Chapter 42: Favorability Grinding
Morning light came slowly over the eastern ridge — first gilding the topmost branches in pale gold, then flowing down along the trunks, settling into the clearings and lighting the night dew until it gleamed.
The carriage moved at an unhurried pace along the forest road, wheels rolling over gravel and fallen leaves with a rhythmic creak.
Lucian was not on horseback. He was sitting on the driver's bench beside Sebas.
"So Mr. Sebas and Miss Solution are from the Empire."
A note of recognition had settled into his voice, as though a small puzzle had finally come together.
"That explains this route. Merchants coming over from the Empire usually take this road to the capital."
He said it and glanced sideways at Sebas.
The old man sat exactly as he always sat — back perfectly straight, reins held lightly. The morning light lay across that lined face and made every crease stand out clearly.
"Just so." Sebas gave a small nod, his voice even. "My mistress has been living in the Empire until now. This is her first visit to the Kingdom."
Lucian nodded and didn't press.
The conversation continued at its unhurried pace. Lucian talked about his domain — the changes over the past years, the children now sitting at desks in the schoolhouses, a good harvest this year, the domain's people eating their fill. He said these things lightly, the way you mention small matters that please you.
And occasionally, with apparent casualness, he would let something slip about the capital's noble circles — which families had drawn closer recently, which minister had fallen out of favor, what difficulties the royal family's finances had been running into.
Sebas listened. He offered replies now and then, asked the occasional question — ordinary things: "Is that lord still in the capital?" "I've heard the Adventurers Guild in the capital has been quite active lately."
Lucian answered each one easily, as though talking about nothing more pressing than the weather.
But he could feel Sebas committing every word carefully to memory.
He didn't mind. What he was offering was the kind of information any merchant in the capital could be persuaded to share for a handful of silver coins. Not a single word of anything genuinely important would leave his mouth.
"Speaking of which," Sebas said, his tone as unhurried as ever, "if Mr. Lucian were to find those bandits — what does he intend to do with them?"
Lucian paused.
The question was slightly unexpected. Not because the subject was sensitive — they were, after all, looking for bandits; discussing what to do with them was natural enough. What surprised him was that Sebas was the one asking.
By any cautious reckoning, Sebas should have been steering well clear of the subject. Those bodies would be found before long, and the manner of their deaths was nothing a human could have managed. Anyone who showed particular interest in that specific group afterward would be someone careful eyes would note. Given the thoroughness Sebas had displayed in everything else, this question was not quite the sensible one to ask.
Lucian let the observation settle quietly.
There it was.
These NPCs summoned here from YGGDRASIL — they were not entirely rational machinery. They were like people. They moved on instinct sometimes. They asked questions that weren't strictly the careful thing to ask.
It didn't bother him. Even an unexpected subject was ground he could use to show Sebas who he was.
"It depends." Lucian considered the words, his tone settling into something more direct. "Anyone who has killed or assaulted — those I'd execute outright."
Sebas turned his head slightly and looked at him. He said nothing, only listened.
"As for those who are simply trying to eat and stay alive..." A brief pause. "I'd bring those back to the domain. There's newly broken land there that needs hands. They'd have work, food, a roof. A life."
He thought for a moment and added: "The Kingdom's situation might not be entirely familiar to you, Mr. Sebas. In some noble domains here, tax comes to eight parts in ten. Work a full year, and eighty percent of what you grow goes to the lord. Twenty percent isn't enough to feed a family. When the choice is starve or take to the road, the road wins. A lot of those people aren't cruel or vicious at heart — they're just farmers who can't eat."
His voice carried a faint heaviness as he said it, not performed.
But he knew, precisely, what those words would become when they reached Sebas.
A young lord who was just. Who was compassionate. Who had the ability and the will to act on both. One who would hand down real punishment for real crimes, and still open a door for the people the world had backed into a corner.
Every word was genuine. The choice of when to say it, and to whom — that was its own form of intent.
Sebas was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a small nod. "Mr. Lucian is benevolent."
It came lightly, without much expression behind it. But Lucian noticed that the recognition in the old man's eyes had deepened. Perhaps, he thought, Sebas had been reminded of Touch Me.
The morning light grew. The mist between the trees thinned in it, a little at a time. Birdsong reached them from somewhere in the distance — clear and brief, carrying through the open forest.
Lucian was about to say something when he noticed Sebas's brow move. A barely perceptible shift — the crease between those grey brows gave the faintest twitch, as though something had lightly disturbed it, then was smoothed away in the same instant.
If he hadn't been watching carefully, he would never have caught it.
Then Solution's voice came through the carriage wall.
"Sebas."
Not loud. But clear. And the tone was not quite what it had been before — less of the young-lady performance, something more focused underneath it.
Sebas inclined his head toward Lucian. "Excuse me."
He set down the reins, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The door came closed behind him with a quiet click.
The carriage kept moving. The wheels kept creaking over the gravel. Morning wind came through the trees, carrying damp earth and green wood.
Everything seemed the same as a moment ago.
But Lucian knew it wasn't.
The carriage was too quiet.
It was just a thin wooden door — not worth much as a sound barrier. Solution's voice had carried through it clearly only moments ago. But now, with every effort to listen, Lucian heard nothing.
Not even footsteps.
The moment Sebas had stepped inside, the carriage had become something sealed — a box that swallowed every sound without giving any of it back.
Lucian kept his breathing even.
Silencing magic.
Something serious enough for Sebas and Solution to seal themselves in silence — there was only one explanation.
Ainz Ooal Gown had sent word.