was surveying Alta Zade with him, cast a puzzled glance, Baron Plian cleared his throat and slowly lowered his arms—yet even in that embarrassing moment he could not keep the corners of his mouth from creeping upward.
“Ha ha ha! Do you see it? This fertile land!”
“Truly amazing. Farm here and the yield will be half again as much.”
“Exactly! And so broad besides! Hah…… The only problem is that we lack the hands to cultivate it. That is the problem!”
Laughing heartily like a child, the baron rejoiced, and Zwart watched his father with a broad grin.
Really, it’s a blessing Brother came back. Everything flows so smoothly.
He and Father had fretted so much over this land of Alta Zade— Not only the land, but their pride had been deeply wounded.
Viscount Felix had openly broken custom and treated House Verité with contempt. Seeing that, yet unable even to lodge a proper protest, realizing theirs was such a weak house—it had been so infuriating he could scarcely swallow food.
Now the king himself had stepped in, given the ruling, and even shown House Berité favor—there could not be a more exhilarating ending.
And yet…
“Father, are you crying?”
“I am not!”
Sniff.
With a sound that might have been swallowing tears or mucus, Baron Plian hastily turned his head away.
While Baron Plian and Zwart shared their elation, Perseta, Salinelle, and Illianne had moved a little off, debating hotly over Alta Zade’s wide fields.
“The land is so vast that reclaiming it with just the tenants seems impossible. We could borrow labor from neighboring domains, but… could we solve it with magic instead?”
Illianne had raised the first proposal.
At that intriguing, rewarding, and challenging issue, both Perseta and Salinelle, the two mages, had their eyes light up.
Perseta opened fire.
“Isn’t it simple? Install a Spirit-Realm Resonance Circle here and borrow the aid of earth spirits—”
Salinelle shot back at once.
“That’s easy for you! For ignorant mages like us to lay a resonance circle over this whole expanse—do you know how much time and money that takes? Unless you’d care to show off once and fix it with a single spell.”
“That’s a bit…”
“Knew it! You always hate standing out!”
Salinelle seemed thoroughly angry with Perseta for some reason.
Illianne, who had been thinking, raised her hand.
“Wait! Brother’s idea does have merit. Sure, a circle covering all of Alta Zade is absurd, but—what if we set up small ones here and there in the fields?”
Salinelle frowned.
“Well, it’s possible… but would that have any effect?”
“We use earthquake magic!”
“Earthquake magic?”
“Yes! Borrow earth spirits’ power to shake the ground at various points. Plowing would become far easier overall, right? Hardened soil and loosened soil are worlds apart.”
It was reasonable. Salinelle began to be drawn in.
“Oh… then building on that, if we mix a bit of the resonance-soil into the plough-making process, the ploughs themselves will bite deeper. Earth-spirit power, and all that.”
“A great idea!”
Perseta would not stay quiet.
“Then how about this? Dry hay atop a resonance circle.”
Salinelle’s and Illianne’s ears pricked up.
Perseta, excited, explained.
“If cows eat hay imbued with earth-spirit power, they’ll tire far less.”
“Oh… excellent.”
Always looking for a chance to take the contrary stance, Salinelle agreed this time.
“And we can also try this method…”
The three put their heads together in earnest, devising ways to boost farming efficiency through magic.
Perseta found it more delightful and exhilarating than he had imagined.
Ah! One doesn’t always need grand magic!
Using simple spells anyone could cast, creatively, to reap countless gains. Ideas that were “appropriate technology” for this era yet a great help to life.
Finding such things brought immense intellectual pleasure
It’s fun! It’s fun!
Perseta’s excitement grew, and that mood spread to Salinelle and Illianne as well.
Thus the three mages plunged deep into their own little world.
Because of that, they noticed late that Viscount Felix—who, owing to a sudden royal decree, had lost this honey-sweet land of Alta Zade—had arrived at the head of a heavily armed force.
“Viscount Felix! W-what is the meaning of this!” Baron Plian’s eyes blazed with fury.
“What meaning? Hearing that the baron prospers these days, I came to congratulate you.”
