Before the drought came, Ghislain had sent a letter to Marquis Branford.
[Judging by the heat, it seems a drought is imminent. Stock up on food and prepare in advance. If you don't prepare and regret it, that's not my concern.]
It was succinct. With no unnecessary pleasantries, it was more like a note than a letter.
Naturally, Marquis Branford's reaction to the letter was equally curt.
"...Is this guy losing his mind more and more?"
He demanded food stockpiling and preparation without any substantial reason, just saying it was because it's hot.
How many people in the world would take such words seriously? Anyone who did would be lucky if they didn't fall victim to fraud.
'What scheme is this guy up to now?'
Marquis Branford shook the letter from Ghislain and asked his butler.
"Did he send this to other nobles as well?"
"As far as we know, it was also sent to Count Ailesbur."
"How did they respond?"
"Count Ailesbur ignored it, but the Countess is using her private funds to gather food."
"Hmm… Does she trust Baron Fenris that much?"
Marquis Branford's concerns deepened.
Meriel wasn't an ordinary noblewoman. The fact that she acted personally was a signal that couldn't be ignored.
Even so, following Ghislain's suggestion was something that requires careful consideration. If food was stockpiled and nothing happened, not only would there be financial loss, but they would also face ridicule.
If anyone else had sent it, he would have ignored it and torn up the letter. But since it was from Ghislain, the strange and surprisingly knowledgeable man, outright dismissing it felt unsettling.
"...Prepare a meeting. I need to hear others' thoughts."
The butler was slightly surprised by those words.
Marquis Branford rarely held meetings over trivial matters. It was a sign of his confidence in his judgment, and most of the time, his judgment was indeed correct.
But whenever Baron Fenris was involved, he ended up agonizing to the point of headaches. No matter how strange he was, he was undeniably extraordinary.
Soon, the gathered vassals were informed of the situation, and most of them reacted with skepticism.
"There are no signs of a drought. The harvest season is just around the corner; surely nothing significant will happen before then."
"That's right. It's just a little warm right now. There's no need to worry about a drought."
"Baron Fenris must be overreacting and making a fuss."
As negative responses came pouring in from all sides, Marquis Branford's thoughts began to lean heavily in that direction.
Preparing for a drought would require amassing an enormous amount of food.
Purchasing food now, when prices were set to drop soon, meant risking significant losses if Ghislain turned out to be wrong.
'But it feels unsettling to dismiss it outright...'
As Marquis Branford struggled to make a decision, Rozalin, who had been quietly listening, stepped forward.
"I think it would be better to buy food."
"Why?"
"Baron Fenris may be eccentric, but he's not the kind of person to play such a nasty prank just to embarrass us. There must be a reason behind his words."
"The chances of it being nonsense are high. Predicting the weather accurately is impossible."
"Still, he's the one who cured my illness and created remarkable products. That's probably why Countess Ailesbur believes him and is buying food."
"I don't like acting based on mere hunches without solid evidence."
"...I won't deny that. But aren't you hesitant to dismiss it outright because it bothers you? He's as unpredictable as the weather itself."
That was true. He wasn't someone who could easily be considered normal.
After briefly closing his eyes in contemplation, Marquis Branford opened his mouth again.
"Buying now at current prices could result in a significant loss."
"I will handle it using the funds from the merchant guild I operate. That way, even if he's wrong, you won't suffer any embarrassment. Just in case, I'll also secure a portion from the royal reserves."
"You?"
"Yes, with the investment funds I received."
Rozalin smiled confidently. She had already recovered the 300,000 gold she had handed to Ghislain.
She had done so by selling noblewomen the rights to some of the cosmetic product revenues for ten years.
As she expanded outlets starting near the capital, sales of the cosmetics increased rapidly. It was an investment that was both secure and highly profitable.
The Branford household guaranteed the product, and its popularity among nobles ensured significant investments.
Rozalin not only recouped her principal in an instant but also reinvested the remaining funds for more profit.
The vassals of the Branford house were full of praise for her financial acumen, and when it came to matters of money, they always deferred to her.
Preparing for the drought was essentially an investment, a money-related matter, and Rozalin's words carried weight.
