Episode 20

“Master Zeke. A letter has arrived from the Adventurers Association.”

Hiroto was in a room crammed wall to wall with luxurious furniture. Lagias Manor had been built by pouring in assets (read: taxes) without restraint. Zeke’s room had been assigned to one of its chambers.

He had once tried to decline indirectly, saying a minimum of furnishings would help him settle, but that had not been allowed, and here they were. Apparently, nobles had a duty to live in surroundings befitting their station.

“Hand it over.”

He accepted the letter from the servant but did not check its contents. He could already guess it was about Apion the other day.

(The ducal house is one thing, but the folks at the Adventurers Association are cowardly too.)

They took the stance that they were “only intermediaries,” yet once everything was over, they came poking around to confirm all the rest. He found their convenient timing tiresome.

(If they’re so eager, they can go have the duke teach them.)

He infused mana and froze the letter. Then it disintegrated without a sound, scattering and vanishing. The flakes glittered as they danced like spindrift ice.

“Was it… all right to leave the reply like that?”

“Forget it. It’ll be drivel anyway.”

B-rank, after all. There were countless others; they could go bother someone else. From the servant’s perspective, a B-rank adventurer was an honor—hence the mismatch in understanding.

“Understood. What are your plans for today?”

“…What are my parents doing?”

“The two of them have gone out. …It seems they’ll be away for a while.”

That was convenient, so he rose from his seat.

His relationship with the Lagias couple was good—on the surface.

While their eyes were on him, he could not pull any stunts. He had to be the capable, obedient son. If they marked him before they gave up on him, it would be troublesome.

“I believe the soldiers are in the training grounds conducting drills.”

“Hmph, that will do nicely as a diversion.”

He left the manor and headed for the training grounds.

The number of private soldiers Fool employed was by no means large. If the taxes squeezed from the commoners were directed toward domain management, they could hire a considerable number of people and give back to the land. —But he would never do that.

Only the bare minimum was allocated; the rest was used entirely for the House of Lagias.

(It’s extreme. If they were plotting something in secret, at least that would feel plausible… but there’s nothing.)

He had looked into it in the past, but nothing had come out. It was as if they were possessed by money-grubbing and nothing else.

If the taxes were not put back into running the domain, naturally the compensation paid to servants and soldiers would be low. Commoners didn’t need money—that was Fool’s core belief.

And what happened when the pay for labor was paltry? Fighting strength and morale dropped, and so did the quality of their work.

The result impeded domain administration and ended up tightening his own noose. In the original story, failing to realize this became one cause that set them on the road to ruin.

What met Zeke’s (Hiroto’s) eyes when he reached the training grounds were soldiers practicing with disciplined movements.

Some swung swords and spears with power; others focused their mana and unleashed a variety of spells.

What they all shared was a high level of training and no visible drop in morale. For men treated unfairly by Fool, they all trained in earnest.

(They’re really sticking with it… I’d be phoning it in.)

Hiroto had trained at least as much, if not more, than they had. He had absolutely no thought of “defending the domain as a noble,” but simply concluded that to survive, he had to become strong.

As soldiers, their missions could put their lives at risk, but it didn’t mean they would certainly die. Unlike Zeke, they wouldn’t be forced off the stage by the needs of the story. That was why, in Hiroto’s view, they could just play it smart and ride things out until the House of Lagias was abolished.

No matter how long they trained, they were ultimately no more than private soldiers hired by the lord. And this was the Lagias Domain.

The work hadn’t said much about them, but with Fool as the employer, their actual ability probably wasn’t great. They were training desperately, but at best, Hiroto reckoned they were on par with other domains’ private soldiers.

“Halt training!”

At the commander’s signal, the soldiers stopped moving. It seemed the drill had ended.

One soldier walked toward Zeke.

“You never get tired of coming day after day.”

“If we neglect our daily training, we won’t perform in real combat. …We’re ordinary men.”

“You’ve got a good handle on yourselves. Keep at it and try not to die.”

The soldier who spoke to him was Simon, who had led a squad on the Nordan Plains three years earlier. Back then he’d been treated as a squad leader; now he had risen to command the entire private force.

His own ability played a part in that rise, but the biggest factor was the slaying of an aberrant creature. Because they had not abandoned the monster’s corpse and had brought it back, the result had been a hefty bounty. —For their employer, Fool.

Zeke had no interest in individual soldiers, but he noticed those who brought in money. In short, he promoted Simon as a good-luck charm.

(Low pay and promotions for silly reasons… they’ve got it rough.)

“We owe what we are now to your presence, Master Zeke. As your hands and feet, we will protect the Lagias Domain.”

“…You’ve swung your sword so much your head’s gone soft. Get lost.”

“As you command. —Hear me, all! By Master Zeke’s leave, we are dismissed. Training is concluded. …Conduct yourselves with propriety.”

Cheers rose from the soldiers. Some discussed going for drinks; some moved to private practice; some simply took a rest—many reactions.

(…How do you twist my words into that? Are these guys really all right?)

Hiroto revised his view that this might indeed be the weakest domain in the country. He coolly analyzed that the House of Lagias would be crushed as in the chronicles. —The former point, however, differed greatly from reality.

For the past three years, Hiroto had worked as an adventurer to raise funds.

Hunt big game and you got money and power. Produce results and anyone would be valued. That was why he began working as an adventurer.

Money and experience. It was the ideal calling to get both, just as he intended—but there was one thing he worried about… it would lead to fighting people.

Requests ranged from subjugations to material deliveries and escorts, but Hiroto mainly took monster-hunting commissions.

Because he knew monsters’ combat patterns and habitats from the game, he was efficient. He never knew when his own position might change. That was why he wanted quick results.

