Chapter 09
Kebania (4)
The soldiers, clad in armor caked with sweat and dust, stood at rigid attention, awaiting his orders.
They were like a living wall, guarding the lord and his domain with their very lives.
They could never be treated lightly.
“Excellent. I am deeply moved that not a single one of you slacked off and that you all trained so diligently. Treasurer!”
Ian turned his head and loudly called out to the treasurer standing under the shade of a tree.
The treasurer, who had been keeping a watchful eye on what the lord was doing ever since he arrived at the training ground, flinched before stepping forward.
“Yes, my lord, what are your orders?”
“Not only these soldiers here, but also every guard on the walls and on patrol—pay them each a reward of five gold coins!”
“W–what? Gold coins, my lord?”
The unexpected command made the treasurer’s sleeves tremble. About 150 soldiers remained in the castle.
At five coins each, that would mean an expenditure of 750 gold coins.
A soldier’s monthly pay was usually around two gold coins—so this reward was more than two months’ wages per man.
“My lord, I believe you should consider the state of your finances. A great sum has already been spent on recruiting mercenaries. Unplanned expenditures should, if possible, be avoided—”
“Treasurer, come here.”
Ian curled his finger. The treasurer, Toman, raised his brows.
Not long ago, the boy could not even meet his eyes properly, and now he glared at him as though ready to devour him.
‘Damn brat, getting bolder by the day.’
He wanted nothing more than to wring the boy’s neck, but the soldiers around them were watching with hawk-like eyes.
His reluctance to hand out money as ordered had already drawn their hostility.
With a stiff expression, the treasurer stepped up before the lord.
“Treasurer.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Don’t make this difficult. I am the lord, am I not? You do as I command. No matter how tight our finances, is it so hard to boost the soldiers’ morale just once? If there really is no money, then sell some of the valuables in the lord’s manor.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will see to the soldiers’ reward immediately, my lord.”
Ian lightly patted the man’s shoulder as he bent his back.
“Good, good. It’s for the best. Without them, who would guard the village’s peace and our safety?”
“Your words are true.”
As Ian made his way back to the palanquin, he glanced at the treasurer following behind.
“So, did you have something to report? You even came all the way to the training ground.”
“No, nothing special. I merely worried for your health, my lord.”
“I appreciate that.”
“About your memory…”
“It’s the same. Frustrating, really. I wish it would return soon.”
Ian shook his head and sank wearily into the palanquin.
“Treasurer.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“The cook tells me there are no ingredients in the kitchen. So little money, he couldn’t even buy food in the village. I even heard he borrowed from your household yesterday.”
“Oh… is that so?”
Ian pressed firmly.
“I’m picky about what I eat. Handle it properly.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“Londo, let’s head back.”
Ian closed his eyes in the swaying palanquin.
Since morning, he had visited nearly every building within the castle walls, including the manor.
For his frail body, it had been a taxing day.
“Long live the lord!”
Suddenly, a booming cheer erupted behind him. Ian opened his eyes and turned back.
The soldiers in the yard were banging their weapons and shields together, shouting thanks to the lord who had rewarded them.
‘These guys, showing gratitude, huh.’
Ian ordered the palanquin to halt, stood, and raised a clenched fist.
The soldiers roared louder, while the treasurer watching from the side grew ever more grim.
The Cursed Chamber (1)
Where there is a river and ships come and go, people and goods gather, and such a place is always bustling with merchants and markets.
Camu, the largest town in Albern territory, was such a place. What made it unique was its long street of skilled blacksmiths producing high-quality weapons.
The superior arms they forged were sold at high prices throughout the kingdom, carried by merchant guilds.
This was all possible thanks to the rich deposits of Boshdum—a high-grade iron ore mined in Albern lands.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The piercing ring of hammers echoed down the long street of forges, while mercenaries and merchants who had come all the way to Albern to procure weapons haggled noisily at one side.
“Sir! The saw, please, the saw!”
Running breathlessly, Linda rushed to a small smithy tucked away at the very end of the street, demanding a saw without delay.
“Ah, welcome, Linda.”
An old blacksmith, hammering a blade on the anvil, turned to her with a calm voice.
