"Do you have a girlfriend, Instructor? Your muscles are so impressive—disgustingly oversized…"
"How about we sit down over a drink and talk things out?"
"I'd love to have a serious life discussion with you, Instructor. What do you say?"
The elves were confident they could easily win over someone like Gordon with a drink or two.
The problem was that Gordon didn't drink. On top of that, he was so oblivious he didn't even recognize he was being flirted with.
"I don't drink! Drinking causes muscle loss! Now get up, you've had enough rest! Back to it!"
'Damn, this guy looks like he'd be the life of the party, but he doesn't even drink.'
When seduction failed, the elves resorted to another tactic. They all adopted pitiful expressions, tears brimming in their eyes.
"I really can't do this anymore. Let's take a longer break."
"Let's just do three push-ups and half a lap per day. We're so weak, you know."
"Instructor, don't you have any consideration for those weaker than you? You're just a kid, after all…"
The elves, who had lived through countless ups and downs in the human world, were masters of fake tears.
When beautiful elves cried, most humans couldn't help but melt.
Even the dense Gordon felt a pang of guilt, as if he were under some kind of spell.
"W-well… should I go a little easier…?"
Suddenly, Ghislain's warning echoed in his mind.
— If you don't take this seriously, you know what'll happen, right? You'll be put into special training yourself.
The memory snapped him back to reality. Special training from the lord was terrifying. That primal fear overrode any instincts to show mercy.
"N-no way! If I go easy, we'll all be dead! Get up, now!"
'Damn it. This heartless bastard.'
Grinding their teeth, the elves reluctantly stood up. One of them couldn't hold back and shouted.
"We're elves, so why don't we just practice spirit magic instead? Isn't that what elves are known for?"
"I already heard you can't do that anymore!"
'How does he know that?'
But the elves weren't ready to give up. Another elf raised their voice.
"Then let us study magic instead! We're smart, you know!"
"Yeah! If we're going to be soldiers, wouldn't it be better if we learned magic?"
"That's right! Tell the lord we want to become mages!"
Sitting and studying sounded far better than physical training. Moving their bodies was just too exhausting.
"Magic? Magic?"
Gordon was momentarily at a loss for words. How was he supposed to respond to a request to study magic?
Even someone as simple as him knew that mages were far more prestigious than soldiers.
Should he stop the training and let them study instead?
But he didn't like the idea. If they actually started learning magic, he'd lose the position he'd worked so hard to earn.
And he had discovered the joy of pushing people around. He wasn't about to give that up.
After a moment of thought, Gordon clapped his hands together as if he'd come up with a brilliant idea.
"Watch closely, you idiots!"
Boooom!
Kraaack!
Gordon channeled all his strength into his fist and slammed it into the ground.
The earth cracked, and dust billowed up into the air.
The elves recoiled in shock, taking a step back. Was this guy trying to solve everything with brute force like the lord?
Holding up his fist, Gordon smirked arrogantly.
"Highly developed muscles are indistinguishable from magic."
What was magic anyway? If a human body could do something extraordinary, wasn't that magic?
This was the foundation of Gordon's personal philosophy on magic.
"…"
The elves were speechless.
At first glance, it sounded profound, but upon closer examination, it was utterly nonsensical and idiotic. As expected, no one in this territory was normal.
But Gordon didn't care about their reactions. He immediately began barking orders again.
"Alright, get up! Let's start over!"
"Yes…"
"What's with that weak response? Put some energy into it!"
"Rah!"
"Good! From now on, every answer must be loud and filled with spirit! Got it?"
"Rah!"
With resigned faces, the elves stood up.
Seduction didn't work. Fake tears didn't work. It wasn't just that those tactics failed—this guy was too dumb to even understand them.
Thus began the elves' grueling daily training under Gordon's relentless guidance.
***
In the meantime, the Fenris territory was thriving. With both food and iron ore under its control, its influence in the North was greater than ever before.
The problem was that other resources, aside from food and iron ore, were still severely lacking.
