episode_0005
by fnovelpia
5. I Am Not a Free Man.
In the end, unable to withstand Count Erica Gracey’s coercion, I was forcibly promoted.
Not only that, but she even performed the theatrics of burning my conscription papers right before my eyes….
As I stood there bewildered, Erica spoke to me in a measured, deliberate tone.
“From now on, you belong to me.”
“Oh no….”
This feels like I’ve stepped into a trap.
Afterward, I immediately boarded a carriage with Erica and departed.
Count Gracey’s domain, the large city of Freesia.
But something felt off.
Based on my meager knowledge, a baron’s domain is roughly the size of a town or village, a count’s a city or district, and a duke’s a province or metropolitan area.
Yet, for some reason, the land of the “Count” sitting right beside me seemed far too vast…
Almost like a duchy….
Lost in these thoughts as I gazed out the window, Erica turned her gaze toward me.
Eyes and hair so dark they bordered on blue.
Erica Gracey, with her cool demeanor clashing against the mischievous smile she wore as she spoke to me.
“Excited?”
“Yes….”
“Heart pounding, isn’t it?
A mere commoner like you, seated as the head of development, receiving full support.
On top of that, under the patronage of a capable Count like me. Ah, you must be overjoyed.”
I stifled the words, “That’s exactly why I hate it,” sealing them tightly within my mouth.
Count Erica Gracey, who took endless delight in teasing me and watching me squirm.
Clenching my teeth through the discomfort of this thorny situation, I endured until we finally arrived at the grand estate.
A massive mansion that served as both Erica’s home and workplace.
The Count herself personally guided me inside.
“This will be your workspace.”
This will be the space where I’ll grind myself to the bone.
A clean, spacious workshop—similar yet different from what I imagined.
Unfathomably luxurious and expansive compared to the shed I had worked in before.
The interior was fashioned from expertly crafted wood.
Tables were standard, and there was no shortage of parchment instead of papyrus.
A pristine, well-equipped space where everything I could need was already prepared.
“If you require anything, speak to Vivian.”
“Huh? Sis, I’m an administrator—why am I on babysitting duty…?”
“That’s an order.”
With that, she patted my shoulder lightly before leaving the room.
Now alone with Vivian in the chamber, the executive officer let out a sigh—perhaps embarrassed by her superior, lord, and altogether disappointing elder sister—before addressing me.
“*Sigh*… Rough spot, huh? You can be honest with me.”
“Honestly… a little.”
“You’ll get used to it. She’s… kind of… always been like that. A bit unhinged. But don’t underestimate her—she’s the real deal.”
With those words, she sprawled across a row of chairs she had lined up, sucking on honey (perhaps literally).
Arranging chairs in a row to make a makeshift bed—she looked young, but the way she did it suggested she’d been through the wringer more than expected.
Eventually, I sighed too and headed toward the empty table.
Disposable papyrus for drafts and high-quality parchment for important work.
First, I grabbed a sheet of papyrus, placed it on the table, and began pondering.
“Why did Count Erica single me out?”
Count Gracey, who personally brought me here and shoved me into this workshop without even assigning a task.
If that were the case, she must want something specific.
The fact that she left the executive officer behind, leisurely lounging while sucking on honey, was likely a hint.
“War….”
I tapped the charcoal pencil against the papyrus, thinking.
Perhaps she wants me to create something profitable to contribute to war funds.
Or maybe she dragged me here to craft luxury goods for her own indulgence.
Scratch the latter.
Someone who indulges in extravagance wouldn’t comfortably roam around in shabby commoner’s clothes.
Just then, a single image flashed through my mind.
“The thermal sphere.”
That item she had pressured me with—the thermal sphere.
Viewed in the context of war, the answer was simple: it was both a demand and a test.
Do you know when the highest casualties occurred in ancient or medieval wars?
During marches—troops moving to the battlefield.
Soldiers froze to death in harsh winters or dropped like flies from heatstroke in scorching summers.
She probably wants to solve that problem.
“If so… they’d be able to wage war even in winter.”
Winter was the season everyone sought to avoid conflict.
Even in my past-life world, during medieval and ancient times, wars came to an unspoken ceasefire in winter—too cold, too deadly.
If portable thermal spheres were mass-produced for the military, armies could march through winter without losing a single soldier.
“There’s so much to do if that’s the case.”
If so, the thermal sphere itself needed a complete overhaul.
The steel casing was too expensive and heavy for military procurement.
The safety shutoff when overheating would also need redesigning…
Maybe add a dial for temperature control?
No—since these would be mass-produced for soldiers, simplicity and durability were key. Cancel that.
