Chapter 258:
"Ugh... oh my goodness. Ouch. Ah, my back is aching."
In the middle of the harvesting season, farmer Eric straightened up with a wince of pain.
Despite his grumbling, his face glowed with a steadfast smile.
Even with sweat dripping down his sun-kissed skin and his back throbbing from hours of scything since sunrise,
The thick, golden sea of wheat stretching out in front of him—a sight unfamiliar in his forty years of farming—turned all his toils into a gratifying experience.
The realization that there was still as much work ahead as the endless waves of wheat in his field oddly brought him joy.
"Eric! Don't take a break on your own, let's rest together! We need to work efficiently! You're not planning to relax only after finishing your own field, are you?"
"Quit nagging about a short break! I'm working! Working!"
Leon, his colleague shouting nearby, seemed to echo his sentiments with a smile on his face.
This cheerful atmosphere wasn't just confined to the recently cultivated western wilderness; laughter echoed throughout the entire royal domain, extending even to the distant corners beyond the wilderness.
"What a plentiful harvest! A truly magnificent yield!"
"Look at these plump wheat grains. I've spent my whole life farming, yet I've never seen grains this full."
"And the rice, too!"
"This year, food shortage won't be a concern!"
All of this was attributed to the magical fertilizer farming technique that had been introduced solely in the McLaine territory the previous year.
This season, not only the newly cultivated western wilderness but the entire royal jurisdiction and even the Esperanza territory were reaping an unparalleled bumper crop.
Furthermore, with the taxes that had surged the previous year now decreased by 30%, the farmers, sweating profusely as they welcomed the harvest season, wore expressions of sheer delight.
While the kingdom's overall crop production remained average, only the McLaine and Esperanza territories, along with the royal lands, were relishing in this exceptional harvest.
This unique situation, coupled with the king's elimination of the nobles and implementation of new tax policies, gave rise to peculiar rumors.
"The lands blessed by His Majesty the King yield a luxurious harvest."
Although the more discerning individuals might scoff at such claims, the number of commoners embracing the rumor was steadily increasing.
"The McLaine territory had a successful harvest last year too!"
"What explains this bountiful yield in the newly cultivated wilderness?"
"From barren land to fertile soil, and now this extraordinary harvest...!"
Despite the lack of concrete evidence or logic, the transformation was too vivid to be disregarded.
'Our' King is a divine figure favored by the gods.
Amidst these rumors, which marked a 180-degree shift in public opinion regarding Logan and the monarchy, there were still those who sighed in contemplation of this altered world.
* * *
"My lord, it appears we are facing challenges."
"...Is that so?"
Baron Trevold Dalton couldn't suppress a despondent sigh upon receiving the report from his retainer, Leto.
"How much are we lacking?"
"After deducting 60% of the collected taxes for the royal tribute, it won't even cover a third of last year's territory budget."
"Can you be more precise?"
"Given the expected harvest, just the wages for thirty knights would surpass the budget."
"Hmm..."
Baron Dalton's expression darkened even more.
'A noble unable to sustain his own retinue of knights. Is the King genuinely aiming to eradicate us nobility?'
In reality, the Dalton territory had always been on the impoverished side.
Even with collecting 60% of taxes and remitting a third to the royal treasury, there were instances where they faced deficits—this hilly domain was relegated to a lower-tier rural nobility, unable to afford a residence in the capital.
Thus, when the tax system was forcibly shifted from 40% to 60%, financial ruin was an inevitable outcome.
"...I must plead to His Majesty."
It seemed more prudent to at least present their case than to perish in silence.
However, Leto didn't appear to share his sentiments.
"My lord, your actions could invite disaster upon us. His Majesty already exterminated the opposing nobles in one swift stroke!"
Leto's pallid visage clearly conveyed the peril of the baron's intentions.
"I won't act alone. Other territories must be suffering as well, not just ours."
"...You intend to appeal alongside other nobles?"
"Yes, it's the only way."
"But, my lord. If we do so, we might meet the same fate as Count Jacques Huon…."
"Leto!!"
"My apologies."
Leto bowed, and Baron Dalton's countenance hardened.
The tale of 'The Day of the Purge,' when the King quashed a rebellion in one decisive blow, was forbidden among the noble clans—particularly in the Dalton household, which had contemplated aligning with Jacques Huon, albeit belatedly.
Nonetheless, the agitated baron was also fraught with concern.
'The current King brooks no dissent. If I submit this appeal, truly... No, no. He wouldn't resort to executions merely for an appeal.'
The current predicament and the fear of the King engendered both turmoil and conflict in the baron's mind.
Just then...
Bang!
"My lord!!"
One of the knights burst into the chamber as if crashing through the door and exclaimed.
"A missive from the royal palace!!"
Even before taking action, the previous dialogue had already made the baron's heart sink.
His apprehension heightened as he entered the communication chamber with heavy strides.
"Are you Baron Trevold Dalton? This is our first encounter."
A crimson-haired, red-eyed youth within the communication sphere.
Though the baron had never met him in person, he couldn't possibly mistake the individual.
"Y-Your Majesty. Is there a reason for your personal..."
[Have I transgressed in some way?]
With a gasp, the baron instinctively recoiled at the King's chilly response.
"No, Your Majesty, not at all. It's an honor to converse with you directly."
[Is that so? Excellent.]
His composed tone provided the baron with some relief.
Yet the respite was fleeting.
[But I've heard murmurs of your inclination to support Jacques Huon?]
"Such absurd rumors!"
Thunderstruck by this revelation, the baron sprang up while still prostrated.
