"I... I see you in a new light now. Could you stop making that face, though?"
"Ahem, my apologies."
Lawrence straightened his expression and spoke again with a serious face.
"So, what you're saying, Young Master, is that we should head to a city where many people desire our goods, pit the merchants against each other, and drive up the price before selling? Is that it?"
"Oho, we're finally speaking the same language, Butler."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Petrick nodded and continued.
"Setting everything else aside, if you want to make big money, you have to go where the big money is. How much wealth could those petty merchants who crawl all the way to a remote territory like this possibly have?"
"Hmm, that is certainly true."
Everything Petrick said was logically sound.
Lawrence looked at Petrick as if seeing him for the first time and remarked, "Young Master, you truly have a head for business."
"Hehehe. Of course I do."
As Petrick preened, Lawrence added with genuine admiration, "Hahaha, if someone saw you, they'd think you were a veteran who's handled countless deals like this."
Lawrence meant it as a joke.
But like a frog struck by a carelessly thrown stone, Lawrence's joke poked at Petrick's painful memories.
Petrick's expression darkened instantly. He looked up at the ceiling, let out a deep sigh, and muttered, "If I... if I don't make money... the kids will all starve to death."
"...Pardon?"
"There's a swarm of freeloaders who don't know how to earn a single cent. And in the middle of it all, that pushover of a man can't stand to see the orphans or the poor around him go hungry."
"...Pardon?"
"If I... if I... if even I don't keep my wits about me... Ugh..."
Wait? Is he crying?
Is he actually crying right now?
I thought I saw something like a tear in the Young Master's eye.
No, I must have seen wrong.
Lawrence didn't understand the specifics, but he could feel the sorrow of a patriarch who had spent a lifetime suffering reflected in the face of the ten-year-old boy.
Then, Petrick spoke with a hardened expression.
"Just leave it to me. I'll make sure to sell these for the highest price possible."
As Petrick thumped his chest and made his guarantee, he looked incredibly reliable—not at all like a ten-year-old child.
"Yes. Then I shall place my trust in you, Young Master."
* * *
Five freight carts.
That was the result of packing every single monster byproduct Petrick had hunted so far.
Naturally, Petrick couldn't take all of this alone.
The butler sent along several village servants to act as laborers.
"If possible, I would like to accompany you as well, but..."
"No. You have to manage the territory, Butler."
Petrick spoke firmly to the reluctant Lawrence.
"If even you are gone, what happens to the territory's internal affairs? You must stay here."
Lawrence was the one who had somehow maintained the territory's form by stretching the Schneider family's meager budget to its absolute limit.
If he were taken away, Baron Schneider would have to manage the budget alone...
Regardless of whether Father is competent or not, you don't just hand money over to a pushover.
This was a truth Petrick had learned the hard way in his past life.
[No, Master, what happened to the personal funds I set aside for you?]
[Hahaha, I'm sorry. A child's father said his son was in critical condition but he didn't have money for medicine...]
Ugh, thinking about it makes me pissed off all over again.
To make matters worse, he later found out the guy was lying. There was no sick son; he had just made up a story to get the money.
When Petrick eventually caught the scammer and brought him before his Master, the old man had the nerve to say...
[What a relief. So that means there is no sick son after all.]
[Masteeeeer!]
[Ahem, ahem... Sir, please do not do that again.]
[Are you serious right now?!]
At that moment, Petrick realized something. Entrusting money to a pushover was like giving a child gunpowder and a spark at the same time.
Petrick shook his head as if trying to clear the nightmare, then gripped Lawrence's shoulders firmly.
"Butler, I'm counting on you. Only you."
Faced with a gaze so full of trust it was almost burdensome, Lawrence wore a slightly bewildered expression before replying.
"I understand. In my stead, I will send this fellow to assist you. Chandler."
"Yes, Mr. Butler."
At Lawrence's call, a neatly dressed male servant who looked to be in his late teens appeared.
"This is Chandler. I've been training him for the past few years to be my successor. He can read, write, and manage ledgers."
"Hooo, high-quality labor."
"He will be of great help in your commercial dealings."
At Lawrence's words, Chandler bowed toward Petrick and spoke with a polite, well-mannered attitude.
"My name is Chandler. I look forward to serving you, Young Master."
"Right. Good to have you."
Even just looking at his etiquette and posture during the greeting, it was clear he had received strict training.
