To Solve The Problem!

From the next day on, Demina began acting toward me with an almost excessive eagerness.

It would have been fair to say she returned to how she had been when she used to make bold, open advances. Not that I disliked it.

I certainly liked it. I liked it very much—it was exactly what I had wished for.

But the problem was that it happened at all hours. I pointed this out once, yet Demina “won” the argument by declaring that the Sain Tribe were simply very proactive in showing affection, and thus rationalized it to herself.

I thought she was impossible to stop, but figured she might tire of it eventually, so I simply went on with my work.

My immediate challenge was the two kinds of trash left after the festival ended.

“Ha… this is troublesome in its own way.”

First was literal “trash,” which I could have slaves clean up. But every slave in our domain already had their own assigned work.

I had no intention of disrupting the rhythm of the domain—a vast, organic living thing—just to drive the slaves harder.

“We’ll have to differentiate tasks. And we’ll need more patrols…”

The second kind of “trash,” the real problem, was the greatest issue facing the domain.

It had begun as something seemingly minor—“a missing beastkin child”—but spread like ripples into a larger incident and became a serious problem. We managed to find the child with the help of the Hound Tribe, known for their keen sense of smell, but discovered it had not been a simple disappearance—it was a kidnapping. The circumstances we learned by interrogating the caught culprit were shocking.

They were planning to enslave beastkin. I suspected a criminal ring had realized “there’s money in this” and set things in motion. Their reasoning: young beastkin, even if they went into rampage, were not particularly dangerous.

So around this season, they would kidnap them, sell them as playthings to perverse nobles or as child slaves, pass them along repeatedly, and then—if the child grew up—they would either kill them or buy my medicine to suppress grown beastkin’s rampage.

News of my medicine had spread across the world. Sensing a burgeoning demand for beastkin—who previously had not even been valued as slaves—they had started “operations.”

“If I simply refused to distribute the medicine…”

Even then, they would probably secure it somehow. Human effort always shone—whether in a black light or a bright white one—and its results usually meant that non-humans became the sacrificial victims.

The fact that dwarves and elves were already enslaved across the continent told the tale, and many other near-human races were captured and enslaved every year.

In our domain, there were “halves,” but we had never brought in the pure races as slaves; even so, itinerant merchants from outside often paraded slaves of those races through our lands.

“Perhaps the Month of the Demon God had acted as a shield for beastkin.”

On second thought, that would explain the rampage phenomenon to some extent. It was a leap, perhaps, but either way, we needed a solution.

“In the end, all we can do is tighten inspections?”

For now, I had already asked the Hound Tribe to respond thoroughly whenever a disappearance occurred, but we could not rely on that forever; I needed a better method.

On top of that, the trash people were generating was also a problem.

“So they make money and just dump their garbage without a care, huh…”

A coercive approach—banishment upon being caught littering—was an option, but I felt that alone would be too weak.

The idea I arrived at was to use lordly authority to assign compulsory public works. That would require multiple organizations to implement, and thinking it all through at once made my head feel like it would split.

“Ruling is hard… We’re short on hands. On hands…”

I wondered whether this might be the limit of what I could do alone and pondered how to recruit good people. Then—

“My lord, you have visitors.”

Vincent knocked and entered, and when I asked who, he said the lordly siblings of Hameureun had arrived.

“Hameureun… perhaps I should ask them.”

Vincent tilted his head at my mutter, but he led the way when I told him to show them in. I entered the reception room where the siblings waited; they stood to greet me, and I smiled and returned the greeting.

“Have you been well? It feels like it’s been a while since our last deal.”

“I heard you collapsed, my lord. We were remiss and only just received the news.”

Baron Rubins had become quite polite to me after our one transaction. His elder sister, Tein, also inclined her head like a proper lady and greeted me.

“It’s been a while, Viscount of Ingrad. You look well—congratulations on regaining your health.”

“Well, it wasn’t anything worth worrying over.”

My maid and Vincent glared at me at those words, but I ignored it, took the upper seat, and asked them,

“What brings you here today?”

“Ah, thanks to our recent trade with you, my lord, our domain’s affairs have improved greatly. Also, since the transit point is adjacent to our lands, we’ve benefited from increased traffic. We came to thank you—and to deliver something.”

“To deliver?”

Baron Rubins took something from his bosom.

Looking closely, it was a brooch—I wondered what it was for.

“Perhaps it’s the climate here; we prepared a brooch enchanted with body-temperature maintenance as a gift.”

“Oh… such a thing exists?”

Rubins nodded as if it were obvious. Curious, I took the offered gift and examined it; simply holding it felt… different.

“Fascinating. I suppose it’s worn like this?”

I fastened it in a suitable spot on my chest. Sure enough, the chilly air felt gentler.

