Chapter 3: Overhauling the Estate

After roughly finishing my meal, I went to my room.

My head was a mess.

The workers were aghast at my order to pay compensation.

On top of that, Steward Miller Xavierre even asked if I was serious.

So I must have been a very cold person before?

The results of checking the staff profiles were disastrous.

Every loyalty score was “Low.”

Some were even “Very Low.”

It was a serious problem.

With a reputation like this, who on earth would protect me?

“Wait, hold on. I don’t have any knights?”

That wasn’t the only strange thing.

There wasn’t a single soldier, let alone knights.

With no proper defensive system, it was natural that workers were dying.

Tavion, in fact, hadn’t died from overwork—he’d been killed by a monster.

What a headache.

What I needed immediately was information.

Basic knowledge about Abel Carius and this world.

That was the starting kit I needed.

Only then could I respond when something happened.

I couldn’t keep improvising forever.

I searched the room thoroughly.

But there wasn’t even a diary, not so much as a scribble.

“The man touted as the top judge is this far from books?”

A hollow laugh slipped out.

In the end, I had to rely on help.

I gave the steward an order.

“I want to know the state of our assets.”

“Pardon?”

“Why? Is that such a strange request?”

“No. It’s just that Your Grace didn’t check even when you first arrived, so I was briefly taken aback.”

“How long has it been since I arrived?”

“Three months.”

“Then it’s about time I got a handle on things. Organize it and bring it.”

“Yes.”

His response was rather sour, but that was fine.

There wasn’t an easier way.

I could endure a few odd looks.

A moment later, the steward returned with several documents.

“Here it is, Your Grace.”

“Good work.”

I picked up the papers as calmly as I could.

But the moment I read the first line, I couldn’t keep my composure.

My eyes almost popped out of my skull.

What is this?

I barely held back a shout, but I couldn’t hide my surprise.

If the steward hadn’t lowered his head, he would have found it odd.

Hastily smoothing my expression, I skimmed the summary.

“Wheat fields: 100 hectares. Vineyards: 100 hectares. One mansion. Three villas. Five warehouses. Forty horses…”

After that came a jumble of items, but none of it registered.

The beginning was too shocking.

They called it a ducal house, and the assets were on a colossal scale.

One hundred hectares—how many pyeong is that?

Since one hectare is 10,000 square meters…

About 302,500 pyeong?

Just the wheat and vineyards totaled over 600,000 pyeong of land.

Ten thousand pyeong is about five football pitches, so that’s roughly over 300 pitches.

Then the steward spoke, looking awkward.

“There were more losses than expected. Management has been poor.”

I was even more stunned.

This was after a reduction?

Then how vast had our assets been before?

Masking my bewilderment, I nodded vaguely.

Then I asked a question.

“How much do you think is appropriate for Tavion’s compensation?”

“It’s unprecedented, so I’m not sure.”

“Money can’t fix everything, but it should still be consoling. Give me your opinion.”

“Five goldens should suffice.”

His words triggered several memories.

Nothing grand—just the currency system.

One golden equals five silons; one gold coin is worth five silver coins.

Feeding fifty serfs for a year cost about 120 goldens; roughly one silon per person per month.

Five goldens would be about two years’ worth of food.

A lot if you say a lot, little if you say little.

I shook my head.

“That’s too low. Make it twenty goldens.”

“W-what? Are… are you serious?”

“Have you ever heard me talk nonsense?”

“You hardly speak at a— No, never mind.”

“We’ll handle Tavion’s funeral expenses separately. Pay the family the compensation first.”

“Yes.”

The steward looked even more shocked than before.

He hadn’t expected such a large payout.

Watching him, the corner of my mouth curled up.

After Steward Miller Xavierre withdrew, Abel Carius’s memories surfaced bit by bit.

Rebuilding the reputation of this asocial man starts now.

To be fair, Abel hadn’t been strange from the beginning.

When the ducal house was thriving, he’d been a cheerful child.

But after losing his parents to an epidemic, he changed.

He fell into despair and couldn’t do anything.

The Emperor, pitying him, summoned Abel from the north.

Gave him a respectable post, even.

But not much changed.

He merely repeated meaningless commutes and blank stares.

He lost his reason to live.

Somehow I understood why I had ended up in this body.

My life had been pure grit.

I grew up in a single-parent home, and after I became an adult, all ties were cut.

Because my mother remarried.

I fought tooth and nail to survive.

The polar opposite of Abel Carius.

Is that what you wanted to see? Fine. I’ll make it happen.

Honestly, the terms weren’t bad.

Modern conveniences were gone, but in exchange I’d gained high status and wealth.

What more could I ask for?

Just live hard the way I always had.

Resolution made.

What should I do first to repair my fallen reputation?

Start by taking care of my own people.