“Lower costs, simplify for reliability. Since it’s for military use, not households… Should I increase the required mana output?”
Muttering to myself, I dove into research.
As much as I hated working under someone else, research was fun.
While my head was buried in the papyrus…
Vivian Gracey, who lay sprawled on the chairs, cracked an eye open and murmured as she watched me.
“Yeah… no wonder sis took a liking to you.”
Not that I heard her.
About two weeks passed.
Deep in research, I developed several solutions.
First, to mass-produce them, we had to utilize casting techniques.
At the same time, adopting casting meant reconstructing the internal assembly entirely.
“Now that I think about it, modular assembly makes sense for repairs and inspections.”
Thus, the Mk-2 prototype of the thermal sphere was born.
Two weeks of effort, aided by Freesia’s blacksmiths, culminated in this.
The most critical component—the outer shell—was made of cloth resembling paper.
Inspired by Chinese sky lanterns.
Fire-resistant cloth that expanded like a hot-air balloon when heated.
Crafted from some plant-based paper fabric said to be flame-retardant—so I took the gamble.
Collapsible, like an umbrella—normally folded into a cylinder.
Pull the ring at the top, and it unfurls into a spherical shape.
Preserving the bulb-like design, I infused it with mana.
“Huff… Huff… Damn this cursed body.”
My parents made mana infusion look effortless…
But my defective mana reserves left me wheezing like I’d run a marathon after every attempt.
―Sssssss…
The central filament, made of red wyvern scales, began radiating heat.
The crumpled cloth expanded from the heat, forming a perfect sphere.
Like a bulb—or a miniature hot-air balloon.
Heat seeped through the fine pores of the fabric.
“Success…!!”
The workshop warmed instantly.
Behind me, Vivian—who had been observing—applauded in celebration.
“Congratulations. So, what’s this called?”
“A heater. I settled on ‘heater.’”
The past two weeks had been grueling.
Weekly reports to Erica were mandatory.
During one such meeting, I had pitched the thermal sphere’s redesign…
‘Oh? I was thinking of mass-producing them… But a redesign makes sense—they *are* heavy and costly.’
‘Once this is done, I’ll retire.’
‘See? My eye for talent never fails. Winter marches won’t be a problem anymore. You’re about to save tens of thousands of lives—a future hero!’
‘Retirement….’
‘You’re busy, so I won’t keep you. Hurry back. I’ll secure the casting workshop.’
*Sniff*…!!
As engaging as solving this puzzle was, I just wanted to retire and return to the countryside.
Tears welled as I sketched the blueprint on parchment—I hated my own hands for it.
Despised myself for calculating workshop needs and designing casting molds even now.
―――――――――――――――――――
Forgive my bluntness, but I had no expectations.
Handsome, yet somehow dim-looking.
Smart, but lazy—yet once engrossed in research, wholly absorbed.
Like adopting a clever but awkward puppy that tries too hard to please.
Granted, his thermal sphere was revolutionary.
Even just handing over the blueprints or mass-producing them would’ve been worth the expense, yet…
*A remodel?*
At first, I dismissed it as nonsense.
As a lord, I’ve met countless petitioners begging for funding and time.
And 99% of them had rotten intentions.
But Cain?
He submitted a report detailing why the original thermal sphere was unfit for military use.
Followed by blueprints that clearly showed meticulous consideration for cost-efficiency and performance.
He strictly accounted for expenses, requesting only what was necessary, then holed up in the lab.
A man who loved research, adored creation.
Everything he did was endearing—how could I not take a liking to him?
“Truly… he slots right into my heart unlike any other. Don’t you agree?”
“A misunderstanding, Count Gracey…!!!”
Five men and women knelt before the Count.
Insects unworthy beneath my deep blue gaze.
Luna Gracey—my cousin and a decorated general—unfurled a scroll listing their crimes.
“Embezzlement, assault, misappropriating research funds, even funding traitors… *Tch*.”
“Misunderstandings, all…!!”
Only five.
I drew the famed sword at my waist.
Gripping its gleaming edge, I addressed the traitors.
“Do you know what I despise most?”
“…Corruption.”
“Correct.”
How hard had I fought to save the empire?
Yet corruption and rot felled what should’ve been eternal.
Thus, I loathed graft and deceit more than any other.
“I won’t forget your past service to Gracey’s army and this city.”
“Ah… Ahhh…! Count Gracey, mercy…!!!”
And so, the traitors—who paled in comparison to Cain—were erased like morning dew.
My blood-drenched red hair tossed back as I boarded the carriage bound for my domain.
“Erica, there’s still the schedule—”
“Skip it all.”
No way I’d miss my adorable genius’s demonstration.
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