Even if the match wasn’t to my liking, I couldn’t just turn my back coldly. Since it was a meeting arranged by Lady Eustia, some polite pleasantries were necessary. I wrote a courteous letter to Alice Soltri.
It contained a gentle rejection of further meetings.
Of course, my departure from the Crawford Principality was faster than anyone else’s and unlike the others.
“Wow! How could you just leave me in that pit of evil?”
Cordell McNeil wailed with a aggrieved expression.
If I left him like this, he’d complain the whole way back.
I tried to soothe him, but his words were a bit harsh.
“Pit of evil? Are you saying Lady Alice is that bad? Heh! That’s quite rude to the Soltri marquis house.”
“No, that’s not it at all. Behind closed doors, even criticizing the emperor is allowed.”
“Ah, so you’ve been badmouthing His Majesty?”
“Eh? When did I do that? It’s just a saying. Just a saying.”
Indeed, attacking the emperor was fatal for imperial subjects.
How many nobles had met their end for running their mouths?
Cordell McNeil deflated in one blow, wearing a sullen expression.
“Just kidding. Anyway, how did you escape?”
“I flattered her like crazy, then said I had to greet Lady Eustia and slipped out.”
It seemed it wasn’t that hard to escape.
He was probably just tormented by being stuck there.
Alice Soltri wasn’t Cordell’s type, after all.
“Anyway, as long as you got out unscathed.”
I sprawled out on the passenger seat cushion.
Now that the major incidents were all resolved, all that was left was to go back and rest.
Having come on such a long business trip, I’d at least get a few days off.
I was enjoying the journey with a light heart when Derrick approached with a troubled expression.
“Your Grace! It rained last night, and all the jerky has spoiled.”
“Really? What about biscuits or something?”
“They’re the same—everything got soaked and is unusable.”
“We wrapped them in waterproof tarp—how did that happen?”
“It seems a rat got to them.”
Derrick’s words weren’t a metaphor for a spy.
A rat had really boarded the carriage.
There was a hole at the bottom of the sack holding the food.
Moreover, there were gnaw marks in the carriage corner.
The rat must have come and gone through there.
The clear tooth marks felt annoyingly spiteful.
“Can’t be helped. Throw out the spoiled stuff, and we’ll restock in the next village.”
“I’m sorry. I should have checked more often…….”
“It’s fine. It wasn’t your responsibility anyway.”
We just kept the group’s food in the carriage’s storage compartment.
It was sturdy and well-waterproofed, perfect for dry goods.
But if a rat chewed a hole, that changed everything.
Once rain or morning dew brought moisture, the food would spoil in no time.
“A village ahead, Your Grace!”
Just then, a settlement enclosed by a wooden palisade appeared.
Checking the map, it was Ortiz Village in the Coldwell Earldom.
A river and forest nearby, with pasture fences scattered around.
It was filled with a serene, pastoral atmosphere.
With the sunset underway, a magnificent view unfolded.
“The scenery is killer.”
“Ha! I should build a house here and live off fishing.”
Derrick gazed at the flowing river with wistful eyes.
He seemed to want a peaceful retirement.
The dream of all mercenaries.
They risked their lives to earn money for a happy life, after all.
I silently cheered for Derrick’s dream as I eyed the village.
At that size, we could easily get enough food for the rest of the trip.
But things didn’t go as I thought.
At a fairly large farm, when I asked if we could buy some food, the farmer replied with an apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to sell.”
“Huh? Even in the lean spring, you can’t be completely out of food.”
“It’s true. The whole village is starving.”
Spring was the season of new life budding, but humans inevitably faced food shortages.
Wheat was usually harvested around June, and last year’s grain ran out before then.
Still, there should be emergency reserves for contingencies.
They could sell to us and use the money to buy more.
Large estate owners would have surplus grain.
“You’ve eaten through your emergency rations too?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But there’s still a long way to June. How do you plan to manage if you’ve let it get this bad?”
“We had no choice. They collect taxes for all sorts of bizarre reasons—if we don’t want to die, we have to pay.”
“What did they say?”
“This time, they taxed us for the headcount of children who died years ago. Saying the deaths weren’t reported.”
It was like the infamous “white bone conscription” from Joseon era tales, but in real life.
I turned to my group with a dumbfounded expression.
In a world where population censuses were barely done, what death reports?
Then, Derrick sidled up and whispered.
“It’s actually common in rural territories. They strip everything, then offer high-interest loans.”
