Chapter 33: Good Heavens, There Are Even Banquets
After saying this, Joshua did not wait for the suddenly noisy crowd to quiet down. Instead, he continued speaking on his own: "Some of you probably already know me, but today's topic isn't that—what you might not know is that my father, the old lord, died in an accident, and my uncle, while I was away, occupied the main city, drove out my knights, and planned to seize my title."
"You must remember it well, because not long ago, their patrols were swaggering through my streets throwing their weight around. But don't worry—they've completely disappeared and won't be coming back."
At this point, he paused, waiting for the surging crowd to digest this news, then declared loudly: "Because I've already killed the ones in charge."
The previously restless crowd fell silent for an instant, followed by a wave of cheers—everyone present had been threatened or extorted by those foreign patrols. Otherwise, no matter how cold the winter, there wouldn't have been so few people out and about. The people of the Northern Lands were simple and honest; if that kind of life had gone on much longer, they would have resorted to underhanded means. But since their own lord had taken care of it, they naturally celebrated first.
As for the blatant display of force through killing... only the truly powerful could lead knights and soldiers to expand territory, resist the Black Tide, and protect their lands and people. Since the new lord had shown his strength, let them cheer for him.
Amid the cheers, Joshua summarized concisely: "My people, you may live as before, walk freely on your own land. Anyone who was extorted or harmed can come to Saint Lawrence Cathedral to receive compensation—don't try to lie; the priests of the God of Justice are watching you. Alright, that's about it. Families with newborns this year get a one-year tax exemption. Done."
Even louder cheers erupted. Joshua casually waved to the crowd below, then turned and walked down from the platform.
"Ying, let's go. The rest is up to Atanis and the others."
"Yes, Master."
Time flew by. November 15th, the Month of Frostfall, six days after the declaration.
Frost spread with the wind, freezing everything. White completely covered the fields and pastures. Farmers had harvested the last batch of cold-resistant plants, and herders drove their cattle and sheep back into their sheds. Everyone began preparing to face the winter.
On the Continent of Strife, Mycroft, from the Sea of Bewilderment at the far north to the Cape Cliff at the southernmost end, every inch of its soil was fertile to an unbelievable degree. Plant growth was abnormally fast due to the influence of arcane power. Multiplying these two factors together, the result was the source of disaster that troubled all human factions—the [Black Forest].
Beyond the center of human territory, at various fortresses on the frontier of civilization, the swiftly spreading black jungle grew continuously, expanding like a plague, wantonly encroaching on human living space. Countless magical beasts grew within it as vanguards, forming the Black Tide, destroying towns and villages. Bones and blood served as fertilizer to nurture the next Black Forest. These cursed trees could grow to dozens of meters tall in just three years, their canopies covering the sky. Various plants filled the forest, miasma permeating the air, like another world.
Frontier fortresses close to the Black Forest were certainly surrounded by dense woods or vast grasslands, with countless magical beasts lurking, watching eagerly. Only a single path paved with blood and bones connected to the rear as the sole passage.
Because of the severe cold, the Northern Lands were relatively stable in this regard. Ice and cold inhibited plant activity, making it easy for logging speed to exceed the growth rate of these plants. So the pressure on Moldavia's Black Forest Fortress wasn't as great as that on the empire's southern frontier fortresses.
This situation had both advantages and disadvantages. Due to the characteristics of the plants and land, the common people of this world didn't live a hard life—at least much better than the medieval commoners of Joshua's previous life. Because of the land's peculiarity, no one worried about food. The grain in this world had vitality comparable to weeds. An acre of land could yield at least three seasons of wheat a year. Even in a place like the Northern Lands, two seasons were very easy. Sometimes, when wheat mutated, mages and druids even had to be called in to control it, preventing it from growing beyond bounds.
As for livestock like cattle and sheep, although they easily reverted to wildness due to arcane power, they also grew very quickly as a result. As long as feed was sufficient, they could rapidly leave the juvenile stage in about two weeks and be formally harvested in about three quarters. The speed was astonishing, almost unbelievable. After all, it was a fantasy world with arcane power—no matter how strange, it was normal.
At the western city villa, Joshua sat in the study, frowning as he looked at a stack of letters in his hands.
Becoming a lord wasn't necessarily very busy. Maintaining the city's order and handling various miscellaneous affairs of his territory didn't require his personal effort. What a warrior needed to focus on was actually just managing the people under him.
What truly troubled him were the various letters.
As the successor to the Count of the Northern Lands and the new lord of Moldavia, since two days ago, ceremonial letters from other nobles of the empire had been arriving almost nonstop. Not to mention the loyalty documents from the knights within his own territory—for every letter, he had to prepare a reply that conformed to etiquette, making different responses based on the other party's history and status. This was the minimum requirement of noble etiquette.
When had Joshua ever done this before? Writing these things was a kind of painful torment for him. Several times, the warrior wanted to punch the desk in front of him to end it all, but he held back with immense willpower.
"Tsk, damn it. The Lord's Mansion is completely destroyed. The few clerical staff who used to draft documents for my dead father were all driven away by my dead uncle. Now those people are probably spending the winter in their hometowns in the countryside. It'll take a while to call them back."
After finally using a beautiful cursive script to sign a reply to a certain frontier marquis, Joshua temporarily put down the halfling-made pen, drank a cup of tea, and relaxed his mind.
The old servants and administrative team around the old count had all scattered due to Danier's actions, most having returned home to retire for the winter. Now Joshua was practically a lone commander, having to do everything himself. This situation would probably last until next spring. Fortunately, replying only needed to be done once—it wouldn't repeat.
"Master, there's another letter for you."
From the hall came the energetic voice of the silver-haired divine mechanism girl. In recent days, she had done nothing but constantly deliver letters for Joshua, occasionally helping to bring meals.
"How many is this today..."
Joshua couldn't help but sigh. But after holding his forehead for a few seconds, he seemed to think of something, then said seriously to the hall: "Ying, next time if there's another letter, just open it and look yourself. If it's not very important, don't bother giving it to me. Just reply casually."
"Eh, can I? But this letter looks very expensive."
Ying, holding a very luxurious envelope with even gilded edges, ran to the study door, blinked her green eyes doubtfully, and said: "Should I fill it in? That doesn't seem right..."
"...Give me this letter. The others are fine."
Joshua stood up, took the gilded envelope, and said: "I think you might write even better than me."
He wasn't just saying that. Although Ying looked young, her internal database, aside from being a bit outdated, had everything needed. Her Imperial Capital cursive script was much better than Joshua's, a professional warrior. And the format of replies was mostly the same—not a difficult problem.
Opening the envelope in his hand, Joshua pulled out a platinum-white invitation.
"...A banquet?"