“Frederick.”
Isaac, though in this life, the name was Edward, set down the document he had been reading and lifted his gaze to the butler.
“Yes, Young Master.” Frederick’s smile was warm, brimming with pride.
Edward frowned. “Could you stop staring at me like that?” The man’s look of quiet admiration was simply too much.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… this is the first time you’ve shown an interest in the estate’s affairs,” Frederick said, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of emotion.
“Father isn’t here,” Edward replied casually. “And this is the estate I’m going to inherit.” That was all it took for Frederick’s eyes to shine again. “Of course! It’s only right you should be involved. But please, don’t overwork yourself, you’ve yet to fully recover.”
“Got it,” Edward said, turning back to the papers. The deeper he read, the heavier the words felt. The Griffith finances were worse than he had imagined. The debts alone could have swallowed the yearly budget of a respectable kingdom. Everything of value had been sold, every loanable coin borrowed, and expenses pared down to the bone, yet ruin still loomed, only delayed by desperation.
“What’s this income here? Did we borrow more money?” One section caught his eye, a vague list of names without titles or positions.
“That’s money sent by the knights of the house,” Frederick explained, “those who are working as mercenaries now.”
“I thought the knight order was disbanded.”
“It was. His Lordship released them from their oaths, since he could no longer maintain them. But not one of them entered the service of another lord.”
Edward raised a brow. “Wouldn’t mercenary work be a blow to a knight’s honour?”
“They do it to send money back to the Baron.”
Edward stared at him. “That’s… some loyalty.”
“Even though they were released, they never accepted it. They still believe their oath is valid.”
“You haven’t been paid for a year either, have you, Frederick?”
“That’s right, Young Master.”
“Then why haven’t you left?”
Frederick’s expression grew complicated. “The name Griffith carries a weight not so easily abandoned. Like the knights, my family has served the Griffiths since my ancestors’ time.”
“You have a surname, don’t you? What is it?”
Frederick’s brows lifted. “You’re asking me my surname… I never thought I’d see the day. But I’m not allowed to use it officially.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons.”
“This isn’t an official setting. Tell me.”
He hesitated, then spoke. “It was Marshall.”
Edward’s eyes widened. The Marshalls had once served the Griffiths when they were royalty, and after the fall of Isaac Griffith five hundred years ago, the Marshalls had risen to become the royal house of Aerok. Which meant the elderly man before him, dressed in worn formal wear, was kin to the current king.
“That’s right,” Frederick said. “The current royal family is actually the cadet branch. My family stayed loyal to the Griffiths for over a thousand years. When the Griffiths became barons, my ancestor surrendered his title to remain in service. His younger brother became king.”
It was absurd, a royal serving as butler to a baron, and unpaid for a year at that. “Don’t you regret it? You could have lived as royalty.”
But Frederick’s eyes shone with pride. “This is what my family has always done. I’ve never once regretted it. I imagine the knights feel the same.”
Edward fell silent. He could picture that ancestor from five centuries ago, and the image twisted something deep in his chest.
“The Griffiths have stood for fifteen hundred years,” Frederick said quietly. “A house that endures that long is worth serving. I hope you take that to heart, Young Master.”
“I will,” Edward promised. “And neither you nor the knights will regret your choice.”
Frederick blinked in surprise, his expressive face threatening to betray tears. Edward, sensing the moment, changed the subject. “So, where’s the rest of the family? Why hasn’t anyone visited?”
“Her Ladyship, the Baroness, passed away right after giving birth to you.”
“I see.”
“You have one half-brother, but he was banished.”
“Why?”
“He caused too many incidents and earned His Lordship’s wrath.”
“…I see.” The estate was bankrupt, the family fractured—this was a disaster.
“Back to the main point,” Edward said. “The drought began about ten years ago?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“And before that?”
“It rained regularly, and the land was fertile.”
So it probably wasn’t the Demon King’s Castle causing it. “Anything profitable besides farming?”
“Hunters and fishermen pay taxes.”
“Pocket change.”
“That’s true.” Farming was the estate’s lifeblood. Everything else was insignificant.
“What about the Demon King’s Castle?”
Frederick blinked. “The castle, sir?”
“Are there still monsters there?”
“They appear occasionally, but not many.”
“Could there be something valuable inside?”
“People thought so once. Adventurers flocked there three hundred years ago. But they stopped coming.”
“So there’s nothing left?”
“Likely not. Why do you ask? You haven’t found some strange idea in a book again, have you?”
Edward gave a small smile. “Just thought I’d ask.”
What he truly wanted to confirm wasn’t written in any book, it was a memory from the Demon King himself. A place only the Demon King could enter. A place even his subordinates had been forbidden.
If those treasures were still there, they might be the key to saving the Griffith estate.
