"I have to escape as soon as the opportunity arises. Maybe I can cross the Rondan Mountains pass with the dwarves and reach the elves. Even with dwarves, I'll find common ground—I know far more about metallurgical alloys than these little guys."
Victor started plotting his escape because he refused to rely on luck, realizing he wasn't lucky in his previous life and saw no signs of fortune in this one.
Each day brought new trials, presenting challenges at every step. Just as he began living a normal life, fate struck again, plunging him back into bitter disappointment.
Humans can resist life's tests for a long time, but rewards should follow those trials. Then they'll face new challenges bravely, picking themselves up and pressing forward even after failures.
But if fresh trials follow immediately, sooner or later, a person grows tired of it all.
Victor had just built his manor, met a girl he liked, and decided things would only get better. Suddenly, a woman appeared who could send him to the stake with a single word.
All she needs to do is announce that his knowledge comes from demons, and he'll never be able to defend himself logically.
Even the serfs he helped all this time would turn against him.
Truth be told, he had no illusions about people's attitudes in these dark ages. He clearly understood that they were a stupid grey mass, prone to prejudice and obeying high-born leaders, no matter what he did for them.
For now, this is how it stands. They're grateful to him, happy with him, but none will stand by his side, and if anyone does, it won't change anything.
Too many nobles coveted Baltas's secrets, and too many desired what he possessed.
Most likely, they would torture him until he confessed to cooperating with demons, extracting all his knowledge.
While the lord burns at the stake, aristocrats who sent him there will exploit his discoveries.
"Hell no, nobody gets anything from me. I'll escape and start anew."
Victor stood at the drawing-room doors, paralyzed, unaware that he hadn't moved since leaving the countess.
— Your Excellency, are you unwell? — a melodic voice drew him out of his thoughts. Raising his eyes, he saw Sylvia, with her maid Milla hiding behind her.
— I... No... Just... What did you ask? — the young man missed the question, his thoughts calming down enough for him to realize where he was.
— Your Excellency looks unwell. Shall I call a healer? — the girl asked, appearing genuinely concerned.
Victor couldn't see himself from the outside, but his face was pale as a sheet, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
He wasn't sure what this form of address meant, but searching his memory, he recalled that it typically applied to counts or minor princes unrelated to imperial family.
Oddly, wives also used it casually when addressing husbands, even among barons.
— Thank you, my lady, but I'm fine, — Victor replied, maintaining decorum.
He found it odd for spouses to speak this way, but didn't dwell on it. Bowing politely, he walked to his room.
The manor was designed so that upon entering, visitors found themselves in a spacious foyer. Moving straight from the entrance, one reached stairs leading upstairs. To the left, four master bedrooms, a study, drawing room, and library occupied the space. Coincidentally, Cliosse's quarters were situated in this wing.
On the right side of the second floor, guest bedrooms and a parlor existed, suitable for entertaining guests.
Downstairs, the main drawing room on the left welcomed visitors, hosting social gatherings and leisure activities. Across from the entrance, the dining room resembled the drawing room, dotted with windows.
Other rooms remained empty, but Victor had numerous uses planned for them. This was only the front section of the building; three more wings would eventually form a rectangle, currently consisting only of skeleton frameworks and partial walls.
Despite its plain appearance, Victor believed he could beautify it using his past-life knowledge.
Refusing to lose everything he'd established in his dominion, he sought solutions. Hurrying through the hall, bounding up the stairs almost running, he thought only of resetting everything.
Arriving in his room, he slammed the door shut and rushed through the bedroom into the bathroom, where he found a jug of water and splashed it over his head.
The cold water revived him instantly, dispelling chaotic thoughts like a bad dream.
Victor didn't have time to savor the tranquility before someone knocked on the door, followed by someone entering his bedroom. Only one person acted this way: Lulu, and indeed, her voice echoed a moment later.
Victor emerged from the bathroom, wet and dripping, to find a distressed servant girl.
— M-m'lord, what's wrong? — her voice quivered, resembling a mouse's squeak.
The girl rushed into the bathroom, grabbed towels, and began drying him off. Seeing this wasn't effective, she stripped him of his damp clothes.
Victor didn't resist, accustomed to this treatment. Racing around the room for thirty minutes, Lulu thoroughly redressed him in dry garments and styled his hair.
He had no idea why, but the habit of the former body's owner to comb hair backward had transferred to him.
— Must go, I'll be back for dinner, — he announced, striding out.
Feeling the cool winter breeze outside, he regained full awareness, pondering his next steps as he headed to Ironwood.
Walking through town, he couldn't shake off recent events and ended up near warehouse storerooms, spotting Linnea and Shona chatting and laughing.
Seeing him, the girls approached with smiles.
— Victor, why are you here? — Linnea asked.
However, something remarkable caught his attention. Observing Shona, he realized she'd used his invention, evident by her enlarged bust.
Caught by her glance, Shona blushed and lowered her eyes, while Linnea, seemingly jealous, stared daggers at him.