"Well then, I'm off. Take care of things while I'm gone."
"Yes, Young Master. We will."
Petrick then left final instructions for the others who had come to see him off.
"Sanson, make sure the kids have their footwork down perfectly by the time I get back."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
"Youngest Brother."
"Yes, Young Master."
"If even a single villager gets hurt or killed by a monster while I'm away... you know what happens, right?"
"I... I will do my absolute best to prevent it!"
"Good. You'd better. For your own sake."
After leaving instructions for everyone, he finally approached Baron Schneider and his mother, who both wore worried expressions.
"Well, I'll be back with lots of money, so just wait for me."
"Your safety is more important than money. Do not do anything dangerous."
"Yeah, well... we'll see."
"Urgh..."
Baron Schneider felt a pang of a stomachache.
Finally, Petrick bowed deeply to his mother, who looked at him with nothing but faith and trust.
"I'll be going now."
"Have a safe trip."
"Safe travels, Young Master."
"Come back with lots of money!"
And so, ten-year-old Petrick set off with five freight carts to earn his fortune.
Watching everyone look at him with eyes full of belief and trust, Petrick smiled contentedly and thought:
Wait, isn't this child labor?
Whatever. Moving on.
* * *
Even though they were called carriages, they weren't the kind of carriages nobles usually rode in.
Since they were freight carts prepared to carry monster byproducts, there was no such thing as a comfortable place to sit.
Will he be alright?
Chandler, attending Petrick for the first time, was worried.
No matter how poor the Schneider family was, wasn't Petrick a young master who had been raised like a precious gem within the mansion?
He wondered if such a young master could endure a journey on uncomfortable freight carts.
Fortunately, the Young Master had no such issues.
Seeing him sprawled out on top of a wagon full of monster parts, snoring as he took a nap...
He looks extremely comfortable.
"Ehehehe. Money. Money..."
Of course, his sleep-talking wasn't very child-like, but Chandler could overlook that.
In any case, as long as the Young Master was like that, Chandler considered himself the one responsible for the journey and meticulously managed the procession.
"We'll rest here for today."
"Yes, Mr. Chandler."
Chandler decided to stop a bit early when they found a stream.
The people needed rest, but the horses also needed water, so it seemed like a good spot to break.
While the horses were unhitched to drink and graze, the servants began preparing food.
They boiled soup and prepared jerky and bread before waking Petrick, who was still sleeping on the wagon.
"Young Master. It's time to eat."
"Huh? Mmm... Is it morning?"
"It is evening."
Just how long had he intended to sleep?
Chandler carefully handed the prepared meal to Petrick.
He had even gone out of his way to give him a bit more jerky than the others, but he was still anxious.
This kind of coarse meal was exactly the sort of thing a sheltered young master would find difficult to—
Munch, munch, gulp.
"Oh, this is good. What kind of soup is this?"
The Young Master was eating very well.
"It is carrot soup."
"Hmm, it's tasty. Sweet and warm—perfect for eating while camping."
"I'm glad you appreciate it."
"Hahaha. Actually, there's something even better for warming the body."
"Yes? What... pardon?"
Chandler saw it.
The ten-year-old boy named Petrick had his eyes fixed on the bottles of strong liquor the laborers were drinking.
"That's the true romance of camping. Building a campfire, roasting a wild boar, and having a bottle of that..."
"Absolutely not."
"Aww..."
"You cannot. If the Young Master drinks alcohol, the Butler will kill me."
"It's fine. I'll cover for you."
"Forget the Butler, the Lord will kill me too."
"That nice man? No way. Even if he tries, I'll cover for you."
"I will tell the Baroness."
"...That's playing dirty, man."
As Petrick scowled, Chandler let out a sigh of relief.
The Baroness works.
Chandler spoke firmly to Petrick.
"Over my dead body will I allow the Young Master to engage in underage drinking."
"Really?"
"Yes. As the future butler of the Schneider territory, I—"
"So you're saying if I put dirt in your eyes, I can drink?"
"..."
Uh, I guess you could interpret it that way.
Usually, people don't, but the words technically allow for it.
It even looked like he was being serious as he grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground with one hand.
"Yo-Young Master? First, please calm down..."
Just then, Petrick's expression shifted, and he shouted.
"Everyone, get behind the wagons!"
With a roar, Petrick was suddenly standing atop a wagon with a sword in each hand.
And immediately after he spoke—
—Kwooooar!
