Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Carrot and the Stick

“Is this… an actual monster?”

Jed stared at the beast with unhidden disgust.

It was the abomination delivered by the men under Count Consilus—a bear monster confined within a reinforced stone vault. It had been fully restrained, bound securely in iron chains. Its joints had been dislocated so that even if its healing kicked in, it would be incapable of exerting full force.

“Indeed,” Ferda answered plainly.

“This is the first time I have seen one in the flesh. I never had any reason to cross paths with them before, so I had no idea they were such foul creatures.”

“You speak like a delicate noblewoman.”

“I’ll have you know my upbringing within the Red Eye Tribe was quite refined…”

Jed’s mood darkened at the mention of his origins. He turned his attention back to Ferda. “So, why was I summoned?”

“To carry out your duties as my attendant.”

“Does it involve this heap of fur?”

Ferda gave a nod, looking down toward the captive abomination.

“…And what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Even while bound like this, its mass continues to expand. It appears docile right now because its recovery was halted, but its core will resume pumping within the hour.”

“Hmph…”

“Furthermore, when placed in life-threatening danger, its mass expands several times faster than normal.”

“And the point is?”

Ferda drew a swift slicing line through the air using his forefinger.

“Every three hours, you are to slice away its meat. Every piece—including the tendons and nerve cords.” Ferda placed a hand on Jed’s shoulder. “You are the one tasked with this work.”

“…I have to butcher this thing every three hours? When am I supposed to rest?”

Ferda countered with complete indifference, “I have heard that the faithful in the southern provinces offer prayers every three hours. Every single day, without exception.”

“Listen, I am not from the south! How can any person keep that up around the clock?”

“If they can offer prayers every three hours, you can handle this.”

“Could I not… alternate shifts with that young maid?”

“As I have mentioned before, she does not belong to my retinue. If you can convince her, you have my blessing.”

Jed kept his mouth firmly shut. Despite his pride in being able to charm any woman alive, the Dragon Spawn unnerved him deeply.

“There is no cause for alarm. This is not a permanent assignment. It only lasts until Burnell delivers actionable research.”

“Until the findings are ready… How many days will that take?”

“It could require several months.”

“Several months…” Jed let out a dry, incredulous chuckle. He was expected to carve up an abomination every three hours for months on end?

Grrr… Grrr…

The bear monster released a rank, heavy wheeze. Even without drawing a blade, Jed felt choked by the putrid stench radiating from the crate.

“…Did you bring me into your service solely to saddle me with this filth?”

“What other purpose would you serve if not for tasks like this?”

“Haah… Very well. I simply have to keep it in check until the research concludes, correct?” Jed spoke with an edge in his voice.

“Naturally.”

“Haha, well, I appreciate the opportunity.”

He voiced his thanks, yet a fierce resentment burned behind his eyes. His irises flared with a sharp crimson gleam, giving him a dangerous look. Ferda had no idea what fate awaited Burnell once Jed took charge.

Nor did he particularly care. He was confident the two would sort it out.

…

Two days passed before a lone traveler arrived back at Valdrova Castle.

It was Burnell, who had been resting under the care of Count Consilus. He was returning after brushing against the brink of death from Mana Burnout.

‘The person I am today is entirely different from who I was yesterday.’

Burnell felt an overwhelming sense of purpose. He was convinced that surviving that ordeal had elevated his understanding of the craft.

‘From this moment on, I will wager everything on my studies.’

Whoever seeks power capable of reshaping the realm must invest an equal measure of blood and sweat. He resolved to abandon his former complacency and pour his very essence into his research. His sights were set on far greater heights.

After leaving his mount in the care of the stables, Burnell noticed a figure lingering near the main gateway. Aside from Ruri and Ferda, this was the first unfamiliar face he had encountered at Valdrova Castle.

‘A remarkably handsome fellow…’

He was tall, with chestnut hair gathered in a tail behind him. He possessed an arresting appearance, undeniable even to another man. Noticing the man offering a friendly look, Burnell walked over. As the distance closed, however, he caught sight of details invisible from afar.

