Ever since he had defeated the Black Iron Mage in a duel, the name Donald Melina had become widely known among the upper circles of North Shire.
Although Donald himself kept a low profile, Baron of Red Maple was determined to raise the reputation of his "future son-in-law." So he had discreetly spread the news about the wager. It had not reached every corner of North Shire, but by now most merchants of standing, nobles great and small, and Professional Mages had heard about it.
As Donald's reputation as a genius Summoner began to rise, Snow Mage and Sodo—cast as the villains of the story—along with Lord Gerry's family, became objects of scorn and nearly the laughingstock of North Shire.
It was said that young Master Sodo had been soundly beaten by his lord father, who had only learned of the matter afterward and was furious. Sodo had been unable to get out of bed for several days.
The various powers of North Shire had also begun to take notice of Donald, the young Apprentice Mage who had once been unknown but was now famous.
As for our genius apprentice, as soon as he returned home, he threw himself into preparations for the manor he was about to build, completely unaware of everything happening beyond his door.
At the lord's residence in Giant Stone City, Viscount Macbeth looked over the latest report from his men and couldn't help recalling the past.
More than forty years ago, when he had just come of age, he had personally set a trap to seize the Merlin Family's knightly estate, earning his father's praise. After inheriting his title, he had bestowed the estate upon the son of Gerry, his steward and retainer.
After that, he had forgotten all about the knightly family. What threat could one infant and one servant possibly pose to his powerful family? Even if that remnant grew up and tried to inherit the family's knightly title, he could easily rig the knighthood examination, strip him of the status he prided himself on, and reduce him to a commoner.
But the little bug he had once thought harmless had now grown into something that warranted his attention.
"How interesting! He's become an Apprentice Mage. Was this old Merlinar's scheme? He hid it well!"
Macbeth thought that old Merlinar had concealed his son's magical talent to keep him from being targeted while young, revealing it only as his coming-of-age ceremony drew near. If Donald had known what he was thinking, he would have found it amusing. If his father had been capable of such foresight, he wouldn't have been tricked into surrendering every last bit of his wealth.
Still, although this Apprentice Mage posed a threat, Macbeth was nearly sixty and no longer as hot-tempered as he had been in his youth, when he would have gone to any lengths to eliminate every enemy. These days, he was better at taking the long view and considering the greater picture.
Ordinary Mages were protected by local Mage Associations and the royal Mage Association, but for powerful men like them, secretly arranging the death of a low-ranking Mage who had offended a noble was still extremely easy. An Apprentice Mage was even less of a challenge.
But a rare profession like Summoner, with only a handful appearing in a century, was different. Summoners were weaker in personal combat than ordinary Mages, but the otherworldly creatures they called forth with their summoning spells were exceptionally powerful. Moreover, every human kingdom was always in need of Summoners as special troops. On the battlefield, a junior Summoner could be worth a hundred elite soldiers, and in the right hands, could even wipe out a thousand enemy troops. Their contribution could surpass that of most mid-rank Mages.
If he harmed a Summoner with such enormous potential, then setting aside the reaction of the "hot-blooded" Mages in the provinces and the Royal Capital, Messer and their King of Selt would never let him get away with it!
"Does he think this will let him rise again? The Merlin Family has already fallen into decline. Let that continue! I can't let him grow into a threat to my Macbeth Family!"
After pondering this, Macbeth bent over the desk and wrote a short note. He handed it to a servant and said:
"Take this to the Association. They'll know what to do. Tell Black to be careful not to leave any loose ends!"
The servant took the note and bowed his way out of the study. Before long, after passing through several hands in the city, it reached a secret underground building beneath a residence in the commoners' district.
The underground hall was built with such discretion that it could hold more than a hundred people.
Everyone inside wore black and had impassive faces. At last, the note was delivered to a young man in black seated at the head of the hall. Unlike the others, he was tall, lean, and lithe. He held a glass of Selt's finest wine and sipped it as he pleased. He looked less like the leader of a secret underground organization and more like a noble knight.
"The old man's assignment. An Apprentice Mage?"
The man tore up the note, then said with a mocking edge:
"He really thinks highly of us. We're supposed to go after Messer's apprentice? Looks like he's ready to throw us away. Does he really think I don't know where I stand with him?"
"Chief, what should we do?" asked a burly man in black below.
The young man smiled, his handsome face brightening.
"Of course we'll take the job. We've been the old man's lackeys for this long; a few more days won't make a difference. Once I reach the Silver rank, I'll be strong enough to take our brothers out of his grasp. Then, with the whole world before us, where couldn't we go to enjoy ourselves?"
According to Donald's own plans for the manor, building the foundations and basic facilities of the first small estate by hand would take at least three months. But he couldn't wait that long. Spring would soon be over, and three months was far too long. If he missed the final planting season before summer ended, he would have to wait until the following spring to sow his crops.
That was because the Kingdom of Selt lay in the northern part of the continent, where the climate was bitterly cold, much like the frigid regions of Donald's previous life. Most farmland could produce only one harvest of grain a year, unlike some warmer areas in the south, where certain short-cycle crops could yield four or even five harvests annually.
However, the Kingdom of Selt had fertile soil and plenty of untouched land. Its average annual yield was not much lower than that of the warmer regions with multiple harvests, and the quality of its mature crops was far superior to that of the more abundant southern produce.
The situation reminded Donald of the northeast in his previous life. He was confident his manor could produce a bountiful harvest, but first he had to get it built.
His original plan was to prepare the building materials himself, then use the Book of Truth to complete the manor instantly in exchange for some energy. That would save more than half the energy and reduce the cost by around eighty percent.
So buying large quantities of timber, stone, and other materials was essential. He had already entrusted the task to Code, his most loyal steward. Once the supplies arrived, he could immediately complete facilities that would otherwise take months to build.
With thousands of Gold Sol at his disposal, Code—who had been called a steward for years without ever having any real work to do—was now full of energy and eager to get started.
Easing his master's burdens, building up his estate, and protecting it—those were the duties of a true noble's steward.
As for Donald, having finished his training for the day, he was now preparing to head out to a tavern in town.
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