The forest shook, and three trolls burst out.
Trolls—large-type monsters that lived in packs—had ambushed the group.
"Gah...?"
"N-Nooo!"
The panicked laborers collapsed in shock.
As men of the Schneider territory where monster attacks were daily occurrences, they had experience dealing with Goblins or Kobolds.
But not Trolls.
A large-type monster capable of tearing a human apart alive—that was a calamity beyond the scope of what an ordinary person could handle.
"Uh... uuuuh..."
Seeing the massive green monster reaching out for him, a laborer tried to run.
But his legs, drained of strength, wouldn't listen, and tears and snot flowed uncontrollably.
At the moment the Troll's hand was about to reach him as he faced the terror of death—
Swish!
He saw nothing.
His eyes couldn't track it.
He only knew that something had sliced through the air, grazing past his ear.
And the next thing he saw...
Splat!
The Troll reaching for him had become a headless corpse, geysering blood from its neck.
And then, Petrick's irritable voice reached his ears as the boy stood before him.
"Hide behind the wagon! You're in the way!"
"Pardon? Yes! Yes, sir!"
The laborer scrambled back in a daze, and Petrick licked his lips.
"Suddenly, I've got some bonus income."
—Grrr...
—Kwahahaang!
The two remaining Trolls, having lost their comrade in an instant, growled and roared at Petrick, trying to intimidate him, but...
"Look at these punks. How cute. So cute."
Who was he?
Even facing the Trolls' threats, Petrick didn't shrink back in the slightest.
The laborers swallowed hard at the surreal sight.
A mere ten-year-old boy had decapitated a Troll in an instant and was now smiling at the remaining two.
Then, he beckoned with one hand.
"What are you waiting for? Come at me."
—Kwahahaang!
—Ku-hung!
The Trolls lunged at Petrick simultaneously, as if having a seizure.
The one holding a massive club raised its arm high, as if to crush Petrick into a pulp.
But before that powerful strike, capable of shattering boulders, could fall on Petrick's head—
"Slow."
Without any preparatory movement, Petrick dove straight into the Troll's embrace.
In an instant, a flash of blades crossed in an 'X' shape.
The intersection passed precisely through the center of the Troll's head.
No matter how great a Troll's regeneration was, there was no way to survive having its head sliced into four pieces.
Thud!
The Troll's massive frame collapsed.
—Kwooooar!
The last remaining one gave up on the fight and turned to flee.
But before it could even take three steps, Petrick lunged like a bolt of lightning and kicked it in the back.
Wham!
Despite being kicked by a mere ten-year-old child, the large-type monster, over three meters tall, tumbled forward.
Petrick then placed his foot on the fallen Troll's head and pressed down.
Crunch!
—Ku-huuuung!
It was the weight of a ten-year-old, but the Troll groaned in agony as its skull began to crack.
It flailed its arms and legs, trying to get up, but Petrick's foot, pinning its head, didn't budge an inch.
"What? What is that?"
"No way. Is that even possible?"
"..."
The laborers' fear had vanished, replaced entirely by pure astonishment as they watched Petrick.
They had heard he was strong.
They had heard rumors that he was a sword prodigy.
They even knew that Petrick was the one who had hunted the monster byproducts they were currently transporting.
But knowing it in their heads and seeing it in person were two different things.
He was playing with a large-type monster known to be a match for a 3-Star Knight.
Petrick's strength far exceeded the common sense they knew.
"Goodbye."
Crr-ack!
Petrick added internal energy to his Thousand Jin Drop and crushed the last one's head flat.
After settling the situation.
"Ugh... I ruined my shoes."
He grumbled, rubbing the blood off his shoes against a nearby rock.
Then he spoke to the laborers, who were staring with slack-jawed expressions.
"What are you doing? Just going to watch?"
"Ah... yes. Our apologies."
Chandler was the first to snap out of it.
"Quickly, prepare a change of clothes and water for the Young Master to wash—"
"No, not that."
Petrick shouted as if frustrated. Then...
"You need to butcher those quickly! Strip the hides, drain the blood—move it!"
"..."
Oh? Those?
The Troll corpses?
Yes. That was the priority.
"Aigoo, look at all that blood. It's just pouring out. My money is just leaking away!"
Seeing Petrick's expression of genuine regret, Chandler realized two things.
Our Young Master is truly strong.
And he is truly serious about money.
I should keep that in mind.