Sitting in the castle, Victor summoned Alganis and, while waiting for him, contemplated how to justify his magical abilities, deciding to impose authority by ordering silence on what had been witnessed.
Lost in thought, the knight appeared and saluted, placing his right hand over his heart.
— My lord, you summoned me? — he asked.
— Alganis, I need clarity regarding what you saw when we fought the bandits, — Victor began. — This must remain confidential; no one else should ever know. I trust you understand?
— My lord, I grasp the gravity and will carry this secret to my grave, — the knight replied.
Rising from his chair, Victor ordered the knight to follow him, leading them to the castle's rear courtyard.
Reaching the training grounds, he summoned his equipment before the startled knight's eyes.
— My lord, i-is this black magic? — Alganis stammered, recovering his composure.
— Don't be foolish; where have you seen such black magic? — the lord rebuked. — I wish to train with you and evaluate your skills.
Alganis hesitated initially but composed himself, suppressing his strength to the level of an iron knight, unsheathed his sword, gripped it with both hands, and assumed a defensive stance.
Victor raised his shield to eye level, planted his feet firmly, and braced for impact.
— Attack, — he commanded.
Without delay, the knight lunged forward, landing a blow on the shield and immediately retreating. To his amazement, his lord didn't budge. Whatever armor he wore, a non-magic user shouldn't have withstood an iron knight's strike so effortlessly.
Victor, for his part, felt a tremor run through his arms. Although he managed to withstand the blow, the recoil was so intense it numbed his hand, yet, urging the knight to continue, he persevered with the drill.
Remaining purely defensive, he weathered repeated strikes from the advancing knight, sustaining this grueling session for nearly an hour until, completely exhausted, Victor signaled a halt.
Immediately after the workout, he dismissed his armor with a mental command and slumped onto the ground. Sweat streamed profusely, but he felt oddly refreshed.
Resting on the earth, he summoned the cloudlike interface.
Strength: 11 (+8 points from base 7)
Agility: 9 (+6 points from base 5)
Intellect: 10 (no change)
Luck: 7 (no change)
He noticed the stats had risen dramatically. Additionally, the red mark next to his armor had changed from -96% to -91%.
"Apparently, such training improves my attributes and enhances my mastery of the armor. This is encouraging," he mused, closing the interface.
Astounded, Alganis stared at his lord.
— My lord, I had no idea you were an iron knight. When you fought the bandits, I assumed it was due to an artifact, but now I sense the power of an iron knight from you, — the knight commented.
Victor instantly referenced the previous owner's memories.
"Yes, artifacts exist in this world—objects crafted in the mythic era. Nobles commonly possess them for protection. The most famous example is the Crown of Wisdom, belonging to the king, whose effects remain unknown to anyone but the reigning monarch."
— Are you sensing magic emanating from me? — he asked.
— Absolutely, it's unmistakably the aura of a low-tier iron knight, — Alganis confirmed. — Why did you conceal that you're a mage? If you disclosed this, you could retain your status as heir.
"More complications will arise if they discover I've acquired magic. My stepmother will surely sic the marquis's house on me," Victor reasoned.
— Alganis, is there a way to conceal my power? — he inquired.
— It's easily achievable, my lord. I can teach you to mask your aura. But why the secrecy? — the knight asked.
— Irrelevant. Teach me, — Victor insisted.
Alganis then detailed the technique. Power radiated continuously from a knight, analogous to walking with arms outstretched. Concealing it required learning to contain it within. Only a higher-tier mage could probe deeply into another's body, but such invasive scrutiny would be deemed an offense of honor, preventing its use among peers.
Following the knight's instruction, he assumed a stance and attempted to perceive the surrounding environment. Alganis described how he should sense warmth emanating from his body, allowing him to detect his aura.
Victor struggled for nearly an hour, failing to register any sensation.
Exasperated, he abandoned the attempt and, postponing it, returned to the castle, summoning a maid to bring water for refreshment.
Refreshed, he summoned Alganis again and, ordering preparation of horses, ventured outside, where, ten minutes later, two ordinary horses were brought to him.
Mounting his steed, he rode toward the nearest village, curious to observe the lifestyle of commoners and the realities of this world.
During his initial arrival in his dominion, he had overlooked these aspects, traveling directly to the castle via a bypassing road.
An hour later, navigating a rough track, they reached a village unnamed, simply referred to as "village."
"Fainthearted nobles can't even bother naming places? How do they govern their domains?" Victor grumbled internally.
As soon as he entered the village, people uniformly knelt. Whether ignorant of his identity or not, the mere sight of nobility prompted servitude.
Some merely bowed waist-deep, distinguishing commoners from serfs.
Earthlings believed being a commoner preferable to being a serf, a view Victor shared, but consulting his inherited memories sowed doubts.
What a commoner owned was theirs, granting mobility and autonomy. Conversely, serfdom chained one entirely to a lord, yet they benefitted from protections provided by their masters, including food, shelter, and clothing.
Despite widespread negligence by many nobles, serfs were legally entitled to sustenance.
Commoners, however, often opted for serfdom, especially if jobless, securing employment during planting or harvest seasons. Success in earning food to survive winter ensured their livelihood; failure meant extinction, a fate no one cared about.
Nobles extracted up to 90% of crop yields, profiting from sales. Providing nourishment to commoners violated norms, though taxes rarely exceeded 70%. Each lord's discretion determined levies.
Moreover, forests, berries, and wildlife belonged exclusively to nobles, denying commoners access, making survival arduous.
Victor halted his horse and, dismounting, handed the reins to the knight.
— Summon the village elder; inform him the lord requests his presence, — he ordered.