It was an uncanny experience.

“Thank you for the gift.”

“We’re the ones who should be grateful you accepted it. But your domain changes by the day, doesn’t it?”

Rubins spoke with wonder and envy. It was true—many changes were underway.

Trees were being felled, and huts and many other types of buildings were going up all over the domain.

Perhaps because there was a growing sense that beastkin were no longer a threat, merchants sometimes brought hefty donations to request I raise buildings for them.

Vincent and the others turned those people away so I wouldn’t waste my strength, but we could not spend our time dealing with such requests forever.

At least lately, thanks to Guts and Rita relocating with many mercenaries to our domain, I was able to use a little mana, though I still had no idea what profit they expected to gain by coming all this way.

When Princess Riana sent people, all they did was hire the mercenary band like porters and leave.

“Well, they said they earned a great deal of money just from that… so I suppose they had no complaints.”

“Ah—by the way, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“I want to hire people. Where could I find capable talent?”

“People…? Hmm, around now the academy graduates are flooding into Terakan City. That might be a good place.”

At Rubins’s words, I wondered how well fresh graduates handled real work. Tein looked at me and said,

“If it’s for management, I think it’s better to hire those with top marks among academy graduates.”

“Why?”

“The School of Management has many free citizens. In contrast, the knight and mage faculties are mostly nobles or already have appointments lined up. Management majors, as the name suggests, usually have to find their own workplaces after graduating. As I recall, most who aren’t hired by noble houses end up in merchant companies or various guilds.”

“Ah, so this is the season when the School of Management is overflowing with would-be unemployed?”

At “would-be unemployed,” Tein gave an awkward smile—but it was good information. Also, I had recently gained authorization, through Princess Riana, to use the Teleport Gate.

I’d been warned to use it only in emergencies, but with proper explanations—and a few well-placed offerings—I suspected I could pass without trouble.

“Thank you for the gift and the counsel. Your timely help lets me breathe easier.”

Rubins said he was glad. After that, I was introduced to the head of their merchant company, and we discussed various trades—perhaps that was why they had presented the gift first.

Something for something, as they say.

In any case, I considered it part of the day’s money-making schedule; I approved the items he wished to trade, secured a reasonable profit, and concluded our exchange with Hameureun without either side losing face.

Then, planning to give the idle mercenaries some work—and to make them help clean the domain—I went to the guild, only to find an enormous crowd of mercenaries.

“Shall I call it a great boom… or are they just idle with no jobs?”

It was a bit odd, but when I approached the counter, a clerk who recognized me bowed hurriedly.

“We greet the lord!”

At that, silence fell over the rowdy guild hall. Some had seen me before, but my appearance had changed so much lately that others didn’t recognize me.

“Is Guts here? Or Rita…”

“The master departed for the capital on a commission… The vice-guildmaster is this way…”

The clerk kindly held the gate into the counter. Guided to the interior, I found Rita, looking haggard from overwork. She jumped up and bowed when she saw me.

“It’s been a while, my lord.”

“Ah, Ms. Rita. Busy day?”

“Ah—most of it is escort work. What brings you today, my lord?”

“I’m thinking of a domain-wide commission. A standing request, quota-style.”

Rita tilted her head, puzzled, and offered me a seat. Facing each other, she asked for details, so I explained the “trash cleanup” job and showed her the sacks I’d brought, saying I’d pay one gold coin per sack.

“A sack this size—one gold coin. How about it?”

“…That’s very generous… There has been a lot of trash lately… but since you have slaves, why spend money?”

“Because it’s more profitable to use mercenaries than to use slaves.”

She looked at me, not quite understanding.

Frankly, considering the revenue one slave could produce in our domain right now, the time-to-profit ratio was abysmal. You didn’t lose a promissory note to save a single coin, did you?

I didn’t need to explain that much, so I let it pass. Rita thought carefully about the fee, then asked about duration and disposal sites; I indicated the provisional site and said,

“I’ve heard there’s a waste disintegrator in the capital—is that right?”

“The disintegrator… if you mean the magic-stone-powered one, yes. Are you planning to buy one?”

“Trash piled up is bad for hygiene. It risks disease and pests. And piles of refuse in the forest are an eyesore. So it’s best to process it actively.”

“…I didn’t expect you to think this far about the domain.”

“I’ll take that as praise?”

“Of course. When shall we begin the commission?”

“Let’s set it for about a week from now. It’s still winter—the trash won’t rot yet—so we can spare that time.”

With that in mind—to allow time to procure and install the disintegrator—I drafted the request.

“Duration: indefinite; unlimited repeats; one gold coin per sack. Start date: one week from now… Anything else to add?”

“Nothing.”

“Understood.”

Rita said, scribbling briskly.