What Makes A Good Lord?

Meanwhile, after returning to the imperial palace, the princess’s party was forcibly detained and kept from going anywhere until further orders arrived.

“Captain, why aren’t they letting us go?”

“Don’t try to guess what Her Highness is thinking. Keep your mouths shut.”

At Guts’s warning, the mercenaries stopped their quiet chatter and only rolled their eyes. Then one of the merchants murmured:

“Tch, we ought to start production as soon as possible…”

“Be quiet. The mood is fishy… They might seize all our ingredients.”

“The ingredients? That would be bad…”

“They’re not ordinary stock, are they? And this time they’re the ingredients prepared by that ‘Divine Pharmacist.’ Of course the palace wants to examine them…”

While the merchants watched the room warily, the princess entered with knights in tow. She looked around and first addressed the mercenaries.

“Invisible Mercenary Company, unload all the cargo you brought over there.”

Sensing something off, the merchants’ representative sprang up and raised his hand; he couldn’t object outright, so he asked to speak.

When the princess acknowledged him, he said:

“Some of those goods are to be transferred to our White Camel Trading Company. Do we have to unload those as well?”

White Camel was an intercontinental house that had spent heavily to join this Ingrad mission. Because Ingrad’s ingredients traded at high prices, the expedition itself required imperial permission—and they had even lobbied the noble faction to obtain it.

If they had to surrender the very cargo they had finally secured, it would mean losses threatening the company’s survival.

But the princess’s answer was seductively generous:

“We will pay one-and-a-half times the usual price for Ingrad ingredients. You will not lose out. Thanks to the Invisible Mercenary Company, the volume returning to you is excessive. However, most of what the mercenaries carried belongs to the imperial house; you cannot claim ownership of all of it. We will recognize part of it for your labor. In addition, for fairness with the houses we dealt with last month, we can release only about the same volume as then—please understand.”

It broke the merchant’s heart, but a high price and at least a portion of the viscount’s ingredients were better than nothing. He had to accept.

Once the Invisible Mercenary Company unloaded in silence and was led outside, the princess’s gentle expression cooled. She faced the merchants.

“One more thing: the recipes that Viscount Ingrad taught you—those must also be disclosed to the imperial house.”

She already knew most of the recipes. She had pressed Viscount Ingrad for details and learned that the merchants had separate commission arrangements with him.

Considering the different lots each merchant had prepared, she realized there must be medicines she didn’t yet know.

She had no intention of browbeating the viscount. He was not only her benefactor but her savior—and the keeper of her most sensitive secret.

But she also understood that his knowledge and influence could no longer be ignored within the empire.

Several merchants’ faces soured.

‘I won’t hinder you. But your power must be used for humankind. I’ll make sure of it… and someday…’

The princess silently made her resolve.

“Aa-CHOO!!”

With a cheery blast, the sneeze made my chest ache. I must have been more tense yesterday than I realized.

After dinner I collapsed asleep despite Allena’s temptation. At dawn I woke with an odd hollowness—and sneezed.

“Am I catching a cold…?”

It was still summer, but dawn temperatures had begun to dip. It wasn’t time for heating yet, but it was time to prepare.

I dressed and stepped into the chilly dawn air. I no longer needed to be up so early, but a week of habit had set into my bones.

“Good morning, my lord.”

As always, Jorban, a birdfolk, greeted the day first. He had settled near the manor gate, so we often exchanged dawn greetings.

“Busy with breakfast again?”

“My wife is brooding eggs.”

The Birdfolk were unusual among beastkin: they laid eggs and brooded them.

They couldn’t quite be called human, yet they were squarely within the “beastkin” fold.

They also looked almost entirely human—faces somewhat birdlike… Curiously, the females looked even closer to humans. Did their reproduction otherwise resemble ours? Musing, I headed toward yesterday’s site when Jorban asked:

“I heard you delivered a Tigerfolk baby yesterday—a breech. They say you saved it. Remarkable.”

“…Did I?”

“In breech births, most babies die. You allowed one to be born. Gamung may come to ask you to name the child.”

“…Must I?”

“It is an honor. Among our peoples, receiving a name is sacred. If he asks that sacred favor, please don’t refuse.”

I felt my nerves tighten. Yesterday I had trudged back to the manor barely conscious of what I’d done—but in truth, it had been extraordinary.

‘A breech…’

Even on Earth, breech deliveries were dangerous for mother and child. What I did could never be used on a frail human.

It was possible only because of beastkin toughness—and thanks to that, the child was born safely.

Had I done something praiseworthy? The thought put a spring in my step. Leaving Jorban, I reached today’s site to find the beastkin I’d promised already waiting.

They were sheepfolk, with handsome curved horns.

“Welcome, my lord.”

Some beastkin used honorifics with me, others—like Gamung—spoke casually. I wondered what determined that.

“Before we start, may I ask why you address me so formally?”

“It is only right to honor one who may be called the benefactor of our people.”

“A benefactor?”

“I’ve heard you may help us endure the Demon God’s Month. That is our long-cherished wish. Every year we lose many during that month. We are dwindling. You are salvation; no one will fault me for honorifics.”

I thanked him.

“That’s a good answer. Now, what kind of house would you like?”

“We live on hay-strewn floors. We’d like the building not too tall.”

“The floor area?”

“Enough for five of us. Ah—could you make two separate rooms?”

“Not difficult. Any other requests?”

“That will be enough.”

I envisioned a yurt-like structure, but in an L-shape: three domes joined, two as rooms, and one open to a fenced yard. With Construction, the house rose at once.

The sheepfolk stared, astonished. I asked:

“Will this do?”

“Amazing. We’ve seen such things on the way—your power is wondrous. You are a blessing of the gods, my lord.”

“I’ll pass on the flattery, but I’m glad you’re satisfied. And you—ladies—are you pleased?”

Behind their mother, several girls peeked and then hid again. I couldn’t help but smile.

Their tiny budding horns were adorable. Buoyed by the reaction, I moved on and repeated the work several times, then sat to drink a mana restorative.

“Does mana usage increase with practice…?”

My reserves had grown. I could now raise more than ten houses a day without strain. Mana seemed to be expanding too.

“When winter comes… I’ll need walls to protect the beastkin. Can I do it?”

Roughly four months remained until January. I didn’t know how far my limits would stretch, but I was already debating whether to start raising the curtain walls.

Yes, to protect myself—but also to protect the medicated beastkin.

If rampaging beastkin broke in from outside, casualties would be immense. I sketched out the coming months in my head.

“All right then…”

If the princess sent only “gold” as payment, I would be disappointed. I stood and addressed the next beastkin waiting:

“Now—what kind of house do you want? Anything’s possible; let’s plan it.”

I built through the morning. By noon, I was invited to share a meal, and I gladly accepted.

Their cooking was surprisingly delicious.

Only after I had finished did they mention the “meat” was from monsters. A culinary rediscovery—followed by a queasy stomach.