After a moment of hesitation, Marquis Branford nodded.
"Fine. Purchase food at a level you deem appropriate. If necessary, you may use my name."
"Thank you."
"If it turns out to be mere nonsense from Ghislain, how do you plan to handle the surplus food?"
"Given our conflict with Duke Delphine's household, stockpiling provisions for the military can't hurt. If there's still excess, we can distribute it to the poor and enhance the family's reputation."
"Hmm, that's not bad, but… a loss would still be inevitable."
"Or we could send it to Perdium as relief supplies over the next few years. We'd take over the royal support funds intended for them. Food might not be of great help to Perdium, but that's Ghislain's problem to deal with."
As various contingency plans flowed effortlessly from Rozalin's lips, Marquis Branford smiled in satisfaction.
After her illness was cured, her talents shone even brighter.
Her keen judgment of situations and her subsequent strategies were excellent.
Thanks to Rozalin, the Branford household's power continued to grow stronger.
It truly was fortunate that Ghislain had come into their lives...
'Wait, what am I even thinking?'
Shaking his head repeatedly to clear his thoughts, Marquis Branford spoke in a solemn tone.
"This matter will be entrusted to Rozalin. Let everyone take note. Butler, convey Baron Fenris's message to the nobles of the Royalist faction. Make it clear that it's not mandatory, and they can decide for themselves."
"Understood."
The Marquis's orders were relayed to the Royalist nobles, but only a few actually purchased food.
Unlike the northern region, the Royalist nobles rarely worried about food shortages. They didn't take Ghislain's advice seriously this time either.
Apart from the few nobles who were already planning to stockpile food, only Rozalin and Meriel actively bought provisions.
Most of the nobles mocked Ghislain, but soon, problems began to arise.
"The weather is becoming increasingly strange."
"A heatwave! The rivers are drying up!"
"The entire kingdom is suffering from drought!"
"It's certain to be a bad harvest! We must take action!"
Even the royal court's ministers, panicked and flustered, began to mobilize.
But there was no way to change the weather, and with the lakes and rivers already dried up, what could they do?
With the harvest season just around the corner, all they could do was fret helplessly without any effective measures.
Meanwhile, the vassals of the Branford household breathed sighs of relief.
If Ghislain hadn't warned them, or if Rozalin hadn't trusted him and prepared, they would have suffered significant losses as well.
In fact, they regretted not acting more aggressively.
"How did Baron Fenris even know about this?"
"Even farmers who've spent their whole lives cultivating didn't anticipate this. The weather changed so abruptly."
"There are rumors that he's a master astrologer. That he can read the stars!"
Amid the vassals' excited chatter, Marquis Branford furrowed his brows in thought.
Even many mages and scholars hadn't predicted this drought. The weather had changed too drastically for them to foresee it.
'How in the world… did this man know?'
Though he already knew Ghislain was an unusual man, the idea that he might possess the ability to foresee the future was chilling.
As he clicked his tongue at the unbelievable situation, a spine-chilling thought crossed his mind.
'We all could have died.'
If they hadn't prepared in advance, the Royalist faction's territories would have been crippled by food shortages, and the ducal family would have seized the opportunity.
Thanks to Ghislain, they now had some strength to endure.
While the ducal family had enough resources to recover quickly, their allied lords would undoubtedly weaken.
'Thankfully, we've bought ourselves some time to regroup.'
If they could withstand this disaster, they could reclaim some of the ground they'd been losing to the ducal family.
'But I should've forced everyone to stockpile food.'
Although most Royalist nobles ignored Ghislain's words, he couldn't entirely blame them. After all, it was a story that was difficult to believe, and even he had been skeptical.
Still, with the royal family, Branford, and Ailesbur households having accumulated substantial food reserves, starvation could be avoided.
'Could he have predicted even this?'
Regret kept surfacing, knowing that despite the warning, they hadn't fully utilized the opportunity Ghislain had provided.
If all the Royalist nobles had prepared thoroughly, they might have matched the ducal faction's strength.
The realization of having fallen short despite the early warning gnawed at him.
'No, no. Even Ghislain couldn't have been certain. If he had foreseen this for sure, he would've pushed harder.'