"We'll ease the lockdown on the Cabaldi region. Start welcoming merchants and envoys to secure more resources," Ghislain ordered.
The vassals all nodded in agreement.
As the territory expanded and its population grew, it needed far more resources than before.
But limiting trade to select merchant groups had caused increasing difficulties in resource acquisition.
While it was advantageous to keep Fenris's large-scale farms a secret, there was no need to hide the abundance of iron ore in Cabaldi—it was already widely known.
The announcement that Fenris was opening up trade drew a flood of merchants and envoys from various territories.
"Lord head butler, how have you been?"
"You look more distinguished every time I see you."
"Here's a token of my appreciation. I hope we can work well together."
The merchants scrambled to flatter and bribe Claude. The envoys, having been humiliated on previous visits, wisely kept a low profile.
As the second-in-command and overseer of all administrative affairs, Claude was someone they absolutely needed on their side.
The rumors of his eccentricity only made them grovel harder.
Claude put on an exaggeratedly haughty expression and said, "Well, I can't give you any discounts just because you brought these gifts… but since you've shown such sincerity, I'll accept them. Ahem."
Stealing a glance at Wendy, he wistfully eyed the pile of bribes stacking up beside him.
'Ugh, all of that could've been mine.'
Ghislain didn't prohibit accepting bribes. Anything offered was allowed to be taken.
But keeping it all for oneself was a different story. Everything would go straight into the territory's coffers.
'What's the point of the territory being rich? The lord never spends a dime on anything but territory affairs. Ah, those carefree academy days were bliss.'
With Wendy standing by as a bodyguard (and de facto watchdog), skimming off the top was near impossible.
Claude glanced at her and asked, "Don't you ever take vacations?"
"No, I don't."
"No boyfriend? Not planning to get married?"
"No, and no."
She was always so stoic and responsible, like an immovable rock. Claude felt a mischievous urge rising.
"How about me? I'm a slave, sure, but I'm capable and handsome, right? Don't tell me you're already falling for me?"
Wendy shot him a look of utter contempt, as if staring at a colony of cockroaches.
"…Just joking. Don't look at me like that; you'll hurt my feelings…"
In truth, there was a sliver of sincerity in his words, so he was indeed hurt quite a bit.
Feeling his nose sting, Claude quickly shook off his thoughts and turned to the list of visiting merchants.
"Hm, there are too many people here. Let's split them into smaller groups for discussions."
The first group of merchants was summoned, and Claude looked them over before speaking.
"Now, before we begin negotiations, let me inform you: the price of food and iron ore has increased by 30% compared to last month. Adjust accordingly."
"What? A 30% increase?"
"Wait, are you saying the prices have gone up again?"
"This is outrageous!"
Most of them had heard rumors or guessed the approximate prices of food from Fenris. A sudden 30% hike left them flabbergasted.
Claude clicked his tongue and said, "There's no helping it. Our reserves are running low, so prices have to go up."
'Of course, we have more than enough. But why sell cheap if we don't have to? If you don't like it, go somewhere else.'
Thanks to the miraculous crops, Fenris's granaries were overflowing. The old stock alone was enough to burst their storage facilities.
Barring some apocalyptic disaster, the territory wouldn't face a food shortage for decades.
As for iron ore, miners were working harder than ever, motivated by improved living conditions. They were now extracting far more than under the former Count of Cabaldi.
But the merchants didn't know this. They had no choice but to accept Claude's terms.
'Damn it, they're gouging us like crazy.'
'Just wait. Once things settle down, I'll make sure to get revenge.'
'Let's see how long you can keep that smug attitude.'
Grinding their teeth in frustration, the merchants begrudgingly nodded.
Fenris controlled the North's supply of food and iron ore. Short of taking it by force, there was no alternative.
However, not everyone accepted the situation quietly.
"This is outrageous!"
The protest came from a middle-aged merchant named Paril, who ran a sizable trading merchant guild in the North.
