Chapter 100

Revival (1)

The county had been abuzz with excitement over Seraphia's recovery, filled with joyful cheers and children's laughter. Now, even that joy lay buried beneath the silence before dawn.

THUD!

Another heavy crash rang out. Bernard straightened his clothes and hurried outside.

The bitter winter was passing in the county, but the predawn air was still cold. Bernard quickened his steps without even stopping to pull his collar closed.

The first people he spotted were the soldiers on night watch at Whitewolf Castle. They stood dazed, torches in hand.

"U-ugh...!"

"Hah...!"

The torchlight illuminated their faces, frozen in utter astonishment. Bernard naturally followed their gazes.

And then...

"...!!!!"

His eyes went wide as well. He could only gape at the sight before him.

Enormous wooden crates. Grain sacks covered with cloth. Baskets brimming with fine fabrics. Heaps upon heaps of supplies.

The overwhelming sight was, without the slightest exaggeration—

"I-impossible...!!"

It was as though Frecce's entire marketplace had been transplanted here.

* * *

Connor, owner of the Golden Fields Trading Company, was a member of the Frecce merchants’ guild who primarily sold and distributed grain. His wares ranged from barley, wheat, rye, oats, buckwheat, and corn to precious rice imported from the south.

Recently, however, the lawless city of Violess had fallen. Until then, Violess had controlled several trade routes and frequently plundered supplies by force. Naturally, no one had dared undertake a trading expedition there. Even the major trade routes nearby had effectively been blocked.

Its fall therefore meant an expansion of the continent's trade routes. As new routes opened, trade flourished in the trading city of Caravana, and grain poured in from other regions.

The result was oversupply. Demand, meanwhile, remained unchanged, leaving Connor's grain to pile up in a corner of his warehouse as dead stock.

Just when his worries about the future had become overwhelming...

"Y-you mean all of this...?!"

A black-haired man stood before him: Adrian Whitewolf, owner of the Predator Merchant Company.

THUNK!

The chest of gold coins he set down swept away every last worry in an instant.

Then Adrian reached out, and all the unsold grain piled in the warehouse vanished in a flash.

"Waaaaaagh?!"

Connor leaped into the air.

"For the items you didn't have enough of, please send the remainder to Whitewolf county."

At Adrian's additional order, Connor finally fainted.

Connor was not the only one. Grain was hardly the sole commodity left in oversupply after Violess's fall.

Perhaps that explained it.

"Hah! Hahahahahaha!!"

Berald, the textile merchant next door, could not stop grinning. Adrian had bought every last bolt of the fine silk that had been languishing in his warehouse.

Scenes like these played out endlessly throughout Frecce's streets.

"Here are your one hundred bundles of firewood!"

"I'll bring the two hundred rolls of parchment right away!"

The merchants called out, dripping with sweat, while Adrian nodded and drew up contracts.

Bakeries and taverns bustled to replenish their sold-out goods. Orders poured into the smithies without pause, their furnaces blazing.

The savory smell of food. The clang of hammers striking metal. The sounds of deals being struck.

Frecce's night shone brighter than any day.

Beneath the streetlamps, Frecce's staple goods were being bought up wholesale: grain, textiles, herbs, firewood, and other daily necessities, along with all manner of arms and armor.

"Three months' sales in a single day...?"

"G-good heavens...!!"

"Is this really happening?!"

Adrian's staggering spending power went beyond mere shopping. It shook the economy of all Frecce.

"Hire the best mercenaries at the mercenaries’ guild right now! We need them to protect the supplies we're sending to Whitewolf county!"

"We're out of ore to smelt? Then get after the miners’ guild!!"

"Send word to the gatherers’ guild at once! Tell them to gather herbs in bulk!"

It was an unprecedented economic boom, a vitality unlike anything they had ever seen.

After five days of this, people no longer regarded Adrian as merely the owner of the Predator Merchant Company. He had become a new symbol of Frecce's prosperity.

It went without saying that the merchants’ guild felt the same.

"Safe travels, Lord Adrian!!"

By now, everyone in Frecce was bent double in a full 180-degree bow.

* * *

Endless heaps of supplies.