‘He seems… thoroughly drained.’

Dark rings hung heavily beneath the stranger’s eyes. It was obvious he had recently endured some severe hardship.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Jed,” the man greeted him, wearing a bright though noticeably tight expression.

“Ah, greetings. My name is Burnell.”

“Yes, I was informed. If you don’t mind my asking, what is your age?”

“Well… I am twenty-seven.”

“Ah, my senior. In that case, I shall address you as Brother.”

“Oh, very well.”

“Let us make our way to the laboratory, Brother,” Jed offered, leading the way.

‘To think such an impressive figure would address me as “Brother”!’ Burnell mused. Was this what they meant when they said relief follows hardship? After the agony with the bear abomination and nearly losing his life, he was finally receiving proper recognition. The lingering bitterness he had carried upon his arrival vanished in an instant.

“Here lies the captive bear monster.”

“Ah, excellent. It remains alive and properly preserved…”

“Naturally. Who do you think attended to it?”

“You managed its care, Mr. Jed? I am in your debt.”

“Haha, think nothing of it.”

Jed gave a pleasant grin and dragged a wooden chair across the floor.

Screeeech—

The grating screech of the legs scraping the stone carried an ominous chill, like a headsman stepping onto a gallows platform. Jed placed the seat squarely across the doorway. He dropped into it, folding his arms and resting one ankle across his knee.

He was blocking the sole way out.

“Now, get to work.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your investigation. Let us not waste daylight. Begin.”

Jed’s outline seemed sharp against the flickering glow of the lamps. Burnell had missed it out under the daylight, but the shadows sunken under Jed’s eyes were dark and harrowing.

“Owing to your scholarly pursuits, Brother, this junior companion of yours is forced to wake every three hours to handle this blade!”

Thud!

“Eek!”

“To butcher this wretched abomination! Have you the faintest conception of what that entails?”

“I… well… I am terribly sorry…!”

“Oh, save your apologies. Should you require materials, simply name them. I shall fetch whatever you desire. Therefore, Brother, pay no heed to outside matters and dedicate yourself entirely to your craft.”

A fierce fury smoldered within Jed’s gaze, contrasting sharply with the dagger buried in the tabletop, which seemed cold as iron from a frozen tomb.

“You can catch up on your sleep once you’re buried, understood?”

A single thought rang clearly in Burnell’s head: There is no walking away from this.

…

A column of soldiers advanced along the main thoroughfare.

A pair of armored riders led the vanguard, followed closely by a banner-bearer displaying an emblazoned coat of arms. Centered within the escort, an ornate carriage proceeded at a steady pace.

Baron Kiyot was traveling on mandatory state business. His path was leading him straight toward Valdrova Castle. The silhouette of the fortress, perched along the slopes of the Lonely Mountain in the East, stood clear against the horizon.

“Uuugh…”

Baron Kiyot felt his stomach twisting into knots. The nearer they drew to the fortress, the more his nausea flared.

“Curse it all. My father swore an oath that I would never need to travel here… The man was entirely untrustworthy…”

“My lord, remember to breathe slowly.”

“Indeed, deep breaths. Phew… As the third son of the Kiyot bloodline, I will not let myself be rattled by this place.”

“Precisely! That is the proper mindset!”

Baron Kiyot drew in a steady breath. Though he had grown rather stout and sluggish in his later years, he had once trained as a knight. That said, his knighthood existed purely on parchment; he had never set foot on an active battleground. Carrying no deeds of renown or honors of war, it was hardly surprising that he had been relegated to a minor barony out on the perimeter.

“Do not let yourself be unnerved simply because he is betrothed to that scarlet dragon. Does our family not hold substantial influence? Blood ties run deeper than ordinary bonds!”

“B-but the man went so far as to execute someone of the Wolcher house!”

“The Wolcher lineage carried no real standing, did they? It would have been no surprise if their entire house collapsed. He will not dare touch the Kiyot bloodline so casually.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Yes, you are correct.”

