Only a few days had passed since the servants Mylene selected had joined the household, yet the change in the manor was already palpable. Every morning, the rhythmic clatter of pots echoed from the kitchen; in the hallways, freshly laundered linens were stacked in neat, crisp folds; and every muddy footprint was scrubbed away before the sun reached its zenith. The kitchen remained as frantic as ever since they were now providing meals for the Black Claw Mercenaries and the former bandits, but Mylene no longer had to sprint through the halls alone, clutching a heavy bucket.
"Sera, those pots are for the men working outside. Please season them a bit more heavily with salt. Nina, make sure the linens for the wounded are placed in a sunny spot. If we use them while they're still damp, the patients will develop fevers."
Mylene stood at the kitchen entrance, issuing instructions in her usual understated voice. She didn't shout, yet her words possessed a strange clarity that carried through the room. The new servants had been bewildered at first, but now they moved with practiced efficiency the moment she spoke.
I paused to observe the scene while on my way to the office.
"Hmph... Things are running more smoothly than I expected."
At the sound of my voice, Mylene spun around in a hurry.
"Master! I'll bring your tea to you immediately."
"Don't worry about that. As long as the kitchen isn't grinding to a halt, it seems you've found people who can actually pull their weight."
"Yes! Everyone is working very hard. Sera is exceptionally skilled at managing the heat of the stove, and Nina handles the fabrics with such care. Even Maruka, whom I put in charge of cleaning, pays close attention to the mud on people's boots as well as the hallways. The floors stay much cleaner now."
"You were the one who chose them, weren't you? Then use them well."
"I will!"
Mylene gave a small, graceful bow. Beside her, one of the younger new servants reached for the tea set.
"Head Maid, I'll take this tea to the office—"
"Ah, no—I will do that."
Mylene’s response was a fraction of a second faster than usual. The servant froze, startled. As if embarrassed by her own sudden sharpness, a faint flush crept into Mylene’s cheeks.
"My apologies, but I shall brew and serve the master's tea myself... Please continue with the preparations for lunch."
"...Yes, of course."
I didn't see what the difference was. As long as the tea didn't give me food poisoning, I didn't care who served it, but Mylene was strangely adamant. Well, if she insisted on doing it herself, I might as well let her. It wasn't as if it added any extra work for me.
"Do as you like. Just don't collapse on me. If you go down, I'll just end up having to hire another person to replace you."
"I won't collapse. After all, I have the master's tea to look forward to."
What did tea have to do with her health?
I tilted my head in confusion, but Mylene only gave a bashful smile and adjusted her grip on the tea set.
◇
Shortly after noon, the village head and several local men arrived at the manor.
I assumed it was a complaint. Since I was forcing former bandits to perform manual labor, there were bound to be a grievance or two. I understood why the villagers would be terrified. For my part, I didn't fully trust the criminals yet, either. Raisa and the Black Claw kept a constant watch over them, and I only assigned Gash and the others tasks they could actually handle.
However, the men hadn't come to complain. They brought baskets filled with eggs, dried beans, and a few vegetables. There was even a wheel of hard cheese wrapped in an old cloth.
"Lord Razgrim... It isn't much, but this is a gift from the people of the village."
The village head bowed low.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"A token of our gratitude. Now that the Southern Highway is passable again, trade has returned. The broken fences are being repaired, and just seeing the watchfires at night allows the villagers to sleep in peace. Some are still afraid... but even so, things are much better than they were before."
I looked down at the baskets. The eggs could be sold for copper coins. The beans would keep for a long time. The cheese was a useful staple. It wasn't a bad haul. However, accepting them as a gesture of gratitude felt like it would carry some tiresome social baggage.
"If you want to thank someone, tell Raisa. The Black Claw were the ones who crushed the bandits, the former bandits are the ones fixing your fences, and Mylene is the one feeding them. I'm just the one suffering from a ballooning food budget."
The village head gave a troubled smile.
"Even so, you were the one who made the decision, Lord Razgrim. Ordinarily, bandits are just sent to the gallows and that's the end of it. Mercenaries are paid and sent away. We're usually told to fix the village fences ourselves... But now, the road is open and safe."
"I only acted to minimize my own losses."
"And thanks to that, we were saved."
Being told that made it difficult to find a retort. Clarice gave a small, infuriating chuckle beside me. Mylene, on the other hand, looked genuinely happy as she accepted the baskets. Raisa stood at the edge of the courtyard with her arms crossed, watching the exchange.
