Blacksmithing Is Child’s Play for a Dark Mage - Chapter 61

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 61
Guillaume Partan.
The twenty-third name on the list.
Harundel Bronze Street.
In other words, he lived in a corner of the slums.
When Tay arrived, Guillaume was pressing a damp cloth to his daughter’s forehead in a shabby room.
“What brings you here?”
“This is Tay, Baron of Maker Barony, the rightful ruler. Mind your words.”
Lant stepped forward and spoke first.
Then.
“My apologies. I am Guillaume Partan, a knight.”
His appearance was threadbare, but his eyes burned with life.
A man who looked to be in his early forties, his bearing—ingrained in every fiber of his body—marked him unmistakably as a knight.
Yet what was striking was that his crime, incongruous with his meager appearance, was embezzlement.
He had served as treasurer of the knight order under Count Perga, his lord, until he was caught pilfering from the order’s operational funds.
Under normal circumstances it would have been a hanging offense, but because he had saved Count Perga’s life in his youth, the sentence was commuted to exile rather than execution.
And the reason for the embezzlement.
His daughter’s medicine.
Guillaume’s daughter had been born frail.
She suffered from Congenital Weakness—a condition in which her life force itself had been insufficient from birth, and required periodic administration of a Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion from the temple.
Recovery potions.
In this world, recovery potions came in grades.
The lower grade merely healed wounds.
The intermediate grade could even reattach severed limbs.
The higher grade? It could fully regenerate lost limbs.
And the “blessed” designation meant that a priest had personally added a blessing through the Holy Method.
The effect was superior to ordinary potions, but the price was several times higher.
A Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion.
One thousand Goldmantha Coins per bottle.
One thousand coins.
An amount no ordinary knight could afford.
Even for a lord—a baron, no less—it would strain the coffers, and only with a sufficiently large and prosperous domain could one manage such an expense.
Yet Guillaume’s position was treasurer of the knight order, was it not?
It might seem odd for a knight to oversee finances, but as knight orders grew in size, a dedicated knight treasurer became essential.
Supply, wages, equipment purchases, expedition costs, and more—such matters required a knight who could do arithmetic and read, a rarity indeed.
Guillaume was precisely such a knight.
And that is why he could embezzle. He understood how the money flowed.
He reached into the funds to save his daughter, and eventually he was caught and cast out.
Even after his exile, Guillaume labored to keep his daughter alive.
He could not afford the intermediate potion, but by scrounging for lower-grade potions and administering them however he could, he could at least slow the progression of her illness.
Her life was not extended so much as her death was delayed, but she remained alive nonetheless.
All these circumstances were recorded in detail in the Information Guild’s list.
Tay had come already knowing.
Tay settled into the seat across from Guillaume and opened his mouth.
“I have looked into you. I wish to employ you. Will you serve me faithfully?”
Guillaume’s eyes flickered subtly.
“If you’ve looked into me, then you must know about the embezzlement…?”
“It was for your daughter’s sake.”
Guillaume’s expression hardened.
“I will resolve that matter for you.”
“…You can cure it?”
“Cure it is too much. But I can stop the disease from worsening. I mean to halt its progression entirely.”
“You will supply her with Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion?”
His tone had changed.
The detached manner from moments before had vanished, replaced by something far more deferential—or rather, desperate.
“No.”
Tay shook his head.
“What your daughter needs is life force, not a cure, yes? Black Magic can manage it. You must have considered it already.”
Guillaume’s brow furrowed.
“That method is…”
“Do you think it dirty and base compared to a Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion?”
Tay fixed Guillaume with a steady gaze as he spoke.
“But it is the surest way to maintain your daughter’s health. A Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion costs a thousand Goldmantha Coins per bottle. Have you calculated how many bottles your daughter will need before her life runs its course? A hundred? Two hundred? How many people on this continent could afford that? But Black Magic requires far less expense and can be supplied continuously.”
Vitality Extraction.
That Black Magic could replenish the missing life force.
Its cost was far less than a Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion.
That Guillaume had not chosen that method must have been due to various political concerns.
Black Magic was socially despised. Beyond that, there was a social taboo against a knight associating closely with a Black Mage. Of course, that had been the case in the past.
Things were different now than when he served as the Earl’s Master of Knights.
Such methods were permitted now.
But simply put, he no longer had the means to hire such a Black Mage.
Guillaume fell silent.
He could not say how long the silence lasted.
From deeper in the chamber came the thin, labored breathing of his daughter.
Guillaume spoke at last.
“I am in your debt, my Lord.”
Tay smiled faintly.
* * *
Lant was observing the behavior of the man who had purchased him.
When his master went to meet the knight Guillaume Partan, Lant had accompanied him.