Baron Kiyot tried to soothe his anxiety with his retainer’s assurances. In the meantime, the carriage finally crossed onto the castle grounds. The door swung open, and a crimson runner was unrolled across the stones.

Standing at the center of the path was a petite maid with silver hair. It was the Dragon Spawn of Valdrova.

“Have you arrived?”

“Y-yes, indeed.”

“Please proceed.”

Ruri took the lead. Accompanied by his personal retinue, Baron Kiyot stepped across the carpet. The stronghold was well-kept and lacked any sinister air, yet the total absence of servants and foot soldiers in a place that should have been teeming with life left the Baron deeply unsettled.

It felt akin to stepping willingly into the maw of a Leviathan.

‘Keep moving. Do not dwell on it…’

Before long, an imposing entrance blocked their advance. It was a massive gateway etched with the legends of great dragons. Carved across the wood at eye height was a distinct inscription:

—Show reverence before the ancestral fire and the ruler of might.

The gateway parted. Within the chamber, a man rose to receive Baron Kiyot. The Baron flinched back on instinct.

“It has been a demanding journey.”

Ash-colored hair and piercing blue eyes. Staring into those eyes felt like peering down into a bottomless chasm, making it difficult to draw breath. It was Ferda Valdrova.

“You are perspiring heavily. Was the travel so arduous?”

“A-ah, not in the least. Haha…”

“Understood. Then it must be a lack of physical conditioning. You would do well to shed some bulk. Carrying excess weight is an easy path to an early grave.”

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being.”

“Please, be seated.”

Ferda indicated the chair opposite him. The sweat trickling down the Baron’s neck showed no signs of abating.

“You must be laboring hard in these remote Eastern reaches.”

“It is nothing of note! Set against the responsibilities borne by Her Grace the Archduchess, my efforts are like a single droplet in an ocean.”

“Quite right. Your contributions do indeed resemble a solitary drop in an ocean.”

Ferda’s tone, initially measured and polite, chilled in an instant. The entire atmosphere in the room turned frosty. Even Baron Kiyot recognized the reality—he had walked straight into an ambush.

“I had little desire to investigate, but having assumed the mantle of the Regent, my curiosity was piqued. As such, I spent some time reviewing your administrative records.”

Thud!

He dropped the very documents he had examined onto the table before the Baron.

“I observe a considerable number of forged entries.”

Kiyot swallowed hard. In ordinary circumstances, he would have voiced outrage, demanding why old records were being dragged into the light, yet his throat seized up entirely. He could only listen as Ferda carried on.

“The irregularities are numerous. Are you aware of the grand sum that has vanished?” Ferda tapped a tallied figure on the sheet. “Three thousand goldens.”

Goldens served as the standard gold currency of the realm.

“It appears you have siphoned away three thousand goldens—wealth that the common folk of your lands could scarcely hope to see in their lifetimes.”

“W-well, that… those ledgers were not written by my hand…”

“Naturally they were not. How could a man of your caliber produce such refined penmanship?”

The elegant flowing script clearly belonged to a seasoned scribe. Ferda had already deduced as much.

“You retained a portion for yourself and distributed the remainder to your subordinates to bind them as partners in crime. Those subordinates undoubtedly shared cuts with their own underlings, so the sum resting in your personal vault is likely less than three thousand goldens. Yet what defines a noble? Those who claim high privilege must carry an equally heavy burden upon their necks.”

Ferda turned the page without hesitation and began listing the infractions.

“The charges include misappropriation of public funds, falsification of state records, and conduct unbecoming of a peer of the realm…”

With every formal charge read aloud, Baron Kiyot felt years being carved from his life.

“…Under the provisions of the Imperial Penal Code, depending on the gravity, the baseline penalty begins with a fine of ten thousand goldens…” Ferda’s azure gaze locked onto him without wavering. “And at the furthest extreme, you face decapitation, with your severed head displayed above the fortress gates.”

