CH 43

Neither of them intended to rest, and each of them sat down with a bundle of documents. Ayra, who’d worked incessantly for a long period with only the scritching sound of his pen nib in the background, felt a flash of dizziness and touched his forehead. “Sir Ginas. Shouldn’t we hire some help for the work before we die from overwork?”

“We can’t. We’re on a tight budget–we simply don’t have the money to employ more  workers.” Ginas, whose HP had decreased by 35 while they worked, said flatly with bloodshot eyes.

Although he didn’t say it out loud, Ayra wanted to fire that incompetent Graphney. Every document he submitted had to be amended. Their current shortage of manpower meant that there wasn’t any meaningless work for an incompetent person to stamp a signature and be done with.

‘This reminds me of my last promotion exam. That dissertation paper–it was hell…’

Whenever the senior mages rejected his thesis, he felt as if the stress shaved a few years off his lifespan. Ayra concentrated on the papers before him, comforting himself with the fact that life was a little better now.

After working himself to the bone until the morning sun rose, Ayra raised his head, only to realize that Ginas was sleeping with his face planted in the documents, as if the young governor had fainted sometime in the night. Honestly, how could such a tiny estate generate this mountain of work? Originally, this work was supposed to be done by some subordinates, but, due to the lack of manpower, the reliable superiors had divided the work among themselves.

Ayra woke the man up so that the other could get some food in his system, before heading down to the first floor. Sitting down for too long wasn’t good for your health. Exhausted, the two trudged and dragged their feet all the way to the dining room. The young lord was so tired that he had almost stumbled on the stairs. Fortunately for him, this time he was able to hold onto the railing before hitting his head.

Ayra used magic to drag himself a chair and sat down. When the young lord magically placed his clattering utensils on the food brought by the servants, Ginas blinked and said, “My Lord. You must be more sophisticated and elegant as you eat.”

Ayra, who was already exhausted, groaned and used more mana. The knife, which was rattling against the plate as it cut meat, began to move gracefully as if were dancing in the air, the metal glistening in the morning light. The resulting pieces of meat were so even that it was as if the pieces were measured with a ruler.

A few days ago, after resolving the matter of Bolney’s two thousand strong troops, Ayra summoned Ginas and Bloom into his office to discuss the events that had occurred in Dallum Gorge. Bloom’s face hardened when he heard about the landslide that was deliberately aimed at the young lord. Ayra also mentioned that he pretended to be a devout follower of Mollunkaism.

‘We should prioritize the castle’s safety from now on,‘ Bloom said.

However, Ginas, the governor, focused on something different.

‘You did well to pretend to be a devout follower of Mollunkaism. Mages are unfamiliar presences in this territory.’

Ayra agreed. Because of the large number of fanatical devotees to the Mollunka Faith in Solar, mages were akin to the witches of the medieval era in his first life. The poverty of their territory meant that they lacked the resources to invite mages, and therefore had little access to them, and ignorance soon led to fear and discrimination.

‘However, since it has already been revealed that the Lord is a Mage… from now on, you should restrict yourself to using only ‘pretty’ magic,’ Ginas said.

‘Um… Could you elaborate on what that means?’

What did he mean by ‘pretty magic’? The only ‘pretty’ magic Ayra knew was a magical firework he’d shown to appease the frightened young mages when they first arrived at the Labyrinth. After all, most denizens of the Labyrinth pursued practical applications for their skills.

‘My Lord, the way you descended from the watchtower to deal with Bolney’s army was very impressive. Don’t you agree, Sir Bloom?’

Sir Bloom seemed to have understood what nonsense the young governor was spouting; the knight commander nodded.

‘The knights’ and soldiers’ morales certainly improved when they saw the Lord suppress Bolney’s troops singlehandedly.’

The slight increase in approval rating in the past few days seemed to have been wrought by the gathered knights and soldiers. At this point, Ayra finally understood what Ginas was implying.

Ginas continued, ‘Use magic, but package it to be as palatable as possible. People are often misled by what they can see. There must be no more confusion in this estate–we really are at the precipice of ruin.’

With that said, whenever Ginas saw the young lord use his magic, he would rush over and blinked emphatically at Ayra. Whenever Ayra released an aura befitting that of a Labyrinthian mage, Ginas poked him in the side and asked him to package his magic prettily. Like he did just now…

Ayra felt slightly ashamed as he showcased unnecessarily glittery and flashy magic in order to buy the people’s favor. From then on, he decided to name this type of magic, ‘Fairy Magic.’ Honestly, if he could spare the mana and expenses, why not make an ice castle or an ice golem? Who knows, maybe the approval rating would rise? 1

The mage felt utterly exhausted. ‘This is a horrible black company–save this lord. I really want to return to the Labyrinth…’

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After pushing his body to the limits with the governor, Ayra was able to reduce some of the document piles. He had finally garnered some spare time.

