After the incident at Saltworks, Victor returned to the castle around noon and, summoning the butler, recounted what had happened, then issued appropriate orders before immediately heading to Ironwood, where he planned to conduct measures aimed at punishing the attackers and denying them any benefit they expected.
As he rode through the slightly frozen mud, his mind raced with thoughts tied to the events.
— My lord, what do you intend to do? — Linea asked, breaking his concentration.
Victor glanced at the girl accompanying him, noticing uncertainty—or perhaps fear—in her gaze. He couldn't pinpoint what disturbed her, but she clearly differed from her usual self.
— I aim to locate and punish those bastards responsible, but first, I'll ensure they derive no advantage from this situation, — the lord replied, signaling he didn't wish to continue the conversation.
Silence ensued for the remainder of the ride, broken only when they reached Ironwood and encountered Shona, prompting him to refocus on his plan.
Approaching the girl, who bowed respectfully, Victor, dismounting, again reflected on the warehouse scene. Despite her appeal, he cursed the vicount for embedding such an attractive spy in his midst.
— Inform all traders that I intend to auction the salt-making process, — he ordered, handing the reins to a knight.
Shona glanced between him and Linea, puzzled.
— My lord, what is an auction? — she asked.
"In what sense? Surely there's an auction here; I've seen references to it in memories of the previous owner."
Delving into those memories, he recalled the event—specifically, the count winning a sword in a sale referred to simply as "trade."
— I'll submit the manufacturing method to trade; the top five bids will obtain it, — he phrased differently, informing the lord.
Shona grew increasingly confused. Producing salt was a continuous source of wealth; why sell it? Nonetheless, his decision seemed deliberate, rendering her objections foolish, though she realized she must inform the vicount.
— Incidentally, before informing the vicount, tell him this method will soon be public knowledge; there's no point paying excessively for it, — Victor added with a smile, emphasizing his awareness.
— I-I don't unders... — Shona began to speak, but the lord silenced her with a wave of his hand.
— Don't assume you're smarter than me. You're here not because you and the vicount are geniuses, but because I allowed it. I actually need a manager, — he explained with a grin, though his expression turned serious. — But if you persist in this manner, I'll kill you faster than you and the vicount realize how mistaken you are.
Shona listened attentively, unperturbed by his threat or confusion.
— My lord, the vicount did send me here, and it wasn't kept secret, — she spoke calmly. — I received no orders except to serve you as my new master. He also gave me this...
Digging into her sleeve, she extracted a small piece of parchment.
Victor unfolded it, reading the prominent, elegant word "Freedom" written at the top.
For a moment, he doubted his conclusions, as such papers freed serfs, implying liberation. However, one critical flaw existed: peasants weren't schooled in etiquette, meaning the girl was likely a noblewoman, perhaps from a ruined lineage, using the document as a facade to mask their deception.
— Fine, we'll consider the matter closed, — he declared, unwilling to pursue the topic further.
Turning to the auction, he outlined his intentions but also mulled over clothing innovations, planning them for a distant future, as his mind churned with new ideas aimed at easing his life.
The young man yearned to introduce practical clothing, dispensing with the need for servants' assistance, but a yawning gap separated him from comfort.
— Very well, notify all traders that the auction will take place in two days, — he instructed.
Shona hesitated, uncertain whether to speak, but ultimately decided to challenge him.
— My lord, wouldn't it be better to give traders more time to return with larger sums? — she proposed.
Logically sound, yet Victor's objective was to prevent the attackers from profiting even a copper coin while demonstrating to traders missing this opportunity that it could repeat.
He prepared to clarify his stance when a guard arrived, standing rigidly, awaiting acknowledgment.
— What's wrong? — Victor asked calmly.
— My lord, a child was attacked in Eron; Natila reported that she's receiving treatment, but believes you should be informed, — the guard announced.
— Were you with her in Eron? — the lord verified.
— Yes, my lord; I arrived here at Natila's request.
"What's happening? I wouldn't be bothered by an attack on a serf child, even death wouldn't warrant dragging me to another village."
Absorbed in these reflections, he forgot about Shona, who waited expectantly.
— Shona, do as I said, — he dismissed her, mounting his horse and galloping southward.
Two hours later, he reached the village, where three soldiers guided him to the elder's house.
Entering, he was met with a sharp scent of blood, and in the dimly lit room, people bustled around.
Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a sight that unsettled him.
An eight-year-old girl lay on a cot, battered and bruised, as if someone had methodically hacked at her, leaving no inch unmarred.
Natita, covered in the girl's blood, labored to stanch the flow, assisted by other nurses. Even if successful, Victor suspected the child wouldn't survive.
Addressing the guard behind him, he issued instructions.
