“A mess,” Kaniel commented, scrolling through another pile of documents. “I’m surprised the monsters haven’t yet run over the place.”
Gora kept silent, slamming one more pile onto the rectangular table. Pitted from years of use, layers of yellowed parchment, each sheet crowded with dense black ink and written in a precise hand, covered it, crinkling as drafts slipped through the stone cracks. Some papers were curled at the edges. Others bore the faded remnants of seals that marked them as official imperial documents. A simple iron candelabrum rested in the center.
It was moments like this that Kaniel would question his life decisions leading up to the very moment he was in. Heavy iron sconces lined the walls. Each held a candle, the wax of which had dripped down over time to form hardened rivulets along the metal. Overhead, the ceiling beams, thick and dark, supported the roof that groaned with the structure's weight. It felt like a prison. Those were not the best memories, though he doubted whether he had any to begin with.
Kaniel read for a long while, his brows furrowing deeper as time went by. He first noted the drastic population drain. People were moving out. Among whoever was left, most regularly died in assaults during the unforgiving winter when food was scarce. There were descriptions of packs of beasts tearing through the farms closest to the wasteland’s edge and new types of creatures emerging from it as if evolving to adapt to the barony’s defenses. Requests for reinforcements had been sent to the empire several times but had gone unanswered.
“So, they ignore the pleas for help…” Kaniel pointed at the absurd numbers. “Yet they demand a mandatory shipment of weapons crafted by the local smiths.”
“We are bound by imperial decree to contribute arms,” Gora stated the obvious.
Swords, spears, shields, and armor pieces were cataloged, with each shipment accounted for. Failure to meet these quotas could result in fines or, worse, a retaliatory reduction in the resources they sent to Nashdome. This placed a severe strain on the barony's resources, as every weapon sent south was one fewer in the hands of the barony itself. Yet it remained inflexible, indifferent. Moreover, stores of iron, coal, and other smithing materials, many of which had to be imported from farther south at exorbitant costs, dwindled yearly.
“There are many mountains nearby. Why not just mine by ourselves? Have the idea never crossed your minds?” Kaniel asked, tilting a chair on its back legs.
“The wasteland taints many of the nearest sites,” Gora’s voice came from left behind. “Expeditions are dangerous and returns disappointingly low.”
Kaniel leaned back. “What about the east? The wasteland covers the whole north, but there are still other areas, no?”
Although for a moment, Gora’s brows creased slightly, his mouth turning down for a split second.
“What’s wrong?”
Gora met his eyes. “Years back, the Lord lost the eastern mountains in a wager against a county.”
“Oh,” Kaniel let out a chuckle barely more than a whisper, his shoulders quivering. “Regret. You are very perceptive indeed and yet can’t manage to hide your feelings.”
Gora remained silent, his gaze deepening, narrowing.
“Whatever,” Kaniel said with both hands clasped before him, elbows on the table, chin resting on his knuckles, watching piercingly. “I won’t pry. I’m not inclined to care. It won’t be of help anyway. The past is past.” He glanced down at the documents and continued analyzing.
The harsh northern climate limited what crops could be grown. Root vegetables like turnips and potatoes were staples. Hunters provided meat from the northern forests; however, the presence of monsters often made hunting a dangerous venture, resulting in scarce meat supplies. Trade routes to the barony were few and fraught with peril, and the traders themselves were increasingly reluctant to make the journey due to the monster threat and poor returns on their goods.
Nashdome prided itself on the skill of its blacksmiths, carpenters, and hunters. The smithing industry wasn’t just a matter of tribute. Some reports mentioned the potential for creating highly specialized weapons and armor explicitly crafted to withstand or counter the monster swarms. Innovations in weapon design and trapping methods were being developed locally, but resources limited large-scale production. According to the said reports, these unique designs could become valuable enough for trade or attracting external mercenaries.
“Wishful thinking,” Kaniel scoffed.
“Why do you think so?” the steward asked flatly.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Gora, I want to clarify something here,” Kaniel noted. “Everything here is written by you, correct?”
Gora paused for a while, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Of course,” the lord said. “You’re a very smart man. Yet, what oftentimes seems plausible in theory fails miserably in practice.”
“Could you elaborate?” The steward gave him a sidelong glance.