“I honestly have zero idea.” Ayra moaned as he unfurled the map he had taken from the Lord’s study.

While its owner was agonizing over the map, Pebble marked the main facilities–with small miniatures of the buildings–the young lord had found while touring the territory. Most of them were wall checkpoints, trading posts, shops, and farms…he saw nothing that Solbeche and Bolney would want to covet. Botello and Ginas, who had long been residents of this land, knew nothing either; nothing had been uncovered even after searching through old documents and records.

“I don’t know what it could be, but I’m sure it’s worth more than 10,000 cells–there will be money left over even after paying the debt.” Ayra knew that this sort of information couldn’t be obtained the normal way and rolled up the map without hesitation.

He thought he would take a nap to relieve his fatigue, but the quest window kept flickering at the edge of Ayra’s view. Looking at it made the gamer within him feel obligated to quickly finish the quest and level up. Perhaps his brain was a little wonky from all the stress.

“Now then… Let’s pay the city a short visit.” After resolving the emergency of the advancing enemy troops, Arya finally remembered the person he’d deliberately pushed to the back of his mind. Changing his robes, the young lord asked Pebble, “Where is Janus now?”

As his mana slipped away, the phrase ‘Loading’ manifested on Pebble’s body. After a while, the spirit replied through the system’s window.

<Alert!>

The server is unstable, and the connection has failed.  Please raise your level!

The navigation map function was super useful, but it consumed a lot of mana and had a high chance of failure. He should level up anyway, so Ayra got up and walked with trudging steps.

Since it’s been a long while since he had last visited the city, Ayra made a beeline to the steamed bun store. As Janus had said, this restaurant was one of the few good things about this territory–the only good restaurant here.

“Ah, dear customer! It’s been a long while.” Wolf, the owner of the steamed bun restaurant, immediately recognized the mage and smiled broadly. Crow’s feet immediately surfaced at the corners of the owner’s eyes–a telltale sign that this person worked hard every day.

Ayra really wanted to bring him to the castle and make him cook every day. “Please give me four steamed buns.”

“Yes, please wait a moment!”

As the young lord swallowed back the saliva that had come rushing forth after inhaling the scent rising from the steamer, another customer entered. It was a middle-aged woman with brown hair and a familiar face, though Ayra could not recall her name.

Wolf, however, identified her through his shout. “Hera-ssi! Please enter. You’re here again today!”

“Wolf, it’s been a long while. Aigoo, I can’t eat at other restaurants after eating here–nothing else tastes good. It’s a huge problem.” Only when Ayra saw the shiny scar on her smiling face did he remember who this person was. When he had first entered this territory and strolled about, looking for a meal, the young lord had met a citizen who bragged about their ability to single-handedly defeat Roc Hawks and Muirkas.

“Nowadays, I’m busy hunting about one hundred Gathras in that far mountain range; I lack the energy to defeat them if I don’t eat your food. Please steam around 8 buns for me to eat as a snack,” Hera said.

“It’ll be a catastrophe if you have no energy; I’ll steam them deliciously just for you.”

Ayra listened to the friendly, affectionate conversation, and his curiosity was soon piqued. He immediately materialized their stat windows. Wolf’s stats were ordinary, but Hera was definitely a hunter; her HP was well over 20,000. Upon closer observation, the young lord noticed her sturdy build that was packed well with muscles.

Noticing Ayra’s gaze, Hera turned her head around and immediately recognized the young lord. “I saw you at the bar last time, didn’t I? Did you settle down well? How is it? Do you find our fiefdom fit for living?”

“I’m adapting well.”

“That’s great! Ah, did you hear? Apparently, Bolney’s army’s came up right to our doorsteps…”

“Ah! I’ve heard about it. My Father was incredibly worried.”  While waiting for food, the two talked about various topics; soon, hot buns straight from the steamer were placed in front of the two.

Wolf smiled amiably as he handed fluffy steamed buns in a small bag made of crunchy, rustling hay straws. He was truly a sincere chef who strived to make his customers feel good. “Please enjoy your meal and have a nice day! See you next time!”

As he walked out with hot steamed buns clutched in his embrace, Ayra suddenly released a deep sigh. As expected, he couldn’t allow Sobleche and Bolney to tear up this fief and steal it away. This was now his territory; the people here were now his.

However, could he scrounge up 10,000 cells before winter ends? He could barely pay the interest; how could he find a way to save the requisite amount? ‘I’ll need to find a way to do something about this situation…’

TL: When Ayra was talking about his dissertation stress, I felt that in my soul T_T