"Your Majesty, I categorically deny any such allegiance to Jacques Huon! Please trust in my loyalty!"
The baron protested with a facade of resolute desperation to mask his truth.
Sensing the earnestness, Logan chuckled and pivoted the conversation.
[Very well. This is merely gossip after all. I didn't reach out to you to discuss rumors.]
"Please, Your Majesty, share your thoughts! I will faithfully comply!"
[Oh, is that so? That's reassuring. However, this isn't a command, but rather a proposal. Mull it over and then respond.]
A proposition?
From the King? To him?
...Why?
This sudden statement only compounded the baron's perplexity, but an even more confounding proposal emerged from the communication sphere.
[Baron, is governing your territory proving arduous for you?]
Yes, indeed. It has been challenging due to certain circumstances.
That was what he wanted to convey, but to avoid potential repercussions, the baron had to furnish a conventional response.
"...I am acknowledging my limitations."
[Don't mince words. I've been briefed on the financial hardships through the envoys I dispatched.]
What did that signify?
Was he possibly extending assistance?
[Yes. Your inference is correct.]
What might that deduction entail?
As the baron grappled with bewilderment, the King's unexpected offer materialized.
[Should you desire, the royal household is prepared to aid in the governance of your lands.]
"...Pardon me?"
[The royal family will support you in managing your lands, baron.]
The baron was too astounded to formulate a reply.
Wasn't it the King who sought to seize and subdue the nobles’ authority?
Or was this yet another intricate snare for the unforeseen future?
As confusion compounded upon confusion, the baron couldn't help but pose a blunt question.
"... Why?"
It was a juvenile inquiry, akin to a fit of pique.
'What a fool I am…!'
Even the baron was startled by the impertinent tone, incongruous with the decorum he had imbibed as a noble, yet the King on the other end of the communicator responded with a chuckle.
[Would I discourse on something that doesn't exist?]
"My apologies, Your Majesty. If you can divulge the secret, I will deem it the pinnacle of my existence."
The baron, relieved, bowed, amalgamating a modicum of sincerity with his lingering trepidation.
[Yet even with this secret, the challenges of governing your territory won't instantaneously dissipate, given your financial predicaments, correct?]
He was addressing the very individual responsible for those financial woes.
Though the baron had received a vow of extraordinary generosity from the omnipotent King, who now wielded absolute power, he concurred candidly.
"Yes. Even with a guaranteed harvest next year, sustaining the territory for a year will remain onerous."
[Agreed. Hence, for that reason and my own entreaty, I have a request to make of you.]
"Sir?"
The unexpected persisted.
Why would the King issue 'requests' rather than decrees to him?
The baron's visage assumed a demeanor of perplexity once more.
[Would you dispatch your order of knights to the royal palace? The financial onus, inclusive of their stipends, will be borne by the royal house.]
The King's words prompted the baron to adopt a stern countenance.
'Naturally. He wouldn't bestow something without a cost.'
Knights constituted the bedrock of a lord's authority, the very rationale for a noble lineage's superiority over commoners.
Every noble, not solely Baron Trevold, would harbor the notion that they could surrender all else but not their order of knights.
However, those words emanated from the king, the individual who had amassed unparalleled power and sway, so the baron ventured cautiously.
"If I decline to send my knights, will you withhold the aforementioned secret?"
He posed the question tentatively, evading direct eye contact.
But an unforeseen response reverberated.
[No. Cultivating a prosperous realm for its populace is a fundamental duty of the King. The secret to a plentiful yield will be disclosed, irrespective of my appeal.]
The King's agreeableness rendered it even more challenging for the baron to reply. Despite feeling pusillanimous, to safeguard his knights for the sake of his lineage, he had to retain his retinue.
The baron squeezed his eyes shut and enunciated with heightened caution.
"... I regret to inform you that, irrespective of the circumstances, it would be arduous to dispatch my knights. I will exert every effort to seek a resolution."
Undoubtedly, if the King insisted, there would be naught he could do.
'Even if the King rescinds his support, I must safeguard the knights.'
The baron resolved to persevere by any means necessary.
While bracing for an outburst or frigid indifference, a milder voice persisted.
[Baron. Unbeknownst to you, there exist internal and external threats against the realm. I aim to consolidate the kingdom's might to weather every storm.]
The baron recollected the recent conflict the King had personally initiated, yet the kingdom seemed placid otherwise.
His anxiety ebbed in the face of the soothing tone, prompting him to interrogate the King.
"...What do you signify, sire?"
[Because this realm is no longer Grandia but McLaine Kingdom.]
Subsequently, the baron could discern a fraction of the King's standpoint.
An ascendant realm that had deposed the former dynasty.
He recollected that neighboring nations could raise objections to that.
The ensuing words further jarred the baron's core.
[I foresee this era of tribulation extending for three years. A three-year deployment of your knights should suffice. They will acquire proficiency in the Ironblood Sword Style and return fortified.]
Not absorption but deployment.
And an opportunity to master the renowned sword technique that had burnished the McLaine Order's reputation.
[Will you acquiesce to my request?]
Furthermore, it was the King, wielding absolute royal authority, who addressed a mere rural lord like himself with courtesy, rendering it difficult not to acquiesce.
Upon reflection, the baron experienced a twinge of shame for his self-serving disposition. Once he had cogitated, his resolution became unambiguous.
"I will heed Your Majesty's entreaty."
[... Thank you.]
That afternoon, thirty knights from the Dalton territory embarked forthwith towards the royal palace.
Concurrently, knights from other domains who had received the King's missive commenced converging towards the royal abode as well.