— Shona, inform merchants that tomorrow I plan to make an announcement, — Victor instructed, dragging Linnea along to inspect his territory, seeking improvements requiring minimal effort.
For the remainder of the day, they traveled from village to village, conversing with overseers and assessing local conditions.
Overall, his dominion enjoyed relative calm. Medical professionals implemented hygiene standards effectively, monitoring any symptoms of illness.
With flu and cold prevention knowledge, they achieved a minor miracle: no deaths occurred from these diseases during the entire winter.
Tuberculosis and musculoskeletal disorders persisted, but he had no treatments for them, lacking necessary expertise.
Future science development was on his agenda, but he had no clue where to start.
The biggest achievement so far was partly recovering Mendeleyev's periodic table of elements.
This feat resulted from his improved memory as a mage, enabling recall.
It also triggered vivid recollections of school curriculum, prompting him to record everything.
Memory, though sharper, remained fragmentary, forcing him to switch topics frequently in his writings.
Sometimes, he wrote math formulas, only to shift abruptly to physics or chemistry.
Much of what he wrote confused him, unsure which part corresponded to which textbook and grade level. Still, he hoped scholars or mages in this world would pursue these sciences, since without them, technological advancement would stall.
Glassmaking exemplified this dilemma. He needed soda ash, unavailable here, but sand was abundant. Plain glass would suffice, providing functional windows to let daylight into buildings.
He was certain this type of glass would appeal not only to commoners and merchants but also to minor nobles and government officials.
Everything hinged on timing. Military campaign preparation allowed only three months, so he rushed to the manor.
Arriving, he and Linnea were greeted by maids who helped remove outerwear and guided them to the dining room, where Cliosse, Sylvia, and Alganis had already gathered.
Victor hadn't expected his knight to be present, but it turned out Cliosse insisted on his inclusion.
Surprisingly, the countess didn't sit at the head of the table but chose the right-hand side, seating Sylvia opposite her.
Uncertain, Victor took his place at the head, appetite utterly absent. Company at the table was far from pleasant.
Sylvia sat to his left, leaving Lina to the countess's side, creating an awkward gap between them.
Propriety dictated such arrangement, but Victor resented it. He feared provoking Cliosse further, as he was vulnerable to her influence.
— Victor, what's wrong with you? We're surrounded by lovely ladies, yet you look like you're at a funeral, — Cliosse commented, interrupting the tense silence.
— I... I'm just lost in thought, you're right, my lady, I apologize, — he replied, attempting a smile.
Throughout dinner, Cliosse scrutinized him, occasionally flashing a sardonic grin.
"What's gotten into her? Has she really forgotten everything we discussed?"
Victor couldn't decipher her motives. She'd reverted to her initial demeanor, contrary to someone suspicious of him.
The meal felt eerie, like dining in a crypt rather than a dining room. Once finished, everyone dispersed to their rooms.
Victor, too, retired to his chamber, collapsing into bed and trying to fall asleep before dawn. But his thoughts prevented slumber.
Unable to relax, he arose, refreshed himself, ate a snack in the dining room, and went to Ironwood.
Today marked the founding of the Baltas Merchants' Guild, something he'd prepared for weeks.
Arriving at the market square, he found it packed with merchants arguing, negotiating, and jostling, anxious not to miss trade opportunities.
Victor hadn't anticipated such frenzied enthusiasm. As he emerged, the crowd roared louder, forming a spontaneous aisle leading to the tavern where he usually made announcements.
Simultaneously, Shona and Selasia approached, standing behind him.
Dismounting, he retrieved a stack of parchments from his saddlebag and asked Selasia to circulate them among literate merchants.
Many merchants here couldn't read or write, surprising him. He realized commerce functioned differently here, sans accounting.
Once Selasia finished distributing the scrolls, she returned to stand beside Shona.
— I hereby announce the establishment of the Baltas Merchants' Guild, — Victor declared.
Instantly, the hushed crowd erupted in confusion. Old acquaintance Burt spoke up.
— Pardon our ignorance, my lord, but what is this guild? — he inquired.
Of course, this was an expected question. Scrolls included detailed guidelines: membership privileges, responsibilities, and incentives.
The key advantage offered by Victor was exclusive access to Baltas goods at a 20% discount.
Also, guild members could purchase technologies related to new inventions.
Foremost among these was glass. Manufacturing hadn't commenced, but coal deposits had recently been discovered. Though not coke-grade, it was still a major breakthrough.
Victor granted merchants time to review the parchments. Meanwhile, he conversed with Shona, detailing her duties as guild leader.
Finally, he announced that joining the guild would cost ten golden coins.
This fee wasn't meant to generate income; it filtered out merchants unwilling or unable to pay.
Burt, faithful to Baltas, volunteered first, announcing his desire to join. Victor appreciated this gesture, despite knowing Burt didn't fully grasp the commitment.
Chaos ensued as others scrambled to register. Guards struggled to maintain order, forming queues. Shona discreetly slipped into the tavern, organizing a registration point.
Observing the organized chaos, Victor deemed his plan successful and departed for Rivenhall. Time for new innovations.