“Proper rest my foot. People must be wrung out to be productive.”
“What? Why such frightening words all of a sudden?”
Dwain, who had been organizing approved documents, asked with a startled expression.
“Ah, no. Just absurd occurrences.”
As Logan ruminated over his feelings of betrayal, the daily life of a certain dwarf in the workshop became increasingly arduous.
Although minor variables arose in the crossbow production, overall, there were no significant issues.
In fact, the progress had quickened.
Hamar, with dark circles under his eyes that had spread across his eyelids, managed to produce crossbows for all soldiers in just a few weeks.
As a result, the soldiers’ training began to gain momentum.
Most importantly, the achievement of settling residents from two territories into the newly completed 10,000-household facilities of Maclaine Town, as planned, was the greatest success.
“Wow! Mom! Is this our house?!”
“Wow! It’s huge! Are we really going to live here?”
“Ye-yes, that seems to be the case. How did they…?”
A woman, carrying a baby on her front and back, burst into tears at her children’s words.
A wooden two-story house.
The awkward layout, being very close to neighboring houses and barely the size of 20 pyeong per floor, was irrelevant.
Compared to the leaky straw-roofed houses they had lived in all their lives, it might as well have been a palace.
“I was worried about how we’d survive this winter. This is truly a relief.”
The tears streaming down her face were those of someone pushed to the brink, now relieved by a ray of hope.
“But Mom…”
“Hmm? What is it, child?”
“Will Dad be able to find our new house?”
“…Yes. If our Anna listens to Mom well, eats and grows well, your father will also return safely.”
“Really? For real?”
“Yes.”
A conversation between a four-year-old sister and her mother.
The 12-year-old firstborn, now slightly aware of death, frivolously covered his eyes as he looked to the sky.
His mother, seeing this, clutched at her aching heart again.
Until a few months ago, she had only thought about dying following her deceased husband.
‘We’re given food, a place like this to live, and even land to cultivate…’
Now, she had newfound hope.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
She bowed again and again, grateful to the nobles far away whom she could neither see nor hear.
The resentment toward the nobles who had caused needless wars began to fade a little.
The relocated residents, mostly those who had been struggling in the two previous territories, were all satisfied with the new settlement and cheered enthusiastically.
Each voice did not carry far, but together, their cheers filled the town, creating an overall bright atmosphere.
The very person they were so grateful for could distinctly feel this uplifting mood.
“Having lots of people around seems to liven things up. It’s nice to see.”
Clayton remarked, and Logan nodded in agreement.
“But it still needs to grow. I can see more space suitable for houses.”
Maclaine Town was set to become the central hub for the growing territory.
From the top of the Mage Tower, Logan looked down at the town with a bright smile.
* * *
“Now that the village construction is complete, the crossbows will be finished by the end of the month as promised.”
“Good work.”
“…”
“What’s wrong, why aren’t you leaving?”
“It’s just that…”
“Ah, right. I have to give this to you.”
Thud.
Before the hesitating Hamar, Logan placed down a huge ingot of silver metal.
“What is this all about?”
“What do you mean? It’s mithril. Make some weapons for the knights.”
“…”
“What’s wrong? Isn’t working with rare metals a dwarf’s romance?”
“Uh, well… romance…”
“Why, isn’t it?”
“Ah, yes. Yes, of course, it’s romantic.”
“Right? That’s the spirit! Then take all the vacation you want. Six months is enough, right?”
“Vacation? Six months of vacation?!”
“You don’t like long vacations?”
“No, no, that’s not it at all! Thank you!”
“Enjoy it. Experience the true essence of romance while processing mithril. I’m looking forward to seeing what splendid weapons you’ll produce.”
“…Weapons?”
“Yeah. A romantic vacation with mithril. You should be able to make at least 80 pieces in six months, right?”
“Ha… Damn…”
“What?”
“No, nothing.”
The dwarf bowed his head, trembling but ultimately unable to say anything more.
With spring approaching, preparations for a leap forward were steadily progressing.
* * *
“The land clearing is going smoothly. If anything, we have a manpower shortage considering the size of the land.”
“Does that matter?”
“Not really. I’m actually looking forward to this year’s harvest.”
Field manager Rugel Haze’s bald head shone in the spring sunlight, reflecting the bright spirit of Maclaine.
“Rumors of our plains and town have even spread to other regions.”
“What?”
Logan took unexpected interest in the passing comment, to which Rugel explained with a slight confusion.
“…Yesterday, dozens of refugees came to the town. They seemed to be slash-and-burn farmers, having heard about us from the merchant groups that supply us with food.”
“Hm. Quicker than I thought.”
“Yes. It seems they’re refugees, after all. They probably came out of a ‘just in case’ mentality.”
In this era, most commoners belonged to a country or territory, living and paying taxes based on their earnings. But not all rulers were wise, nor were all territories livable.
Where tyrannical overlords reigned or war broke out, residents would flee troubled territories, take to the mountains, and become slash-and-burn farmers. Hitting a limit or discovered by other rulers, they would wander aimlessly as roaming refugees.
Just hearing rumors of vast new farmland and flocking to it indicated they must have been in dire straits.
And if such numbers continued to increase…
“Huh…”
“Why are you laughing so ominously, sir?”
Dwain, who stood beside Logan, shivered with an unknown anxiety and asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’”
“Ignore it. You took in those refugees, right?”
