Chapter 1 Good news ? Bad news ?



September 12, 2022


The sound of hoof was heard .
A horse walks on the  harden ground.
On its back rides a well-dressed man.


“What do you think, Pastry? Some day you will inherit this territory   in the future.
You've never seen it before, but it's a  vast place.”


In front of the man rides a young boy, horse supported by a man .
On either side of them was a field of wheat, with slightly burnt brown color.



“Father , wheat seems to be in a bad condition.”


Can a child like you tell? Yes, the territory is very poor .
It's not  fully  developed , but  we might have to work harder to make up for it.


The father chuckles.
His son's innocent remark was all too accurate.


'We don't grow anything ,but wheat?'”


“Hmm? We grow only rye  and oats  in the fields.
And some vegetables near our house.
I hope we can make the land more fertile in the future.


“What about sugar and fruit?”


“We cannot possibly afford to grow any of those things.
Even wheat didn't grow well in the past .
I hear some of these things grow in the south, but they don't around here.”


“Well, then, where sweet things can be obtained ?”


“The next time when I will visit the capital, I'll buy you some as a gift.


The father patting his son on the head and the son following his father's lead.
The boy despairs at the fact that there are no sweets, not even sugar .
His desire to make the best sweets is unmatched to anyone, yet he is strongly shocked by the poverty that even the chance to do so does not exist.


The look on his son's face is one of sorrow.
Later, it becomes a look of determination.
Was his dream something so light that he would give it up just because he was poor? No.
Poverty is the bane of a craftsman's .


“If that is the case, I will one day make this place a land full of sweets.”


It's good that you have a dream.
Yes, I will make this land rich by the time you grow up.


This was the first time the boy told his parent about his dream.
He was three years old.




Metal clanging against metal.


“Oh, no!”


“Not good enough!”


The two people were facing each other, both of them holding swords in their hands.


The were fighting each other, and one of them was a strong man of middle age.
His physique is so lean and toned that even the outsider can notice it .
The lean muscles, which are not just for show but are more suited for fighting, are impressive even over clothes.
The way he handles the sturdy-looking mass of iron as freely as if it were his own two hands is the height of skill.


In contrast, there is another person .
He is too young to be called a full-grown man.
His age is in the single digits.
Even if you take into account individual differences, he is still just barely short of the two-digit mark.
Sweat is pouring from his forehead and all over his body, and he is swinging his sword as hard as he can.
He is still in the process of developing his skills, as he sometimes swings his sword so hard that his body swims with the sword.
Rather than using the sword, he is being controlled by it.


“Look, your hold on the sword is getting weaker again.
Grip it tighter.”


“Yes, father .”


“Yes, good.
Hold it with the thought that you would not let go of it even if your hand were cut into a thousand pieces.
Letting go of the sword on the battlefield is the equivalent to dying.”


“Yes, father .”

Two people cross swords.
Casserole and his son, Pastry.
They are in the middle of a daily sword training .


This daily training has been done every day since his son, Pastry, turned five years old.
The boy is affectionately called Paice.
It all started because of his own desire, but before he knew it, it became a daily routine.


However, it is rare to see someone as young as he is wielding a sword.
Even in this world where bandits occasionally show up, monsters roam the streets, and the winds of war are strong, it is rare for a boy like him to wield a sword at such a young age.
The fact that the boy wields a sword when his body is not yet fully developed is largely due to his father's origins and ideology, as well as his son's special nature.


Another bruise on the boy's body appeared .
His legs are tangled and he is knocked down to the ground by a large sword.
In a our world, such training would be considered as child abuse .


“Lord ,are you here? Oh, there you are.
I knew you were here.”


“What is it, Sheitz? I'm training my son right now.”


A man approached them , without caring about it .
The man called Sheitz , who approached them while scratching his curly coffee-brown head, was a friend of Casserole's for 20 years,  and addressed  his son .  head of the private force of the Moltaerne territory.
He has only two subordinates in his private force, however.
After glancing at Paice with a smile on his face, he turns to Casserole .


“lord , it's almost time for breakfast.
I have a report to deliver , so please return to the office.”


“I see.
Okay, Paice, I think that's enough for today.”


Casserole slowly puts the sword into the scabbard.
The moment he put it away, his son collapsed on the ground.


” Thanks you for training me “


“Well, wipe your sweat off and head to your mother.
If you make her wait, she'll do her regular thing again.


“Yes, I'll have to hurry.Then please excuse me.”


A boy holding a sword larger than his own body height.
As he rushed off, his father and his best friend both looked at him with the same look and wry smiles.


“The boy is improving his skills remarkably .
Kids are learning so fast.””

“I guess.
My son is a quick learner.
He seems to have his own way of thinking, like a person who has mastered a certain skill, and it makes perfect sense.
I am really looking forward to what the future holds for him .”

“Here we go, the parental love child mode .
Don't expect too much.
You know what they say about a five-year-old divine child, ; after fifteen, he'   is turning in average man.”


“Paice might have made a name for himself as a swordsman by the time he turned fifteen, though.”


Sheitz could only shrug his shoulders at the parental love affair of the man who was both his best friend and the lord he served.
He stopped himself from saying, “Oh my God,”


After that, the two men, both of whom were very bitter, went to the office together.
Although calling it the “office,” is perhaps a bit ironic.


Originally, the territory of Mortern was a part of the royal territory that was meant to be a buffer zone between the neighboring countries.
The land was poor, wheat did not grow well, and a reddish-brown wasteland spread across the land.
The land was given to a knight who had served with distinction in the previous war, and that knight was Casserole.
He was given the title of noble and took the family name of Moltaerne, which is the name he holds to this day.
There is nothing in the land.
It took three years for crops to grow in a place where not even a tree grew.
It took another three years for less than ten people to become self-sufficient.
After that, the number of people and cultivated land were gradually increased.


Even today, the land is not rich, and even the lord's mansion is very modest.
It is a very plain, rustic building, as if it was built by a knight.
To put it simply, it is a shabby house.
In other territories, a farmer with a little bit of income would be living in a house of the same level.


Even so, the house has many rooms, as it is supposed to be a nobleman's house.
Among the rooms, the one with a wooden panel that could probably be called a door, a sofa, a reception desk, and an office desk, all furnished in the most luxurious style, is called the office with a hint of ridicule.
Sheitz says that he is more worried about the sofa and desk being burned than he is concerned about thieves stealing his money.


The two of them entered the office, a name that contains a hint of self-mockery.
The knight, who literally owns the entire territory, not just this room, and his inner circle.


He sat on his chair at his desk, and his servant sat on a box beside his desk.
As soon as he sat down on the appropriate box, Sheitz, the servant, said, “I don't know where to start “.
It is a longstanding breathing habit between the two of them to speak in a light, tone of voice.


“Now, I have a good news and a bad news to report.
Which one would you like to hear first?””


“Don't give me bad news before I've even had breakfast, but I can't missed it either way.
Let's hear the good news first.”


“Well, then, good news.
The good news, , is about the harvest in the bean field.
As was said before the crop is expected to be quite good.
If things continue as they are, it looks like we won't have to worry about the beans over the winter as we did last year.


“Oh, really? That's wonderful.


The Baron de Mortain is also known as a great lord.
He has cleared and cultivated wasteland to make it inhabitable,Today, he is an independent nobleman with three villages with 40 people.
Today, In recent years, he has been experiencing remarkable growth, and his fame is growing.
The new bean cultivation that he started three years ago is partic

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