“The saw I left with you! It’s urgent!”
She had left a surgical saw with the blacksmith, Ruferson, for repair some days ago.
“Let me see… ah, here it is.”
Handing her a narrow, forearm-length silver saw, Linda’s face brightened.
“Sorry to rush you, sir, but someone’s life is in danger.”
“I understand.”
“Here, the repair fee—”
She pulled out silver coins, but Ruferson waved her off.
“No need. That medicine you prescribed cured my headaches.”
“Thank you, sir!”
Without looking back, Linda dashed off with the saw in hand, making Ruferson chuckle as he resumed hammering.
He wondered whose life she was off to save this time.
Linda often treated the townsfolk for free.
Not only did she prescribe herbs according to their ailments, but—despite being only eighteen—she even amputated rotten limbs with her saw.
“Hold him tight! If we don’t cut it now, the rot will spread and kill him!”
Defying her father’s objections, Linda shouted at the patient’s family while brandishing her gleaming saw.
“But how will he make a living with one foot gone?”
“So you’d rather let him die? Saving his life comes first!”
She urged them, but the family balked at condemning their sturdy young man to disability.
As they hesitated, Linda looked down at the man lying half-conscious on the bed, his right foot grotesquely swollen and black, pus oozing endlessly between his toes with a stench that filled the room.
The family’s concern was understandable, but the man would likely not survive the night.
“The herbs won’t last much longer. You must decide quickly.”
She had made him inhale smoke from pain-dulling herbs, but time was running out.
“No. Your treatment might be wrong.”
“She’s right. We were fools to trust just because it was free.”
The atmosphere turned hostile.
“Please, listen to me. Sacrifice the foot and save his life.”
“We said no! We appreciate your concern, but this is for the family to decide.”
Linda looked between the saw and the patient, then shook her head slightly.
They might be right.
Her methods—amputating infected limbs—were not conventional.
The choice was theirs.
“Pity. Very well, then.”
With a blank face, she slung her leather bag of tools over her shoulder and left.
She wasn’t angry at them—just irritated at the situation itself.
“Where on earth have you been? I searched everywhere.”
That night, back at the castle, Linda faced her father Nakamo’s scolding.
“Sorry, something came up.”
“Hurry to the lord’s manor. The lord has asked for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
Hungry from skipping her meal, she nibbled bread while eyeing her father.
“I don’t know the reason.”
“This morning you told me never to show myself before the lord again.”
“And so you refuse to go?”
Nakamo’s voice rose, but Linda just shrugged.
“That’s right.”
“You’ll be the death of me. Wasting time treating villagers for free, earning nothing—”
“I’ll go.”
Stuffing the rest of the bread into her mouth to cut off his nagging, Linda changed into her white robe.
She wore plain clothes outside the castle, but within the walls she donned white—her badge of station.
In his office, now turned bedroom, Ian was practicing qigong, moving his body with fluid grace.
It wasn’t just exercise. He had to maintain the thought of being one with nature, feel the energy around him, and draw it into himself with each breath.
His half-closed eyes were sharp with focus.
‘When I was with the militia, it took me two months to sense energy. How long will it take here?’
The environment and his body were different from Earth.
‘If I can use both warp and qigong, I should at least be able to protect myself…’
The story of the former lord assassinated in this very office was warning enough.
‘It could happen to me anytime, too.’
But Ian felt no pity for the dead man.
He was no true father to him, and after ten years of scars from fighting as a militiaman on Earth—after losing his real family—he had no sympathy to spare.
The former lord had lived well and died—there was nothing to grieve.
“Hoo…”
Finishing the introductory forms of qigong, Ian moved wearily to the window.
The village beyond the castle lay beneath night’s shadow.
‘Who killed him, and why?’
With no clue about the assassin, the motives were a mystery.
He had chosen this office-turned-bedroom to remind himself to stay alert.
The old Ian might have cowered, but he was different.
‘Come, whoever you are. I won’t die alone.’
Eyes burning with resolve, he glared at the darkness—until Londo’s strong voice pierced the door.
“My lord, Nakamo’s daughter has arrived.”
Donning his robe, Ian sat down on the chair within the room.