I immediately left the mansion.

I wanted to inspect the fields, warehouses, and workers.

The steward followed at once.

“Your Grace, what brings you out?”

Abel used to lock himself in his room all weekend.

Then on Monday he would drag himself to the court.

Given the sudden change, the question was natural.

“The yield is lower than I expected. I want to know why.”

“Well…”

The steward trailed off.

I could guess the rest without hearing it.

He’d say it was because the master didn’t care.

I ignored it and kept walking.

This place really is absurdly vast.

The Carius family’s lands weren’t a typical fief.

Just fields and a mansion near the capital.

The location was excellent, but no one lived here.

Besides the workers, that is.

But the fields were larger than many baronies.

And very fertile.

Low yields on land like this made no sense.

Circling the grounds, I quickly spotted the problems.

The outer areas are practically abandoned. And there aren’t enough workers.

What good is good land?

If no one tills and plants it properly.

I could guess why Tavion went to repair the fence.

They were too afraid to go far out.

The workers’ complexions also looked poor.

Too little rations, too much work.

In this vast land there were only fifty workers.

Even without monsters, they’d die of overwork.

I sighed and shook my head.

The steward approached, looking worried.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?”

“How much are the workers paid?”

“Pardon?”

It was a throwaway-sounding question, but his reaction was not normal.

For a second I wondered if I’d said something wrong.

Then I understood his surprise as he answered.

“One silon.”

“Excuse me? Isn’t that about a month’s worth of food?”

“Board and lodging are provided.”

“And when board and lodging are not provided?”

“I’m not certain, but about two silons.”

“Ha!”

A deep sigh burst out of me.

What kind of nonsense was this?

They did back-breaking labor, and you called it square at two silver coins a month?

To someone who had done every part-time job under the sun, it was thunder from a clear sky.

I spoke the words boiling up inside.

“Then we change it. Starting this month, we raise wages.”

“…Sir?”

Steward Miller Xavierre’s brow furrowed hard.

***

Miller Xavierre, steward of House Carius, had been overwhelmed lately.

One day, after returning from court, his lord changed drastically.

The same person, but the atmosphere was entirely different.

And each order piled one shock upon another.

“Four silons per worker per month… I’m already dizzy.”

Fifty workers lived and boarded at the mansion.

Originally, fifty silons sufficed, but now expenses would quadruple.

That was far beyond the farm’s operating budget.

But it had to be done.

The Xavierre family had served House Carius for generations.

Disobedience was unthinkable.

“Still… somehow it might work.”

Tight, but possible if they left no contingency funds.

Steward Miller Xavierre sighed and focused on his tasks.

Then the very next day, he nearly fainted.

The Duke issued a new order.

“We need more workers. Recruit fifty more. They’ll live and board here.”

“Eeeeh?”

He asked again, dumbfounded, but there was more to come.

“Of course they’ll receive the same monthly wage.”

“But the operating budget is far too small.”

“How much short?”

“About two hundred silons short each month just for wages. Frankly, we’re already stretched to the limit.”

Steward Miller Xavierre squeezed his eyes shut.

He means to dismiss me.

Why else toss him a task this hard?

They’d use his failure as the excuse to fire him.

He had seen this happen countless times.

So he could only picture that bleak future.

But the Duke’s answer defied imagination.

“You must report such things immediately. Use my personal funds to cover the shortfall.”

“…!”

It shocked him awake.

The content was nothing like what he expected.

To offer personal wealth so readily—it defied common sense.

What noble treated servants like this?

In this world, scolding and even hitting were everyday things when displeased.

And yet, the atmosphere at the mansion began to change rapidly.

Each time the Duke issued an order, a gale blew through.

“Thanks to His Grace, the Parbiant farm worker had his injustice cleared.”

“He even exposed the baron’s lies. Ah! You should’ve seen His Grace’s magnificent rebuke.”

“He’s paying four silons a month? O Lord!”

“I—I pledge my loyal heart, Your Grace!”

From the workers’ barns, praise kept bursting forth.

But Steward Miller Xavierre only shook his head.

He wondered if this was wise.

Unless you kept a tight rein, workers grew lazy or ran away.

Yet the master of this house went even further.

“Steward Xavierre.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Post this in the barns. We’ll follow this order from today.”

Neat lines across the paper.

The workers’ names were written in rows.

But he couldn’t tell what it was for.

“What exactly is this?”

To the steward’s question, Abel answered:

“A duty roster. Rotate them according to these times.”

Steward Xavierre only blinked.

He wasn’t trying to oppose it.

He had simply noticed one serious issue.

“But, Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“The workers cannot read or write.”

Then came an even more bewildering reply.

“They only need to know the characters that appear on the chart, don’t they? Teach them.”

Steward Xavierre was, in all sincerity, at a loss for words.