To get rich, first build roads.
That was the very phrase Black had used to convince Ofalil, hoping that better roads would bring wealth flowing into their territory—but so far, instead of riches, trouble had come knocking at their door fast.
Black and Ofalil were under no illusions about the Byrd family's pretext. This was the very same noble house that had schemed to cheat the Felix family out of their lands and exiled its last heir to this desolate place. From their standpoint, it would have made perfect sense for the Byrds to send someone to check if the "poor unfortunate soul" was dead or alive. But a personal visit? That was anything but normal. And even if there were official documents to hand over, a simple representative would have sufficed—there was absolutely no need for a viscount to make the trip in person. So both of them regarded the Byrd family's impending visit with deep suspicion.
As for Viscount Von, Black had never even heard the name, and Ofalil was equally in the dark—after all, she had been gone from this world for thirty years, and much had changed in her absence. For now, their primary concern was figuring out why the Byrds had suddenly decided to pay them a visit.
Ofalil had pointed out that social calls between nobles were perfectly routine, but Black was little more than a landed lord with no formal title to speak of. At best, his status ranked him as a mere knight. Logically, no one of any consequence should have been eager to associate with someone of such lowly standing so soon—and certainly not a viscount.
"Something doesn't add up here," Black swirled the tea in his cup, his expression as relaxed and unconcerned as ever, a stark contrast to Ofalil, who sat beside him with her brow furrowed in deep thought.
"Did you do something to offend them in the past, my lord?"
"Me? Offend them?" Black put on an exaggeratedly innocent look.
"You know perfectly well I've always been a law-abiding citizen. Why would I ever do such a thing? Besides, if anything, I'm the victim here, aren't I?"
"..."
Ofalil felt a familiar throbbing in her temples.
"...Forget it. We won't know the real reason until they arrive. Right now, we have more pressing matters to deal with, Lord Black. You must understand—if those nobles are coming here to cause trouble, we need to make sure they can find no fault with us, at least not on the surface."
In the end, it all came back to the same problem: they needed more servants.
Black shrugged. On this continent, the slave trade was perfectly legal. Some people sold themselves into servitude out of desperate poverty; others became slaves after falling on the losing side of noble feuds or wars. Of course, such slaves were not easy to come by just anywhere. In fact, they were something of a luxury—beyond the means of just anyone, anywhere.
"I understand. I'll take care of this matter personally."
"Huh?"
Though she'd had a vague inkling, Ofalil still looked surprised at Black's response.
"You, my lord? Are you certain you need to handle something as trivial as buying slaves yourself? I could easily take a few servants to deal with it. As the lord of this domain, you ought to stay in the castle and oversee the bigger picture."
"Oh, no, no, Lady Ofalil. I don't see it that way at all."
Black shook his head, then held up a single finger.
"I assure you, if I handle this, the results will be far better… Leave it to me. I promise I'll give you a satisfactory answer."
"..."
Ofalil stared at him, confused. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why the young lord was so confident about this. Her main reason for wanting to go herself was that she didn't trust him with it. From what she'd seen these past few days, Black clearly had no grasp of, and cared even less about, the daily affairs of noble households. He took a laissez-faire attitude toward most things that required attention, never bothering to follow through.
But what Ofalil needed were well-trained, polite servants who could conduct themselves with the proper decorum befitting a noble household.
Did this lord even understand what she required?
"You needn't worry about that. I know exactly what I'm doing."
Let's hope that's true.
After witnessing firsthand what Black was capable of doing to those bandits, Ofalil had learned to take his words with a grain of salt. Still, she was no longer a princess—when her lord gave an order, she had no choice but to obey.
"Very well. I'll stay in the castle and take care of the remaining matters, my lord. Is there anything else you wish to instruct me on?"
At Ofalil's question, Black paused for a moment, then spoke up.
"Everything is proceeding smoothly with the road repairs, isn't it?"
"Absolutely, my lord."
Ofalil picked up a report from beside her and scanned it quickly.
"The roads have been fully repaired and meet all our requirements. However, the expenses have gone a bit over budget."
"We're not short on money right now. Just cover the difference."
Turns out robbery really is a profitable business.
The night had grown late.
As the three hands of the clock in the hall aligned perfectly upward once more, a deep, slow, rhythmic chime echoed through the quiet castle.
The lights dimmed abruptly.
A supernatural wind swirled through the hall, coiling and gathering beneath the high ceiling. At that moment, the suits of armor that had stood as mere decorations along the walls all lifted their heads. A faint but brilliant red glow flickered inside their helmets, fixing their gaze on the figure slowly descending the stairs. Ever since Black had brought them back to the castle, these spirit warriors had resumed their guise as inanimate armor. It couldn't be helped—spirit warriors consumed energy to move, and until they absorbed enough soul power to fully materialize their physical forms, maintaining their decorative disguise was the only way to conserve their strength. And this arrangement suited Black perfectly: not only did they serve as elegant ornamentation, but they also acted as silent sentinels watching over the entire castle. Who would ever suspect that the suits of armor lining the corridors and halls were actually living beings?
"Good evening, everyone," Black stepped down the last few steps, his eyes fixed on the invisible spirits floating and swirling before him, listening to the cold, piercing whispers of their soul communication that echoed directly in his mind.
"I think you all heard what our dear lady had to say earlier," Black said, straightening his formal attire.
"So now I need your assistance… But I must warn you, this won't be as simple as our previous tasks. It will require you to make a considerable sacrifice… I hope you will all think carefully. And of course, be very careful not to let our esteemed, beautiful princess catch wind of this."
A soul storm suddenly erupted throughout the hall. The spirit warriors' unique telepathic link flared to life, and even the ones disguised as armor had their red eyes flickering erratically, the glow waxing and waning with the intensity of their mental exchange.
Black smiled as he looked out at the seemingly empty hall. In truth, these spirits were his most reliable allies. While Ofalil was certainly capable, the human heart was a fickle thing. Black could not be certain whether the former princess would still stand by him if she ever learned his true identity. Of course, this was hardly a problem for him—he could simply make her his woman… But that would take time too. While the act itself might be over in a moment, winning her complete obedience, both body and soul, would be a long and arduous process.
But that was fine. It was all part of the game.
The soul storm gradually subsided, and the invisible, frigid wind died down. The flame-like red glimmers in the spirit warriors' eyes trembled for a moment, then steadied, before fading into the dark abyss of their helmets.
It seemed a decision had been reached.