Chapter Title: Dwarven Artifact (2)
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Count Hanes's territory.
Straddling the fertile Insid River, it was known as a hub of trade and had even secured royal permission for trading rights, collecting hefty taxes from surrounding territories while continuing to grow.
Leveraging its geopolitical position, it had amassed enormous wealth and showered the central court with substantial bribes, rising from viscounty to county in the previous generation.
Count Hanes was no war noble, but he was famous as a "golden noble" who resolved political situations with money.
Of course, the Hanes family hadn't started out as golden nobles.
Three hundred years ago, during the golden age of mages, they had actively participated in wars.
By now, mana itself had grown scarce across the continent, and the Hanes family could no longer wield much power in warfare, but that wasn't a big issue.
The count had overflowing gold.
Count Hanes had studied magic himself, but he grew old without ever surpassing the first circle.
In compensation, he had a keen eye for matters of wealth, so it wasn't a total failure.
Count Hanes stared in bewilderment at Viscount Romid, who had unexpectedly brought back a family heirloom from his tax collection trip to the Pellow barony.
"A heirloom from the Pellow family, you say?"
"Yes. Not long ago, Baron Pellow went on an expedition and lost quite a few troops. Barbarians came down from the north, sparking battles, and with rumors of war piling on, the baron seemed extremely anxious."
"Even so, sending a heirloom? Does that make sense?"
He thought it should be returned, but after seeing the ring himself, Count Hanes was startled.
The case containing the ring depicted a mystical spirit ascending to the heavens, embroidered so beautifully that he couldn't tear his eyes away.
A jewelry masterpiece densely set with gems on a gold base, it seemed impossible to craft by human hands, and the ring inside was even more so.
Wasn't that spirit clutching a blue sapphire in its mouth as it ascended? So precisely wrought that it looked like the spirit might burst out of the ring.
With his long experience in trade, Count Hanes knew this was no human work.
"Isn't this a dwarven artifact!"
"D-Dwarven artifact, you say!?"
Viscount Romid, who had been listening, was equally shocked.
Had he not sworn loyalty to the count, he might have fled with the item—the craftsmanship was that exquisite.
But dwarven? Of all things.
He had recognized its value when they called it a heirloom, but the name wasn't attached lightly.
"It seems the Pellow family has given up passing down their legacy to the next generation and is betting everything on this one."
"That must not have been an easy decision."
"Shouldn't we respect it, though?"
The count smirked.
Heirloom or not, what did it matter?
As long as he paid a fair price, it was fine.
There was no better deal than buying an item like this with money.
In this era, where family glory was the highest value, leaving an heirloom to pass down was considered a tremendous achievement.
The count calmed his boiling excitement.
It was definitely too extravagant as a gift.
From his position, he had to send back at least 10% more in return gifts, which was a burden.
They wouldn't have just sent a dwarven artifact without strings attached.
"What does the baronial family want in return?"
"They asked for a Mana Heart Method and armaments."
"A Mana Heart Method?"
The count frowned.
He had wondered what grand item they were after to send even a heirloom, and they wanted something of equal value.
With mana depleted across the continent, magic was on the verge of extinction, but that didn't mean Heart Methods could be handed to just anyone.
The Hanes family's Heart Method had been secretly passed down through generations.
Except in special cases, it was never transmitted to outsiders.
"My lord, magic is on the brink of obsolescence anyway, isn't it? How about this?"
"You have insight?"
"The Young Lord requested the Heart Method. The baron is retiring soon anyway. With his right arm severed and his illness deepening, no one knows how long he'll live. It's for the Young Lord to learn, so give him a copy and make a contract forbidding transmission to others."
"Oh ho, go on."
"The moment the Young Lord signs the contract, it becomes absolutely legally binding. If someone in a later generation of the count's family learns the Heart Method, it could spark a territorial war—which is good for us. And if he upholds the contract, the intangible Heart Method will vanish with Jeron Pellow's generation."
The count smiled in satisfaction.
As expected, the tax collector was a bag of tricks.
When it came to money, Viscount Romid's mind worked with exceptional sharpness.
"We'll have some profit left over, then."
"They wanted armaments, so sending 30 sets each of armor, helmets, and swords should suffice."
"Ha ha ha! This is entirely your merit. Well done—head back to the barony at once. Their minds might change."
"I shall obey your command!"
***
Jeron barely restrained his itch to jump straight back to Earth.
The Golden Key was charging.
Natural charging took three days, so he had to wait at least until evening.
Baron Ark Pellow was still recovering, so Jeron acted as proxy lord, running around until sweat soaked his soles.
Rabetan, the affiliated village to the south of the territory.
The Pellow barony, at the kingdom's northernmost edge, had extremely cold weather.
