Victor and Linea stood on the training ground, facing each other, each preparing to reveal a secret. Linea eagerly awaited what would make her stronger, while Victor braced himself mentally for unveiling one of his biggest secrets.
The decision had already been made by the lord, but taking the next step proved far more difficult. He continued trying to feel anger toward the girl in front of him, but the longer he looked at her, the more he admired her appearance, and the less angry he felt.
— Screw it all! — he exclaimed, summoning his armor before the amazed girl's eyes.
Linea stared at the man before her, fully encased in armor that gleamed with golden light, radiating tremendous power.
Transfixed by it, she took a step forward and, extending her hand, touched the hood, which looked like regular cloth and fluttered lightly, but when she touched it, it felt like cold steel.
— They said you had no mana, and that's why you lost your heir status. But now I feel your magical power, — she said, pulling back her hand and stepping away.
Victor sensed that he was being tested when he equipped the armor, but he wasn't surprised; hiding it was no longer an option.
Instead, he felt relief that he could at least be honest about something.
— I don't want anyone to know about my strength, and I don't need that status, — Victor said, raising his hammer and invoking the Paladin's Blessing.
A circle of light spread over the training ground, completely enveloping the girl before him.
Bathed in light, she stood still, studying her glowing hands. Victor watched her carefully, focusing on the energy coursing through her body, as if searching for an exit.
He observed her fighting to contain the energy, directing it toward her heart. Suddenly, all the energy rushed there, and next to her heart appeared something shaped like a rhombus, no larger than three centimeters in diameter, as if carved from crystal. The energy circled around this shape, gradually being absorbed by it, until it wrapped around her heart and vanished completely.
The moment the rhombus disappeared, a wave of magic swept across the training ground, not as strong as Alganís', but powerful enough to be noticeable even to a non-magic user, pushing Victor back two meters.
When Linea opened her eyes, she saw Victor standing slightly farther away, waiting for her transformation to finish.
With just one swing of your hammer, I broke through to the Silver Level, — she said, disbelieving what had happened, adding: — If this gets out, even the king will become your enemy.
— That's why I can't let you leave my territory—not yet, at least, — Victor replied.
After considering everything that had happened, he regretted his decision but saw no other way out. However, Linea's reaction was calmer than he expected. Because she treated it as a duty-bound situation, after a minute of silence, she finally spoke.
— I anticipated something like this. I even thought you might want to kill me to hide your secret.
It's not that Victor hadn't considered that option, but hearing her openness made him feel guilty for even having such thoughts.
Because if a lord learned such an important secret and knew he could be killed for it, there's no certainty he could retain composure.
— You'll face no harm, but you can't leave the castle—for now, — Victor informed her, dispelling his armor. Any requests you have will be honored within my capabilities.
He was about to return to the castle when Linea stopped him. Turning to her, he saw she clearly wanted to ask something.
— I want to continue these training sessions, — she said, — if you're okay with it.
Small as the request was, it already surpassed Alganís' strength. If Victor continued blessing her, it wasn't impossible she'd grow even stronger and manage to escape his territory.
— I'll think about it, but I can't promise anything, — he replied, heading toward the castle.
Linea lingered a bit longer, casting a glance at the star-filled night sky, then followed him.
***
The next day, Linea didn't leave her quarters—more accurately, Victor's quarters. This situation troubled him greatly, and the realization that it might extend indefinitely upset him even more. The urge to build a manor grew stronger.
Currently, he was walking toward his new guests, who had already sobered up, and their loud shouting reverberated throughout the castle.
Stepping into the courtyard, he saw two dwarves, one pinning the merchant to his knees, the other brandishing a giant hammer, threatening to crush his head.
— You're a dirty son of a tavern keeper! Where did you drag us?! — shouted the dwarf with the hammer.
— He drugged us somehow and hauled us here! — yelled the other.
Seeing Victor, the unfortunate merchant finally saw hope.
— My lord, save me! Please, they're going to kill me! — he almost cried, begging Vorkat.
Victor saw no overt aggression from them; they seemed intent on intimidating him, and they were succeeding, given Vorkat's visible fear.
The dwarf with the hammer turned to him and grinned mockingly.
— So you think that, because you're a noble, we'll hesitate to kill you? — he said, gripping the hammer with both hands.
Right after saying this, he emitted an aura that felt stronger than Victor's father's but much weaker than a duke's. Although he couldn't identify the exact level, he guessed it was at least peak Gold.
Alganís immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him from the magic burst, but Victor refused to hide behind him and pushed him aside with a gentle nudge.