Bernard's eyes swept along the rows of goods, which stretched on and on, even beyond Whitewolf Castle's storehouses.

"Hah... Hah...!"

A gasp of astonishment escaped him, leaving him scarcely able to breathe. Just as he found himself unable to close his mouth...

"Good timing."

A voice suddenly rang out.

"Lord Adrian...?"

It was none other than Adrian. He walked slowly toward Bernard between the stacks of supplies, looking perfectly composed, as though he had already known Bernard was there.

Bernard barely managed to move his gaping mouth.

"W-what is all this...?"

"Supplies to restore the county to proper working order and bring about its revival."

"... Pardon?"

"Anyway, that's what they're for. The explanation is complicated, so just leave it at that."

Adrian jerked his chin and continued.

"On that note, Bernard, gather all the county's Villagers tomorrow morning."

"By Villagers, you mean...?"

"Those who aren't engaged in any particular productive work."

Bernard could not readily answer.

"... Forgive my presumption, but may I ask why?"

Gathering the county's people was no simple matter. Summoning them without a reason would naturally provoke complaints. Adrian seemed to understand that too; fortunately, this time he offered an explanation.

"Bernard, as you know, the conditions in Whitewolf county make farming impossible."

The county was cold all year round, a place at the very limit of human habitation.

"The same goes for hunting, gathering, and raising livestock."

The frozen land could not sustain crops or animals. Hunting monsters was the county's only productive activity.

"That's why so many of the Villagers are women, isn't it?"

In other words, this was not an environment suited to productive work for women. As Adrian said, they accounted for the vast majority of the Villagers.

"Let's see..."

Adrian swept his gaze across empty air before continuing.

"There are 1,148 Villagers in the county. Of those, 410 are women aged fifteen to thirty-nine, and about 149 are women aged forty to fifty-nine."

"H-how did you know that...?"

Bernard's eyes widened. Those were figures no one could know without a precise grasp of the county's administration.

Knowing the population was central to administering a domain, for it measured the territory's labor force, economic strength, and military power. Such information enabled policies ranging from taxation and military mobilization to resource management and maintaining public contentment. Census-taking was not called the foundation of all territorial administration for nothing.

Yet it was also one of the most difficult administrative tasks. Without a standardized system, errors were commonplace, as were false reports driven by fear of taxes and conscription. Needless to say, there were too few census-takers to verify the figures. Even Bernard did not have such precise information.

In short, this was not something a wastrel could know.

Of course, Adrian was no longer a wastrel. But that change was recent. He had spent more than ten years living as one, steeped in gambling and debauchery rather than learning to administer a domain. How on earth could he...?

"That's 559 women in total. If we exclude those unable to work and those looking after children..."

Adrian glanced through the empty air again and continued.

"That leaves about 391."

"..."

Bernard was left speechless. That was not far from the figure he himself knew. Adrian was not simply throwing out random numbers. He had an accurate grasp of the county's administration.

"I intend to provide them with jobs."

"... Pardon?"

All of a sudden?

No, more importantly...

"What sort of jobs...?"

"Weaving, handicrafts, pottery, dyeing, textile production, even making ornaments and household goods."

These were all productive activities women were perfectly capable of doing. They did, however, all require some degree of expertise.

"I've prepared all the equipment and materials here."

Adrian indicated the endless rows of supplies with a glance.

"I'll provide all the support they need to find and learn work suited to their aptitudes and abilities."

"..."

"I'll pay them for their labor too. Though I'll collect taxes on it as well."

Only then did Bernard understand his intention: to build an economy within the county rather than depend on outside sources. At last, he understood Adrian's earlier remark about supplies to restore the county and bring about its revival.

"I'll establish the overall framework and systems, Bernard."

"Yes, please go on."

"You'll handle the details of implementation."

"... Me, my lord?"

"Not confident?"

"It isn't that, but..."

Bernard considered for a moment before speaking.

"Since the workers will be women, I worry there may be details I overlook."

There were subtle differences in perspective between the sexes. It was an unavoidable limitation. Bernard looked concerned that those differences might have a significant effect on the results. After all, this was a major undertaking directly tied to the county's revival.

"Hmm..."

