Chapter 110: What are we making now? (1)
“Alright, make sure to stamp it properly.”
Ghislaine handed over the Slave Contract. The bold letters spelling ’10 years’ stood out glaringly.
Claude and Alfoy, along with the Mages, shakily took hold of the contract. Once they signed here, they would become real slaves.
With tears brimming in his eyes, Claude spoke.
“C-can’t we just call it a draw?”
“What nonsense is that? I won. Just stamp it quickly.”
“Can’t we just work hard for free? Do we really need a slave contract…?”
He thought it meant working for free was basically the same as being a slave, but he never expected a real slave contract to come out.
What an unimaginable person.
“Hey, stop whining, we agreed to work hard, didn’t we? We need this to make sure, or you might run away when it gets too tough.”
“Ugh…”
Having bet against the Lord without fear, he now had to face the consequences.
If he rejected it now, he couldn’t complain even if his head rolled.
With a face that looked like he’d lost his country, Claude slowly placed his hand on the contract.
“Ugh, I really need to quit gambling. It’s disgusting. I’ll stamp it, fine. People are crying and pleading, and you won’t even let it slide!”
Bang!
As soon as Claude stamped his palm onto the contract, he quickly wiped away his tears.
“Is that good? Ugh, it left such a bad taste. The Lord really likes to gamble. Let’s see what happens next.”
Just as Claude was used to losing in gambling, he was quick to give up.
But Alfoy, the heir to the Mage Tower, was different.
This was the first time he’d ever been treated so terribly. And all because of losing a bet.
Tears flowed without his consent. Not smoke, but genuine tears.
“I-I can’t stamp it! No way! I don’t want to!”
Alfoy stood up and stumbled backward.
Claude, sitting beside him, clicked his tongue.
“That’s how gambling goes. You lose an arm, lose a leg… and then you regret it all the way to your grave, wondering why you did that. I shouldn’t have! That sort of thing! Hahaha!”
“You jerk! Am I like you? Are we the same? You’re a gambler! I wasn’t one!”
“Then who told you to get into such a high-stakes bet from the start? This sort of thing is meant for experts, not beginners.”
“It’s your fault! I trusted you because you were so confident! I thought you’d win!”
“Dunno?”
Claude shrugged with a smug expression. It meant he felt no responsibility at all.
It meant it didn’t exist.
Alfoy, with his shameless attitude, started to lash out even more.
“I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s all the Chief Officer’s fault! I swear I didn’t know! My circumstances are different! Please! Just let it go!”
“Oh, acting like this at a gambling den is really asking for it.”
“Shut up! It’s all your fault!”
Claude was in a situation where he owed Ghislaine money, making him pretty much a slave anyway.
But mages were different.
It had already been half a year since they had arrived in this place. Just half a year more and they could return to the Mage Tower.
Yet, being left in this godforsaken place for ten years…
“I’d rather die than do that!”
Ghislaine nodded in response.
“Then die.”
“I don’t wannaaaa!”
Crash!
The mercenaries next to him grabbed the fleeing Alfoy and forced him down.
Even while lying on the floor, Alfoy struggled until the mercenaries pressed a sword against his throat, at which point he finally stopped wriggling.
“Hey! This is too much! I’m the Lord of the Mage Tower! You can’t treat me like this!”
Ghislaine flashed a wicked smile at his loud protests.
“Do you know why I stayed quiet while you were acting all cocky?”
“What?”
“If I had just beaten you up back then, you would’ve apologized and backed down. That would have been a mistake.”
“You, you can’t be…”
Alfoy’s face turned pale.
Now that he thought about it, the Lord had been unusually quiet ever since the bet started, despite usually taking a beating from him.
Recently, Ghislaine had just smiled even when Alfoy mocked him.
Alfoy thought Ghislaine had completely given in.
That strangely relaxed attitude made him uneasy, but he dismissed it as just bravado.
But could it really be…
“You… You didn’t purposely drag me into this bet, did you?”
“Are you starting to get it now?”
Ghislaine smirked.
Alfoy and the mages cursed their luck.
They should have suspected something was off when that short-tempered guy wasn’t acting like himself.
Caught up in their expectation of winning the bet, they failed to notice Ghislaine’s real intentions.
They thought not canceling the bet was just about preserving their pride.
If they had really felt like they were going to lose, they would have just beat everyone up and told them to shut up. They didn’t think of that.
Ghislaine licked his lips as if feeling regretful.
“Honestly, I was a bit hopeful, but it seems not many people fell for it. Still, with just one Chief Officer and six mages, isn’t that a decent haul?”
“Ugh, demon…”
“What are you talking about? Where else would you find a person as conscientious as me? I didn’t force anyone to make a bet. It’s just the legitimate outcome. Now, go ahead and sign. You should’ve signed a confidentiality contract anyway, so it works out.”
The one thing Ghislaine worried about while advancing this plan was the possibility that the mages might spread the spells and magic circles used in this operation to others.
However, since the mages had become slaves, at least there would be some restraint.
If a slave leaks their master’s secrets, they will definitely lose their head. If they care about their life, they won’t speak.
“No way! I won’t do it!”
As Alfoy stubbornly resisted, Ghislaine sighed and pulled out a hand axe from his waist.
“Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I have no choice. You’ve helped me out and we’ve built some bond, so I’ll settle for just a wrist.”
“Uh? Wait a minute! Do we really have to do it this way?”
“But you’re a lord! If I just let this slide, it’ll ruin my social standing. My honor will go down the drain.”
“Social standing? Honor? You’ve never cared about that stuff! You’ve shown no interest at all! What kind of lord walks around with a hand axe saying that?”
