August was hot and oppressive. The blazing sun scorched the earth, making people feel as if they were living inside an oven.
In the castle's little garden, Psyche and Katie sat together in the stone pavilion, drinking tea and discussing the Paper Mill. Both wore white long-sleeved shirts and the only two Bragi Dresses in the world.
Pretty people looked good in anything. A couple of days ago, Katie had worn a light green dress and a wide-brimmed pink hat while going with Kler to check on the Paper Mill site. The weather had been so hot that Kler had gotten a nosebleed.
Romain's apprentices were run off their feet. Between the maids' orders from the castle and the demand for Magic Lamps, they had to work overtime through the night. In the past, the tailor shop had banned lamps and candles for fear of fire.
There was no helping it. As soon as August arrived, the weather had suddenly turned sweltering. The old folks all lamented that they had never known a year as hot as this one. In the luxurious dresses people used to wear, they would break into a sweat even while standing still.
The men weren't camels either. Faced with a choice between sweating buckets and wearing something cool, they chose the latter.
The old round-neck shirts counted as underwear. Only farmers, laborers, shepherds, and the like wore them on the outside while working.
Things were different now. The shirts Baron Weissen had designed had collars and pockets like jackets. They were obviously lightweight jackets, not underwear. Round-neck pullovers were what you wore underneath.
Once they put on the new shirts, everyone realized that the flashy, bulging, tight-fitting trousers they had worn before were no longer suitable.
They looked around and saw that Frederick was wearing loose, breezy, straight-legged trousers. So they changed into those too.
But men couldn't go without accessories, so everyone turned their attention to belt buckles.
At the meeting that day, Frederick was a little distracted. Everyone attending wore white shirts and dark slacks; all that was missing was a Vacuum Flask in each of their hands.
Only Richard Nahl looked thoroughly disgruntled. He had gone on a long trip to deliver a letter, and when he came back, everyone had changed clothes. He was still dressed the same as before, sitting there looking completely out of place.
As a military stronghold, the castle naturally had a place for directing battles. For security, however, the command center was at the very heart of the castle. It had vents but no windows, and was stiflingly hot.
The problem was easy enough to solve. There was a whole group of mages here, and before long, several large blocks of ice appeared in the corner.
This was the last meeting before Wessen Territory set out to bring the refugees back. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Frederick would officially visit the Duchy of Mainz in three days.
Before then, Richard Nahl had delivered Frederick's handwritten letters to the relevant territories as a messenger and discussed the Weissen Family merchants crossing their borders. He had also made a trip to the royal capital, Cologne.
A map painted on cotton cloth, as tall as a person, hung on the wall. Standing beside it with a pointer, Richard Nahl reported on the results of his visits.
"I first visited Count Rothe, Count Fürth, and Count Ansbach." He pointed to the three counties northwest of Wessen Territory. "They agreed to let us pass through with the refugees and set up temporary camps. They promised not to cause any trouble, and they're willing to sell us grain at the current market price."
Frederick asked with a cold laugh, "Are you sure they won't try anything?"
These families were all pawns King William had planted in the region. Ansbach Territory lay to the west of Wessen Territory, and Rothe Territory to the north. The refugees would have to pass through these lands.
When King William had pinned the blame on Frederick's father, every one of them had kicked Wessen Territory while it was down. Their neighbors had been among the most enthusiastic.
Richard Nahl gave a cold laugh too. "They wouldn't dare. I let slip that if anything went wrong, we'd dump the refugees there and leave them behind. They were so scared, they nearly offered to put it in writing."
Frederick nodded. To him, the refugees were medicine; to other lords, they were poison.
And when he sent Richard Nahl as his messenger, he had also meant to use this walking nuclear warhead to intimidate the neighbors.
At that moment, Ah Fu came in and whispered something into Frederick's ear. Everyone noticed that he had lost quite a bit of weight.
Frederick said, "Let him in. There's no need to keep this from him."
