Everything was proceeding smoothly.
Except for little Irene, the other three all had prior experience working in the castle. They quickly divided up their duties and settled into their quarters. Maffa would oversee the servants living in the staff quarters beneath the castle, managing their meals and taking charge of inventory and organization. Though the middle-aged woman looked like a rough, unrefined peasant in her coarse linen clothes, she exuded an air of remarkable efficiency once she changed into her old, well-worn servant's uniform. Her calloused, weathered hands could scrub stains out of cloth with effortless ease—and she was also an exceptional cook. Even with the simplest of ingredients, Maffa could whip up dishes that tasted absolutely divine, earning her genuine praise from Ophelia herself.
The carpenter would head out to chop firewood at the crack of dawn, returning to the castle by noon with a cart full of timber, which he would then sort and stack according to its intended use. As for the hunchbacked gardener, he too had revealed talents that took everyone by surprise. Though Ophelia still grumbled privately about his appearance, she couldn't help but be impressed when he cleared the overgrown weeds from the garden in just two days and trimmed the overgrown shrubs into neat, orderly shapes that looked as if they'd been carefully designed.
And then there was Irene—the tiny, freckled girl who had now become Blake and Ophelia's personal attendant. She was responsible for cleaning their rooms and running errands for them. Though she was young and inexperienced, the girl was fiercely determined to keep her job, throwing herself into her tasks with a diligence that more than made up for her lack of skill.
Blake was thoroughly satisfied with his four new hires, and the servants, in turn, were more than content with their current positions.
Most of them had worked in the castle before, but in those days, the noble lords who'd occupied it had always brought along their own retinues of servants and retainers. As a result, they'd been seen as nothing more than expendable extras, earning barely enough to scrape by. Blake's offer of three gold coins a month was a veritable fortune in their eyes. Even though their workload was far heavier than it had been in the past, none of them were about to give up such a lucrative opportunity.
From their perspective, however, their new lord was a decidedly eccentric man. It was the first time they'd ever seen a noble arrive at the castle completely alone, without a single servant or follower in tow. Even to their untrained eyes, this was highly unusual. And even Maffa, with her sharp intuition, couldn't figure out the identity of the mysterious young lady who was always cloaked in black and stayed by the lord's side. If she were his fiancée, their dynamic didn't quite fit that mold. And Blake's introduction of her as his "adjutant" had left them all scratching their heads. They'd heard of stewards and butlers, but an adjutant? What exactly was that supposed to mean?
Whatever an adjutant was, Ophelia clearly held the reins of the castle's day-to-day operations. Every morning, she would rise at dawn to make her rounds of the castle grounds before breakfast, then sequester herself in the study to confer with Blake. To the servants, the beautiful young lady was a paragon of diligence and responsibility. She was gentle and approachable in her daily interactions, but she never hesitated to reprimand them sharply if she spotted any lapses in their work. In contrast, their lord seemed to take little interest in the running of the castle. In fact, the servants rarely caught sight of him at all, leaving them all to wonder what exactly he got up to during his long, unexplained absences.
The truth was—Blake was *very* busy.
"You're saying… we need to rebuild this road?" Old Clark tapped the ash out of his pipe, fixing Blake with a puzzled look as he sat across from him in the town hall.
"My lord—does it really need rebuilding? As far as I can tell, it's still perfectly passable…"
"It's functional, that much is true," Blake replied, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. "But its quality is abysmal. I still remember the first time I traveled it—by the grace of the Holy Light, I thought my stomach was going to bounce right out of my body from all the jostling… If I'd had any other choice, I would've never set foot on that road again."
Blake spread his hands, his tone dry.
"Tell me—how can we expect anyone to want to visit our town if they have to endure that nightmare of a journey? I'd wager most people feel the same way I do—they'd never be foolish enough to travel it twice. That's why we're going to fix it. We're going to build a road that's smooth and wide and easy to traverse. This is my order as your lord. And rest assured—I will provide all the funds necessary to get the job done. I want this road completely rebuilt within a month."
"Of course, my lord. Whatever you say goes," Old Clark nodded immediately, his earlier hesitation vanishing. He was just a simple town mayor, after all. And if he was being honest with himself, he'd always known the road was in terrible condition. But he was old now and rarely ventured beyond the town's borders, so he'd never fully grasped just how bad it really was. Now that the lord was willing to foot the bill for its reconstruction, he had absolutely no reason to object.
"My lord—I must confess, I'm having trouble understanding this decision," Ophelia said, falling into step behind Blake as they left the mayor's house, her voice laced with confusion.
"The road is still usable. Why waste so much money rebuilding it? That's fifteen gold coins we're talking about… right now, that's no small sum for us."
"There's a world of difference between a road that's *usable* and a road that's *good*, Miss Ophelia," Blake replied, not the least bit bothered by her skepticism. He strolled along the dusty streets of the town, taking in the sights as he spoke.
"Back in my homeland, there's an old saying: *If you want to get rich, you have to build roads first*. Without a good road, all our other efforts will be for nothing. Humans are inherently lazy creatures who crave comfort—and it's precisely that laziness and desire for comfort that drives them to work hard and innovate."
"…Forgive me for being blunt, but that sounds like a contradiction," Ophelia said, her eyes widening in surprise. She couldn't wrap her head around how laziness could possibly lead to diligence.
"Is it?" Blake countered with a faint smile. "It's because people hate walking long distances that they invented carriages. It's because they wanted warm, comfortable homes that they built houses instead of sleeping in caves. If everyone was content to toil away in hardship and never strive for something better, society would never progress. Take this town, for example…"
Blake gestured to the dilapidated houses lining the street around them.
"Even the smallest profits are worth pursuing. If merchants can travel here in comfort and ease, why wouldn't they set up shop in our town? It's true that we don't have the advantages of a major trading hub or a strategic transportation crossroads—but how many cities on this continent *do* have those advantages? Does that mean merchants never do business anywhere else? Imagine this: a merchant endures a bone-rattling journey on that terrible road just to reach our little backwater, only to find that the profits aren't even a tenth of what he'd hoped for. Would he ever bother investing here again?"
Blake cast a critical eye over the run-down buildings surrounding them.
"Spend so much effort for so little return? Miss Ophelia, I don't need to spell it out for you—people always want to make money the easy way. Even if the work itself is hard, they'd at least like the journey to be smooth. Convenience—that's the key to everything. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is wealth. You have to start with small gains before you can achieve great ones."
"What you say makes perfect sense," Ophelia admitted after a moment's thought, a look of realization dawning on her face. She suddenly realized she'd been trapped in a narrow-minded way of thinking. It was true that they needed a large infusion of funds to fill the gaps in their budget, and as a result, she'd been fixated on finding ways to make quick, substantial profits, completely overlooking the value of small, steady gains. Blake's words, however, revealed a far more patient and far-sighted approach to their predicament.
To be honest, it was hard to believe such wisdom came from someone so young.
Ophelia stared at the young man's back, her confusion plain to see. She'd prided herself on her intelligence and knowledge, confident that she could be of great service to her new lord. But now, she couldn't help but reflect—had her anxiety about their situation made her lose sight of the bigger picture? Had she been so focused on the urgent need for money that she'd ignored the small, crucial steps that would lead to long-term success?
If Blake had managed to convince Ophelia of the wisdom of rebuilding the road, however, there was another decision he'd made that left her utterly baffled, no matter how hard she tried to wrap her head around it.