‘An anonymous letter, huh.’
The Count of Ophern was in turmoil.
He couldn’t even tell if the fief’s situation was improving, and now, an anonymous letter had turned up in Eldin’s room.
It wasn’t from family or retainers. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar.
Inside, densely written, were details about the retainers’ corruption.
He couldn’t ask how this was discovered, nor what he should do about it.
Eldin, the eldest son, seemed to know this was now out of his own hands. He waited quietly, saying nothing.
“It’s too clear to ignore without checking.”
“Yes. At first, I thought it might be a prank and tried to dismiss it, but the evidence is solid, no matter how I look at it.”
“Hm…”
The letter contained details related to various retainers’ misconduct. Of all the many names packed in, only two stood out.
Baron Sitarne and Baron Jibberin.
Baron Sitarne, for his part, did not hold a fief of his own.
A model retainer family, one could say. Although the baronial title was limited to one generation, it was passed down and supported by the family for generations—a reward for their loyalty.
It was well-known that, before the Count became the head, the former Baron Sitarne had aided him. Even now, it was his son, but the connection was long-standing.
“Hah…”
To think that Baron Sitarne would commit such corruption. Some degree could be overlooked, but this was too broad and serious in both scope and scale.
Unlike Baron Sitarne, Baron Jibberin was a noble with his own fief.
Beyond the Marquisate, he held a barren fief in the North. He had entrusted the northern fief to his son and assisted with military training in the Marquisate.
The Jibberin baronial family, much like the Count’s, had long been a family of knights, which made it possible.
Since he also possessed a powerful Aura Cultivation Method, Baron Jibberin was highly valued in the Count’s household.
The elite soldiers produced from his barren fief were remarkable in quality.
Baron Jibberin provided military support, while the Count supported his harsh fief—they were mutually beneficial to each other.
Still, the land was so poor that, for a noble, he was always on the brink of poverty. Feeling sorry for him, the Count went out of his way to provide special support.
‘I misjudged these men. Still, perhaps it’s fortunate only these two were implicated.’
But for things to turn out like this—such an outcome was unthinkable, even for the Count.
They were just barons. But they were not men with insignificant influence. He needed to handle this decisively.
“Let’s deal with Baron Sitarne right away.”
“Will you be alright with that?”
“Of course not. But it must be done. Can you do it?”
The Count fluttered the evidence related to Baron Sitarne in front of his eldest son, Eldin.
Eldin answered his father’s trust. His gaze was unwavering.
“Yes. Of course, I will see it done.”
“Good.”
“Then, what about Baron Jibberin? How do you intend to deal with him?”
“Hmmm…”
Baron Sitarne and Baron Jibberin were different.
Baron Sitarne was not a hereditary noble. The Count’s family had to grant his title each generation—a limited, non-hereditary noble.
Because of this, his foundation was weak.
Revoking his noble title and administering punishment would suffice. Doing so would greatly reduce Baron Sitarne’s influence within the Marquisate.
Later, perhaps, his son could be given another chance. That would be the limit.
The real problem was Baron Jibberin. Within his fief, his authority was absolute. The power he held was considerable.
‘If not for losing his military strength due to the North’s monsters running amok…
If his forces were intact, I could deal with him right now. I could expand the Marquisate or create a new barony. Neither would be a bad outcome.
It’s only the timing that’s at issue.’
“For now, leave him be.”
“Father!”
Was it youthful hot blood? Eldin raised his voice. It must be hard for him to accept.
“We can’t contain his influence right now. There are too many other things to worry about. But I will not forget. You know, don’t you? Our Ophern never forgets.”
“…Yes.”
Ophern never forgets.
Whatever it is—even if it concerns the Marquisate—Ophern never forgets. Waiting for the right moment, whether the enemy or a traitor, we’ve brought them all low. That’s how we climbed to the rank of Count.
Silence. Patience. Tenacity.
We carried on our family’s character and have come this far.
“For now, endure. Once Baron Sitarne is punished, Baron Jibberin, by nature, will likely lock himself away.”
“For now, that will suffice.”
“Yes. We’ll deal with Jibberin afterward. And…”
The Count carefully issued various instructions to Eldin.
Among them were directives regarding the barons and a discreet investigation of the current circumstances.
Even amid chaos, the Count never forgot his duties.
“I’ll carry them out at once.”
“Good. You must do this well.”
“Yes.”
With the Count’s orders, Eldin carefully withdrew.
Father, newly returned, never rested. He was always on the move, together with my brother.
While being praised for his deeds in the North, he also moved quickly with the anonymous letter I’d sent.
They took swift action to deal with corrupt administrators and families.
Baron Sitarne, realizing late that something was amiss, tried to flee, but the famous tale was that he was caught before he could even escape the inner fortress.
“C-Count! Please, have mercy! I beg you! Mercy!”