And Lant had witnessed it.
The moment his master said he would save Guillaume’s daughter.
In that moment, Lant saw light.
He knew the expression was strange. But he had no other way to describe it. The actions of this man called Tay seemed to shine.
In all his years of life, Lant had never seen a truly altruistic person.
What of the clergy?
Elvera, Mother of Life. Lytesha, of the Light. Terra, of the Earth.
In this world there were several faiths devoted to benevolent deities, and it was said that their priests practiced healing and service.
But that was closer to fulfilling the will of the gods.
They healed because the god commanded healing, and they served because the god commanded service.
It was obedience to divine command rather than the priests’ own goodwill.
That was what Lant understood as the nature of priesthood.
Of course, they might do it out of their own goodwill as well, but whether it was truly voluntary—Lant had always found that ambiguous.
But his master was different.
He received orders from no one. He followed no divine will.
He had simply decided, of his own judgment, to save Guillaume’s daughter.
True, it was also a transaction to gain a vassal.
Tay was a merciful man, but at the same time he was thoroughly calculating.
And yet.
He paid wages even to himself, a slave, and promised him freedom.
He did not abandon the slaves who had gone mad, but instead took measures to manage them.
He accepted free citizens to grow his domain and instilled in them a sense of ownership.
And now he says he will save a sick child’s life.
All of this is mere calculation?
Could such conduct arise from calculation alone?
Lant could not know.
But one part of his chest felt strangely warm.
His feelings were a little strange.
* * *
Tay returned to his domain, bringing Guillaume and his daughter with him.
Guillaume’s daughter was said to be fourteen this year.
Her name was Ameli.
She was a pale-skinned, thin-limbed child who could not stop coughing even within the Skeleton Cart.
Before setting out, he had purchased a plump pig and squeezed out its life force to replenish Ameli’s supply.
While the principle differed from a Blessed Intermediate Recovery Potion, the result was functionally the same.
It was a matter of supplying life force from an external source to fill the deficiency.
The only difference was using Black Magic power in place of the clean power of the Holy Method.
Thus Ameli regained her health.
Guillaume showed visible joy.
And in Harundel, he obtained one more thing.
He had purchased ten administrative slaves.
They were slaves who could read, perform arithmetic, and possessed at least some experience in administration.
Slaves with such qualifications cost three or four times more than ordinary ones, but the amount was manageable for Tay.
Guillaume and Lant would oversee their management.
Since Guillaume came from the Order’s quartermaster corps, he would handle accounting and logistics, while Lant would continue overseeing general administration.
Together with the administrative slaves already in the territory, these new arrivals would handle day-to-day operations under Lant and Guillaume’s direction.
“With this setup, things should run smoothly even when I’m away, don’t you think?”
Tay asked Lant.
“It’s still somewhat lean, but… it should work for now. Especially since Partan can handle military matters.”
Lant nodded. Guillaume possessed not only administrative experience from his time as a quartermaster, but was also a knight.
He had more than sufficient ability to manage military forces if the need arose.
“It will take Partan some time to adapt, but he has the fundamentals, so there shouldn’t be major issues.”
Tay was satisfied.
One vassal. Ten administrative slaves.
The administrative structure of the territory had grown considerably more robust.
Partan’s adjustment was swift.
Within four days of arriving at the territory, he had grasped the administrative system, and within a week had begun dividing responsibilities with Lant.
True to his background as a quartermaster, he had a sharp eye for figures and a keen sense of supply and logistics flow.
And once he had completed his adaptation, Partan put forth his first major recommendation.
“My lord, you need a Standing Army composed of human soldiers.”
“A Standing Army?”
“Yes. Approximately one thousand strong.”
Tay raised an eyebrow.
One thousand Standing Army troops.
Not mercenaries, but regular forces permanently stationed in the territory.
By population, it was frankly an unreasonable scale.
A thousand soldiers in a territory of ten thousand people.
That made one in ten a soldier.
Most territories would bankrupt themselves merely maintaining such numbers.
But the Maker Barony was no ordinary territory.
The revenue flowing in from ring sales and the Skeleton Soldiers business was staggering; maintaining a thousand troops would pose no financial hardship.
The question was why such a force was necessary.
“With thousands of Skeleton Soldiers already, what need do we have for human troops?”
Tay asked.
Partan answered smoothly, as if he had prepared his response.
“Maintaining order is the first reason. Mercenaries have handled it so far, but they are merely hired hands, nothing more.”
“Fair point.”
“And the second reason is even more critical.”
Partan’s expression turned grave.
“When you are absent, my lord, command over the undead forces effectively ceases to exist.”
The Black Mage is Too Easy as a Blacksmith
Author |
Automaton G
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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