“And if they can’t pay?”
“They take children, homes, or land.”
“Hah!”
The Empire was a country with fairly strict discipline.
Lords who crossed the line far were rare.
Even Marquis Yates, who embezzled from his own territory, kept taxes at 60%.
Anything higher would be a long-term loss.
But the Coldwell Earldom completely ignored such basics.
They stripped people down to their underwear, taking everything.
They must dislike Ortiz Village. That’s why the excessive demands.
It was a grim reality of dark fantasy I hadn’t felt in a long time.
So, what to do?
We could move on and buy food elsewhere.
Like at the market near Coldwell Castle.
It’d be a detour, but not a major delay.
But the people of Ortiz Village would continue suffering.
Of course, I can’t save everyone.
Still, I should fix the absurd reality right in front of me.
That’s what the system wanted anyway—positive impacts on society.
As I boarded the carriage, I said.
“To Coldwell Castle.”
Actually, I couldn’t dictate a local lord’s governance.
What about Marquis Yates’s territory?
That was a clear wrongdoing.
He subtly defied the emperor’s orders, so he deserved a beating.
But Earl Coldwell had only collected excessive taxes.
Essentially, no crime.
Just exercising lordly rights.
Even if this gets out, his honor won’t be tarnished.
It happened often in rural territories.
With spring shortages, the lord’s granaries would be low too.
Who could complain about collecting taxes for territory management?
“This is a real headache. Do we really need to meet Earl Coldwell?”
Cordell McNeil suddenly asked.
We were being escorted by Coldwell’s knights.
It might seem late to ask, but this was his tenth time.
He’d been opposing the whole way here.
“Just stopping by for greetings. It’s good for nobles to build connections, right?”
Suspicion flickered in Cordell’s eyes.
As if asking how I could lie so smoothly.
Well, I couldn’t reveal my intentions here.
With Coldwell’s knights walking right beside us.
“Enter through here.”
“Thank you.”
I smiled and stepped through the door the knight opened.
The reception room’s atmosphere was impeccably austere.
Usually, guest spaces were lavishly decorated.
Unexpectedly frugal style?
To tax a remote village like Ortiz excessively, he should be extravagant.
But the entering Earl Coldwell’s appearance was far from flashy.
The vibe he gave off was like a priest?
No, more like a holy knight.
He had a very sturdy build.
“Pleased to meet you, Duke Carius. I’m Roselio Coldwell.”
A concise, restrained greeting.
No excessive flattery, but proper etiquette.
Just right, you could say?
I matched his style in response.
“Nice to meet you, Earl Coldwell. Sorry for the sudden visit.”
“Haha! Not at all. It’s an honor for the family to have the famous Duke Carius visit.”
We exchanged light pleasantries and sat.
The following conversation was mere formalities.
The usual noble chit-chat.
But I naturally slipped in what I wanted to ask.
“How are things lately? Everyone says spring shortages are tough.”
“It’s a common ordeal. The people dig up roots to eat, but we can’t just expand farmland every year.”
“Expanding wheat fields is difficult, I see.”
“It’s standard for rural territories like this. We clear land only to lose it constantly.”
“Why?”
“I’m a bit surprised you’d ask something obvious, but the reason is simple. Monsters.”
Honestly, very disappointing.
I expected a more plausible excuse.
No, an earldom in the Empire had forces rivaling small nations.
Yet excessive taxes because they couldn’t stop monsters?
What nonsense.
“How formidable are they to destroy the earldom’s wheat fields?”
“It’s not one.”
“Pardon?”
“A swarm.”
At Earl Coldwell’s words, I just blinked.
An unfamiliar term, so I blanked out momentarily.
Swarm—like ants or bees?
If the earldom had that, it made sense.
Imagine giant ants or bees attacking.
The earldom’s knights and troops might struggle.
I swallowed dryly and asked.
Felt like some absurd name would pop out.
“What kind of swarm?”
But Earl Coldwell wore a self-deprecating smile.
What to say?
He seemed embarrassed to speak.
Unsure why, I just tilted my head.
Finally, his hesitant mouth opened.
“Carp.”
“?”
Um, excuse me?
Earl Coldwell?
That sounds less like nonsense and more like a cow doing an aerial levitation dance?
So, please explain properly!
Reading my confused gaze, Earl Coldwell said with a bitter expression.
“Real carp.”
Whoa, this is driving me crazy.