Not that it mattered yet. Right now, it was impossible.
The problem was, he had no idea what dangers might be lurking in the Demon King’s Castle.
Five hundred years ago, it had been the most dangerous place on the continent. The less explored a place was, the more dangerous it tended to be, and for all he knew, some of the Demon King’s old subordinates might still be there. In this frail body, facing them was out of the question.
Troublesome.
He needed time to rebuild his strength, but the estate’s condition left no room for that. The Baron had even borrowed from a loan shark, putting the castle up as collateral, and the repayment deadline was fast approaching. If they couldn’t raise the money, they would be thrown out into the streets.
There has to be a way…
Edward pressed a hand to his temple, trying to think.
A memory surfaced, one from the Demon King’s own past.
“There’s a well in the village, right?”
“There is, but it can’t be used.”
“Why not?”
“Demons poisoned it with some kind of drug, so it’s contaminated. According to the priest, the well dates back to when the Demon King still lived.”
“So it’s been sealed off?”
“The priest draws the water regularly and sends it to the city’s temple for purification. If they don’t, the evil energy spilling from the well will endanger the villagers.”
“What god does this priest serve?”
“The god of justice, Theos.”
Theos. Charles had served that god as well, and Theos-worship was the state religion of the Holy Empire.
“So does that mean the well belongs to the temple?”
“No. It’s the lord’s property. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if there’s a way to channel that water to the farmlands.”
“That’s a good idea, but His Lordship has already tried everything he could.”
“I see. Let’s leave it at that for today.”
“You’ve worked hard. That was excellent handling of the matter.”
Frederick bowed with a pleased expression. Edward had only reviewed the estate’s finances, but the way the butler praised him, you’d think he’d done something grand.
The next day, Edward headed to the village.
What’s this?
Several villagers crossed his path, but their greetings were half-hearted at best. Some reluctantly dipped their heads, their faces twisted with open hostility. Others didn’t greet him at all, pretending not to see him.
Looks like I was hated quite a bit.
While the estate had been falling apart, Edward had been collecting banned books and dabbling in black magic. No wonder they despised him.
Pathetic.
It wasn’t just their attitudes. Every villager he passed had the glassy eyes of a dead fish, their skin shrunken and clinging to bone. If even the lord’s storerooms were empty, the people had to be on the brink of starvation.
Here it is.
Edward stopped at the village’s central well. It was covered with a hinged lid, locked tight with a thick, sturdy padlock. This well had been here five centuries ago, and in the Demon King’s memories, it had produced Mana Water.
As the name suggested, Mana Water restored mana, formed when underground water absorbed the energy of buried mana stones. Demons had used it, yes, but they had never tampered with it, not while the Demon King lived.
Mana Water on its own was valuable, but it was also the base for many elixirs and fetched a high price. Even a modest supply could give them breathing room.
As long as it’s not contaminated…
Edward made his way to the temple within the estate.
It was larger and more lavish than the lord’s own castle, and inside, dozens of villagers were gathered.
“Young Lord?”
The people near the entrance looked startled at the sight of him.
“What the—? It’s the Black Mage Lord.”
“Shh! He’ll hear you.”
“So what?”
“Well, this is strange. What’s he doing here?”
“Maybe he’s here to repent.”
The whispers tickled Edward’s ears. So “Black Mage Lord” was his nickname.
“What are you all doing here?” he asked a nearby villager.
“We’ve come to receive holy water from the priest.”
“Holy water?”
“Yes, blessed by the gods. It even glows.”
“And drinking it cures illness?”
“It drives out the evil energy in your body.”
“And then?”
“Your mind clears. Your strength returns.”
“Really?”
“It’s true. One cup will wake you right up. It’s miraculous water.”
Another villager nodded along, eager to confirm it.
That’s Mana Water. The effects were identical.
“And they give it out for free?”
“Of course not. Theos is the god of justice. To receive his blessing, you pay a fair price. Offer tribute, and you get the holy water.”
Something about this stank.
The priest appeared, so heavy the floor seemed to shake with every step. His face gleamed with grease, a second chin folding beneath his jaw. Edward recalled his name—Thomas.
The villagers bowed. Edward inclined his head as well.
“Oh, Young Lord Edward,” Thomas said, smiling with benevolence. “What brings you to this humble house of God?”
“I wanted to offer my thanks,” Edward replied. He’d heard it was Thomas who had tended to him when he collapsed.
“As a servant of the gods, I only did my duty.”
“And there’s one favor I’d like to ask.”
“What sort of favor?”
“I’d like to check the water from the village well.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Thomas’s smile faltered. Even if the water was contaminated, there was no reason to react so visibly.
Got you.
Edward smiled inwardly, watching the priest’s stiff expression.
Cliche Novel 