episode_0101

101. The Gunpowder Farm

I met an exceptionally clever kid.

Eleanor Palgwang—the prodigious octuplets known as the “Eight Brilliances of Eleanor.”

Among them, Amelie Eleanor, who proudly boasted of being the brightest.

Even after testing her briefly, it was clear her mind was extraordinarily sharp.

But…

“Ouch! Help!”

The kid, walking with an odd way of speaking, suddenly collapsed.

There wasn’t a single pebble on the road—what on earth made her trip?

Her knee was scraped, bleeding slightly.

“Tsk, what a klutz.”

“Genius here! Mature!”

“Yeah, right.”

In the end, I ended up carrying her on my back.

Could this kid really be a genius?

Just as that doubt crept in…

“Broad shoulders! Want to sit on them!”

“No.”

“Want to! Want to sit on shoulders!”

The kid chirped like a baby bird.

Eventually, I lifted her onto my shoulders, raising both arms high.

“High! So tall now!”

Such a weird kid.

Amelie peered down at me from my shoulders and asked:

“But where poop scoop? Why only take me?”

“Meeting Countess Erica.”

“What?! No want work!”

Heh… As expected of a genius, she catches on quick.

The wicked plan I devised.

Why did I recruit Brook and Eitri?

To offer the two sisters as sacrifices, then smoothly resign once Erica’s attention was diverted.

But the moment I tried to quit, Brook and Eitri threatened to resign too.

But this kid…

Amelie’s mind is razor-sharp.

If the Huldra sisters won’t do, then offering this prodigy as a sacrifice should work!

Keeping my evil scheme hidden, I persuaded Amelie.

“If you don’t meet the Countess, you’ll be stuck scooping poop, right?”

“Ah… true…”

“Wouldn’t you rather use your brain and do comfortable work?”

“Ugh… uuuugh…!!”

Frowning, she agonized on my shoulders.

No matter how smart, she’s still a 12-year-old brat.

Though she falls short of a bona fide genius, I’m no pushover either—not someone a snot-nosed kid could outwit.

Somehow, it feels like raising an adorable, teasing-worthy daughter.

Is this why old man Leygar tried to mess with that cute kid?

Anyway, we headed to Erica’s office.

────────────────────

Now, as expected, I opened the door without knocking.

Erica, flipping through documents, glanced at my face and smoothly moved on without a word.

Wait—did she stare at me like I was bewitched? Then pretended nothing happened, shifting her gaze back to the papers. Adorable.

Eventually noticing the kid, she turned her attention.

Though shorter than Brook and Eitri, this was undeniably a real child—not even a dwarf.

Erica sighed in relief…

Why act like this?

“And what is that? Black eyes and hair… D-don’t tell me…”

“Not that, obviously.”

Of course it’s not my kid.

I waved my hand dismissively, signaling her to drop the joke.

Erica exhaled a relieved sigh, indistinguishable whether serious or joking.

“You scared me.”

Did she really think that?

I don’t want to be a dad at just 20.

Anyway, Erica calmed her pounding heart and composed herself to greet us seriously.

I bowed politely, while the kid beside me…

“Hiya!”

“……”

A child greeting a former Duke and High Noble with one hand outstretched…

Even Erica was speechless, staring with half-lidded eyes.

An uncomfortable silence lingered between us.

“……”

Finally, Erica broke it.

Pointing at Amelie, she asked:

“What is this?”

“Not thing! Genius here!”

Amelie bristled at being treated like an object.

Cutely raising both hands in protest, I calmed her with a head pat.

This kid is my precious sacrificial substitute.

So I shielded her to leave the best impression possible.

“A brilliant talent.”

“Hmm?”

“Ahem! Genius! Top of Eleanor Palgwang, Dad said so!”

“Oh?”

Despite my words, Erica remained skeptical.

But recognizing the Eleanor name, she seemed intrigued.

“So, you’re that clever slacker.”

“Urk…”

“Even that matches our fox perfectly.”

“Urgh!”

Emily and I groaned simultaneously.

Amused, Erica giggled at us.

