A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 82 Almost Became a Serf Owner's Trainee

"Sorry I overslept, I have a few important things to ask you."

Old Merkle gave him a look, and Franz, sensing the situation, went to check on the cowshed.

"Speak, child."

He raised his large, burly hand to chop the wood, but Rorschach cast a [Disintegrate] spell, and the branch was split into pieces.

"I signed a job contract. The agreement with the employer is to send twelve gold coins to you every month. Have you received them? There should be at least two payments by now."

Another [Decomposition Technique] was used, and new firewood was born.

"Yes, we received it. In the last ten days of every month, a silent guy knocks on the door with your letter and that money. Otherwise, where would the money come from to treat everyone to light beer?"

But it's too much, far too much. Your mother and I are afraid to take it out. It feels strange, Rorschach. There's no need to send back so much money. We eat what we grow and use what we make ourselves. How can we afford to spend it all here?"

Rorschach observed that old Merkle was indeed still very robust, a farmer as strong as an ox, and Mrs. Merkle was also free of illness, which was rare in the countryside at that time.

But he still suggested, "You can move to town and have more money. I can spend some money to buy a property now."

"But we're all farmers, experts at farming. What can we do in the city? We'd be too busy to stay idle."

"Could I open a small shop? I should be able to come up with the start-up capital for a small business." Luo Xia simply used [Mage's Hand] to gather all the miscellaneous wood together and used [Disintegration] on them.

Old Merkle shook his head: "I feel more at ease with things that grow in the ground."

With nothing else to do, he simply planted the axe handle on the ground, a look of reminiscence on his face: "Back then, your ideal was to join the army. You told us that once you made meritorious contributions in the army, you would receive a fiefdom, earn a large field, and lease a large mountain. Now... things are pretty good."

Rorschach didn't pursue the topic further. The empire's current system still revolved around numerous lords, meaning money couldn't simply buy up land. To expand using money, one needed at least a noble or a noble son, relying on family connections and gaining recognition from the Imperial Council to be legitimate. Military merit was the easiest way for commoners to acquire fiefdoms.

So this was Rorschach's ideal before, specializing in Fireball: even if he couldn't become a formal mage, the human cannon would always be highly valued in the Imperial Army. The land, the land under the sun, the thing that intoxicated farmers, nobles, and the entire empire, here gave old Merkle more peace of mind than gold coins.

"At the very least, Franz and Angel should be able to go to town to study."

Merkel waved his hand dismissively: "You don't need to tell me! When we were poor, we gritted our teeth and let you go to school. Now that we're rich, they'll have their share. It's just that I don't think Franz is as smart as you were when you were little. It would be good for him to learn a trade."

"Okay. By the way, where is the village chief? I haven't seen him yet." In my memory, the village chief was about the same age as the current old Merkle before Luo Xia went to school—a man in his forties, who should be in his fifties or sixties now.

"Melson," Merkler's tone startled Rorschach. Could it be that he's gone? Rorschach's trip to the capital was made possible by the village chief's strong support and fundraising, and he couldn't be left out this time.

Fortunately, the heavy breathing was a minor problem, at least for Rorschach: "He insisted on going hunting in the mountains, and little Merson couldn't stop him at all. He broke his leg and some bones here, and he's still recovering!" He couldn't even name the ribs, so he gestured with them on his body.

"Alright, then I'll pay a visit to the village chief's house."

"Go to your left, and you'll see the door with a few rabbit skins hanging in front of it."

Merkle watched Rorschach's departing figure and couldn't help but chuckle: "A 'visit,' indeed. This kid." He picked up the firewood produced by [Decomposition Technique]. Many of them were too thick and wouldn't dry properly under the winter sun, only crackling and emitting smoke when burned.

The man shook his head, found a machete, and began to cut the first two pieces apart.

"Excuse me, is this the village chief's house? I'm Luo Xia."

With a creak, the door opened, and it was little Melson. Rorschach remembered that he had been there last night, taking the candy and going home.

"Dad, Mage Rorschach has come to see you."

Hanging above the bed was the old man's beloved hunting rifle. On the bed, the village chief had one leg crossed, bound with burlap and secured with a wooden board. He spoke with a lisp, and his face showed pain, but he still managed a smile: "Good lad, I knew you'd become a mage."

Old Merson was a clever man. In his youth, he had served as a knight's servant in the army, where he learned to read, write, and calculate, and even worked as a lowly provisions counter. Coupled with his good character, he quickly became a trusted village chief upon returning to the village. The bandages Rorschach saw were also learned by Merson in the army and instructed by his son to be done.

The "village chief" is not a high-ranking grassroots manager in the imperial ruling machine; he is simply an entity in the western villages of the empire, spontaneously elected by the villagers and recognized by the lord.

On the one hand, village chiefs often enjoyed prestige and trust among the peasants, and on the other hand, they had the ability to receive orders and convey instructions to each household. They routinely organized villagers for military service and collected taxes, and when the peasants felt that the lord's conscription and land rent were too high, they would negotiate with the lord on their behalf.

In the eastern part of the empire, there are even more petty lords with military merits who personally manage their manors and fields while also engaging in business.

These ambitious young noblemen, who rose through the ranks of the military and were merchants who had climbed the social ladder, were more ruthless than the hereditary nobles and did not need village chiefs to manage their people. During the period of expansion, annexation, and fiefdom of the Marin Kingdom, a large number of free farmers and tenant farmers were once again reduced to serfs under the command of the military nobles.

Among them, the mages who graduated from the Imperial Royal Magic Academy were the best. If it weren't for that accident, Luo Xia might have become one of them, controlling the life and death of dozens or even hundreds of serfs in the manor.

Rorschach's thoughts drifted briefly before he returned to reality, taking two bottles of wine from his storage ring. He also planned to give two more bottles to Merkel before leaving.

"Wine?" Merson straightened up, his spirits lifted, and admired the dark glass bottle and the dark red liquid inside in the sunlight.

"Yes, Valuwana."

"Good, good, young Rorschach understands now. I need to drink to recover faster."

"Thank you for your help back then."

"Go, go, boy, get back to work. I'm going to have a chat with Master Rorschach."

Are all you patriarchs so fond of driving away your own sons? But that's fine, Rorschach can get straight to the point: "Here's some money to thank you for your selfless assistance that year."

Fifty Imperial Golden Eagles were placed in a small wooden box and handed to the old man—before arriving here by airship, Rorschach had exchanged half of the Holy Kingdom's gold coins, and this was a small portion of it.

The wooden box opened, and the golden light made the old man pause for a moment before he quickly closed it.

"Please let me finish. This money can not only improve your and little Mel's lives, but also help you set up a shed to teach the children every week. You are the most educated person in the village. If there are any bright children, I can also sponsor them, but that will have to wait until I come back next time."

In Rorschach's memory, the school curriculum in the town was extremely difficult for him, forcing him to study hard at a young age. It was only through a combination of talent and diligence that he managed to outperform the sons of merchants and minor nobles who had received early education and private tutors.

Old Merson grinned. "If I can make it through this winter, I'll do as you say. Anyway, I'm old, and even if I recover, I won't be able to do heavy work anymore."

"Speaking of your injury, may I take a look?"

Besides the fracture, Merson's injuries also included a laceration; the wound was grayish-white with black debris between the skin and flesh. "To prevent infection, they covered it with gunpowder; it's a trick I learned in the army."

No infection is the best outcome. "I can try to help your wound heal faster. But please promise me, you absolutely must wait until I leave before you get out of bed and tell everyone that you're healed."

(End of this chapter)