Marquis Branford shook off his regrets.
The situation could have been far worse, and at least it hadn't reached total catastrophe. He found solace in that thought.
'Duke Delphine must be frustrated. The heavens seem to be helping us, sending us that strange man.'
***
The atmosphere in the Kingdom of Lutania reached its nadir.
Due to the unusual weather, most territories faced failed harvests. It was so dire that people called it the worst famine in the kingdom's history.
Only places like Fenris, which had prepared perfectly for the drought, remained relatively unscathed.
Food prices soared to ridiculous levels, and the cries of despair echoed across the kingdom.
This marked the beginning of what the history books, before Ghislain's regression, referred to as "The Great Famine."
'Hmm…'
Receiving Lowell's report, Ghislain fell into thought.
This was a period some called a calamity and others referred to as the Great Tribulation—a time when the entire continent suffered.
In his past life, many claimed this drought was a precursor to the tribulation.
That was because this wasn't just a disaster affecting the Kingdom of Lutania; similar events occurred across the continent.
Even so, it couldn't be confidently claimed to be true. There were places that remained unscathed, after all.
Thinking of the tribulation gave Ghislain an inexplicable chill down his spine.
'I mustn't let my guard down, not even for a day. I need to prepare even more thoroughly for that day.'
From what he remembered, "that day" would come quietly and unexpectedly, a little further into the future.
To withstand the impact, he needed to be even more prepared than he already was.
Of course, he had to survive Duke Delphine before that.
After Lowell's routine report, Ghislain asked quietly.
"How are the Royalists faring with food supplies?"
"The royal family, Marquis Branford, and Count Ailesbur have secured some reserves, but… it seems other nobles have failed to prepare adequately."
"That's a shame."
The outcome was within expectations. Even if he warned them of such a monumental event, few would believe him.
Since Ghislain himself couldn't be sure he'd convince anyone, he had simply written the conclusions in a cursory manner.
At least he knew Rozalin and Meriel would act, even if it meant taking a gamble. Those two had an excellent instinct for seizing opportunities.
As expected, his prediction was spot on, but he couldn't help feeling some regret.
Still, because of this incident, other nobles would find it harder to ignore his words in the future, so it wasn't entirely a loss.
'The ducal faction's nobles will recover quickly.'
In his past life, the Royalist faction had been driven into a corner following this drought.
Even in identical disaster scenarios, the ducal family had such extensive reserves that their recovery was much faster.
They quickly filled the gaps through trade with other kingdoms.
In fact, the ducal family used this opportunity to press the Royalists as soon as their side stabilized, even at the cost of additional losses.
Unable to recover or even stabilize, the Royalist faction saw their power diminish rapidly.
From this point on, the balance of power shifted entirely in favor of the ducal faction.
'This time, the Royalists should be able to hold out longer. The ducal family will have to think twice.'
Thanks to Ghislain, the Royalists now had substantial food supplies. This left the ducal family in a position where they couldn't immediately push their advantage as they had in the past.
Now it was a race to see who could recover faster.
For now, both the ducal faction and Marquis Branford were preoccupied with distributing food within their respective factions and managing the crisis.
This brief period of reprieve brought the conflict between the two factions to a temporary halt.
The stage Ghislain had been waiting for was finally set.
'I can't let this opportunity slip by. I need to move at a timing no one expects.'
He had no intention of sitting idly by while the enemy regrouped.
After Lowell left, Ghislain, now alone, couldn't help but smile.
Taking control of the iron mines by striking first during the chaos was indeed part of his long-term plan.
But his motivation wasn't purely strategic.
'Count Cabaldi.'
In his previous life, the ducal family had ordered Count Desmond to destroy Perdium.
Count Desmond, unwilling to expend his own troops, had used other lords to achieve this.
Among them was Count Cabaldi.
A place that sent reinforcements to Desmond and obstructed Perdium's access to iron supplies.
One of the sworn enemies of his past life and a guaranteed adversary in the future.
As memories of the past resurfaced, the smile on Ghislain's face twisted into something far more ruthless.
"Finally… it's time to kill you."
Yes, it was time to take them down, one by one.
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