A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Chapter 373: Helen·Faust - Three - I

James was a robust young man, summoned for his generational expertise in agriculture. At the age of twenty-five, he had already dedicated fifteen years to the fields.

Yet, even as a farmer, his vigorous constitution was evident, a testament to the fertile lands of the Empire's southern region.

The plight of the southern farmers was enviable compared to their northern counterparts, who faced meager harvests and the extortion of tax officials.

Now, James stood in line outside the lord's manor with his fellow villagers, all bewildered by their summons from various domains. James couldn't fathom what use the nobility might have for people like them.

"Laurel," he said, his anxiety growing as the line inched forward, "what do you think… they want with us?"

Laurel seemed unconcerned. "They probably just need to make use of us... though I'm not sure what those high and mighty could want with folks who only know how to toil in the mud."

James drew a sharp breath. "You don't think they'll use us as materials for some spell, do you? Remember Roy? The poor soul turned half-pig by a sorcerer. I'd rather not end up like that—"

"Then don't think about it," Laurel interrupted impatiently. "If they intended such a thing, why go through all this trouble? Besides, isn't the whole town here?"

A short farmer scoffed. "Sorcerers looking for materials can find them anywhere. Why come specifically for us?"

Their hushed discussion reflected the unease of the queueing farmers, many of whom shared James's fears or harbored similar thoughts.

For those at the bottom of society, even a fleeting glance from the powerful was unbearable.

When James's turn came, the young, unassuming farmer looked up nervously at the expressionless man on the platform, unsure of what to say.

"Take this and bring it back home."

The man on the platform handed James a black box. "Follow the instructions inside to tend to your field. Start promptly at six tomorrow morning. If you can't understand, someone will be there to teach you. And if there are still mistakes..."

He left the threat unspoken, but his icy gaze from above made James knees weak.

"I,I will surely fulfill your command, my, my lord," James stammered.

Laurel, standing behind him with his head bowed, radiated a subtle defiance in contrast to James's palpable panic and vulnerability.

Nevertheless, he took the black box obediently, echoing the man's words, and left the manor with Hendrik.

The two farmers, clutching the box, walked through the streets of Pelican city, drawing curious glances from the scattered passersby.

"This place feels somewhat superior to our own," James remarked, gazing at the humble, aged houses on either side, a sense of wonder in his voice, "At the very least, the housing is a vast improvement for us... Laurel, are we truly here just to till the soil?"

"And what could you do if we weren't?" Laurel glanced sideways at her fellow villager with a hint of indifference.

"I just... hope that's all it is," James muttered, somewhat awkwardly.

Laurel and James were acquainted prior to this, but their relationship was not particularly deep, merely a casual intersection of lives. Laurel was well aware of James's honest, albeit somewhat timid nature, and did not particularly care for it, which resulted in her somewhat cool demeanor towards him.

The two soon arrived at the dwelling that had been arranged for them. Without a word, Laurel entered her own room, while James, who had hoped to engage in further conversation, scratched his head in embarrassment and retreated to his bedroom.

Holding the black box in his arms, James was momentarily overwhelmed by the fear of the mysterious and malevolent sorcerer, hesitant to open it. However, the chilling gaze of that man caused him to shiver, and with trembling hands, he lifted the lid of the box.

Contrary to his expectations, the box contained neither a blood-drawn sigil nor any peculiar animal remains, but simply two vials of potion and a piece of paper, nothing more.

James placed the box beside his bed, puzzled, and picked up the paper to read—finding no text, which was a relief to him as he was illiterate.

The images were clear and straightforward, suggesting that he should remove the caps from the potions and, aiming at the ground, firmly press the button beneath the cap just once.

James understood this part, but the subsequent drawings of seven sunrises and sunsets followed by wheat mysteriously sprouting from the ground confused him. The illustrations indicated that after harvesting the wheat, he should repeat the initial action... This left James bewildered.

"Am I to pour this back into the fields after seven days?"

The dark-skinned youth stared at the two green vials within the black box, then back at the instructional diagram, his face etched with confusion: "But how could wheat mature in just seven days? Ah... I'll wait until tomorrow."

With this thought, his perplexity deepened.

