In a certain village within the Lockwood territory, small houses stood scattered here and there while fields covered most of the land. Naturally, every villager was a farmer, working and sweating day after day. Now those farmers had set down their hoes and gathered to talk. Their faces were gloomy; whatever they were discussing plainly wasn’t cheerful.
“I hear Mr. Sibyl, the eldest son, was driven out of the country.”
“According to the lord, he was embezzling the taxes or something. But is that really true? He lowered our taxes, and his storm forecasts always came true. They were a great help.”
Sibyl had been falsely branded a tax embezzler. Using Metis, he had predicted storms—a matter of life and death for farmers—and warned the villages in advance. Whenever there was damage despite that, he had provided generous compensation.
“I know what you mean. Everyone trusted his forecasts and acted on them.”
“Now that he’s gone, we don’t know when storms are coming, and the taxes have gone up too.”
“Maybe the second son really is no good.”
“Driving out his capable older brother… It’s a terrible thing. I wish he’d come back.”
Unlike the knights of the Lockwood territory, the farmers thought extremely highly of Sibyl. That was only natural, since unlike the lords before him, he had governed with the lives of those beneath him in mind.
Little by little, yet steadily, dissatisfaction with the government was spreading across the territory. Perhaps it felt worse precisely because things had been going well until recently. The villages whose agricultural projects had been halted midway were especially discontented.
◇◇◇
On the grounds of the Lockwood estate, a man was training. His sword flashed with astonishing speed, so quickly that an ordinary person could never have followed it with their eyes. Yet there was something wild about each stroke, and the straw dummy he had cut bore ragged wounds.
“That coward… He should hurry up and die…”
He muttered bitterly and kicked the straw dummy with all his strength. This man was Hail Lockwood, Sibyl’s younger brother. His beautiful blond hair hung loose, and his features were handsome. His large blue eyes and straight, high nose made a striking picture. But his vicious expression ruined that well-formed face. As one would expect of brothers, he looked quite similar to Sibyl.
“Currying favor with farmers to make himself popular… How typical of a weakling like him.”
Hail had looked down on Sibyl for as long as he could remember. Sibyl was weaker than Hail despite being three years older. House Lockwood had always taught them that strength was everything. To Hail, the notion that Sibyl—someone weaker than himself—would become the next head of the house was unthinkable.
In truth, he had thought exile far too lenient and believed Sibyl should be executed. Still, he understood that executing him merely for being weak would look bad. That was why he had ordered his men to assassinate him instead. But their attempt had failed.
Worse still, he was aware that some farmers wanted Sibyl to become the lord.
“This is why those incompetents are hopeless… I’ll kill every last farmer who said such foolish things.”
With a twisted smile, Hail disappeared into the manor. These executions would only deepen the farmers’ resentment.