Chapter 340: Act 108 – Duke Toniger and the Young Lord (Part 8) (Second Update, Where is Everyone’s Support)
Brendel nodded. He had certainly considered such situations, but one, it was like paying a fortune for horse bones, and two, it was not as if all the weak and sick in the community lacked strong labor.
Some young people would stay with their families, while most lords would not take in an entire family just for one laborer.
This was where his advantage lay. Moreover, women could do many things, and young boys and children were the hope for the future of a territory.
Perhaps not many people had such foresight in this era, but Brendel needed to plan for Erluin’s long-term future.
Therefore, he waved his hand to interrupt Master Berun: “Master Berun, I have considered everything you mentioned. It shouldn’t be a big problem. The population is the future of a territory. The foolish nobles cannot see this point, but I don’t mind giving them a lesson. In short, this matter is entrusted to you.”
“But if there’s a population, what about food?” Berun still wasn’t at ease. Though he was unwilling to admit it verbally, after staying here for some months, he had to acknowledge that some of Brendel’s actions were indeed impactful.
Whether motivated by selfishness or justice, he didn’t want to see the young man’s hard work go to waste.
Even privately, in the quiet of night, the elder had wondered more than once if this young man was truly the one destined to fulfill a calling—otherwise, why would he resonate with the Lionheart Sword?
And his deeds garnered the support of everyone—those scenes sometimes made him feel as if he indeed saw that man.
That king, who swore an oath standing with a shining banner.
The elder was somewhat uncertain.
“Food is a problem,” Brendel nodded, but then looked at Berun curiously: “Master Berun, when did you start caring about this issue?”
The craftsman’s old face flushed, and he replied, “Just a casual question.”
“I understand,” Brendel smiled mysteriously, “Food is indeed a big issue—yet seeing so many refugees displaced pains my heart, making it difficult for me to eat or sleep—so no matter how tough it may be, I must insist on doing this, Master Berun, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You…” The elder saw Brendel speaking with righteous words, but his eyes sparkled like a little fox, unable to contain his anger, “Stop talking nonsense, you brat! What’s really going on?”
Medisa beside them could not help but cover her mouth gently.
“Of course, it’s not that serious,” Brendel shrugged: “Food is an issue, but with the support of Schafflund’s silver mines, it isn’t a primary problem in the short term.”
“You can’t just rely on buying; aren’t you afraid of being blockaded by the northern dukes?” The elder shook his head, worriedly.
“First, the merchants of Ampere Seale are all ‘merchants’;” Brendel raised a finger, “Second, the northern fleet is still in Princess’s hands.”
“Of course, what you said also presents a hidden concern, but Toniger is not inherently poor.” Brendel thought to himself, with Druids on his side, he would not fear agricultural issues. Those grass-playing fellows were far more reliable than elementals in farming.
Although persuading those who worshipped the way of natural balance might be somewhat troublesome, Brendel had already dug a pit for them to jump into. They had previously signed an agreement where the Druids would commit to participating in all wars to defend this territory—food wars are wars too, Brendel secretly chuckled.
The elder looked at him and shook his head: “I don’t know why you need so many people. Toniger already has a lot of population; as long as you occupy this place, establishing an army shouldn’t be too difficult—”
Brendel did not reply, as Berun certainly wouldn’t understand his ideals. His goals were not just Toniger, nor Valhalla, or even just Erluin.
The young man’s vision was of a vast future; his journey was through endless wilderness.
After ancient honors, humanity would once again pick up the lost banner and march into the wilderness. Erluin was to expand and become a powerful empire.
And opportunities lay within those wilds that civilization could not reach.
Brendel would not answer Berun’s question, but he knew that one day, these people would understand why he acted this way, as long as he was still alive.
He smiled and changed the topic: “Master Berun, when did you start caring about my territory? Are you genuinely intending to pledge your loyalty to me?”
The craftsman master choked, unable to help but cough loudly, then finally catching his breath in anger replied: “You little brat, where are you getting that from? I’m just worried you’ll lose everything and drag my business down—no, I mean hinder the princess’s revival of this kingdom.”
“Since that’s the case, then did you stray too far off topic?” Brendel asked with a chuckle.
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t we supposed to be discussing some plan? How did we end up talking about food? Or do you want to switch jobs with Miss Antinna?”
Berun naturally knew Brendel was teasing him. Although this young lord could be deemed excellent among the nobles of this generation, he clearly still had much to learn in respecting elders—and he was unrepentant about it.
