-Three Months Until Revolution-
*Scratch... scratch...*
The soft, rhythmic sound of charcoal dragging across heavy parchment filled the quiet chamber like a whisper through a cathedral. High stacks of documents surrounded the massive mahogany desk, and the air smelled faintly of drying ink, old paper, and burnt oil from the desk lamp.
Stacian stood at the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her crimson eyes glinting beneath the shadowy hood of her cloak.
"Is it even possible to fix an entire nation's economy in just three months?" she asked, her voice calm but clearly laced with doubt. "You're not dealing with a minor band of border bandits this time, Leornars. This is bigger than managing a single city."
Seated amidst a vast sea of scrolls and agricultural schematics, Leornars didn't even bother to look up. His pale hand continued to move across the parchment, drawing fine lines with eerie, practiced precision.
"It's possible," he said flatly, his tone even. "Difficult. Extremely risky. But not impossible."
Stacian stepped forward into the room, her boots tapping softly against the cold stone floor. "So, what mad genius plan are you cooking up in that head of yours this time?"
He paused, holding up the parchment slightly to let the ink catch the light. "The exact same strategy I used when I rescued you. Fast. Precise. Brutal. But this time... reinforced with logistics, macro-engineering... and a little bit of patience."
She peered closely at the scroll, her eyes blinking in genuine surprise. "Wait—is that... a waterwheel?"
"A heavily modified version designed for continuous, automated grinding," Leornars explained, dipping his pen into fresh black ink. "I'm mechanizing fertilizer production and grain processing. Bone powder, crushed limestone, wood ash. Anything to exponentially amplify crop yields across Lurtra's farmlands."
Stacian gave a low, appreciative whistle. "You even factored in advanced soil chemistry?"
Leornars glanced up at her, a slight, mocking smirk curving his lips. "Smarter than you look, aren't I?"
"Oh, please," she snorted, turning on her heel toward the door. "I'll go talk to the king. We need to gather the regional farmers. I want to examine their soil directly before we waste resources."
She paused at the entrance, her hand resting against the heavy oak frame. "Also—don't forget about green manure."
Leornars blinked, his pen halting mid-stroke. "Green what?"
"Organic matter. Tilled directly from leguminous vegetation. It enriches nitrogen levels in the soil and strengthens root systems," she explained, glancing back over her shoulder. "Try not to collapse while I'm gone. You're still recovering your mana."
He watched her depart, then let out a quiet sigh and dipped his pen into the ink well once more.
"...Green manure. What a weird name."
⚔ **Durmount - Hero Training Grounds**
Steel clashed violently against steel under the scorching morning sun. Heavy sweat drenched the dirt as the newly summoned heroes swung, thrust, and shouted across the vast military sparring fields.
One dark-haired boy stood far apart from the rest of the ranks, a dense, fiery aura flaring wildly around his body.
With a single, furious, two-handed slash, his glowing blade cleaved a reinforced wooden training post cleanly in two, sending the top half flying into the fence.
"I'll kill him..." Kylie growled through gritted teeth, panting heavily as sweat dripped from his chin. "He slaughtered my father... and had the nerve to say I'd need to grow stronger first. Three months... I've trained through hell for this exact moment. I am stronger now."
But then his expression twisted into a bitter, confused grimace. "Of all the people in the world... why did the summoners choose *him*? Why did it have to be Leornars?!"
🏰 **Back in Lurtra**
"Achoo!"
Leornars sneezed suddenly, blinking at the dust particles floating in the afternoon air around his desk.
"...Someone's cursing my name again," he muttered dryly.
He sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, and casually went right back to sketching his blueprints.
👑 **Royal Audience Chamber**
The very moment Stacian stepped through the grand double doors into the hall, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the assembled nobles.
Her dark wings folded neatly behind her back, her chin held exceptionally high, she made no move whatsoever to bow before the throne.
The royal chancellor's face instantly turned a deep, furious purple. "You filthy chimera! Show proper respect before His Royal Majesty!"
"I only kneel to Lord Leornars," Stacian stated coolly, her gaze unwavering. "And he explicitly forbids me from bowing to anyone else."
"You dare speak such treason—!"
