Leech stood outside the stables. The Rage-Mane stallion he usually rode lay on the ground, its legs weak, apparently pondering its existence.
The mares had fled to a corner of the paddock, trembling as if the stallion were a terrifying monster.
Following his instructions, Barrel the chef had mixed maltose with flour, added a pinch of Life Grass, and steamed it all into a sweet, potent medicine.
The test subjects were, naturally, the horses in the paddock.
The Rage-Manes were a superior breed of warhorse, tall and powerfully built. As a variety of East-Gorge warhorse meticulously bred by the Grooms, they combined the advantages of many warhorse types, resulting in a highly receptive bloodline and an exceptionally loyal and intelligent disposition. The packhorses Leech had bought with Silver Coins looked tiny standing beside this one.
But for Leech, the Rage-Mane's superior bloodline wasn't the most important thing right now; the number of horses was.
The Rage-Mane mare was tied up elsewhere. She would be responsible for preserving the bloodline; any horse that bred with her had to be a warhorse, at the very least.
'The potency is still too high. I'll have to crush the Life Grass into a juice and dilute it with two large basins of water for the next batch.'
'If a horse can't handle it, a person certainly won't.'
After instructing Barrel to continue diluting the special medicine—and warning him that under no circumstances was it to be accidentally ingested—Leech mounted the Rage-Mane mare and left the castle.
The reclamation of the wasteland to the north should be nearing completion. Soon, it would be time for sowing, and they could use the light plows he'd had the blacksmith forge.
From a distance, he could see the small tents the slaves had set up for shelter.
In exchange for a meal of black bread from Leech, some local farmers had eagerly volunteered to act as guards.
The castle's black bread was enough to fill their stomachs, and they could even save some to take home to their families.
"My Lord!"
Seeing their lord arrive, a farmer immediately ran over to take his horse.
Leech looked around. The slaves were leisurely picking up stones from the ground. Even knowing their master had arrived, they didn't speed up. Some slaves would just bend over, pick up a single, fist-sized stone, and then walk it to the side.
He frowned. "Why isn't this finished yet?"
By his estimation, he should have seen a group of slaves resting after finishing their work today, not a plot of wasteland that was only three-fifths cleared.
"We've already used whips and clubs," the farmer explained. "But these slaves are too lazy. They work at a snail's pace all day and slack off whenever we're not looking. Some even hide and take long naps. The only time they run is when it's time to eat black bread. They are wasting your benevolence and your black bread."
"Where is Ark?"
The farmer answered, "He's in his tent."
"Have him come see me."
The lame man emerged, supported by his eldest son, with his younger son and daughter following behind him.
"Good day, my master." Ark knelt on the ground, and his three children immediately followed suit.
"You should know why I've summoned you," Leech said, looking down from his horse at the kneeling, lame man. The difference in their height mirrored the difference in their status.
"My deepest apologies, my master."
The man prostrated himself on the ground. "Most of them have physical ailments. They need rest, and besides…"
"So you think they should be eating my black bread while taking a leisurely stroll? I'm worried their daily level of activity isn't enough to help them digest it."
Leech said, "I chose you to guide them, to make them useful. Otherwise, you could all be toiling in a sunless mine or facing frenzied lions in a fighting pit. In any case, you wouldn't be here, sunbathing and napping in the afternoon without a worry about going hungry."
Ark said, "I... I will make them finish as soon as possible."
Leech sighed. He actually had a decent impression of Ark, who was cultured and knowledgeable, unlike the other slaves who didn't understand the common tongue. But the man's management skills were a disappointment.
'It seems I need to find a new slave manager.'
"They won't listen to my father! They say he's just a cripple and they don't have to obey him." The little girl lifted her head, wanting to look Leech in the eye to prove she was telling the truth, but in the end, she only dared to stare at his boot, her gaze not moving any higher. "They also said that here, they have food and drink, and the farmers wouldn't dare beat them to death because they're your property. So as long as they do some work every day, the noble master won't care how much."
Ark quickly reached out and pressed down on his daughter's head, stopping her from saying more.
"Your family seems to have a fine tradition of speaking out of turn. I suppose it's in your blood," Leech said, not bothering to reprimand a little girl. Besides, he found that the girl was much more straightforward than her father.
'It's not easy for a cripple to be a manager. I can guess what he's weighing. Ark probably doesn't want to offend the other slaves, but that infringes on my interests as their lord. Whether his position is awkward isn't my problem. As their lord, I just need to choose someone to solve the problem. If they can't, I'll just find someone else.'
He asked, "What's your name?"
"Arkke," the girl said, her eyes still fixed on his boot.
"Alright, Arkke," Leech nodded. "Can you tell me who was the first one to say these things?"
"It was Black Pig!" she said, ignoring her father's objections. "Black Pig is the strongest of the slaves. Everyone listens to him."
'So the troop of monkeys already had a king. No wonder the new one I appointed wasn't accepted.'
"Ark, your daughter is braver than you are," Leech said. "I expect you to get these dozens of people under control. I promised there would be bread to fill your bellies, but that doesn't mean I'll let myself be treated like a fat, gullible pig just because I'm reluctant to lose a few slaves I bought with Silver Moons."
"Yes," Ark mumbled, prostrated on the ground, not daring to lift his head. He was well aware of how cold-blooded nobles could be, and he knew this noble was about to demonstrate that cold-bloodedness.
"Go bring me Black Pig," Leech commanded.
Black Pig was a beefy, thick-waisted slave. Leech guessed that before he was enslaved, he might have been a Mercenary, or perhaps a strongman… the kind that performs in stage comedies.
"Master," Black Pig said, kneeling on the ground.
Leech stared at Black Pig for a moment, then asked, "What do you think of my Porcupine Territory?"
Black Pig answered, "Master is most benevolent. You have given us food and allowed us to live here."
Leech retorted, "And this is how you repay me? By organizing everyone to slack off, comfortably eating the bread I provide? And taking me for a fool?"
"We all follow Ark's orders," Black Pig replied, glancing at the lame man prostrated on the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I thought you might say Ark isn't fit to lead these people, and that you are," Leech said. "You have less courage than a little girl. And with those words just now, are you trying to make a fool of a nobleman?"
Hearing this, Black Pig's expression changed drastically. He lowered his head. "Master, I…"
Leech turned to the lame man. "Ark, among your people, what is the punishment for someone who fools his own master, and even deliberately harms his master's interests?"
Black Pig was already drenched in sweat upon hearing these words.
Ark raised his head and said, "Death!"
'I thought he'd say a severe beating,' Leech mused. 'But thinking about it, a slave's value is their healthy body. A disabled or seriously injured slave would have to be fed and cared for by their master, and the cost of that support would be enough to buy a new slave.'
'Or perhaps Ark is planning to use this opportunity to establish his own authority.'
'The old monkey king must be killed for the new one to take the throne.'
'In any case, I don't intend to interfere.'
"Master, I was wrong! Please spare me!" Black Pig screamed, begging for mercy. He tried to struggle, but several farmers rushed forward and held him down. Supported by his son, Ark walked toward Black Pig, picked up a large rock, and brought it down hard on the back of his head.