— I didn't expect proud dwarves to attack weaker opponents. Were all those stories about your courage just drunken bravado? — Victor quipped, recalling everything he knew about dwarves.
They were all boastful, loved drinking, and enjoyed a good fight, but they never attacked someone who couldn't defend themselves.
— We only target those who kidnap us or try to trick us, — the dwarf retorted instantly.
— It's not my fault you were weak enough to collapse after a couple of glasses of my wine, — Victor laughed.
— There's no wine in existence that can knock out Geldor! You've definitely drugged it! — insisted the dwarf.
He truly couldn't believe he had fallen asleep after drinking wine. In their capital, they brewed the strongest alcohol on the continent, proudly named "Dragon's Breath." Although Victor didn't know its actual strength, he was confident it didn't exceed twenty-five percent, like any other beverage in this world.
— Then let's make a bet, — proposed Victor, raising his hand. — If you can each drink a jug of my wine and stay standing, I'll give you as much gold as you weigh together. But if I win, you'll serve me for a year.
The lord mentioned two things dwarves cherished: wine and gambling. Who could resist such an offer? But he was sure he wouldn't lose, thanks to a particular ingredient that probably wouldn't qualify as wine for humans.
The spirit he prepared for sterilizing wounds and applying compresses. Victor didn't know its exact alcohol content, but with the upgraded still, he was confident it was over ninety percent.
He himself was afraid to taste it, unsure of its effect on him, and he certainly didn't love alcohol enough to search for quick intoxication.
Still, the dwarves standing before him lived on alcohol like cars ran on gas, and the purer the fuel, the better their performance. Naturally, hearing the conditions and prize, they couldn't resist joining the contest.
Myths in this world described dwarves as servants of dragons, loving gold as much as their ancient masters. Even owning all the world's riches, they'd still crave more gold, and knowing this weakness, Victor tempted them with a deal they accepted.
Letting the hapless merchant go, the dwarf slung his hammer over his shoulder and approached Victor.
— I'm Geldor, and my brother Baldor. We'll happily accept your challenge, but if you slip something into the wine again, don't blame me for what happens next, — he declared loudly.
Listening to their threats, Victor ordered Arthur, who was nearby, to fetch two jugs of wine from Jinn's stores.
Arthur darted off to the castle and returned ten minutes later carrying two jugs, each containing about five liters. Struggling to hold them, he didn't give up. Arriving near the dwarves, he realized he didn't know how to set the jugs down. But the dwarves stepped forward and took them from him.
When one of them uncorked a jug and sniffed, he jerked back abruptly, nearly dropping it.
— This stuff is poison! Do you expect us to drink this? Have you lost your mind?! — Geldor roared.
Nevertheless, the lord signaled for his knight to demonstrate that the contents were safe, which he did without hesitation.
Taking a sip and turning bright red, Alganís fought back a violent cough, then returned to his place, standing uneasily for a while, enduring the burning sensation in his throat and the flush spreading through his body.
Watching this, the two guests exchanged glances, debating their next move. Finally, they each took a cautious sip, nearly throwing the jugs to the ground. Clearly unprepared for the potency, they nevertheless refused to back down, persisting in draining the jugs.
Even Victor, watching this spectacle, began doubting the success of his endeavor, especially since he had nowhere near enough gold in his coffers to cover their weights.
However, within seconds, Baldor crashed to the ground, followed shortly by Geldor. Relieved, Victor walked past them, ordering them housed in the soldiers' barracks, then proceeded to the brick factory to inspect the work.
Along the way, Alganís informed him that Clint did indeed have limestone deposits, which they mined, albeit in small quantities. Used mainly for whitewashing house walls, they had even tried using it as bonding material for fortress walls, but the results were unimpressive.
Hearing what he wanted, Victor immediately began plotting its extraction and transportation. Buying it from Clint would pose no difficulty. Once he suggested paying partly in limestone for their goods, they would happily uproot their land and deliver it themselves.
For them, it was worthless material, but for him, it was the cornerstone of civilization, essential for any developed society.
There was, however, one problem: the hostage in his castle. Sooner or later, Baron Clint would demand her return, and upon realizing her absence was permanent, war might break out between their territories.
The baron had no clue how to resolve this issue and decided to discuss it with the girl herself, hoping to find an acceptable solution when he returned to the castle.
Truth be told, all that was for later. At the moment, he stood in the factory, watching it expand in all directions. The masons had already begun constructing a new kiln, twice the size of the prototype.
Once the first batch of bricks was ready, construction of a proper kiln would begin, capable of baking ten thousand bricks at once. By his calculations, it would take at least two months, but even so, it represented a milestone for his territory, setting the stage for a valuable new industry—real estate.