— Ride to Selitas and fetch a priest, — then turned to Natita. — What happened?
Only now did she notice him standing behind her, turning to relate the story through tears.
— My lord, we found her in a ravine near the woods, in the northern part of the village. We don't know who did this; the girl remains unconscious.
"How deranged must someone be to commit such an atrocity? Has a serial killer infiltrated our lands?"
Counting at least five wounds in the dim light, Victor was astonished by the girl's will to live.
Leaving the dwelling, he instructed guards to guide him to the ravine where the child was found.
Ten minutes later, they stood at the site, bloodstains marking the ground. Judging by the marks, she'd been assaulted here, as no evidence suggested her body had been dragged.
"They threw her here and stabbed her repeatedly until she lost consciousness? What lunacy drives such violence?"
He couldn't fathom why anyone targeted a child. Based on her attire, she was a serf, and attacking a serf amounted to trespassing on the lord's property, carrying a guaranteed death sentence.
Unable to uncover more, he returned to the elder's house, spending nearly six hours observing nurses monitor the girl's condition and coaxing her to hold on, though she likely couldn't hear them.
Only when a priest arrived, invoking a Light spell at the threshold, did everyone breathe easier. The spell sealed the wounds and accelerated healing.
Victor requested the priest remain in the village until the girl fully recovered, then returned to the castle.
In truth, he wanted to ask Natita why she summoned him, suspecting she'd panicked or deemed him compassionate enough to intervene. It wasn't that he refused to come or was indifferent to a child's life, but deaths occurred regularly on his lands. Fewer than before, but diseases and starvation hadn't vanished.
Crimes of such severity were rare, but the butler handled incidents, recording them and instructing guards to investigate.
Preoccupied with these reflections, he didn't notice reaching the castle gates, where soldiers excitedly announced the arrival of the first sheet of paper, created by a craftsman the butler was currently interviewing.
Upon hearing this, Victor struggled to contain his excitement, leaping off his horse and rushing inside, where he encountered the butler and a plainly dressed commoner. The man appeared freshly arrived, as native residents still wore their threadbare garments.
— My lord, this man claims to have done what you requested, — the butler informed him, presenting a sample of paper.
Victor gingerly took it, stroking it carefully to avoid damaging it.
The paper was light brown, rough-textured, but recognizable as paper.
Requesting writing utensils, he penned his name on it, smiling as ink absorbed readily without seeping through. However, issues arose: the color was too dark for writing, and folding caused it to crack like cardboard. Minor flaws correctable with further testing.
Elated, he ordered payment for the man, Shom, and prepared to enter the castle but was intercepted by a panting soldier.
— My lord, Natita reported that the injured girl awoke, — he gasped, as if sprinting the entire distance rather than riding.
— What's the issue? We're already investigating who did this, — Victor replied calmly, awaiting details.
— My lord, Natita said the girl is an orphan and has long wandered the forest, gathering plants to create paper, — the soldier disclosed.
Victor's heart skipped a beat. Startled, he squeezed the paper in his hands, seized by a horrifying realization.
He feared his idea might have indirectly contributed to the child's injury, since, technically, he bore partial responsibility, but then he recalled something and glanced at the man delivering the paper.
"Wait, I didn't even ask how he made it. I didn't inquire about the recipe... Am I a complete fool?"
Accustomed to honest dealings from commoners, he'd become so enthralled by the innovation that he forgot everything, even rewarding the man without securing the formula.
Gazing angrily at the bearer of paper, he fantasized tearing him limb from limb.
— If you can't reproduce this paper, I'll make you regret ever being born!
This insect had nearly made him an accessory to murder. Even imagining partial blame for the incident blinded him with rage, though had the girl not survived, he surely would have torn the man apart had he been guilty.
Victor stared at the paper-bearer, soldiers unsheathing swords and pointing them at the man. Linea stood before Victor, her sword drawn, visibly angrier than the lord; her blade trembled, contorting her face into a grotesque grimace.
Shom paled, falling to his knees, pleading for mercy and begging forgiveness, but Victor no longer listened, striving to suppress his urge to activate the "Fanaticism" skill accidentally.
Calming himself, he ordered the prisoner locked in the dungeon and promptly determined to nip such occurrences in the bud.
"First, execute him publicly, declaring his crime to all citizens, and second, establish laws for the domain that everyone must follow."
Thoughts darted like sparks, alternating between a fierce desire to kill the wretch immediately and calculating strategies for proper execution. Distressed, Victor left the yard and, retreating to his office, exhaled.
— Damn world, exposing its ugliness again! Here, they can murder a child for a coin! And I was reckless... I'm just an idiot! — Alone, he berated himself for allowing such a situation and nearly letting the culprit escape punishment, even paying him for the damnable paper.