The moment he pushed the door open, his manservant, Pitchfork, ran over in a panic. "My lord!"
"What is it?"
"My apologies for disturbing your rest," the manservant said, bowing his head. "But that red herb you told me to watch closely... it seems to be wilting. I watered it as you instructed, and I even gathered chicken droppings for fertilizer. I didn't waste a moment. I didn't even dare to blink, I've been watching it the whole time!"
He cut off the manservant's self-reproach. "That's enough, Pitchfork. Just take me to it."
He'd already anticipated this; magic herbs rarely survived being transplanted.
Soon enough, he saw the red herb planted in the dirt. Its leaves were yellow and withered, and its stem was bent and limp.
"This isn't your fault, Pitchfork," Leech consoled his loyal manservant. "You did a fine job. At the very least, you told me before it died completely."
"But, my lord, I let it die! Was it the chicken droppings? Perhaps the droppings cursed it."
"That's not it." Leech couldn't have people demonizing fertilizer. 'My territory needs every available resource for development, and fertilizer is crucial for agriculture. Abandon manure and pray to the Four Gods? Don't be ridiculous. The gods aren't the ones going hungry.'
He had the manservant dig up the red herb and instructed him, "Go get me some salt... the more, the better."
"Yes!"
A short while later, Leech sent Pitchfork off to rest. He then took the red herb and the large bag of salt and returned to the crypt.
He poured the salt into the coffin with the corpse as planned, ensuring it would be thoroughly "cured," then placed the red herb inside as well.
'This stuff might be a magic ingredient,' he thought. He couldn't think of a use for it right away. 'What if I eat it and my hair turns red? A blessing from the Four Gods wouldn't explain that away. It'd look more like a gift from the devil.'
He closed the coffin lid and recited the spell.
The crypt fell silent once more. All he had to do now was wait for the "batch" to be ready.
...
When Leech woke up, the sky was bright. A glance out the window told him it was likely high noon.
He had slept well into the day.
He had planned to go to the crypt to check on his newest creation—the corpse that would be his future security—but he heard a commotion and the clatter of carriages outside. His steward, Simon, was back.
Leech decided to go out first and see what his steward had brought back.
"Good day, my lord."
The long journey had left the steward Simon's hair slightly disheveled, but his bearing was still impeccable.
"I'm glad you've returned," Leech said with a nod. "You know I'm eager to hear what you've brought back."
"You won't be disappointed!"
Simon's expression was full of pride. He had secured a great return for his lord.
Leech looked toward the carriages stopped at the castle gate. There were eight of them, pulled by old, motley horses.
They were loaded with grain, seeds, and iron ore. The lead carriage was filled with stacks of books, taking up a third of its space.
"The Blazing Flame Demon Bear pelt earned you a profit of 20 Jinri," Simon said. "Baron Simon was quite interested in the story of you defeating the fearsome magical beast."
Leech's mouth twitched. The Baron Spark he remembered was hardly the type to enjoy stories. The man preferred to "plow other fields," so to speak. For a baron who owned iron mines, 20 Jinri was nothing. 'He probably just wanted to watch me make a fool of myself, paying for a story from a baron who fancies himself a minstrel.' But that didn't matter to Leech. Money in hand was all that counted.
The steward, Simon, began to detail the expenses for Leech. Jinri wasn't a circulating currency, so he'd had it exchanged for Silver Moons; 8 Jinri had fetched 1800 Silver Moons. Prices had soared recently due to poor harvests everywhere. The grain and seeds alone cost 740 Silver Moons, but it was enough to keep people from starving through the coming winter.
Of course, it was also possible that Baron Leech had been treated as a fat sheep ripe for the shearing. There were no set prices; everything was opaque. One person might be charged 5 copper stars, while the next could be charged a Silver Moon for the same thing.
If word got out that Simon had sold a bearskin for 20 Jinri, Leech was sure he would become the most sought-after "fat sheep" in all of Iron Stone City—especially a fat sheep who put on such airs, with his impeccably combed hair.