Baron Sitarne, who always pretended to be noble, knelt and pleaded with both hands and feet.
His cry was so loud that even the commoners of the castle came out to witness it.
“…Go back. I’ll spare you the worst out of regard for your past merits.”
“Y-yes…”
Baron Sitarne, who begged and begged, finally surrendered completely.
After that, Father dealt with the Sitarne family thoroughly.
Confiscation of all assets, dismissal of all related personnel. Even house arrest in their mansion.
Though he remained alive, he was, for all intents and purposes, dead as a noble.
“Father is truly impressive at times like this.”
For someone like Sitarne, who believed himself the only true noble among non-hereditary nobles, it was a harsh punishment.
It was a punishment that perfectly used his character against him.
“The problem is Jibberin. I can understand why…”
Watching the situation unfold, Baron Jibberin cautiously expressed his gratitude to Father.
It was an admission of guilt—he would return to his fief.
But Father did not let him go so easily.
“There’s still much to be done, isn’t there?”
“Count!”
“See it through to the end. The end.”
He kept him until the newly recruited soldiers became elite troops. Rather than keeping a traitor at a distance, he chose to keep him close.
‘Baron Jibberin’s corruption was relatively minor, after all. Tsk.’
He’d decide on punishment after seeing the standard of the elite troops Jibberin trained. Perhaps those very soldiers would become the sword that tightened around the baron’s neck.
Either way, for Baron Jibberin, it must have felt like walking on thin ice.
“I’d rather help if possible, but… hm.”
Meanwhile, I succeeded in mastering all the magic of this class.
The formulas were more complicated than in the first class. But for now, this class required no special insight, so it was doable.
Once I advanced to the next class, about the fourth class…
‘At that point, understanding is necessary, isn’t it?’
I’d heard that from then on, you had to feel mana itself. Up to the third class, it was about laying the groundwork for understanding such things.
Given how many never even reach the third class without mastering these basics—
‘Magic really is difficult.’
Magic was truly a field with no end. And I was slowly tinkering, playing with it, adjusting it as I liked.
For example, like this.
“A thick armor. Multi-Layered Armor.”
Toooong. Tong.
In an instant, four layers of armor formed and wrapped around my body.
‘Modification.’
I took inspiration from the dual-core-like function of my heart’s circle.
Armor was a spell that harmonized natural mana and my own mana to create a defensive barrier in the desired shape.
Normally, only one could be created at a time—a shield about the size of a small buckler.
But then I had a thought.
What if I made it so multiple harmonizations of natural mana and my own mana could be performed simultaneously?
‘The formula got several times harder, but it’s alright.’
It worked!
Though the difficulty increased, I could now stack four multi-layered armors at once!
And it wasn’t just four separate layers; they interlinked like a chain, multiplying the defense many times over.
‘Got that idea from actual armor.’
It was only four layers for now, but in time, I thought ten or more might be possible. The increased magical burden could be borne with two mana circles.
“In terms of difficulty, it’s a kind of second-class spell…”
I’d succeeded for the first time in creating a second-class spell by applying a first-class spell.
With this kind of formula, even first-class spell combinations could create a variety of magic.
If I generated a small armor, then imbued it with the force of a Magic Missile—
“Armor Missile!”
Sweeek! Puh-woom!
Its power was less than a standard Magic Missile, but the area was far greater.
There was still room for improvement. If used well, it could overwhelm many opponents at once, just like the mass force attacks in martial arts.
“This really is fun.”
I was thinking up and creating many magic forms of my own. And one conclusion I’d reached was this.
“Depending on the combination, magic can take infinite forms.”
Just as you could use martial arts forms in infinite ways, so too with magic.
You could create almost infinite combinations.
And if you combined these with martial techniques—
“Strength! Heavenly One Strike!”
Kwa-duk-duk-duk-duk-duk—Pang!
The number of attack methods I could use far exceeded what anyone else could imagine.
Kwa-duk.
With hardly any energy used, the iron dummy collapsed in an instant.
“Yikes. What excuse can I use for this one…”
Even I was surprised by the destructive power.
So, while the fief’s affairs grew ever more complicated, I alone was lost in the trance of training.
“Well then, what should I mix together today? Hm?”
“Young Master!”
Just as I was about to get back to it, someone approached.
It was Dean, my maid. My personal maid had changed quite a bit, becoming sturdier in my absence.
‘Did she pick up some tricks from my sister?’
A maid learning swordsmanship—unthinkable, usually.
But my sister is impossible to predict. Maybe she felt sorry for Dean and taught her something.
In any case, it was new. Dean usually only came to call me for meals.
“What is it? It’s not time to eat yet, is it? Isn’t it early?”
“The head of the house is looking for you. He says we’re to have an early lunch today.”
“Hmm… Is there some sort of announcement?”
It was rare for Father to act like this. Something unusual was happening.
“Let’s go.”