"Boss, you should just take them. Having the village bring gifts is a form of security in itself. Even if you don't like the sentiment, it means the locals won't want to make an enemy of House Razgrim."
"Just because I accept some eggs?"
"Exactly. The former bandits work just for the price of a meal. The villagers save face by giving you these gifts. You like that kind of profit-and-loss logic, don't you?"
Hearing Raisa put it that way, I considered the situation.
Certainly, it was better than the villagers resenting us. If the people using the highway cooperated with us, we would receive word of any suspicious activity much faster. The swifter the information reached me, the smaller the potential loss.
"Fine. I'll accept them."
The faces of the village head and his men brightened instantly.
"Thank you very much!"
"Don't thank me. And don't break the eggs on the way in. If they're cracked, their value drops."
The village head blinked, stunned for a moment, before bowing deeply again. The men behind him let out small chuckles. Why were they laughing? I was being perfectly serious.
Mylene spoke up as she gathered the baskets.
"Master, let's use some of the eggs for tonight's dinner. We can prepare them soft for the injured men as well."
"Don't use them all... Save some. They can be sold."
"Yes, Master! I'll save a few."
I didn't trust her definition of "a few" for a second.
Still, judging by the expressions on the villagers' faces, accepting the gifts had been worth it. This was turning into a strange situation. I was only trying to minimize my losses, yet the villagers were insisting on being grateful of their own accord.
Raisa walked up beside me and laughed quietly.
"You're a good man. Though I'm sure you'd hate to hear it."
"What are you talking about?"
"The way the village fears you has changed. If you had just dumped former bandits there, it would have caused nothing but terror. But you gave them jobs, had the Black Claw watch them, provided meals, and had them fix the village's own property. By doing that, you mixed a little bit of 'profit' in with the fear. When people see a gain, they change the way they look at you."
"I didn't think that far ahead."
"Even if you didn't, the result is the same."
Raisa already knew Vain was an eccentric noble. But as she watched the villagers bow their heads, she realized it again: this man wasn't just talented at using people; he was capable of changing the very social current around him.
As for me, I'd rather people didn't assign such lofty evaluations to my actions...
◇
That evening, a messenger arrived from the royal capital.
The sealed letter he presented was made of exceptionally high-quality vellum. It was bound with a silver cord and bore the official seal of the Royal Bureau of Civil Affairs. On the front, it read: Regarding the suppression of the Southern Highway bandit brigade and the restoration of the highway.
The moment I saw it, a cold dread settled in my stomach.
"Clarice."
"Yes. This is... likely something very troublesome."
Clarice accepted the letter but didn't open it immediately. Since the messenger was still standing before us, showing any reaction could lead to unwanted rumors reaching the capital. As expected of a daughter of a former prestigious house, Clarice was truly flawless in such matters of etiquette.
"A formal invitation from the royal palace for Lord Razgrim," the messenger announced with a deep bow.
"An invitation?"
"Yes. I am told it concerns the matter of honors regarding the suppression of the Southern Highway bandits and the restoration of the highway."
Honors.
The moment that word was uttered, Mylene’s eyes went wide, and Raisa whistled from the edge of the courtyard. Clarice knit her brows slightly while clutching the envelope.
I made a face of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"...I don't need honors. Tell them to give it to me in cash."
"Vain... The messenger is right there."
"I know. That's why I'm whispering."
"He can hear every word!"
The messenger gave an awkward smile. Being a man of the capital, he was well-practiced in the art of pretending he hadn't heard a thing.
I looked down at the letter. All I had done was clear out some pests. To be precise, Raisa had cleared them out, the former bandits had done the labor, Mylene had cooked the food, and Clarice had managed the ledgers. I had only issued the orders to minimize my own losses.
And yet, the royal capital was going out of its way to use expensive paper to summon me. This smelled like nothing but trouble. Clarice seemed to share the sentiment, as she let out a weary sigh while tapping the envelope against her chest.
"Let's wait until we're back in the office to open this. It's not something we can run away from."
"Can I run away if I burn it?"
"You'll just receive a much more aggressive letter later."
This was the absolute worst.
I stared at the wax seal of the Royal Bureau of Civil Affairs and felt a soul-deep exhaustion.
My life of decadence felt farther away than ever.