“First,” Kaniel raised a finger, “You mention that resource shortages hinder mass production and yet hope for large-scale, specialized weapon production. Without stable access to essential raw materials such as iron, steel, and leather, the barony can’t produce enough to attract trade or mercenaries. So, even if you come up with effective designs, the capacity to scale production is severely limited.”
He followed by raising another finger. “Investing in experimental designs without guaranteed effectiveness is risky. The return on investment may not justify the high production costs. Unless the specialized weapons offer a drastic improvement, it’s unlikely that other regions would pay a premium for these items. You put hopes in external interest that may never materialize.”
The third finger was lifted. “That focus should be put on immediate survival rather than long-term development for now. As long as the barony remains vulnerable to attacks, progress will be disrupted.”
After Kaniel pointed out a few more arguments, silence permeated the room. Kaniel resumed his read, interpreting the calm as an agreement.
The records included details on the burdens of taxation. Farmers, trappers, and artisans were expected to contribute a portion of their goods or income, though collection had become inconsistent as many residents could barely sustain themselves. The barony increasingly relied on compulsory labor like fortification repairs and patrol duties as a form of tax. They were obviously discontent regarding the whole situation.
Several more notes were scribbled in the margins that suggested plans for longer-term survival and stability. Some hinted at experimental farming techniques or enchanted traps to protect crops from monsters. Others discussed incentives for people to settle, such as offering land and reduced taxes for those willing to brave the dangers.
Bitterly cold winters made farming impossible for months. Preparations for winter occupied a substantial part of the barony’s annual efforts. The records mentioned storage issues as proper preservation was crucial to avoid spoilage, leading to hunger and malnutrition among the populace. The barony had attempted to construct cold cellars and experiment with salting and smoking meat to extend food storage, but without consistent supplies, these efforts fell short. Some documents proposed using alchemical techniques to preserve food for more extended periods. Yet the resources and expertise were scarce.
“You sure are creative, I’ll give you that,” Kaniel made sure to mock the annoying butler as he read. “But you can’t just force people into doing what they don’t like, even for their own sake. You want loyalty. Not resentment.”
Kaniel immediately followed. “They’ll give you the bare minimum. People have to see the value in what they’re doing. Real strength doesn’t come from fear or obligation but from choosing to stand up for yourself and your own goals. Low morale spreads like rot. It infects everyone.”
“Are there any alternatives?” Gora asked, his voice low.
“There are. There is also a reason why nobody has come up with it,” Kaniel said with a slow smile, one that lacked warmth, only reaching his lips and leaving his eyes cold. “People lose interest when they are forced into tasks they hate. They lose creativity and ambition. But when they’re free to pursue things that align with their strengths and passions, they innovate. They push boundaries.”
Kaniel turned his head and pointed a finger at his servant, “If you’re looking for growth, any kind of growth, whether economically, strategically, or culturally, you have to let them play to their strengths, not just assign them roles they can barely tolerate. A well-meaning tyrant is more resented than an honest monster because they claim to know better.”
“Economically?” Gora asked, puzzled.
“Never mind that.”
Kaniel darted his gaze to the tall wooden cabinet, its doors warped. Inside were shelves stacked with leather-bound books, rolled-up scrolls, various quills, inkpots, a stash of parchment, and smaller stacks of sealed letters now covered with dust.
Other chairs around the room were wooden stools and straight-backed seats intended for function rather than comfort, used by guests or locals who might attend a meeting.
“Just go sit,” Kaniel prompted. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ll have to figure out together how to fix this mess.”
“I’m fine,” Gora claimed.
“I know you’re testing me,” Kaniel said, smiling, watching the man scornfully. “The point? Even if you kill me just like how you’ve set up the previous lord, a new pig will come. Nothing will change. This is an exercise in futility.”
He fixed his eyes on Gora. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, unsettlingly calm yet heavy. Sharp, penetrating. His eyes were subtle yet far more unnerving.
“Did I hit the mark?” Kaniel asked, his voice ice cold. “Silence tells a lot more than you’d think.”
Gora held his gaze momentarily, his expression as inscrutable and unreadable as ever. He didn’t flinch, didn’t react. Without a word, he walked over to the chair at the lord’s right, pulling it out. He lowered himself into the seat, hands folded in his lap.
“You did your best. I don’t blame you,” the lord said, turning his head back and reaching for another stack of documents. “The situation was simply beyond your capability. Yet you’re a smart man, Gora. Instead of looking for lucky stars, you will adapt to what you have and work with it. Learn and grow.”