Viscount Felix, with eyes cold and utterly un-congratulatory, sat atop his horse and glowered at the baron.
The ten or so soldiers guarding the baron had already been forced far back by the twenty heavily armored men the viscount had brought.
“Out of my way!”
“You filthy dogs of Felix Domain!”
The barony’s soldiers hurled themselves forward, seething, but the viscount’s men were no ordinary elites. Armor hard as a wall and the strength of bulls— they herded the baron’s men as though they were children.
They fumed, yet had no other recourse.
Viscount Felix was a noble of the realm; without the baron’s order they could not draw steel. Sheer muscle had to serve, but the other side was an iron wall.
And the baron dared not order an attack—should blood flow, they would be the ones to suffer.
“Do you realize how many of the kingdom’s customs you are breaking?”
Baron Plian bellowed, but the viscount only let out a cold laugh.
“I don’t know what you mean. Isn’t your hospitality a bit sparse, Baron?”
Clop, clop.
He urged his horse closer. The baron stood with head stiffly held, refusing to cower, yet before a mounted man he looked perilously unsteady.
“Step back!”
Into the gap stepped the second son, Zwart, drawing up his aura to block the viscount.
The viscount snorted.
“Ah, yes. A fine son—second at the Imperial Knights Academy, I hear?”
“Viscount, allow us to handle this,” said three mounted knights at his side, but he shook his head.
“Tsk tsk. He is the young lord; greeting him personally is only proper.”
Without dismounting, Viscount Felix drew his cavalry saber.
Long to begin with, even for a saber meant for horseback, it was absurdly long and thick.
“Zwart, was it? This saber is a treasure of our house. Take a look; since you are a knight, I’m sure you like cavalry sabers.”
Thud!
“Ugh-uh-ugh!”
Saying “take a look,” he slammed the sheathed blade straight down.
Zwart caught it with both hands, but could not bear the weight; his body trembled.
“Kkh… kuck!”
Aura clashed between their grips. Zwart strained to endure, yet the viscount’s overwhelming aura was too much.
He was the master of an esteemed eastern knight-house; no matter Zwart’s rank at the academy, the young man could scarcely match such force.
And the gap was not merely aura.
“Gift Knight…”
Within the viscount’s saber pulsed an inexplicable weight beyond aura—like a mountain bearing down. It could only be the supernatural power knights awaken to: a Gift.
“So you recognize it. The gift granted only to chosen knights. I’m graciously giving you a taste, hoping you, too, will attain one someday.”
“G-gh…”
A pitiful sight.
The viscount sat leisurely on horseback; Zwart, clutching the scabbard, was about to be crushed. His trembling knees hit the ground, arms sank, back ready to fold.
“Enough! Please, enough! Why are you doing this? Alta Zade was settled by royal decree!”
As Baron Plian raised mana and stepped forward, only then did Viscount Felix lift the saber.
His eyes gleamed coldly.
“Yes. Settled by royal decree. Settled indeed. And lest you be mistaken by that, I came here.”
Click.
The saber now pointed at the baron.
“Do not be deluded, Plian. I don’t know how you wheedled His Majesty, but this is the gap between us—this is reality. Before me, nothing protects you. Even in your own castle it would be the same. If you care for your family, know your place and act accordingly.”
A threat—implying that, if need be, he could strike first and wipe the house out. Royal punishment would follow, but could any sentence equal the ruin of an exterminated house?
Baron Plian trembled with humiliation.
“What… are you doing?”
And he saw it:
His eldest son, Perseta, advancing with an expression he had never before seen.
Face deathly pale, lips trembling.
With each step— as though the ground itself folded—Perseta, who had been far across the field, slid closer, enlarging.
Behind him Illianne and Salinelle hurried in pursuit.
Tap.
Perseta reached them, helped Zwart to his feet, and asked once more,
“Did you… tell us to know our place?”
Flinch.
Was it those pitch-black eyes?
Or the dark energy flowing under his feet?
Viscount Felix shivered before he knew it, seized by an inexplicable dread.
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