But that wasn't what needed to be said here.
“Ahem, even we do not know the limits of the young master's talent and ability. The word 'genius' is too trivial to describe him.”
This was true. Apart from Patrick's personality, no one could deny his abilities. In the fief, April, who is much stronger than Sanson, is a powerful warrior who has reached the six-star knight level.
She is now one step away from the seven-star level, the realm of superhumans. But when Patrick sparred with such an April, he would yawn and play around with her. Even the soldiers who lived and trained with Sanson had no idea what level he had reached.
The moment such a Patrick steps out into the world, the world will begin to change drastically, with Patrick Schneider at the center of a great storm. Whether he becomes a hero or a villain is unknown, but Patrick's very existence was sure to become a legend on the continent.
“Such a young master told us. He said he would make sure we have no regrets.”
“If you accept the offers from other nobles now, you could become knights right away. You'd be promised good pay and excellent treatment. But in exchange, the opportunity to be part of that great legend will disappear forever.”
Hearing Sanson's explanation, the soldiers stirred greatly. They too thought there was merit to Sanson's words. Then, Sanson bowed his head to them and said.
“I'm not asking as a guard captain, but as a brother who was born and raised in the same hometown. Please, refuse the offers and remain in the fief." “Captain.... no, brother.
Didn't the young master say that those who wish to leave may do so?"
“That's right.
It is my own decision to hold you back now."
“Why? Why are you holding us back, brother?”
“Because I can't just stand by and watch."
“Watch what?"
“You, who are like my own brothers, throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because of a wrong choice.”
At Sanson's words, all the soldiers fell silent as if they had been struck. And Sanson, still with his head bowed, spoke to them.
“Please.
Trust the young master. If you can't do that, then at least trust me. I will never let you have any regrets.
I swear it on my life." The soldiers gave no answer. They merely remained silent, each with a look of deep thought.
A few days later.
“Alright, time to go home.
But…."
Patrick looked at the lined-up soldiers of the fief and said listlessly. “Why does the number of people seem a bit strange?" Before Patrick's eyes were soldiers lined up in a perfect single rank.
Not a single spot was empty. All one hundred soldiers of the Schneider Fief's expeditionary force had decided to remain in the Schneider Fief. Seeing this, Patrick let out a smirk and said.
"You bunch of pushover idiots.”
"Hey, why?"
“What else do you call those who kick away their own good fortune? You pushover idiots.” At Patrick's words, the soldiers protested vehemently.
“You said you were grateful! You said you were grateful to us!”
“That's right. That's right.
Say it with your own mouth.” "Say it now.
Now!”
Then Patrick pointed at himself and spoke as if he'd never heard of such a thing.
“Meeeeeeeee?"
“I don't thiiiiink that ever happened?”
At that expression that couldn't help but piss people off, the soldiers went wild.
“Agh, seriously.."
“What kind of attitude is that? For real?”
“We were the idiots for expecting anything in the first place.”
“Just one punch. I just want to punch him once.”
“I'll take two.”
Watching the soldiers' intense backlash, Patrick smirked and said. “Enough, let's just go home. That luggage is expensive, so be careful with it, got it?"
“Yes, yes, we got it.”
“What can you expect from that guy?”
“Let's just get Brother Sanson later."
“Why me?”
And so, the group gathered their belongings, and Patrick led the force to depart.
“Then let's go. You grateful bastards.”
He did say it, at least. You're bothered by the 'bastards' attached at the end? 'What's it to me?'
Patrick set off, chuckling to himself.
Strictly speaking……
The plan that Patrick and Baron Schneider had made before leaving the Schneider Fief was a complete failure. He had left saying he would just keep a low profile and come back without making a scene, but perhaps that was impossible from the start.
In truth, the problem started when a black mage appeared during what was supposed to be a simple bandit subjugation. The moment that black mage tried to pull something at the banquet, Patrick stood out for the first time, and before that, his soldiers had already beaten the stuffing out of another fief's innocent soldiers.