At that time, what he fixated on were Fool’s private soldiers. Sparring with Brink (Luke’s father) was the most efficient way to gain experience in person-to-person combat, but it didn’t give him experience against multiple opponents. And Brink couldn’t always be tied up—Luke was an issue at the time.

“Listen up, you grain-wasting inferiors. Rejoice—you’ve been chosen as my stepping-stones.”

At Zeke’s (Hiroto’s) order, the soldiers had been gathered early in the morning, only to be hit with an incomprehensible declaration that left them confused.

“Master Zeke, what do you mean by that?”

“You don’t need to understand. All of you, come at me at once.”

They looked at one another. Some took the easy view that their lord had cooked up another whim, but a fair number turned pale—among them fifteen soldiers including Simon, who had been on the Nordan Plains mission.

“I see… Anyone who can’t move properly is fired as of today.”

With the words, Zeke drew his sword. Mana wrapped the blade, radiating cold. The combat-realistic atmosphere made the majority shrink back.

“Master Zeke is serious. Everyone… draw your swords.”

“W-what is happening, Simon!?”

“I don’t want to freeze to death!”

Responses varied. Those who knew Zeke’s strength instantly took a fighting stance; those who didn’t panicked.

Simon and the others had told their colleagues about what happened on the Nordan Plains, but they hadn’t been believed. Hence the difference in awareness.

“Hold out for five minutes and I’ll give you a special bonus.”

The result was an overwhelming victory for Zeke (Hiroto). In sword and in magic, the gulf was on a different level. That crushing power unified every soldier’s view on one point: he needed no bodyguards.

After that, combat drills with Zeke were held regularly. Sometimes he accompanied them on domain subjugation missions; sometimes he took soldiers along on his own adventuring. The latter was meant to shut up the Adventurers Association, which disliked some requests because he was a child.

The constant in both cases was the same: the targets were powerful monsters—vicious foes whom ordinary soldiers or rank-and-file adventurers could hardly contend with. It was no exaggeration to say they completed missions and commissions without fatalities because Zeke was there.

As they accumulated that experience, Zeke’s power grew—and the soldiers’ power increased greatly as well. They had fought literally as if their lives were on the line; like it or not, they had grown strong.

As commissions were completed, their evaluation at the Adventurers Association naturally rose. And as domain subjugations concluded safely, the domain itself became peaceful. —In ways he himself did not know.

Dragging them to death’s door by force might have worsened the soldiers’ opinion of Zeke—but it didn’t.

Subjugation missions were originally their job. They had become soldiers to protect the domain that was their home. Dangerous missions were a given; they had steeled themselves for them.
And Zeke not only stood shoulder to shoulder with them—he took the lead. Many soldiers felt ashamed that the lord’s son protected those who should be doing the protecting.

As for commissions, those were entirely Zeke’s private affairs. Most were outside the domain, so they were technically outside their duties. But the soldiers he brought along participated voluntarily—there was no coercion. And when they did, there were no dead or gravely wounded. Zeke’s watchful eye was always on them.

Strangely, the rewards were distributed evenly. One commission could exceed a month’s salary. It was conduct ill-suited to the money-grubbing son of the House of Lagias.

There was another change in terms of pay. From the time Zeke began adventuring, something called a “special allowance” began to be issued periodically.

“What’s with that shabby getup? I’ll outfit you with gear worthy of the Lagias Domain.”

“You want to study magic? Going to drag the Lagias name through the mud? I’ll drill you thoroughly.”

“Starting a family? You commoners don’t even have money to celebrate… the poor are an eyesore. Make do with this.”

It was paid out to all soldiers and servants. At first some suspected a trap, but nothing happened. It seemed to come from Zeke personally, unrelated to the Lagias couple.

For those who had known Zeke for years, the change was unbelievable. It was only natural they were suspicious. One could take it as him plotting something with money—but there were other changes.

If a soldier or servant made a small mistake, Zeke would subtly step in to defend them. Every year, several people had been fired for unreasonable pretexts; now that number was zero. That was the result of Zeke’s interference.

His tongue was still sharp, but his actions were the opposite of his parents’, and a rumor began to spread within the House of Lagias.

“Master Zeke means to raise the banner of revolt.”

To Hiroto, it was news out of nowhere, but the servants believed it. They thought he would use overwhelming power and wealth to change the Lagias Domain.

His reputation rose in places he knew nothing about. Some even worshipped him to the point of prostrating themselves. Unfortunately, the change in perception was limited to those close at hand; for anyone not near him like the servants and soldiers, Zeke was hard to read.
Indeed, there were parts of the domain that feared him more than the Lagias couple.

Many misunderstandings had sprung up, but one way or another, Hiroto was still alive.

Of course, he himself had not the slightest thought of trying to change the Lagias Domain.

He handed out money as hush money. I’m doing stuff, but I’m giving you cash, so keep quiet—something like that. He covered for mistakes so they wouldn’t bear him a grudge. —A pitiful set of reasons.

“Master Zeke, you have visitors. How would you like to proceed?”

“Visitors? Which fools would that be?”

“…They say they’re comrades who faced death with you.”

(What? I can’t think of anyone… well, not no one.)

“Show them in. If they’re shady, I’ll throw them out.”

The servants brought in two men.

One—Markus—wore the uniform of the Mage Corps; the other—Keat—wore armor emblazoned with the Knights’ emblem.

“It has been a while. …We’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“Been a while, kid. …You’ve gotten taller.”

“…………Who are you two? You marched into my manor with your boots on. I trust you’re prepared.”

It was a reunion with the Granz Survey Unit, with whom they had conducted the Lagias Dungeon investigation.