"These past few days, I've been touring the territories," Baron Leo began, his brow furrowed with visible concern. "To be honest… the situation isn't looking good. Some villages are repeatedly harassed by bandits, and the two towns are occasionally raided. Merchants are afraid to travel here for business. I fear our income this year will be even lower than last year. Last year we made over two thousand silver crelies, but this year… I doubt we'll reach even eighteen hundred."
Richard did not respond immediately. He simply regarded his father with quiet scrutiny, eyes sharp and unwavering. He wanted to see what the Baron truly intended.
Under Richard's steady gaze, Baron Leo finally revealed his purpose. "To stabilize the territories and restore some order, I've decided to recruit more knights and soldiers. Recruiting ordinary soldiers is simple—money is all that's needed. But knights… knights are harder to persuade. Money alone isn't enough. Typically, you offer land, a fief, to entice them. But our fiefs are already stretched thin. Only the most loyal knights receive them. So… I need something else to substitute for land, and thus…"
"Thus?" Richard prompted, voice calm.
"Thus!" Baron Leo inhaled deeply, eyes serious as he met Richard's. "My dear son… Richard Angré, I wish for you to craft two sharp, masterfully made swords—the kind you showed me before, capable of cutting through a standard longsword effortlessly. I intend to use them to secure the loyalty of knights. With those swords, the territories could stabilize in no time."
Richard's lips curved into a faint, amused smile. "Sure," he said lightly, as if agreeing to a casual suggestion.
"Really? You agree!" Baron Leo's face brightened in surprise. But his joy vanished almost instantly when Richard followed with a simple, calm statement:
"One sword costs six hundred silver crelies."
Baron Leo's expression froze, disbelief and shock etching deep lines across his face. "Th… that's… far too expensive! That's nearly four months' income from the territories!"
"I make expensive swords," Richard replied matter-of-factly.
"Then I'll supply you with iron ingots and have the castle's blacksmiths assist you. All you need to do is direct them."
"Then why not go to other blacksmiths? Surely they would be willing to help for less—or even free, right, my Baron?" Richard's voice carried a slight edge of amusement, his eyes glinting.
"You…" Baron Leo's irritation flared, his pride pricked.
"You know this as well as I do," Richard continued smoothly. "The most valuable thing is the precision of my own hands and mind. If I don't craft it myself, the sword you desire simply cannot exist."
"I am your father," the Baron retorted, vexation in his tone.
"You need not be angry, Father," Richard said evenly, tone calm and unwavering. He leaned back slightly, recalling the fifteen years he had spent in this world. "Three years ago, when I was twelve, you tried to threaten me into halting my experiments by cutting off my allowance. From that moment on, I resolved never to spend your money. Every expense in my life would be earned by my own hand.
"In truth, over the past three years, the two shops I've run in town have fully covered my costs, and by average prices, have repaid the entirety of what you spent on me during my first twelve years. Later, when you forbade me from commanding the castle guards, I recruited the First Guard myself, paid them directly, and ensured they obeyed only my orders—nominally yours, but practically mine.
"From a certain perspective, I owe you nothing. We are equals, perhaps even adversaries—a state that began three years ago. Therefore, if you wish to acquire something from me, it must be of equivalent value. And let me remind you—the swords you desire are alloyed, technologically hundreds of years ahead of the current world. One sword costs three hundred silver crelies, or thirty thousand copper bettes—already exceedingly cheap. There is no room for further negotiation."
Baron Leo's face darkened. He exhaled sharply. "I… cannot provide that sum immediately. Is there no way to defer payment? My son, you are my heir. I admit that three years ago, I may have erred. But in time, the entire Barony will be yours. Surely, three hundred silver crelies is a trivial sum in comparison."
"Hah," Richard chuckled softly, raising a finger. "First, I am only the second heir. My elder brother, Edward Angré, five years older than me, departed three years ago according to tradition, to train as a knight in his maternal family's lands. He is the true first heir—the future Baron. That is undeniable."
"Secondly," he raised a second finger, "I have no intention of inheriting the title. What could I gain from it? Work the land quietly, build the army, and conquer? No—I have far more important and interesting pursuits. I do not need the Barony to weigh me down, so I will never consider succession."
"Finally," he held up a third finger, "my stance is not revenge for what happened three years ago. Adults do not operate on whims of right or wrong, only on principles of equivalent exchange: you provide resources, I provide the swords. If you cannot pay in money, then goods will suffice. I will have Lucy prepare a list of materials lacking in the territories; once you provide them, the swords are yours."
The Baron remained silent, deep in thought. Only after several long moments did he speak.
"Very well…" he said reluctantly, a mixture of irritation and helplessness in his tone. His gaze lingered on his fifteen-year-old son, and for the first time in many nights of sleepless worry, unease surged within him. Many nights, he had stared from the main keep's bedroom window at the side keep, watching the lamp that never went out, asking himself again and again: Is this truly my son? How could I have a child like this? What does he intend?
"Very well, then. There is nothing more. Good night, Father—Baron Leo Angré," Richard said smoothly, interrupting the Baron's thoughts as he rose and headed toward the hall exit.
"Wait," the Baron suddenly called, halting him.
"Hm?" Richard paused, turning slightly. "Something else?"
"I heard…" the Baron drew a measured breath, choosing his words cautiously. "…before returning from my tour, you, along with Turku and the others, killed a bear in the Black Forest?"
"Yes," Richard confirmed simply.
The Baron leaned forward, seeking more confirmation, but received none. "The bear you killed… it was the Firebear, wasn't it? The one said to be engulfed in flames, yes?"
"Yes," Richard answered, one word, unwavering.
The Baron exhaled deeply, worry lines etched deeply across his face. "What… exactly… are you planning to do?"
Richard's gaze remained steady, unreadable, but a faint spark of amusement lingered in his eyes.