Chapter 35: The Meeting of Master and Disciple (1)

After completing a major task, Brikal sat in the audience chamber of the annex, awaiting Rosel.

On the third day of the banquet, a national affairs meeting was usually held.

After two days of indulgence, the lords would participate in a national conference before returning to their respective territories.

Even Brikal, who normally avoided direct involvement in governance, paid attention to state affairs on this day — albeit not without a drink in hand.

However, in truth, these conferences were less about actual governance and more like a competition of flattery.

It was essentially a battle to see which lord could place the most extravagant gifts into the king’s carriage before his departure.

This was the reason Rosel had sought out Brikal early that morning — to cast his net under the guise of offering tribute.

“Rosel, I nearly made a grave mistake with you. I owe you an apology.”

Brikal had no memory of the incident with Roden on the first day when he was dead drunk.

He had only learned about it from his secretary and Duvell the previous day.

He was secretly impressed that Rosel had shattered the head of an attendant who had crossed him.

“No need to worry. It must have been a hectic time for you.”

“Haha, as expected of you. So, you have something to report?”

At Rosel’s glance, Gelion, who had been standing behind him, approached and placed a small case on the round table.

“What’s this?”

On the third day of the conference, it was customary to present “tribute” right from the start.

Treasures like Arachne’s wine, thousand-year ginseng, and Horun liquor brewed by hobgoblins were paraded on the round table.

But the small, plain-looking case piqued Brikal’s curiosity as he picked it up and opened it.

-Click.-
The latch released, and the lid opened.

Inside was a small, square rubbery object that, at first glance, seemed utterly unimpressive.

Brikal held it up, examined it briefly, and then set it down with a dissatisfied expression.

“What is this supposed to be?”

“It’s an eraser that can remove pencil marks,” Rosel explained.

“An eraser?”

After the invention of the pencil, it had become a staple writing tool for speedily jotting down complex magic formulas, alchemical recipes, and spellbooks.

Though legal documents and royal decrees still required ink pens for authenticity, the pencil had firmly established itself as a mainstream writing instrument.

This development had significantly boosted the export revenue of the Kingdom of Elond.

Now, with the appearance of a “sequel” in the form of the eraser, Brikal’s expression shifted to one of growing excitement.

When Rosel proposed the condition that he would accept the western territory in exchange for paying 30% of its export revenue as tax, Brikal’s eyes widened with joy.

“Hahaha! Excellent! Then, of course, I must grant you that land!”

The land to the west of the royal capital was essentially worthless.

Although the raw materials for the rubber compound used in erasers were said to be found in the area, the land itself held no strategic or economic value for Brikal.

Giving away a useless piece of land in exchange for 30% of its future revenue was an irresistible deal.

It was far more satisfying than any luxury tribute.

With unrestrained glee, Brikal happily bestowed the territory upon Rosel.

Meanwhile, Rosel’s lips curved into a subtle smile.

It was a smile of pity for Brikal, who laughed so heartily, oblivious to the growing web tightening around him.

“Well then, I shall take my leave.”

With that, Rosel departed.

With this, Rosel had secured the right to station forces in both the western and eastern regions.

The next step was to station troops in the north and south, thus completely encircling the royal capital from all four sides.

Brikal’s army was regarded as the kingdom’s strongest military force.

The Royal Guard was a coveted position that attracted elite warriors from across the realm, each vying for the prestige and wealth it offered.

As a result, the Royal Guard boasted an unparalleled concentration of talent:

Swordmasters known as “Sword Demons”

Magicians with powerful area-of-effect spells

Master archers who never missed their mark

Healers capable of large-scale restoration

These formidable figures were gathered in one place, making it the most fearsome fighting force in the kingdom.

If Rosel wanted to subdue them while minimizing casualties, there was only one method — overwhelming them with an airtight siege from all four directions.

Thus, Rosel began preparing his next move.

He would now set his sights on encircling the north and south.

Exiting the audience chamber, Rosel headed straight for his office.

Slowly, steadily, step by step.

The winds of revolution had begun to blow from a distant horizon.

Upon returning to the office, Rossel began organizing and preparing documents for the development of the western district of the capital. He and Gellion were establishing plans together.

Gellion glanced through the documents and couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Goodness… When did you prepare all of this?”

Knowing that his lord barely had time to rest while managing the grand territory, often sleeping on the couch, Gellion couldn’t hide his surprise.

He also felt a sense of regret, wishing he could have shared part of the burden.

It wasn’t that he regretted not being part of the planning for the western territory’s development.

He simply wished he could have helped bear some of the responsibility so his lord wouldn’t have to carry it all alone.

That’s how deeply Gellion respected and served Rossel.

Rossel smiled as if it were no big deal.

“A lord of a grand territory managing a small territory shouldn’t find it too difficult.”

“Still, is there really a need to develop a small estate in such barren land? We can produce erasers here just fine.”

The western lands of the capital were barren, with hard soil that was ill-suited for cultivation.

The surrounding dense forests made it vulnerable to surprise attacks, and the water supply was scarce due to the distance from the nearest river.

Naturally, Gellion’s doubts were justified.

There didn’t seem to be any reason to send the people of their domain to such a harsh environment for hard labor.

“Producing erasers is not the main objective.

For that reason, only key personnel involved in production will move there.