A moment later, Ah Fu ushered in a burly, middle-aged man.
Before the man could even bow, Richard Nahl laughed. "Well, if it isn't you, little lion."
"Lion" Orr was a well-known war contractor in their circles—in other words, the head of a mercenary company.
In this pastoral age, most people worked in agriculture, and few territories could afford to maintain a standing army.
Only in the poorest, most inhospitable places, where people had no way to make a living, did they take up dangerous work for pay.
For a lord, hiring these professionals was more cost-effective than spending a fortune to build a standing army.
Wessen Territory also did business with mercenaries. Last year, when Count Weissen went on campaign, he hired Orr. When the supply camp was attacked, Orr and his men had been putting out fires. They had also brought back the dead.
For that reason, Frederick had written to Orr, saying that he had a big deal to discuss.
After entering, Orr first bowed to Frederick, then greeted Richard Nahl and called him Teacher.
Richard Nahl merely nodded. Frederick pointed to the end of the conference table. "Sit down first. We'll discuss your business later."
Orr obediently took a seat. Richard Nahl pointed to the map and continued, "Now, for the bad news."
"The refugees have all been driven by local lords to the areas along the Rhine River and the Main River. They're heading upstream."
"But they don't know where Wessen Territory is. Many of them have never gone more than ten kilometers from home in their entire lives. At first, they thought it was close, but after a long time spent wandering with no hope for the future, fewer and fewer believe the rumor that they'll be able to survive once they reach Wessen Territory."
"The refugees are moving very slowly. For the most part, local lords send people to give them just enough food to keep them from starving, then drive them onward."
"The refugees are in terrible shape. They have only the clothes on their backs, and many are sick."
"They'll be all right for now, since it's summer, but I doubt they'll survive the winter."
"But there's good news."
"This time, I went to Cologne and met with Archbishop Viktor. After we talked, he agreed to send clerics from the Archdiocese of Rhine to help the refugees. The churches along the way will provide them with food and medicine, and he was happy to accept the benefits of sending clerics to Wessen Territory."
Frederick nodded slightly.
In a world with magic, the position of religion kept changing.
In the days when magical technology was primitive, religions had emerged because people found natural phenomena and magic mysterious.
But as magical technology advanced, they could no longer preach many so-called divine miracles. After all, Richard Nahl and the others could demonstrate them right there in front of you.
Many years ago, the Church of Light, a group specializing in medicine, had distinguished itself on this continent through its expertise. Once it had grown among the lower classes, it had flourished by drawing on the laborers' fear and despair in the face of the great suffering caused by exploitation, while the exploiting classes needed religion as a spiritual tool to pacify and control the masses.
The Church of the Earth God in the far west of the continent, the Church of Nature in the far north, and the Church of Flame on the Southern Continent had all followed the same path.
Now, Frederick and Archbishop Viktor, who was losing the internal power struggle, were working together. It was a win-win.
Richard Nahl continued, "In Mainz City, I met with Grand Duke Dalberg. He was very grateful to Baron Weissen for his charitable offer to bring in the refugees. He agreed to let us set up refugee camps in the Duchy of Mainz, and selected Lohr as the site."
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Lohr? What a coincidence. Baron Philip von Ertal, the lord there, is due to visit tomorrow or the day after."
Richard Nahl tapped Lohr's location on the map with his pointer. "It's on the Main River, surrounded by mountains on all sides."
Frederick understood. He just didn't know what Baron Ertal would think when he heard about this.
Richard Nahl traced a route from Lohr to Wessen Territory with his pointer. "There hasn't been any heavy rain nearby for nearly a month. It's had a severe impact on river transport, so the portion we planned to move by water probably won't be possible."
Frederick nodded, then asked the old knight Franz to go to the map and explain the plan for transporting the refugees.
But Franz didn't step forward. Instead, he sent his son, Young Franz, to take his place.
Before you continue