19: Exiled Lord — Chapter 19 – Territory First Established, Planning the Future 19: Exiled Lord — Chapter 19 – Territory First Established,
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“I don’t even know my manservant’s name yet,” Field said to the butler.
“My Lord, his name is Crock.
Sixteen years old, both parents farmers.
The cook goes by Platter, and the maids are Shears and Sparrow.” In this world, only nobles, scholars, and those wielding transcendent power got names worth having.
Take Field himself, his full name was Field Rose.
Rose meant the flower, but as a name, just Rose worked better.
Same logic as President Bush Jr.: full name George Walker Bush.
Translate it literally and you get George Walker Shrubbery, which sounded absurd to anyone.
The name worked because you didn’t think about what it meant.
“My Lord, do you have any orders for me?” Crock flinched when his name was called, voice wobbling with nerves.
He was sure he was about to be dismissed.
Yesterday while mopping, he’d slacked off for a full 10 minutes.
“The temporary bed you laid out in the carriage was remarkably soft,” Field said, his tone easy.
“Without it, the road here would have shaken me apart.” He snapped his fingers.
“Kao — give Crock a silver coin.” A sharp intake of breath from the room.
The others shot him looks sharp enough to cut.
One silver coin was more than six days’ wages.
Crock stood frozen for a heartbeat.
Then his face cracked open with pure, unguarded joy.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to Field’s boot.
“By the Goddess, thank you for your generosity, my Lord.” “Lucky little brat.” Shears pursed her lips, thoroughly unimpressed.
What was so special about making a bed?
She could warm one too.
Crock made a silent vow on the spot: never again, not even one minute.
“There will be a monthly review,” Field announced.
“Anyone can earn a silver coin.
Perform well, and the opportunity is yours.
The cook who makes something worth eating.
The maid who leaves a room spotless.
I notice these things.” The room went tense.
Everyone glanced at each other, and the look they exchanged was unmistakable, competitive heat, barely contained.
The corner of Field’s mouth ticked up.
Good.
Silver coins would light a fire under them like nothing else.
More importantly, it would breed exactly the kind of environment he needed: informants, whispers, subtle little reports filed upward.
Subordinates who closed ranks were a liability; a united household had a way of deceiving its Lord together.
He’d rather they compete.
“Dismissed.
Back to your duties.” He smiled and waved them off.
“What is it?” Field asked.
“My Lord, I…
this may not be my place, but as your butler, I feel it is my duty to offer some counsel.” Since surviving the journey into the Nightfall Fief, Kao had put away his complaints and started doing his job properly.
“It concerns the matter of race.
You appear to have given the Demi-humans a path for advancement, the possibility of becoming Freemen.
But…
Demi-humans are not like us.
They are simple-minded.
Forgive me.
With the exception of Lady Ashina, granting the others freedom seems unnecessary.” Field was quiet for a moment.
“We are in a cursed land now.
Death on every side.
There’s a saying: when you’re in Azaria, live like an Azarian.” He paused.
“The Nightfall Fief needs its own rules.
I’ll announce a formal decree tomorrow.
You’ll understand then.” That night, Field sat down with paper and pen and began drafting his development plan for the fief.
In Chinese characters that no one else could read, he wrote: Plunder and Exploration.
“My territory has nothing,” he muttered to himself.
“Absolutely nothing.
Two hundred people can’t build anything from scratch.
To develop quickly, to accumulate what we need — we have to take it.” Even the soil was poisoned.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
“My Lord.
It’s me.” Ashina’s voice, from the other side of the door.
Field’s plan hinged on her cooperation.
“Come in.
I’ve been waiting.” “Good evening, my Lord.” Ashina stepped inside wearing a shortened maid’s dress, her long slender legs drawing the eye.
Her expression was faintly shy, her posture carrying a careful, uncertain quality.
Freed from a slave’s hard life, her skin had recovered its natural tone, cool and smooth as pale jade.
Even her feet were elegant, her toes long and fine.
“What can I do for you?” Whether it was imagination or not, the atmosphere shifted the moment she appeared.
Field pressed his palm to his forehead.
She looked nervous, of course she did.
He’d summoned a young woman to his private room in the middle of the night.
Anyone would jump to conclusions.
“Ahem.
It’s about the fief’s development.” “Oh.” The restless hands Ashina hadn’t known what to do with dropped to her sides.
She let out a quiet breath of relief, though somewhere underneath that relief, a faint trace of disappointment stirred before she could catch it.
“My Lord, I have no experience with management.
I’m not sure I’d be much help.” Before slavery, Ashina had been nothing more than a Freeman, daughter of a Wolf Demi-human hunter.
She couldn’t read.
She couldn’t write.
Administration was a foreign language.
You can learn.
I’ll walk you through it myself.” Field shrugged.
“Besides, you’re a Chosen One.
That’s a natural advantage that matters more than anything else.” The single greatest leap across class lines in this world was becoming a Chosen One.
One moment you might be facing execution.
The next, a new Chosen would be declared innocent by the local nobility and given a seat of honor at their table, because the gods did not choose wrong.
That was the unspoken logic that kept the lower classes from revolting.
Everyone had a daughter, a wife, a sister.
As long as one of them awakened, everything could change overnight.
“I have decided,” Field said, “to plunder my younger brother.” Ashina stared at him.
Is this something I’m actually supposed to be hearing?
A long pause.
Then: “Alright.
I support you, unconditionally.” She turned it over in her mind, then nodded.
“You’re not a cruel person.
I can feel that much.” He’d never mistreated her during the years she spent as his slave.
Never laid a hand on her while she slept, never done what so many in his position would have done without a second thought.
If anything, Field was unlike anyone she had ever served.
He treated Demi-humans as equals, genuinely, not performatively.
Maybe even liked them, a little?
That part might be her imagination.
But there was no question: Field was a gentleman.
“Thank you.” Field poured her a cup of black tea and set it on the table.
“It’s a long story.” He could still picture his younger brother’s eyes, the cold cruelty in them, vicious and unbothered.
It was the kind of look that cost a man his sleep.
His brother had threatened to kill everyone Field cared about.
But Field wasn’t the original heir of this body, some soft, spineless thing that others could push around at will.
He would hit back.
And the preparations started now.
“I’ll explain everything in time.
What I need from you first is help training a light cavalry unit — fast riders built specifically for raiding.” His dear second sister had “gifted” him 20 warhorses.
They were about to earn their keep.
Once the plan was set, Field called an assembly the very next morning.
Every resident of the fief was required to attend, every Freeman, every Demi-human, every slave.
They all noticed the wooden chest beside him the moment they arrived.
It sat in plain sight, stacked with silver and copper coins.
Field didn’t open with a speech.
He pulled out a list.
“Guard members, I’ll call your names.
Step forward and collect your bounty.
One silver coin per Rotten Corpse killed.” He looked up from the page.
“I said I would pay, and I will.” ➤ Next: New Rules, Army Expansion