Chapter 102

“Alright, gathered the workforce you requested—kept it as internal as possible.”

Rossu had brought seven people. Seven burly men, looking sturdy and ready for work.

It was somewhat reassuring that there were no outsiders. Trusting strangers from outside the village wasn’t something to take lightly in this medieval world—not something you could joke about easily.

“Equipment will be provided, so just put it on and get to work.”

“Provided equipment?”

“It’s a loan, not a gift.”

Suddenly, I remembered Rossu’s earlier advice: absolutely no formal honorifics. He believed respect wasn’t shown through polite language but by paying well. Directness was better, and it felt oddly fitting for this barbaric medieval vibe—even here in the serene Valley of Starwind.

“Do you know what kind of work you’ll be doing?”

“We heard farming, logging, mining…”

“You’ll be handling mining.”

Farming? That’s for fairies. Logging in the forest is automated with machines. Human labor is best suited for mining.

Surprisingly, a pretty concrete automation system has been established. With farming and forestry stable, all we need now is to see how efficient the mining operation can be.

“Is there even a mine in this village?”

“There’s one to the north. Follow me. This is where you’ll work from now on.”

No reason to hesitate. We set off with the group of seven.

“Thank you, Rossu.”

“No problem at all. It wasn’t difficult.”

Rossu chuckled warmly as he led the awkwardly standing seven men toward the north.

The guys trailing behind looked surprisingly motivated. But how long would that last? Human variables always added complications. You needed motivation, benefits, health considerations, injury prevention…

Was I overthinking like some modern manager? Not exactly medieval-appropriate, but if it boosts efficiency, then fine.

Even though machinery might seem ideal, considering cost-effectiveness and long-term impact, this option feels more appealing. After all, I’m not living alone, and as a noble, I have responsibilities to protect and sustain this town.

Walking a bit further, we reached the entrance to the mine. Nearby, plenty of preparations had already been made.

A resting area.

A well for fresh water.

Storage for equipment.

Seeing these facilities, the men’s expressions brightened. Their approving nods were unmistakable, and I couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Can we use all the equipment here?”

“Sure.”

“What’s this? Do we have to wear this too?”

“Just put on the leather cap to protect your head.”

“Understood.”

“As you work, load everything onto carts and leave them here.”

An empty clearing. Imagining the materials piling up daily made me smile naturally.

“Yes.”

“I’ll set a daily quota, and if you exceed it, there’ll be bonuses.”

“Ooh!”

The word “bonus” lit up their movements instantly. Their sudden enthusiasm brought a smile to my face. If money could control them so easily, then boosting productivity wouldn’t be too hard.

I’d observe their work first before setting an appropriate quota, careful not to push too hard or micromanage. If they worked hard enough to surpass expectations, they deserved proper rewards.

“Let’s get started right away!”

“Let’s go!”

Eager to earn money, they cheerfully grabbed picks and marched into the mine.

They’ll be fine… probably. Managing people requires more attention than expected.

A random thought about the value of labor crossed my mind. Something I read once about how machines replacing human jobs changes society… Would magic replace science here?

If machines or technology reduce available jobs, working hours should decrease accordingly. An 8-hour workday could become 4 hours. Simple logic.

Mining isn’t easy unless you’re superhuman like me. Dividing the seven workers into three shifts could cover around 10-12 hours efficiently. Remembering my own exhaustion after trying both logging and mining reminded me how tough manual labor was.

Even if frogs forget their tadpole days, some memories stick. Especially when Anne gave me that special drink.

Back home, unfamiliar traces awaited. A familiar yet slightly strange noble carriage sat nearby.

Mixed feelings flooded me as I entered—the good half, the bad half—but I stepped inside nonetheless.

To my surprise, it wasn’t someone new waiting for me but an unexpected visitor.

“Well, nice place you’ve got here.”

The nobleman from the Ruins of the Dragon sat casually on the couch, legs crossed, draped in his red cloak.

“What brings you here…?”

“The screech owl emblem on your shoulder hasn’t changed since our last meeting. So, you’re a baron now, huh? Baron Musk.”

“Lord Marco.”

“You remember me.”

Marco, slowly rising from his seat, extended his hand. I shook it lightly.

“So, curious why I’m here?”

“Not denying that.”

“Heh. Honest fellow. Whether it’s confidence in your abilities or reliance on influential backers, I don’t care much. But you’re still interesting.”