The chancellor lunged forward, raising his jewel-encrusted staff to strike her—
*BOOM—!*
He never reached her.
A massive, invisible wave of crushing pressure slammed violently into the chamber like a falling hammer. Stacian's dense bloodlust unfurled outward like a localized tempest, filling every corner of the room with suffocating terror.
The chancellor collapsed instantly to his knees, gasping frantically for air, his eyes bulging as his staff clattered across the marble floor.
Stacian stepped forward slowly, placing the heel of her boot directly onto the back of his head, pinning his face against the cold stone.
"Worms shouldn't bark at their betters."
Far away in his quiet study, Leornars chuckled under his breath, pausing his work.
"...Why do I suddenly feel oddly impressed?"
"King Edmund," Stacian said smoothly, turning her cool gaze directly toward the throne and ignoring the thrashing man beneath her foot.
"Yes?" the king replied carefully, leaning back in his seat.
"I need to speak to the local farmers immediately regarding bulk storage, rotation cycles, and soil quality," she said.
The king blinked at her commanding tone, then cleared his throat. "That... can easily be arranged."
"Thank you, Edmund," she replied bluntly, removing her foot from the chancellor's neck and turning around to leave.
The chancellor staggered awkwardly to his feet, clutching his throat and coughing blood. "You insolent demon—that is His Majesty! You address him as Your Highness!"
Stacian paused at the threshold, looking over her shoulder with an icy glare. "He may be a king to you. But Leornars... is my Lord."
She pulled the grand doors shut with a heavy *THUD*.
"WRETCHED WHORE!" the chancellor shrieked at the top of his lungs, trembling with humiliation.
King Edmund merely let out a long, weary sigh and rubbed his temples in silence.
🏛 **Outside the Castle Gates**
A massive, roaring crowd had swarmed the iron gates of the castle plaza, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Free the White Plague! Release Lord Leornars!" they chanted in unison.
Stacian blinked, halting at the top of the stairs. "What on earth is going on here?"
A middle-aged civilian standing nearby turned to her, his fist raised in the air. "We're protesting! We want Lord Leornars freed from royal custody immediately!"
"...He's already been appointed Prime Minister," she muttered under her breath.
The man froze, his eyes wide. "He's *what*?!"
"I won't repeat myself," Stacian said flatly.
Without breaking stride, she flexed her legs and leaped casually straight over the seven-meter-high iron security wall, landing weightlessly on the cobblestones outside.
The man blinked at the spot where she had just been standing. "...You know the rest of us can't do that, right?"
She completely ignored him, her dark wings spreading wide as she caught a updraft and launched into the morning sky.
Below, a young guard named Julian watched her dark silhouette soar effortlessly over the city rooftops.
"So... she can fly," Julian murmured softly to himself. "Neat."
🌾 **In the Agricultural Fields**
"Does anyone here know what nitrogen, phosphate, or calcium are?"
Stacian stood on an upturned wooden crate, scanning the gathered crowd of several dozen local farmers. She was met with absolute, blank stares and utter silence.
She let out a quiet sigh, rubbing her forehead.
"...This is going to take a while."
*One Hour Later*
The air above the fields smelled heavily of rich compost, damp earth, and honest, hard labor.
Stacian knelt in the dark soil, using a sharp stick to sketch detailed crop diagrams directly into the dirt while the farmers crowded around in a circle.
"It's called the Three-Field Rotation System," she explained, tapping the ground with the stick. "One plot for wheat or rye. One plot for nitrogen-fixing legumes like beans or peas. One plot left fallow to rest. You rotate them every single cycle without exception."
She pointed to various marked piles beside the field. "Potassium from wood ash. Phosphate from ground bone meal. Crushed lime neutralizes acidic soil. And as for manure—go easy on the application, or your crop roots will literally burn and rot."
"You're telling us this is considered *basic* knowledge?!" one elderly farmer cried out in sheer disbelief, holding a handful of enriched dirt.
Stacian smirked slightly. "Farming is no different than waging war."
"But... but we're just simple farmers, milady!" another voiced.
"You are far more important than any line of armored warriors," Stacian declared firmly, her voice carrying across the field. "Without food, an army starves. Without an army, a kingdom falls. You feed the world."