In an instant, the memory of Thesalos Wolcher’s violent demise surged into the Baron’s thoughts. Turning stark white, Baron Kiyot collapsed to his knees.

“I beg of you! Grant me mercy this once! It will never happen again, Lord Regent! I swear it!”

“Hmm.” Ferda rose from his seat and tapped the man’s shoulder. “Pay close attention to what I say. I am not demanding that you cease your appetites.”

“P-pardon?”

“I said I take no issue with you filling your purse. In truth, the exact amount you pocketed holds little interest for me.”

“T-then why…?”

“What matters to me is utility.”

“U-utility… my lord?”

“I maintain that a capable scoundrel is far more useful than an honest incompetent. I care nothing for minor indulgences so long as the broader machine functions. Whether you feast on fine delicacies or spend your evenings with a tavern girl named Rosemary matters not to me in the slightest.” Ferda leaned down and spoke directly into his ear. “Display your utility. Settle the food shortages and eliminate the roaming beasts immediately. Secure the livelihood of your people. If you fail…”

Ferda gave the parchment sheets a casual wave.

“These records might just find their way directly to the Imperial Capital. The Emperor, alongside your kin and siblings, will be made fully aware of your misdeeds. Should that occur, it will be a race to see who claims your life first—the royal executioner or the retainers sent by your own bloodline. Is the matter clear?”

“I-I understand completely! I will prove my worth without fail!”

“Very well. Our business is concluded. You are dismissed.”

Baron Kiyot scrambled out of the chamber like a condemned man who had miraculously slipped his neck out of the executioner’s noose. Looking satisfied, Ferda placed a mark beside Baron Kiyot’s name on his register.

‘Having an intellect to manage the details certainly simplifies the work.’

Regardless of Ferda’s standing as an Archmage, he had little patience for dry administrative ledgers. Pinpointing the exact flow and diversion of territorial revenues required a specialized eye that he simply did not possess.

The mind operating behind Ferda’s maneuvers was Mori. While she might appear to be an absent-minded youth, she carried the vast Library of All Things within her memory.

Ferda had instructed her: “From this point on, examine every ledger and regional dispatch, and compile a record of every financial discrepancy. Additionally, determine the corresponding penalties as defined by the Imperial Penal Code.”

Mori had given a simple nod and began scanning the documents at astonishing speed.

Flip, flip, flip—!

Her reading speed was so rapid it seemed impossible she was absorbing the text. She was tearing through work that would have demanded a week of labor from a full clerical staff. As a result, the illicit dealings of fourteen different lords were neatly cataloged, allowing Ferda to confront them one by one using those findings.

“The wrongdoing itself is of no consequence.”

Just as the ocean leaves its scent on every fish, no nobleman is entirely free of graft. Ferda simply intended to discard those who lacked competence. All they needed to show was that they held their Throne through practical ability rather than merely occupying a seat.

“With that, even Baron Kiyot has departed weeping like a frightened child,” Ruri observed from where she had been watching in silence.

“There are roughly five remaining on the list.”

“You are merely terrorizing them. Do you intend to rule as a tyrant?”

“Terrorizing them? I have only just begun to apply the stick.”

“The stick…?”

“The policy of the carrot and the stick. The fundamental approach relies on balancing the two.”

Ruri tilted her head, thinking back over the recent encounters. “Have you not been using the stick with absolute severity from the start?”

“Is that your impression?”

“Indeed. It appears as though you intend to break their spirits entirely through terror. Or has your own tolerance for hardship dulled your sense of what others can bear?”

“Hmm…” Ferda genuinely had not considered that his actions appeared entirely one-sided. “Well, it makes little difference.”

Even if his approach relied entirely on the stick as Ruri noted, he saw no reason to extend a carrot just yet.

“They have acted like useless beasts doing nothing but emptying the granaries until now, so is it not proper to put them to work first?”

“That is a fair point.” Ruri gave an approving nod.

Ferda Valdrova. For the prosperity and expansion of the Archduchess’s lands, he continued to wield the stick with absolute diligence.