The books cost 3 Silver Moons each.
Although Leech felt a sharp pang of regret at the cost, he nodded in acceptance. Books were the only way to learn the history of this world and acquire knowledge.
He figured he would spend the winter reading by the fire when there was nothing else to do.
On the Lu Leiyi Continent, only scholars compiled books. Of course, common minstrels also enjoyed writing all sorts of nonsense, but to have their works passed down, they needed a scholar's help. That was why every book was so expensive.
The slim volumes had cost 300 Silver Moons in total.
On top of that, there were the iron, ravens, herbs, and other things he had specifically requested.
The eight horses and carriages had a rental fee of 14 Silver Moons. However, if Leech wanted to buy the horses, they would cost 10 Silver Moons each.
"They're all old nags. They aren't worth that price," Leech sighed. But his steward had hit him right where he was weakest. He had to admit, Simon was a very capable steward; he knew exactly what his lord wanted.
And Leech desperately needed resources—all resources, including horses.
Horses would be essential if he ever hoped to increase the speed of farming.
Besides, no lord would willingly sell his horses. Horses were wealth.
"Where did the rest of the money go?"
"A portion went to the Iron Stone City garrison. Their presence ensured we wouldn't be swindled during our purchases," the steward replied.
"Fine. What else?"
"And thirty slaves," the steward said. "Though they are mostly women and children. They're still on the road but are expected to arrive this evening."
A smile spread across Leech's face. "You've done very well, Simon."
The territory needed people. His steward might not be the most loyal, but he was excellent at guessing his lord's intentions and, more importantly, at getting things done.
'The steward probably knows this is the only way to make his lord overlook his past "disloyalty,"' Leech mused. 'Loyalty isn't absolute, but tangible value is. I could fly into a rage over his faithlessness, or I could ignore such trifles in light of his competence.'
"Arrange for them to be housed and fed first." These people were his assets; he wasn't about to lose any of them.
"Oh, and there's a blacksmith's apprentice who is willing to come to Porcupine Territory and work for you," Simon added.
"You're full of surprises today," Leech's smile grew even wider. "Prepare a separate house for him. Tell him I'll help him open his own smithy in Porcupine Territory."
Even an apprentice with basic forging skills would be useful for making and repairing farm tools.
"By the way," Simon said, "there is one piece of bad news."
His expression gave no hint as to what was so bad about it.
"Out with it," Leech said, annoyed by his steward's habit of doling out information one little piece at a time.
"Lady Ellesmere has returned to the embrace of the Four Gods," Simon said. "On the morning of the second day of her marriage, her husband kicked her stomach in."
Seeing the pained look on his steward's face, Leech reversed his earlier annoyance. He decided he liked the way the man delivered news after all. Good news like this should always be saved for last.
'So, my stepmother couldn't withstand the "Iron Hoof" either.' And to think Leech had even given her a chance.
"May she find eternal peace in the embrace of the Four Gods," Leech prayed with a solemn expression, as if he and his stepmother had shared a deep bond.
'The Iron Hoof Knight wouldn't give a damn about the powerless Baron of Porcupine Territory. For him to dare "stomp" out a marriage brokered by the Red Rose, the people from House Leopold must have already left.'
'In that light, Baron Spark buying the bearskin was probably his way of apologizing. A rather arrogant way of doing it, like saying, "Sorry my subordinate killed your stepmother, here's some compensation." But he couldn't possibly know that I was planning to use that "hoof" to do the killing for me all along.'
'That Iron Hoof Knight must be mentally unstable.' A man who repeatedly stomps the person beside him in bed to death can only have something wrong with his head. But in this day and age, no one would ever realize it, because aside from killing his wives, the Iron Hoof Knight was perfectly normal.
Leech instructed his steward to buy the horses and urged the man to get some rest.
After one piece of good news after another, he was starting to feel hungry. It was time to eat.