Claude picked at his ear and asked, "What's outrageous?"
"No matter how much you monopolize resources, this is far too ruthless! Don't you have any sense of fair trade? A 30% hike is excessive!"
"Pfft!"
Claude chuckled in disbelief.
Fair trade? The gall to preach fairness in Fenris, of all places, was laughable.
These merchants had no idea, but the 30% markup wasn't just about profit.
Some groups were actually getting goods at much lower rates. The separate meetings weren't just for convenience—they were intentional.
'This is karma, plain and simple. Our lord never forgets a grudge.'
The northern merchant guilds had naturally dealt with Perdium several times in the past.
They had consistently overcharged Perdium, reaping substantial profits.
'The supporting territories sent over scraps of food barely fit for consumption… The merchants swapped goods for inferior quality items… Even basic supplies were sold at several times their actual value.'
Thus, Perdium had no choice but to keep accumulating debt with them, whether in small amounts or large.
The debts that Perdium's treasurer, Albert, constantly whined about were debts owed to these northern merchant guilds and other territories.
In Perdium, these merchants were feared more than even the barbarians.
And Ghislain could never forget the sight of his father and the vassals, perpetually weighed down by financial woes.
'The only reason we're even trading now is because we need resources, so 30% is where it ends. You lot have already been thoroughly blacklisted by the lord.'
Ghislain sent word to Perdium, requesting a list of the merchant guilds that had extorted them.
Albert, upon receiving the request, immediately caught on to Ghislain's intentions and enthusiastically compiled a thorough list. At times like these, they worked together almost alarmingly well.
'Sorry, but as soon as Desmond is toppled, all of you will be dismantled.'
Ghislain had no intention of leaving these merchants untouched. It wasn't just about revenge—unifying the North was part of his grand plan.
For now, he lacked the capacity and time to take action, and the resources were desperately needed, so he was proceeding with trades at inflated but manageable rates.
Only Ghislain's closest confidants were privy to this plan. Claude, as one of them, concealed his amusement as he silently mocked the merchants.
"No matter what you say, the price isn't going any lower, so accept it as it is. I don't like long conversations. I've always been this way—ever since I was a child. You know, my father used to lecture me constantly, saying people should talk less and focus on listening. He'd always go on and on about—"
Claude rambled endlessly about himself, entirely ignoring the actual negotiation.
Paril clenched his fists tightly, trembling with frustration.
In the past, he would never have been pushed around by some upstart brat like this.
But now, Baron Fenris had become one of the North's most powerful figures. Even without the leverage of food and iron, his victory in the recent war alone had earned him tremendous influence.
No one even knew exactly how he had won; instead, the air was thick with absurd and incomprehensible rumors.
Suppressing his anger, Paril cut Claude off mid-sentence and said, "Let's save the childhood anecdotes for later—introduce me to your lord. I need to speak with him directly!"
"You want to meet our lord?" Claude asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes! I've dealt with your lord's father, Count Perdium, on numerous occasions! Surely, he'll recognize me! I even met him briefly in Perdium once!"
'This idiot is walking straight to his own doom.'
After overcharging Perdium so mercilessly, this fool now wanted to confront Ghislain directly. Claude wasn't about to stop him from making such an entertaining spectacle.
"Well, if you're a friend of Count Perdium, you'd better hurry along. Hey, escort him to see the lord."
With a fake smile, Claude waved Paril forward. The merchant, confident and puffing out his chest, strode into Ghislain's chambers.
Before Ghislain, Paril passionately denounced the current prices as unreasonable.
He also issued a veiled threat, claiming that maintaining amicable relations with the merchant guilds was essential for the territory's prosperity.
Ghislain listened in silence as Paril finished his tirade. Then, in a calm and indifferent tone, he replied.
"50%."
"Pardon?" Paril blinked.
"For you, it's not a 30% increase. It's 50%. Just went up."
Paril's face turned ghostly pale at Ghislain's words.
[T/L: Please support me and read 185 extra chapters: https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]