Why was this task assigned to him? This potion appeared precious... Would it spell disaster if it were wasted?

At this thought, James, who always seemed timid, felt a twinge of resentment.

Shouldn't such tasks be delegated by the gentry, to their own people? I am only skilled, only adept at farming.

The lord of Pelican City was equally puzzled by this matter.

"My lord, so we truly do not... keep that thing in our possession?"

The truth was, the lord had no idea what the substance was, only ensuring that the farmers knew how to use it correctly. Even so, he was aware that it was provided by Ansel, and out of caution, the Count of Watson had repeatedly warned the lord in Ansel's name.

The lord had indeed been frightened by the Count's stern warnings. His suggestion was not born out of audacity or a desire to embezzle; the Count had fiercely cautioned that no extraordinary being, no noble, should encroach upon this item.

He simply felt that entrusting such a valuable item to those who could barely read, perhaps not even understand the diagrams, was exceedingly risky.

Why not have them handle the matter directly, instead of going to the trouble of teaching the farmers how to use it?

"This is a directive from Lord Ansel, do not compel me to reiterate."

The young Count Watson fixed his gaze steadfastly upon the city lord. "I shall articulate once more, you are to ensure that no person of influence within the city, through coercive acquisition, deprives others of their potions."

"...Coercive acquisition?"

The city lord paused momentarily, perplexed. He regarded Count Watson, inquiring tentatively, "And if it were not through coercion...?"

Count Watson adjusted his collar, responding with composed assurance, "Legitimate transactions, governed by equitable principles, are beyond reproach."

In this discourse, he was reminded of the unsettling smile of the young Hydral.

His smile was somewhat disconcerting.

["An experiment? No, no... It's not an experiment, Count. It's merely a game, a trivial household pastime."][ Read first at m-v le-mpyr

"The rules of the game are akin to those of make-believe. The choices made by individuals are of no concern to me, but everyone must act within the bounds of moral decency. It's as simple as that."]

A trivial game of…make-believe.

What manner of man was Count Watson? Could he not discern the direction in which Pelican City, and indeed the entire Watson domain, would evolve under such "household" game rules set by Ansel?

Yet, his apprehension towards Ansel was not derived from these tactics, but rather from the moment Ansel spoke of the "household game," Count Watson... saw not a trace of joy on Ansel's face.

His words were cold and merciless, yet his face, which bore a smile, was gentle and seemingly affable, evoking a sense of kinship in all who beheld it. However, it lacked both the pleasure derived from deceiving the lower classes and the malice inherent in acts of tyranny.

Even if not purely for pleasure or venting, there ought to have been some semblance of emotional fluctuation, but Ansel of Hydral, that creature... exhibited none, absolutely nothing.

Hence, that smiling visage rendered Count Watson profoundly uneasy.

If there was nothing, then what exactly was he smiling about? Or perhaps, displaying such an expression had become his instinct, his... alternate visage?

A shiver ran through Count Watson, he ceased his contemplation, daring not to ponder further.

"In summary."

He exhaled softly, "Maintaining those ostensibly 'legitimate' rules is crucial, Leonard, you are no fool, you know what must be done."

The city lord of Pelican City, Leonard, nodded hastily, "I understand, I understand... My lord, I shall not bring disgrace upon you, nor upon the Watson domain!"

"This has nothing to do with the Watson domain, make no mistake, Leonard."

Count Watson regarded the city lord with a cold gaze, "All of this, is for Lord Ansel."

"...Yes, yes! For Lord Ansel!"

Leonard bowed deeply, "Everything is for Lord Ansel!"

"I shall be observing you, Leonard."

Count Watson made his way out of the office, his voice chilling, "Do not squander this opportunity, one that you shall never encounter again in your lifetime."

Opportunity...

After Count Watson departed, Leonard clenched his fists tightly, mustering all his strength to stand firm, to prevent his knees from buckling.

These commoners represented his opportunity... Although unbelievable and ludicrous, it mattered not.

They were but resources to be exploited repeatedly, the peasantry, abundant as they were, brought him immense benefit, a pleasant surprise indeed.

This game was steeped in absurdity from the outset.

—For aside from Ravenna, no one cared for the peasants, including the peasants themselves.

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