After that, on the battlefield, he played a decisive role but tried to hide his tracks by giving the credit to Viscount Freis, but……. After that, in a duel between soldiers, Oliver toyed with the opposing knight, and Patrick smashed the face of Viscount Balson, who acted rudely out of resentment.
On top of that, they created the spectacular scene of all one hundred soldiers emitting aura in front of all the Eastern nobles. “When we drew out our aura like fwoosh, the jaws of the surrounding lords dropped open." “I know, I know.
I heard they asked you all to become knights after that, right?"
“I've heard it more than ten times already.”
“Ten times? Is that enough? You should hear it a hundred times. You know, Baron Helsing told me….”
“Aaaargh!
Someone shut this bastard's mouth!" At Oliver's bragging, the other soldiers covered their ears and screamed. They were the soldiers who couldn't join the expedition, and they were inwardly regretting having missed it.
'Tsk, if they were going to get into a brawl anyway, we could have gone too.’ 'Cheh, what a shame.’ 'Since it turned out like this, I'm definitely going next time.'
The soldiers who couldn't go couldn't help but feel regretful. Because while those guys were fooling around on the battlefield, these ones were undergoing hellish training. Who would create hell for them when Patrick wasn't around?
Who else could it be but one person?
[Get up. There's still more on the young master's training menu.]
[W-wait a minute. Miss April.]
[The young master isn't even here, so we could rest a little….]
Thud!
[How dare you disobey the young master's orders?]
A clear footprint was imprinted on the training ground floor, which was packed so hard that even a hammer strike wouldn't leave a scratch. And April, with a murderous glint in her eyes, said.
[Disobeying the young master's orders is no different from committing treason against him. You know that, don't you?]
[No, it's not that far….]
[We were just...]
[Just what?]
Under April's cold gaze, the soldiers hurriedly strapped sandbags all over their bodies and resumed their training.
[Let's train. Train.]
[Uwaaaaaah!]
[I love training the most.]
In a way, April was a more terrifying opponent than Patrick. Patrick would at least go a little easy on soldiers who had truly reached their limits, but April had no such mercy. Limits or not, if anyone failed to complete the training manual given by Patrick, she was ready to treat them not as dropouts, but as traitors.
Every time the twin swords in her hands flashed, the soldiers, feeling a sense of crisis that their heads might genuinely fly off, got up and transcended their limits. You ask if limits can be transcended so easily? When their lives are on the line, people find a way to do anything.
“Next time the young master says he's going somewhere, I'm definitely following."
“Me too, me too.”
“I'll go anywhere as long as April isn't there. She's a bit scary.”
“A bit? A biiit?
Didn't you see how crazy her eyes got when she talked about treason?"
“I saw it. Haaaa.... I really thought I was going to die.”
“If we hadn't gotten up, we definitely would have been dead." Anyway, the ever-so-frightening April returned to her main job (?) as a maid and disappeared from the training grounds. After that, Patrick was supposed to be the one pushing them on the training grounds, but……
“We haven't seen the young master lately. Where is he?" “I think he went to the Orc village to do something."
“What's he planning to do?”
"Isn't it obvious?"
At the last words, everyone turned their attention to Oliver. Receiving gazes that all seemed to say, 'What kind of nonsense is that bastard going to spout now?', Oliver spoke. “He's either researching new ways to torment us, or he's thinking up ways to make money.
It's gotta be one of the two."
“Hmm….”
“That makes sense.”
Although the words came from Oliver's mouth, they had quite a bit of merit.
Patrick had gone to the Orcs and was doing something. It wasn't something that necessarily had to be done by Orcs. However, since the security of the work was important, he had decided to start the project in the village where the Orc tribe lived.
“So all we have to do is guard it so no one can approach? Can you do that?"
“Of course, we can do it.”
Turanta, the Chieftain of the Red Rock Tribe, thumped his chest firmly and said.
“But what is this that requires such measures?" “It's something that makes money.”
“Hoooh.
Money, money is a good thing.” “With money, we can buy human food and alcohol. Money is an excellent thing.”
