Chapter 72: Fiefdom
In the Sylve language, "Brody" literally means "muddy land." The ancestors of the Brody family once followed Cassius I on his campaigns, enjoying a period of fame before gradually declining. Their remaining fiefdom, "Ironthorn Territory," is now a pitifully small place, with only a hundred or so households, about a two-day drive from White Tower.
The Brody family, the real owners of the fiefdom, could not afford to support knights, nor could they hire reliable executive officers. During the reign of Viscount Edmund Brody, the various taxes collected were so high that it was almost impossible to survive. Thank the gods, the old viscount died too suddenly. It was a year later when Mrs. Brody successfully regained control of the Ironthorn Territory. The deterrence of the Royal Court Council and the brief period of recuperation prevented a real riot from breaking out in the fiefdom.
Mrs. Brody is a typical noblewoman who is very sarcastic and hopes that the Brody family can return to the noble status of their ancestors. Unfortunately, apart from knowing the eighteen ways of placing tableware and their corresponding meanings, she is not good at revitalizing a ruined, poor family that has nothing but the title. The only thing worth praising is that her lack of understanding of family affairs has prevented her from reaching the point of exploiting the old viscount, and she can barely survive in Ironthorn Territory.
It was not until the eldest son of the Brody family leased most of the land in his fiefdom to the Golden Spinning Wheel Company that things took a miraculous turn - no one knew how a child who was only ten years old at the time persuaded his paranoid and mean mother, and how he dealt with the group of shrewd and cunning wool merchants, making the other party rent the small and barren land in Ironthorn Territory at a high price that was almost a loss for wool production, and signed a thirty-year lease agreement, promising to give priority to hiring villagers in Ironthorn Territory as textile workers.
From then on, snow-white, soft sheep took over this land, whose surnames were all tinged with the smell of iron and blood. The village men, women, and children all became shepherds and weavers. At first, everyone was confused and skeptical, thinking it was just the willful pranks of aristocratic children. But no one could have imagined that the humble wool trade would be so lucrative. A skilled female weaver could earn twice as much per day as a strong male laborer.
Their young masters would often offer seemingly fantastical ideas, but they were always proven right. Life grew easier day by day, and many would secretly offer a few kind words to the gods for their future lords during their daily prayers—until the tragic news arrived: the Royal Court had determined that the fiefdom's lord was most likely someone else, and a shameless thief was about to steal everything from the cold, taciturn, eccentric young man, who possessed no aristocratic airs.
The villagers didn't understand what St. Bartolomeo's School of Magicians or White Tower University was, nor did they understand the deliberation rules of the Royal Court Council. However, when the women in the village talked about these things, they couldn't help but wipe away their tears: as an ordinary person, the weak and pitiful little master could only dare to stay away from home and hide in a university in fear, so as not to have her throat slit in the middle of the night by the ambitious father and son.
Nova didn't know that the villagers in the territory had already imagined him as a miserable little white flower. He was sitting in the hired carriage with his eyes closed, looking a little unhappy - he had planned to kill time by reading documents along the way, but he was taken away before he could read for a while.
"You've been looking at it for almost a whole day. Now the sun has set and the light is bad. It's really hurting your eyes."
The savior took away his glasses gently but firmly, and snatched the information from his hand, and condescendingly said that he could help read it himself. The professor argued that the amount of information obtained through listening and reading was too little, and tried to snatch it away.
The result was obvious: he hadn't even managed to snatch it. A certain jerk could have single-handedly pinned an ordinary person to the ground, rendering them completely unable to struggle free. Due to the physical restraint, he ultimately had to sit there with a scowl, listening to someone reading a document beside him in a clear, gentle voice. As he listened, he began to feel sleepy. Perhaps the smooth, slow information intake wasn't enough to stimulate his brain, and he unknowingly fell asleep on the person's shoulder. When he woke up, he found himself covered in a thin blanket, inexplicably curled up on someone else's lap, having wasted several more hours.
——He simply ignored the pitiful appearance of the male protagonist who was rubbing his numb thigh and breathing softly, and thought with a heartless heart that the other party deserved it. He even suspected that someone was used to using some magic when speaking, so that he could always make people let down their guard unconsciously.
In the end, he firmly rejected the guy's proposal and began to organize the papers he had written before in his mind. However, this time the other party was finally quieter. He would go out from time to time, so elusive that even the coachman was unaware of it. When he came back, he would always suddenly stuff a handful of fresh berries with water droplets on them into his mouth. It was hard to guard against and they were so sour.