Kneeling villagers huddled closer, fearing punishment for breathing near their lord.
Direct interaction with nobility subjected serfs to tribulation in this world.
Presently, he noticed a ten-year-old boy and beckoned him closer. The child hesitated, prompting the knight to intervene, interpreting it as disrespect, but Victor abruptly halted him.
Trembling, the boy finally approached, lowering his head deferentially.
Victor retrieved two copper coins from his purse, pressing them gently into the boy's palms, asking calmly for the elder.
The boy alternated his gaze between the coins and the stranger before him.
Unaware, Victor hadn't realized how rare such currency was in this bartering-based economy, especially for serfs.
The boy spun and dashed off to locate the elder, while the nearby knight leaned in, whispering urgently that touching these "untouchable" subjects was improper.
— Never refer to them as such in my presence, — Victor sharply reprimanded Alganis. — I don't care what others think; on my lands, these are my people.
Perplexed by his mistake, the knight fell silent, accepting his chastisement.
Minutes later, hoofbeats resounded, and they turned to see Jin galloping toward them.
— My lord, why venture personally into this filthy locale? — the butler queried, dismounting.
The location was indeed repugnant. Stench pervaded the air, rivaling an overfilled street privy. Nightsoil and garbage littered homes' thresholds.
Fortunately, the absence of indestructible trash averted catastrophic accumulation.
— Henceforth, I'll conduct periodic inspections of my domain. This "filthy" place belongs to me, — Victor retorted, ignoring the senior man's consternation.
Silent thereafter, Jin stepped behind his master, awaiting further commands.
Several minutes later, they spotted the village elder, a sixty-something man hobbling alongside the boy.
"Hobbling" was generous; the elder shuffled laboriously, limping noticeably, collapsing to his knees before Victor.
— My lord, forgive this slave; I was unaware of your imminent arrival. How could I presume such disrespect? — the elder gasped.
— Enough; this isn't your fault. I haven't notified anyone. Stand up; I'm here on business, — Victor curtly directed.
The elder struggled to his feet, contorting his face and posture to exhibit maximum deference.
Emaciated, his partially unbuttoned shirt exposed ribs and sinews. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed his face, his sparse beard snow-white.
— Can anyone in the village write or read? — Victor inquired.
— Yes, my lord, the blacksmith's daughter is literate, — the elder replied.
— Issue this directive: Proceed to the castle, where ink and parchment will be issued. Record all villagers, specifying their names, ages, number of children, gender distribution, and occupations. Understood? — he commanded, awaiting confirmation.
— Yes, my lord, we'll execute your wishes faithfully, but few villagers know their precise ages, — the elder cautioned.
This revelation unveiled another peculiar aspect of this world: Age tracking was neglected. Estimates sufficed; some classified themselves vaguely as child, adolescent, adult, or aged.
— Note whatever details you have; no issue arises. Inform each participant they'll receive two slices of bread, — Victor added, anticipating resistance.
Overjoyed, the elder repeatedly bowed, invoking gods to bless the baron with longevity, as if receiving charity from a beggar.
Victor could no longer endure the stench and persistent obeisance.
Living in societies where bows symbolized degradation, let alone genuflection, seemed primitive.
Recalling Asian films depicting contemporary cultures where citizens habitually bowed to superiors, he dismissed such practices as medieval vestiges.
Encountering this extreme deference now, with a teenager commanding such homage, felt absurd.
Yet altering societal norms wasn't his priority. Strength acquisition and territorial enhancement were far more urgent.
War loomed within six months or possibly a year, requiring trained soldiers to ensure relevance in battle decisions.
Mentally revisiting the elder's statement, initially overlooked, he now puzzled over it.
Yes, the elder had mentioned the blacksmith's daughter, implying the presence of a blacksmith.
— Elder, you mentioned a blacksmith exists here. I want to see him, — Victor ordered.
— Yes, my lord, I'll summon him immediately, — the elder agreed, instructing the boy to fetch the craftsman.
Minutes later, the boy returned, sprinting alongside a burly blacksmith. Typical of his profession, the man stood nearly two meters tall, soot-covered and sweaty, his beard coal-black, bald scalp glistening with perspiration.
Approaching Victor, he bowed deeply.
— My lord, you summoned me; I beg forgiveness for the delay, — the man began apologetically.
Victor examined him, trying to visualize his appearance beneath layers of soot.
Plain and unremarkable, he sported blue eyes, a hooked nose, and a scruffy beard. His hands, however, were enormous, perhaps matching the thigh of the boy who led him, and his height neared two meters.
Victor extended his hand to Alganis, requesting writing tools from his bag.
Handing him parchment, the knight produced an inkpot and feather pens. Passing one to Victor, he held the ink container.
Under everyone's gaze, the lord began sketching, completing a detailed diagram in ten minutes and handing it to the blacksmith.
— Can you manufacture this? — he asked.
— Possible, my lord; I estimate four days, — the blacksmith assessed, examining the illustrated specifications.
— Name yourself, — Victor requested.
— Karram, Blacksmith, my lord, — the man replied.
— Complete it within twenty-four hours, and you'll receive a gold coin, — Victor proposed, stunning onlookers. — Metal components aren't mandatory; focus on creating the blade; the rest can be wood.
— M-my lord, I'll strain my hands to the limit, but I'll deliver, — Karram vowed. — But, my lord, what is this device? Some weaponry?
— No, I call it a plow, — Victor clarified.
Consulting his predecessor's memories, he searched for information on this world's technologies.
Despite the former Victor's ignorance of agronomy, he recalled various tools but had never encountered a basic iron plow. Sketching it now, he intended to test whether the blacksmith recognized it—and, evidently, he did not.