The climate was harsh, but Jeron also learned the territory's soil was grayish acidic, yielding poor harvests.
That was why the territory couldn't escape poverty.
It was nothing like the blessed lands of Count Hanes's territory.
As a result, people turned to nomadic herding, and herbalists roamed deep into the mountains.
With so many nearby mountains, beasts were plentiful, and livestock deaths or herbalists meeting misfortune deep in the wilds were commonplace.
The moment he entered Rabetan, a rotten stench assaulted him.
He had grown accustomed to the dung smell, but the odor of decaying corpses still hadn't settled in.
Even after witnessing countless deaths in his past and present lives.
"Gruesome."
"Last year's drought was severe, with almost no harvest. We provided relief as much as finances allowed, but we've hit our limit. It's nothing new, though."
Sir Cain, who had served as financial officer for two generations, said it as if it were routine.
In this heartless world, territory folk starving to death was commonplace.
The territory tried to prevent it when possible, but when barbarians rampaged like this, it became serious.
In a village where hundreds farmed for a living, over a hundred corpses had already appeared.
The financial officer called it fortunate no plague had spread.
'Even in this primitive society, is ethical awareness this lacking?'
Not just the financial officer—even the soldiers clearing bodies worried only about catching illness, not pitying the dead.
Everyone was nonchalant, so Jeron, in the position of managing the territory, couldn't make a fuss.
"How's this year?"
"Sigh, the drought's bad again. Next year will see even more starvation deaths. With troops short and labor dwindling, it's worrying."
Starvation claimed adults, elders, and children alike. If this continued, a major crisis loomed.
'We need food.'
Fortunately, Jeron had plenty of valuables left.
If a rustic dragon ring could pass as a heirloom, these should fetch money too.
Drought or not, money solved everything.
Count Hanes's territory was an international trade hub.
They could import from there.
Until now, the Pellow barony simply lacked the funds to buy food.
This time, they could scrape by, but that wouldn't last forever.
Seeing people peeling bark to eat sparked a flash of inspiration in Jeron's mind.
He pulled out his notebook and jotted it down.
[Famine crops. Various seeds otherwise.]
He would bring improved seeds from ruined Earth.
Famine crops thrived in barren soil.
That's why they were called famine crops—to grow in the hunger gap.
Earth's crops, refined over thousands of years, had tenacious vitality.
In modern times, scientists had even modified their DNA for higher yields.
What if they planted those?
It might take years to see results, but reducing starvation deaths alone would be a huge achievement.
Earth items had weight limits, but seeds were no issue.
Every rural area had seed vendors.
Clearing the village corpses took until sunset.
"Already this late?"
"Ha ha, time flies these days without notice."
"If only we could tell the time reliably."
"Such a method? The capital has sundials, but they're outrageously expensive and not even accurate."
"A clock?"
If clocks existed, they'd be invaluable for farming and enable precise war strategies.
Jeron pulled out his notebook.
[Clocks]
He wasn't sure if he could get them, but listing needs would prepare him for opportunities.
The village cleanup had progressed decently.
That's when Adjutant Sir Garcia came running.
"Young Lord!"
"What is it?"
"The count's family sent someone!"
"Oh?"
Perfect timing. With starvation rampant, he needed to extract food somehow.
***
Jeron faced Viscount Romid, the tax collector from days ago.
The viscount looked quite excited, letting Jeron gauge how much the dragon ring had impressed the count's household.
The viscount handed over a copy of the Heart Method scroll.
"Young Lord must know well, but the Mana Heart Method is a closely guarded family secret passed down generations. It's never transmitted to outsiders under any circumstances. However, our lord admires your passion and has decided to allow transmission upon signing the contract."
"What kind of contract?"
"Simple. Memorize it for a week then burn it, forbid transmission to others, violation brings dire consequences. That's it."
"This!"
"Even so, for a confirmed dwarven artifact!"
The watching knights sighed.
Jeron smirked.
He could sign that contract easily.
Additionally, Viscount Romid brought 30 sets of armaments.
Sir James inspected them—top quality, ready for immediate use.
Getting this much for a ring worn by rural old-timers was pure profit.
The contract proceeded solemnly.
Noble contracts could upend a family's fate, so people in this era took them seriously.
After the formalities, Jeron piled valuables on the table.
Clatter.
"Oh ho."
Many surpassed the dragon ring in craftsmanship.
Jeron expected the viscount to appraise them highly.
But the viscount and knights reacted oddly.
"Fine craftsmanship indeed. Not heirloom level, but we can offer good prices. Selling them?"
"...Yes. Payment in food."
"A wise and compassionate young lord. The people will praise your virtue."
By now, Jeron's mind was thoroughly confused.
'Do they like rustic stuff? Like that snake blade or whatever.'