After stifling her laughter, she gestured toward the sofa opposite.

With no reason to refuse, we sat.

“Now, little fox… There’s something we need to discuss first.”

“Huh?”

What’s this about?

Amelie tugged my sleeve, whispering:

“Dude, mess up?”

“No idea.”

Did I make a mistake?

As I pondered, Erica slid a sheet of paper forward—

Aris’ meticulously organized projected payroll statement…

“Ah…”

“I did say spend freely, but…”

“Whoa! 290 gold?! Big!”

That’s 2.9 billion in modern value…

A 12-day gig excluding today.

Guess I spent more than expected.

I hunched my shoulders at the staggering sum.

But it was necessary…

“Don’t worry. Would I ever scold my fox for their work?”

“Whoa! Dude spend big, no scold? High-rank?”

Erica, trusting instead of angry.

Amelie stared in awe.

Seeing her reaction, Erica smirked and boasted about me

like a child showing off a prized toy.

“Our fox is a commoner, but my cherished subordinate. Haven’t you heard? ‘Heaven’s…’”

“Dude Heaven’s Genius?!”

“Heaven’s Genius?”

“Genius blessed by heaven! Legend! Super legend!”

Is this Gen Z slang?

Can’t keep up with the tempo.

Anyway, her gaze toward me changed.

Yes, use that sharp mind to steal my embarrassing nickname.

The mood shifted, but returning to the topic, Erica asked:

“I won’t skimp on support, but I’d like to hear what you’re planning.”

“I’ll explain.”

“Wait! Not poop scoop job?!”

I covered the noisy kid’s mouth.

Time to work, not throw tantrums.

Bringing Amelie was partly for her to observe and learn.

Hope that sponge-like brain absorbs well.

Anyway, I began my report to Erica—acting first, explaining later.

“First, I paid citizens to create short-term jobs.”

“You could’ve conscripted them. Why spend money?”

“For the war.”

Perhaps heartbreak sharpened my mind.

Forcing labor without pay was possible, but…

From a modern perspective, outright tyranny. Plus, there were other reasons.

“We’re on the brink of war.”

“Thirteen days left.”

“Right.

We needed citizens motivated to work hard for weapons production.

Forced labor would’ve yielded shoddy weapons—if any.”

“Fair enough.”

Erica nodded, though dissatisfied, arms crossed.

“But couldn’t you punish poor-quality work?”

Her point was valid.

Fear of punishment drives effort.

It might even prevent slackers milking pay.

But I had a counter.

“That’d dampen rising public morale.”

“Is that all?”

“Every bit counts. If citizens see their homes and land worth fighting for, they’ll grab pitchforks if needed.”

This tactic comes from Rome.

Why did migrants fight for Rome?

To protect the grand infrastructure, land, and family they gained.

Rome granted settlers’ children citizenship, knowing this.

If war brews between equally bad nations, citizens won’t care who wins.

But under Erica’s good governance, they’d fight even in dire straits.

Rewards, not just threats, can compel loyalty.

Still, Erica grumbled:

“Citizens already thank me. Isn’t this enough?”

“They’ll thank you twice then.”

“Hmm…”

Convinced, Erica nodded.

Now, she wanted details.

I explained the new weapons and labor projects.

Erica listened intently.

Initially skeptical, she brightened as I described mechanisms and analogies.

By the end, she grasped the potential.

The expenses were investments for the future.

Her profit-calculating smirk nearly touched her ears.

Gorgeous, but eerie.

Undeniably charismatic.

Truly, a ruler through and through.

With approval granted, I stood to leave—

when Erica asked:

“What’s the new weapon’s name?”

War with Ternova looms.

Aris said their forces lack Erica’s tactical genius, relying on numbers.

Meaning battles of attrition.

Sieges needing breached walls—solved by cannons or hot-air balloons.

But open-field battles demanded a game-changer.

A weapon to overpower numerical disadvantages with sheer firepower.

A multi-launch system, proven devastating even with crude gunpowder.

I grinned, naming it:

“The ‘Singijeon.’”

Hence, we needed gunpowder—decades’ worth.