Adrian seemed to acknowledge the point and fell briefly into thought.

"Then assist Seraphia with it."

"Lady Seraphia, my lord?"

"... Ah, that reminds me."

As though it had only just occurred to him, Adrian asked,

"How is Seraphia doing?"

"She has recovered safely, thanks to you, Lord Adrian."

Bernard bowed his head slightly as he answered. Yet, for some reason, Adrian's expression was grave.

"Have you noticed anything strange?"

"Strange in what way...?"

"Does she seem mentally unstable? Has she changed since waking up? Does she speak or behave differently than before, or have trouble remembering anything...?"

Adrian's concerns went on and on, seemingly without end.

'So he was worried.'

It seemed he had been worried deep down too.

Even if he treated Seraphia as though he meant to kill her, even if his words expressed hatred and dislike, that was not how he truly felt. No matter what anyone said, she was his only younger sister.

"Her body has not fully recovered yet, but she has shown none of the symptoms you mentioned."

"... That's a relief."

Adrian let out a deep sigh of relief. So deep was it that his white breath billowed like smoke from a chimney.

Anyone could see an older brother worrying about his only younger sister.

"She's asleep at present, but perhaps you could quietly look in on—"

"No need. I have no intention of wasting time on something so pointless."

Adrian's face twisted into a fierce scowl, as though he were looking at some repulsive insect. But...

'Is he embarrassed?'

Bernard could now tell that he did not mean it.

"Anyway, there won't be any problems if you work with Seraphia, right?"

"Of course not."

Bernard nodded confidently.

Seraphia was exceptionally capable as a lord. The fact that the previous count had left everything belonging to the house in her care was proof enough.

Even if...

"As I said, I'll set up the overall framework and systems. You just handle the details of implementation."

...their roles had now been reversed.

"Lady Seraphia will be delighted as well."

The county uniting under the leadership of an Adrian who had come to his senses. The gradual revival those changes would bring. All of it would be an enormous source of comfort and pride to Seraphia.

Bernard could already picture how happy she would be when she awoke. Imagining her waking with a bright smile strengthened his sense of responsibility all the more.

Adrian, meanwhile...

"Have the recruits caused any trouble while I was away?"

...subtly changed the subject, perhaps out of embarrassment.

"There are so many of them that I thought they would be difficult to control, but... not one of the incidents you're concerned about has occurred."

"Really?"

Adrian nodded once, looking surprised himself.

"What about Kai?"

"He's staying at camp with the recruits for their military field training."

"... Field training? And what's this about a camp?"

"I was told you gave the order yourself, Lord Adrian."

"I did?"

"Did you not?"

"I only told him to handle their basic training."

Apparently, Kai had made that decision on his own.

A brief silence fell.

"The recruits aren't dead, are they?"

"..."

Bernard could find no answer to Adrian's question.

* * *

At the training grounds in the snowfields, the bitter winter was passing. Yet the year-round cold still kept the air frozen.

"Nnngh...!"

"Haaah...!"

The Visters were climbing a snow-covered hill. Their breath froze white in the air, and to make matters worse, swirling snow battered their faces and bodies.

Just then, Kai, the blond knight at the head of the column, shouted,

"All troops, maintain concealment!"

His aura-amplified voice reached every Vister's ears clearly.

Every one of them buried themselves in the cold snow. The faint sound of their freezing breaths drifted outward. Their fingers and toes hurt as they gradually lost feeling, but...

"Snow isn't merely an obstacle. It's terrain that provides cover and concealment. If you want to survive here, you must become thoroughly accustomed to it."

The Visters became one with the snow, not moving an inch.

"Move out again."

At Kai's next command, they rose in perfect unison and resumed running. Again and again, they ran up and down the snowy hillside.

"Hah...! Hah...!"

"Haaagh...! Haaagh...!"

Their legs trembled, and the soles of their feet were already covered in blisters.

"B-boss...! How long...!"

"How long do we...!"

"Have to go through this fucking hell...!"

At last, complaints broke out among the Visters, but...

"I-I... Hah...!"

Sarpedon, once the leader of the Black Grasp, could only whimper, his face caked with snow and ice.