Chapter 25: A New Beginning

More than ten days of travel had left Victor feeling a hint of weariness, and the events of yesterday had made him acutely aware that he was not at all prepared for the role of a lord.

The migration of over four hundred people was far more than simply ensuring these commoners were fed, clothed, and safe from monsters. Beyond these basic necessities, they would have other needs—companionship, rights, status within the community, and so forth.

Nelson was an experienced mercenary captain. That none of the settlers had fallen victim to monsters along the way was testament enough to his abilities. Yet clearly, he was just as ill-suited to managing commoners as Victor himself.

Left without proper checks, a handful of militiamen quickly transformed their minor authority into the tyranny of bullies. What changes, then, might befall the full-fledged members of the Bear Mercenaries?

Victor believed that, for now, the mercenaries had not become as ruthless as those few militiamen, not because of any innate goodness, but because they had yet to recognize the change in their roles. To them, this migration was still simply a mercenary assignment—an escort mission to be conducted according to their own code of conduct.

But after what had occurred, some would begin to realize that everything had changed.

Victor found himself, oddly, grateful to the sly Mause. Had he not immediately made the incident public, it was imaginable that Nelson, to protect his men, would have dealt with those individuals in secret, and Victor would have remained in the dark.

Nelson was a man of principle, but that did not make him a kind one. In truth, a mercenary who lives by the sword is never truly gentle. And if he began solving problems in this fashion, he would be like a beast who, having tasted human flesh once, would continue to hunt his own kind. Victor would lose all control over this group.

This thought weighed heavily on Victor.

“You need a steward,” the old scholar pronounced unerringly.

As for yesterday’s incident, neither Edwin, Bruce, Nicole, nor any of the other squire-knights showed the slightest concern. The coerced farm woman, the slain Logan, or the fate of the expelled militiamen—none of these mattered to them.

This made Victor realize the vast divide between the noble class and the world of the commoners. The link between these realms lay in the managers raised up by the nobility: stewards, mayors, sheriffs, village heads, and so forth. These were the eyes and claws of noble rule.

“How should I choose a steward?” Victor had no choice but to ask Master Edwin for guidance.

What Victor knew best were the niceties of noble etiquette and the arts of pleasing women—hardly the skills of governance, all courtesy of the Marchioness Sophia.

“A lord’s steward cannot be just anyone,” Edwin explained as he gently wafted the steam from his cup of pine-nut tea. “He must be versed in all the affairs of the domain, skilled in noble customs, and, most importantly, absolutely loyal to you. For that, he must, above all, be literate.”

Victor was thoroughly disheartened. Among his subjects, precious few could even read.

“In fact, most noble families raise their stewards from childhood,” Edwin went on, smiling as he noticed Victor’s dismay. “They are often of the family’s own blood, for only then can loyalty be assured. Their descendants will serve the family for generations, and from among them are chosen the village heads, mayors, sheriffs, and tax collectors.”

Victor knew Edwin spoke the truth. The Wimbledon family was of ancient nobility, its lineage stretching back even before the founding of the Gambis Kingdom. When Victor first arrived in the Manchurian Hills as a lord, Sophia had sent a family steward to manage his affairs. That steward, a blood relative of the Wimbledons, had kept everything in perfect order—until, at the first bandit attack, he was the first to be slaughtered.

Now, Victor saw, this may well have been a measure by the York family to keep him in check.

“It seems I’ll have to postpone this for now,” Victor said, resigned.

“You might consider taking Captain Nelson’s sister as your personal maid,” Edwin suggested, in a tone half in jest, half in earnest. “If she were to bear you a child, that child would be an ideal candidate for your family’s steward.”

Edwin’s suggestion made Victor’s heart race. Nelson was Victor’s main pillar of support at present, and strengthening their bond in such a way was indeed a good strategy. Moreover, Lilia was young, spirited, and beautiful—possessing a vitality that noblewomen lacked, and she clearly held Victor in great esteem.

For the time being, Nelson and his men would be the key to upholding Victor’s rule, and winning Nelson’s allegiance was essential. This, Victor realized, was likely the real reason behind the old scholar’s advice.

Victor also knew Nelson did not want his only sister to grow too close to himself; he feared she might never find a proper place in life.

But a noble’s personal maid was a recognized companion, holding considerable status in the domain. Though their children could not inherit the family name, they could yet awaken the blood of knights. Should any such offspring become knights, they would be granted noble status. Thus, for common women, becoming a noble’s personal maid was a much-coveted fate.

Victor glanced at Nicole, and found the young squire-knight looked as if nothing could be more natural.

“Though Captain Nelson lacks noble blood, he is a formidable and valorous warrior, deserving due respect.”

Victor’s silence made Knight Bruce suspect he disdained Lilia’s status, and he spoke up for Nelson. Over their many days together, the proud knight had come to greatly admire Nelson’s prowess.

To take another’s sister as a personal maid was, in this world, a mark of respect—such was the twisted logic of the nobility.

“It is a solution, but I will consult Nelson and Lilia first and honor their wishes,” Victor replied. The values of his former world made him hesitate, but he could not deny this might be his best option.

“In the meantime, until I have a capable manager, I shall personally oversee all internal affairs. It may lack the dignity of the nobility, but it is my duty,” Victor declared, his confident bearing making Miss Nicole’s eyes shine.

“And how do you plan to proceed?” Edwin stroked his beard, clearly intrigued.

“I intend to divide the settlers into six groups, have them elect their own leaders, and set these leaders to manage the tasks I assign. Any problems they encounter can be reported directly to me, and I will judge as I see fit,” Victor explained.

“But you cannot guarantee their loyalty. Before long, they may become like Logan—conspiring to deceive you, using your authority to oppress their fellows. Never underestimate the cunning or audacity of the lower classes; once they turn to mischief, they know no bounds,” the old scholar cautioned.

“You are right,” Victor conceded. “For those without moral faith, absolute power leads to absolute corruption. So I intend to appoint a deputy for each group. These deputies will not interfere with the group leader’s work, but every ten days they will report directly to me about what they have seen and heard. And the role of deputy will rotate among the adult settlers.”

Supervision and reporting are effective checks on power—a truth Victor, as a man out of time, well understood.

“Absolute power leads to absolute corruption? A truly profound insight! I must admit, Victor, you have astonished me,” Edwin exclaimed.

“A sound plan. But Victor, let me remind you—not to forget the whip!” Knight Bruce’s earnest admonition left Victor speechless.

As they exchanged views, a cheer rose from the front of the procession.

After nearly twenty days of arduous journey, they had finally reached their new domain.

Climbing to the top of a hill, Victor was met by a boundless purple sea. Looking closer, he saw that it was made up of countless tall purple plants, each taller than a man, with straight stems, no branches, and broad purple leaves crowning their tops. Packed tightly together, leaf against leaf, plant against plant, they formed a dense, undulating ocean. A gentle breeze set the leaves to trembling like waves—an awe-inspiring sight.

Gazing at the magnificent purple expanse, listening to the vibrant chorus of birds and insects, Victor was filled with mixed emotions. Here, he would bid farewell to his former self—whether the ill-fated soul of a previous life or the embattled petty noble. Here, he would begin anew.