None of the people from Rossel’s territory will be forced to relocate. It is the duty of a lord to protect his people’s homes.”

“…Pardon? Then how do you plan to develop the territory…?”

Developing a territory required immense labor.

It wasn’t something that could be accomplished overnight, and building everything from scratch required a large number of laborers.

Without recruiting existing residents from the territory, it was practically impossible.

Of course, it was possible to hire laborers from other estates with a significant financial investment.

But since they could produce erasers within Rossel’s own land, there was no reason to go out of their way to create a production site in such a harsh area.

At that moment, a knock echoed, and someone opened the door.

A man with blue hair reminiscent of the sea, fiery red eyes full of determination, and a scar on one cheek stepped inside.

It was none other than Duvel, the royal guard knight.

“…Sir Duvel?”

Rossel, surprised by the unannounced visit, called his name. Duvel closed the door behind him, bowed respectfully, and approached.

“Duke Rossel, I’ve come to deliver an urgent message. It’s something I may not be able to say once today passes.”

“Something you can’t say after today… To me, specifically?”

Before speaking, Duvel glanced at Gellion, offering him a polite nod. Understanding the gesture, Gellion gave a soft smile and rose from his seat.

“Haha, I’ll leave you two to your conversation. This old man will take his leave.”

“Thank you, Chief Steward Gellion.”

As Duvel expressed his gratitude, Gellion passed by him, patting him on the shoulder as if to offer silent encouragement.

Although Duvel didn’t know the exact meaning behind the gesture, it felt like an acknowledgment of his resolve to say what needed to be said.

He returned the gesture with a smile.

Rossel closed the documents he had been working on and sat on the sofa, gesturing for Duvel to do the same.

“Please, have a seat, Sir Duvel.”

“Thank you.”

On the third day of the celebration, the national assembly would continue into the afternoon, followed by a modest party in the evening.

On the fourth day, all the guests would return to their respective homes.

The party on the third day was essentially an extension of the national assembly, attended only by the heads of noble families and lords who had participated in the discussions.

Meanwhile, Esil sat comfortably at a round table, sketching her drawings at ease.

Her master had told her so.

The storm that was brewing over her had momentarily subsided.

Because of that, she was diligently drawing the next part of “The Hero’s Adventure” at the earnest request of Lady Celia.

“Ugh.”

But then, she made a mistake on a panel.

In a comic where multiple panels are drawn on a single page, a panel mistake leaves no room for recovery.

In modern times, she could have pressed [Control + Z] on a tablet PC, but since this was 100% handcrafted work, there was no way to undo it.

This meant she had no choice but to scrap the page and start drawing from the first panel all over again.

Letting out a sigh, Esil picked up the eraser that lay on the round table.

Then, scritch-scritch, she erased the mistaken panel.

Hoo-hoo —

Blowing away the eraser shavings, Esil glanced at Milla, who was inside the birdcage.

“Isn’t it amazing, Milla? The master gave me this. He said it would help me draw comics.”

Chirp-chirp.

“Hehe, you’re amazed too, huh? I never thought I’d see something like this here.”

Of course, it wasn’t as powerful as the erasers from her previous world, but it was still quite a decent tool.

As she fiddled with the eraser, she reminisced for a moment about the old days when she would roll eraser shavings into tiny balls and flick them for fun as a child.

The nostalgic feeling filled her with warmth.

However, that nostalgic moment didn’t last long.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was the sound of knocking—an unfamiliar knock.

It wasn’t the concise knock of Gellion, the precise knock of Zicel, the playful knock of Celia, or the polite knock of the master.

This slow, unfamiliar knock unsettled Esil. Her eyes filled with unease as she approached the door. With her hand on the handle, she cautiously asked,

“Wh-Who is it?”

A moment of silence followed.

But she could sense a presence beyond the door.

Even though she had lost her strength as a hero, her senses were still sharp.

The unfamiliar knock didn’t match the familiar sensation of the presence on the other side of the door.

After a brief pause, a voice finally echoed from beyond the door.

“Ah… Emilia? I have something I must say to you today, so I got permission from Lord Rosell to come. May I have a moment of your time…?”

“… M-Master…?”

It was Duvel.

He hadn’t come to deliver a message to Lord Rosell. No, he had come to see her directly.

Caught at a crossroads between his oath as a knight and his convictions as a human, Duvel had come to seek out Esil.

For some reason, he felt that if he didn’t see her today, he might never get the chance again.

On that precarious tightrope between the vow of a knight and the faith of a man, Duvel sought Esil for answers.

Her former master. The one who had fought against her as an enemy.

However, Esil vividly remembered the mercy she had felt from the tip of his sword and the sorrow she had glimpsed in his eyes.

That’s why, without hesitation, she opened the door.

Click.

She had wanted to see him.

She had longed for it.

Not to see “Duvel, the bodyguard knight” who was filled with resentment and tragedy.

But to see “Duvel, the master” she admired and once sparred with.

She had hoped he would seek her out again.

“Ah… Emilia.”

Duvel’s face stiffened.

Not knowing what greeting would be appropriate, he uttered only her name.

If Brical found out that he had met with Esil, it would certainly cause him a great deal of trouble.

But Duvel had come anyway, fully aware of the risk.

He had come to see his pupil, Emilia.