“…Yes.”
With land to spare, accepting refugees was no big deal.
“Any precautions?”
“They’ve been briefed on the basic laws of the territory, and they’ve been told that causing trouble could lead to expulsion. We plan to handle future refugees in the same manner.”
“Good. Well done.”
“I’m still not comforted…”
Ignoring Dwain’s murmurs, Logan merely smiled.
The news that Maclaine was welcoming refugees quickly began to spread among the slash-and-burn farmers and tenant farmers in the kingdom’s southwestern region.
By early summer, months later, nearly 5,000 refugees had settled in the town.
This caused neighboring territories to react sensitively to the trend.
* * *
“Maclaine?”
“Yes. Maclaine Castle has reclaimed the wasteland to the west.”
“Huh. That barren land?”
The report from his subordinate left Marquis Max Ferretta speechless in disbelief.
When Thesron foolishly started a war and got devoured by Maclaine instead, it was surprising, but he thought it was possible. Padric Maclaine was a formidable force in terms of military prowess, even if he was considered a madman for operating a knight order of fifty from the desolate Maclaine Castle.
At the time, he had considered it a ridiculous move by Thesron to trouble that land.
But this was different and unbelievable.
“They could reclaim that land?”
“I was curious, so I checked. They dug into the mountain to divert water from the Luter River.”
“…They dug through a mountain? Madmen, truly. They’ve reclaimed wasteland with that insanity?”
“Yes. Scouts confirm it’s true.”
“Haha. How did they even think of such a task, let alone afford it? Did Maclaine have the money?”
“There’s a rumor that Thesron had surplus funds, or that the Duke’s son made some profitable business deal. There are also rumors of a gold mine strike and even divine money falling from the sky…”
Max Ferretta waved off his subordinate’s continuation.
“Whatever outlandish rumors there may be, let’s focus on the tangible facts. Reclamation is confirmed, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And how does this reclaimed land compare to ours?”
“At least three times larger than ours, sir.”
“Hm. Even if yields are less because it was once wasteland, it’s twice ours.”
“That’s right.”
Overnight, their neighbor had become rich. To sit back and cheer would be unbecoming of true nobility. At least by the standards he knew.
“Hm. We can’t just leave it… Do we have any pretext?”
“There’s no need to create one. Some serfs escaped to their pioneering village. With the excuse of apprehending them, we could enter their territory.”
At the Marquis’ question, his subordinate Rihalt hurriedly responded.
“Oh, serfs of ours, my property? That gives us a legitimate reason. What shall we demand in return?”
“As you wish, either that land or the plains adjacent to Thesron. The only problem is…”
Rihalt’s voice trailed off, but the Marquis understood him perfectly.
“Tsk. Alone, it could be risky, could it not?”
Max Ferretta clicked his tongue, although he didn’t seem too worried.
Ferretta’s forces were incomparable to the trampled Thesron, numbering over 120 knights and nearly 2000 regular soldiers. On top of that, they had two towns with nearly 40,000 permanent residents.
He proudly believed his position to be stronger in every aspect than the plains adjacent to Thesron Castle.
But.
“Soto Sylvan. That’s the problem.”
“That’s right. It would be painful to get stabbed in the back.”
“A pain would be a best-case scenario.”
Max Ferretta chuckled dryly, remembering his northern rival.
Although his peer only held one castle, the military force there was not far off from those garrisoned across his two castles.
Moreover, that castle now bordered the territory of Maclaine, which once belonged to Thesron.
An eternal thorn in his side.
“Damn, it’s become troublesome. As much as I became an upper-class knight, Padric would be too much to handle, right?”
“Uh!”
Subdued by the Marquis’s sudden burst of energy, Rihalt paled but nodded.
“Yes. Padric Maclaine became an upper-class knight 20 years ago. To confront him personally would be problematic. If you act alone against Maclaine, it will cost blood. Then, if Sylvan strikes from behind…”
“Yes, I share the sentiment. Good insight, you have.”
“I’m honored.”
While others might have construed this as contempt for a ruler, Max Ferretta was not only ambitious but cautious.
Though he believed Maclaine could not have recovered so quickly from its injuries, nor become stronger in just one year, he wanted to be prepared for any slim chance.
“Contact Sylvan. They charge as high taxes as us. Surely, many have fled from there, too, no?”
“Of course. It’s obvious what those rabble think.”
Ferretta and Sylvan were among the territories in the kingdom with the highest tax rates at 70%.
If they lured them in, they could swallow Maclaine with ease.
‘A coalition of two lords. Whether Maclaine gets seized entirely or mostly isn’t for them to decide anymore.’
Max Ferretta felt like the fruitful land was already within his grasp.
“Going there just because the tax rate is lower… How naive. Anyhow, they’re sure to raise the taxes substantially after the land is cultivated. Tsk, tsk, short-sighted fools.”
“Isn’t that the limit of commoners?”
“Yes, that’s why we’re the rulers. Well, proceed.”
“Yes!”
“As much as I hate to share the spoils, it can’t be helped.”
“A wise choice.”
Even if Maclaine was intact or had grown stronger, an alliance between the two lords would be impossible to stop.
The sudden prosperity of Maclaine was nothing more than a feast laid out before them.
At least, that’s what everyone in the room believed.