He irritably replied: “I haven’t fallen so low as to shamelessly compete for a job with a young girl. We were initially talking about that elemental furnace… Forget it, I’m giving up on explaining this!”
The elder suddenly realized that continuing to explain seemed disadvantageous to him, and hurriedly switched tracks: “Fine, as you say, let’s get back on topic. So far, I’ve only completed less than three hundred sets of that thing. Do you want to check it out?”
“If possible, that would be even better,” Brendel nodded. He indeed wanted to see how the production was going, “But not here. Is there a secret room in this workshop?”
“Certainly,” Master Berun glared at him: “Sneaky and with bad intentions.”
Brendel shook his head and smiled, thinking that if the old man were truly as straightforward as he claimed, then why set up a secret room in the workshop? He couldn’t recall specifically arranging this for him.
However, he dared not say this out loud, or the stubborn old man might really get furious and kick them out, which would be counterproductive.
Under Berun’s lead, the three passed through the bustling workshop and opened a door to the south, entering a secret room. But Brendel quickly realized he had misunderstood the elder, as the so-called secret room was more of a temporary storeroom or a lounge.
The storeroom wasn’t large, about several dozen square meters, with many boxes and barrels around. The craftsman pointed at them one by one and then pried open one with a shovel, pulling out a peculiar set of armor.
That could indeed be described as a ‘peculiar’ armor—because at least in the eyes of most normal people, that thing certainly didn’t qualify as armor.
Or rather, it would be better described as a failed apprentice’s work.
Because upon first glance, one would doubt if anyone could wear it. It lacked a helmet, and even the collar, with the chest and back plates seamlessly connected. The arm and leg positions were also different from those of normal people, and crucially—this armor was exceedingly heavy; Berun hardly used all his strength to pull it out one piece at a time.
The elder could even bet that if this thing were given to those knights, aside from its bizarre shape, most would still be unable to wear it.
Because it was simply too heavy.
Finally, Berun heavily gasped and tossed the armor onto the table. After a loud crash, he raised his eyes to stare at Brendel, saying: “Look, this was designed entirely according to your drawings—I guarantee there’s not a single change, and I can also assure you that no normal person can wear it—”
He shook his head: “I don’t understand why you made this thing! Oh, not just one, but over two hundred sets—!”
Brendel listened to these complaints with a smile, looking at the armor. He was very satisfied with the entire set of armor; he had to say that Berun’s craftsmanship was worthy of being called the best in Erluin, acclaimed as the only master craftsman before the Second Black Rose War.
At least in terms of the armor’s restoration level, it would require at least the skill of a level sixty master to achieve. Before the Second Black Rose War, a master was a nonexistent title even among professional players.
Even after twenty more years, it remained as rare as a large guild. Thus, it was no wonder that Brendel was looking at Berun with a smile, like he was looking at a treasure.
“Are you even listening to me, you little brat?” The elder, seeing Brendel smiling without speaking, became more furious.
“Of course,” Brendel nodded: “I’m very satisfied.”
“I know you’re satisfied, but you still haven’t answered me. What exactly is this?” Berun suddenly felt deflated; he thought conversing with this young man was an extremely laborious task because one could never keep up with his thought process.
“You’ll understand what this is, Master Berun.”
“Then?”
“Just wait a moment; I think it’s better if I don’t explain this myself—”
“What does that mean?” Berun was taken aback.
But at that moment, a knock sounded at the door. The elder paused slightly, as few people interrupted him during his rest. His brow furrowed as he shouted, “Who?”
“It’s me, Master.” The voice from outside shrank.
“How do I know who you are, you brat!” Seeing the young man’s half-smiling face, Berun couldn’t help but blow up, shouting, “Speak! What is it? You’d better come up with a convincing reason; otherwise, I’ll make you leave!”
“It’s like this… I’m looking for the lord—”
The elder was taken aback, his gaze questioning Brendel.
Brendel nodded slightly.
“Let them in,” Berun replied.
Then the door creaked open, revealing the young man whom Brendel dubbed ‘Mage Duncan,’ of course, his duck familiar was put away, and behind him was another strange fellow.
A short figure completely enveloped in a long cloak.
“A dwarf?” Berun was taken aback.
……(To be continued. If you want to know what happens next, please log in for more chapters. Support the author, support legitimate reading!)