Marco remained unchanged—authoritative tone, slightly intimidating presence. The distinct air of nobility radiated from his actions and words. In the corner, Anne and Evangelin watched silently.

“How about we talk outside?”

“Sure.”

Seizing Marco’s suggestion, I followed him out, keeping a respectful distance.

“So, this is why crops are trending. Using fairies for farming? How did you convince them?”

“I didn’t ‘convince’ them. They willingly agreed to help.”

“Did you bind them with some life debt? Never seen fairies follow human requests before.”

“Something like that.”

“Heh. No need to spill your secrets. Not desperate enough to pry. On the contrary, I should thank you.”

Marco turned to look at me directly. Towering height, nearly eye-level with me, sharp features, elegant noble attire, faint cologne—it was all very aristocratic.

“Thanks?”

“Yes. You saved us back at the ruins and left without asking anything. Nobles never forget debts. Even if those who helped were slaves, debts must be repaid. That’s what being noble means.”

His authoritative tone carried reasonable content—an attitude any normal thinker might adopt.

Still, hearing such rationality from someone who once sacrificed others for profit felt odd. Was this really medieval behavior? Still unsure.

“Here to repay a debt?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

What I immediately thought of was manpower. Laborers. Just moments ago, I’d sent workers to the mines.

“I need people.”

“People? What kind?”

“All-purpose laborers.”

“Hmm. Slaves, perhaps?”

“As long as they can work, doesn’t matter.”

“Not difficult. Alright, deal?”

“Yes.”

“Simple. Let’s move on to business, shall we?”

Marco slowed his pace slightly.

“Business?”

“Yes. You’re doing well, aren’t you? The reason you’re called Baron Melon.”

“Supply is limited, making it hard to increase.”

“What about the wheat and rice swaying in the fields?”

“Planning to buy them?”

“I came for something else. Fairy-grown wheat and rice. Smells like pure gold, doesn’t it? Or am I the only one who thinks so?”

Marco’s expression darkened into a cunning grin.

“How much are you planning to purchase?”

“All you can produce.”

Confidence brimmed in Marco’s voice. Wealthy ease exuded from him. From my perspective, this was far from a bad deal. Finding buyers had been tricky; having them come to me was ideal.

“Thought about pricing?”

“I’ll offer 2.5 times market price.”

“A fairy premium?”

“Yes. I can sell it even higher. You don’t have your own merchant guild, do you? Middlemen usually take the bigger share because of networking and infrastructure costs.”

“Deal.”

Better than System Store prices. If it gets too cheap later, adjustments can always be made. For now, it was an excellent proposal.

“How much can you supply?”

“Late planting this year, so about 2 tons of wheat and 2.2 tons of rice this autumn.”

“Not bad.”

“Started late.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s sufficient.”

Gold reserves will swell nicely. Roughly calculated, almost 4 million gold could come in. Though less efficient compared to high-value crops, the future potential was promising—doubling next autumn.

“By the way, interested in a banquet?”

“Banquet?”

“Yes. As a noble, attending parties is customary, isn’t it?”

Frankly, it sounded tiring, but curiosity stirred within me. Noble banquets, parties—what kind of events unfolded there? Fantasy mixed with intrigue.

“Many are curious about you. When the time comes, I’ll formally invite you.”

“Well, that’s appreciated.”

One visit wouldn’t hurt. Purely driven by curiosity, though knowing the guest was a big spender added extra appeal.

“Let’s finalize the contract next time.”

“Yes.”

“Off I go. Keep doing well. People will arrive soon. This isn’t part of the trade deal but stems from our debt relationship, so it’ll be swift.”

“Thank you.”

“Good work.”

Marco swiftly departed. Once done, he didn’t look back—a typical Marco move. After meeting twice, his character became easier to read—quite transparent.

Personally, I anticipated receiving those workers. Useful for construction, mining, and possibly training soldiers for security or law enforcement.

Change coming to the ever-steady Valley of Starwind felt refreshing. Realizing I caused these changes made the experience feel more real, less like a game.

Maybe expanding greenhouses is necessary. Adding at least two more to boost crop production seems logical. Before, labor was insufficient, but now it’s plentiful. Planning which crops to focus on during winter after building in late autumn sounds intriguing.

Happy problems to solve. Growth, whether systematic or otherwise, was always enjoyable.

And somehow, this felt even more fun.

---