The farmers stared at her in stunned silence for a brief moment.
Then, breaking into wide grins, they erupted into wild, deafening cheers.
🟫 **Castle - Audience Chamber**
Leornars entered the grand chamber with smooth, silent steps, his hands tucked loosely into his coat pockets.
"Is there an abandoned graveyard near the city perimeter?" he asked without preamble.
King Edmund blinked, caught off guard. "A... graveyard?"
"I need laborers to construct the new irrigation channels," Leornars said calmly. "Undead workers don't complain, don't demand wages, and don't take lunch breaks."
His sharp gaze shifted over to the standing chancellor, whose face was still bruised from his earlier encounter with Stacian. "You look significantly worse than usual. Who beat you up?"
"You heretical scum—!" the chancellor snarled, taking a step forward.
"I wonder what you are even doing in this room," Leornars said coldly, his voice dropping into a deadly register as his eyes ignited into a burning crimson glow. "Can you leave us?"
The chancellor flinched violently as the intense bloodlust washed over him, his face turning pale as he hurriedly stumbled out of the audience chamber, slamming the side door behind him.
King Edmund watched him leave, then turned his attention back to the young man before him. "I know there's something specific you need from me, Leornars. Am I wrong?"
"You are a smart one," Leornars said, stepping closer to the dais. "I'll get straight to the point. I need two thousand six hundred square miles of land. I know your nation spans well over a hundred and sixty thousand miles total, so I am asking for only a minor fraction. However, it must specifically border the sea, the Spirit Forest, and the northern wasteland. That's all I want."
"I can easily arrange a royal decree for that," the king replied smoothly.
"No, no, no," Leornars interjected, shaking his head slowly. "Words are merely words... Lies and truth are both built from the exact same language, depending entirely on how you construct them. I am far from naive enough to fall for verbal promises. I require an official, binding magic contract stating that I own the land outright. It must no longer be considered a part of your nation, meaning it will need to be permanently removed from Lurtra's maps and sovereign territories."
Without waiting for an invitation, Leornars casually sat down cross-legged right on the polished floor, staring up at the monarch with unblinking red eyes.
King Edmund stared at him for a long moment... and then burst into a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the stone walls.
"I severely underestimated you," the king said, his laughter fading into an appreciative smile. "Now I see what you truly are... you are utterly terrifying."
"I despise lies," Leornars said casually, leaning back on his hands as he prepared to stand up. "Underestimate me again, and your entire nation will end up as my personal property."
"That, I will gladly keep in mind," the king replied gravely.
"And I need my land officially deeded to me in precisely two weeks from today," Leornars added as he turned toward the exit.
As the heavy doors closed behind the White Plague, King Edmund stared at the empty floor, lost in thought.
*Take over my nation? I have no doubt he possesses the capability to do it... but will he actually push it that far?* the king pondered silently.
"You have two weeks."
**Streets of Lurtra**
Leornars walked slowly down the cobblestone alleyways with his hands clasped behind his back, deeply lost in his own thoughts.
*Tap. Tap.*
His index fingers rhythmically struck against his thigh as he mentally calculated trade routes, crop yields, and structural layouts.
Then—
"Hello, Plague Boy."
Leornars halted instantly, his train of thought shattered. He slowly raised his head.
A tall man clad in dark, flowing robes stood at the end of the narrow alley, his face heavily obscured beneath a low hood.
"...And who might you be?" Leornars asked dryly.
"Zaryter Daternum," the man replied with a smirk, lowering his hood slightly to reveal sharp eyes. "Black Acer."
Leornars narrowed his eyes, his posture subtly shifting into a combat stance. "So... you're here to abduct me?"
"You're sharp," Zaryter said, taking a casual step forward. "Just as he said you'd be."
*Oh, so you aren't the man in charge, just a sacrificial pawn, huh? I can definitely use that to my advantage,* Leornars thought silently, his fingers creeping toward his coat.
Zaryter suddenly lunged forward, his body blurring with incredible speed as he reached out a hand.
*SCHWING—!*
In a fraction of a microsecond, Leornars drew his twin daggers, dark steel flashing under the moonlight as he met the attack head-on.