“What kind of lord walks around with an axe and talks like that?”
“I’m going to start paying attention from now on. I need to build connections with the other nobles. I won’t have any issues using magic even without a hand, right?”
Claude chimed in with a snicker.
“Exactly! You’d need to lose a wrist to stop gambling, and if that doesn’t work, the next will be an ankle.”
“Shut up!”
“Okay then, off goes a wrist.”
Ghislaine lifted the axe with a terrifying expression.
Alfoy turned pale.
This guy doesn’t hesitate to push through once he makes a decision; he’s crazy.
Just as Ghislaine was about to swing down the axe, Alfoy whimpered and shouted.
“I’ll sign! We can just make a contract!”
*
Ghislaine managed to get contracts from the other mages and put them away carefully.
Alfoy watched with sparkling eyes as Ghislaine placed the documents.
‘I need to tear that up.’
Even if the contract has no magical restrictions, it still leaves a record.
As the heir to the Mage Tower, he couldn’t leave behind evidence of making a slave contract.
While Alfoy plotted in his mind, Ghislaine handed Claude a new document.
“Here, take this.”
“What is this…?”
“Additional tasks to complete.”
“Are you kidding? I already have so much work!”
“No, you’re doing well. So, try to add this too. It’ll be quick.”
“…What happens when it’s done?”
“A new job starts.”
Claude let out a knowing grunt as if to say, ‘Of course.’
But when Ghislaine raised his fist, he immediately dropped his head and skimmed through the papers.
“What is this? Just a bunch of names listed here…”
“Uh, find the people written down there and bring them to our territory. Do not forcibly drag anyone who doesn’t want to come. If they need money, you can give them whatever they want. They’re important people, so handle them with care, got it?”
Claude blinked, checking the expected locations listed.
“Are you really asking me to bring all these people here? Are the locations accurate?”
“Probably. Some of them might be elsewhere right now. Those we can’t do anything about.”
The document Ghislaine handed over was a list of his followers from his previous life.
It would be great if he could find all the thousands of followers he had, but of course, that wouldn’t be easy.
So he sifted through his memories and picked only those with talent who were essential to the territory.
By his standards, it was very modest.
“There are over a hundred names here.”
“Yeah. Isn’t that a small amount?”
Claude gritted his teeth to hold back his anger. His hands tightened around the document, crumpling it.
Finding people isn’t particularly hard.
It’s not like they’re being forcibly brought; if they’re not present, there’s no need to track them down.
The real problem is there aren’t enough people to do that job.
“We’re already short on people to work in our territory! When will we find all those from other countries? We don’t have anyone to send!”
“Get someone from another territory. Use an information guild or something. Money isn’t an issue here, you know?”
“Ugh… damn it!”
Claude almost cursed but caught himself.
He used to throw a punch whenever he felt bad, even before becoming a slave, and now that he had signed a contract, he couldn’t hit back openly.
‘Ha, I’m dead tired.’
I’m already overwhelmed with work and can’t sleep, and yet more tasks keep getting thrown my way.
He constantly throws work at me.
If I had known he was this relentless, I wouldn’t have followed him for any favors.
I’ve really gotten myself caught in a mess.
‘I can’t turn back time… I just have to dodge him as much as possible.’
Claude took a step back, glancing at Ghislaine.
He intended to escape before taking on any more tasks.
However, at Ghislaine’s muttered words, Claude froze in place like he was nailed down.
“Hmm, we’ve sorted the food situation, so now we need to start a business to make some money.”
“What else are you planning to do? You’ve already grown a ton of wheat with that Mana Convergence Circle or whatever. Even after sharing with the Territory Residents, there’ll be plenty left. We can sell that! What else is there to start in this crappy land?”
“Don’t touch that. I’ll keep it stored for when we need it later.”
“Wow, this is so frustrating.”
Claude sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
The most fundamental and important problem was solved.
Now he just had to figure out how to make money from it, but suddenly he was acting like a miser.
“There’s too much to store. Wheat isn’t something that can sit around for long. What are you going to do if it all rots?”
In any territory, food was stored in preparation for famine or war.
But the wheat that Ghislaine had improved was far too abundant.
Even a single harvest could last for years.
What was the point of storing it when they couldn’t even consume it all?
Ghislaine nonchalantly replied.
“Our food doesn’t spoil easily. It can last for a few years just sitting in storage.”
“Does that even make sense?”
“We can sell or give it away just before it starts to go bad. Since the grains are large, they will sell well by then.”
Claude almost countered but swallowed his words.
He didn’t know anything about that crazy wheat, so it was hard to argue.
Either way, they’d find out in a few years.
“Fine, whatever. But if we store the food, we’ll still need to keep bringing in Runestones to make money… So how will you earn?”
“Since we can’t create resources… we’ll need to make specialty products. We can make money from that.”
“Wow, I thought you might say you can’t do anything… Did you think that just saying we should make specialty products means we can whip them up on the spot?”
What could they make without resources or techniques? It was clear they wouldn’t be able to produce anything, specialty or not, without the right technology secured.
Claude narrowed his eyes and glared at Ghislaine.
“Sure, let’s say that wheat was possible because of the mana. But making something is a completely different story. We need technology and people. Do we have any of that in our territory right now?”
“Not yet.”
“So what can we possibly make? Let’s not waste time and money foolishly; let’s just sell the food. For goodness’ sake, let’s be reasonable!”
Then Ghislaine grinned wickedly and said,
“Want to place a bet? This time for 20 years.”
“Wh… Wait! Oh my, damn.”
Claude, about to shout “Call!”, barely stopped himself with an ominous gut feeling.
It was the moment when a safety brake triggered in the mind of a gambler.
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