When the carriage finally reached the territory of Ironthorn Territory, the other man seemed to be very interested in the scenery outside, and would occasionally engage him in conversation. Nova could not help but glance at him, completely confused as to what was so attractive about Ironthorn Territory, which was exactly the same as the scenery on the road, that would attract the attention of the savior.
"This is your hometown—your hometown in this world. It's unique enough for me," the other person replied gently. As they were talking, a large flock of sheep happened to block the carriage's path. The driver, unaware of the passengers' identities, lazily stopped the carriage. The shrill, trembling bleating of the sheep and the shepherd boy's urging and scolding echoed one after another, forcing Nova to raise his voice.
"...Back then, there were several large, abandoned plots of land near Ironthorn Territory. They weren't suitable for farming, but were perfect for pasture. Ironthorn Territory happened to be located at a transportation hub between the pastures and the town."
He briefly described his rise to wealth, then said with a touch of pride, "So, the matter is simple. Those wool merchants can either endure the harassment of the nobles year after year and pay a hefty tax every time they pass through customs, or they can agree to my terms and receive the blueprints for the most advanced and improved spinning machine. Any smart person will know which one to choose."
He looked very pleased and content with his achievements.
The God's Favored One couldn't help but exclaim, "You even research textile technology?"
The black-haired young man pursed his lips modestly. "Not much. I just saw a similar spinning machine blueprint before, wrote it down, and improved it slightly based on the actual situation."
As they were talking, most of the sheep had finally passed by. The shepherd boy following behind accidentally glanced over and saw a familiar face passing by the old and simple carriage.
"God of Light, Lord Brody!" He couldn't help but exclaimed, attracting the other party's attention.
Nova looked out the window, comparing that dark, passionate, yet slightly shy face with the naked child in the village deep in his memory. After searching for a long time, he finally found the right one: "...Anthony?"
"It's me! You actually still remember me!" The shepherd boy suddenly grinned foolishly.
Then Azuka saw the professor simply get off the car, first made a few arrangements with the driver, and then chatted with the silly boy, as if he wanted to know the latest situation of Ironthorn Territory.
Before getting off the car, the other party made a gesture to stop him from following - the God-favored One was a little unhappy, but did not show it. He narrowed his eyes, and the wind conveyed all the information to him obediently.
"...Mr. Brody, are the rumors true?" Anthony hesitated for a long time before finally lowering his voice. "Everyone is saying you might no longer be our lord."
"I don't believe it," he added hastily, "someone must be talking nonsense."
"Really." The other person answered calmly and firmly, completely ignoring the other person's expression of being shocked and shocked.
"Don't worry," the black-haired young man added, "Your employment contract is signed with the Golden Spinning Wheel Company, and the Golden Spinning Wheel Company has a lease agreement with the Brody family. Even if the lord changes, your life will not change much."
"...But, but if you leave, what will happen to the Ironthorn Territory?"
Anthony stammered—damn it, that wasn't what he wanted to say!
Then he saw the young, thin, cold and serious master lower his eyes slightly. Something inexplicably dangerous and terrifying emerged from his pale face, making him hold his breath in awe. "...The new lord won't be a bad guy, I promise."
The other party paused, his voice becoming even calmer and more rational, like the clacking of a machine. "And you have the best weavers in the entire Silver Iris Empire, and you have mastered the most advanced farming and weaving technology. No matter where you go in the future, you will never starve to death."
Where were those smoky gray eyes looking? Anthony stared at him, naive. He had initially felt that the man before him, taller and with sharper, more defined features, seemed much the same as before. He was still the same aristocratic young man who seemed a little strange and intimidating, yet could ask the village children where to find insects. But now, he felt that he was strangely unfamiliar, like the moon high and far above his head.
Seeing him still in a daze, the other man calmly said goodbye and re-entered the carriage. Anthony was startled, and just as he was hesitating whether to ask more questions, he met a pair of blue eyes. A flash of brilliant golden hair passed by, and he was stunned in his place.
"…Tell everyone to protect themselves." With a faint, almost imperceptible warning, young Lord Brodie urged the driver to set off again. Soon, not even the wheel tracks were visible, leaving Anthony standing there, doubting his life. The sheep surrounded him, bleating and chewing at his trouser legs, but the dark-skinned shepherd boy's eyes were glazed over, unable to regain any sense.
Respected God of Light, he thought with horror, could it be that their little Lord Brody is planning to elope with some princess?!
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