The Orcs of the Red Rock Tribe, persuaded by Patrick to work with humans. The five years spent with Patrick were enough to tinge even the simple Orcs with capitalism. Humans were weaker than Orcs, but they were good at making things the Orcs wanted.
Delicious food, and alcohol. They also made use of other small items, but the first two were things that drove the Orcs wild. The Orcs would hunt monsters, the humans would exchange the hunted monsters for money, and the Orcs would then use that money in the human village to trade for food and alcohol.
By repeating this process, the Orcs had recently become completely enchanted by the magic of money. [Oh, a Goblin. Let's get it.]
[That's not worth any money. Let's find other monsters that are.]
[Ah, right.
Let's hunt a Troll.
A Troll.]
[Grizzly Bears sell for a high price too.] What more needs to be said when conversations like this were happening among Orcs out on a hunt? “If we raise this for you, do we get a share of the money?”
"Hahahahaha...
Well, a little bit.”
'I've corrupted an Orc, not a person.' To the regretful Patrick, Turanta said with a sharp glint in his eyes.
“Understood. Then our Orc tribe will do its best to raise this insect.”
“You can feed them mulberry leaves. Please raise them well.”
“Got it.
By the way, what is the name of this insect?"
“Silkworms.
These are larvae, but raise them well and multiply their numbers." This was what Patrick had picked up while raiding the black mage's hideout.
Silkworms.
None other than the very, very expensive insects that are the raw material for silk. For the merchants of the Central Plains, the most certain way to make money. Was the silk trade.
Once you secured the goods, there was no difficulty in selling them at a high price. That's how expensive and popular a product silk was. If you took high-quality silk and sold it as far away as the Western Regions, you could make an absolute fortune.
Even if not to the Western Regions, distributing it internally was profitable enough. Silk, treated as a precious item to the extent that the emperor would bestow it as a gift when high officials achieved great merits. Depending on the region, silk was so expensive that it itself served as a high-value currency.
While raiding the black mage's hideout, the moment Patrick saw the container teeming with squirming silkworm larvae, the idea of the silk trade flashed through his mind. 'The Orcs have been hunting so diligently that hunting monsters has become harder than before. I needed a specialty product that could be steadily sold outside, and silk is perfect.’
The methods for increasing the silkworm larvae, extracting the thread from the cocoons, and the process of weaving silk were all in his head. This was because he had once seen a merchant group that traded silk at work. 'Although there will probably be some trial and error when I actually try to do it.'
That's why for a job like this, you need to put a smart person in charge and proceed. And so, the person Patrick called was……. “Mother, could you please handle this?"
“You want me to raise these insects, extract the thread, and make fabric?”
“Yes.
Do you think you can do it?"
“Well.
I've never done it before...."
Ava sighed.
Before she became a baroness, she too was a commoner. Like any other commoner woman, she had tried her hand at most domestic handicrafts. She knew to some extent how to extract thread, weave fabric, and make clothes.
However…….
“I've just never done it with insects like these.”
“You can do it. Boil the larvae's cocoons and….”
Patrick roughly explained the process of making silk. Since all he had was what he had seen a few times in his past life, he could only explain the general process. Anyone would show reluctance if they were told to produce silk after hearing only such an explanation, but....
“Hmm, that makes sense. It seems plausible." Ava nodded her head as if she understood to some extent.
Seeing her, Patrick smiled. As expected of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians. The comprehension is exceptional.
From long ago, people who suffered from the Nine Yin Severed Meridians and were cured always became smarter. That was why he could entrust the silk production to Ava.
"It's a job that no one can do but you, Mother."
"But there's something you must keep in mind."
“What is that.”
“Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely, absolutely."
"Absolutely?"
“You must not tell Father."
"Ah...."
Ava understood.
Of course, she loved and respected her husband.
"But…….
To do a profitable business together is a bit.....
“ "I'll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you, Mother." If you need anything while you're working on it, just let me know.”
“Yes. I understand.”
And so, Patrick finished the groundwork for the silk business and let out a sigh of relief. He had entrusted it to the Orc tribe, so security was sufficient, and if his mother personally took charge, it wouldn't fail. Just then, April appeared silently before Patrick.