Baron's Son with -9,999,999 Reputation Point-Chapter 147: Cause the Clause
A fine spray burst from Loticentra, spreading evenly across the field like a steady, orderly drizzle.
Silvara sat to Anya’s left, legs folded, arms lightly crossed. She was holding back a smile—her eyes faintly wet, as if from barely contained embarrassment.
Anya stood between them, chest puffed out just a little, as though she were on duty.
Lucas stood at ease, one hand in his pocket, eyes following the stream of water as it washed over the rows of tomato plants.
In the distance, Geralt suddenly ran toward the edge of the field.
The spray had reached that far as well.
He stopped.
Stood still.
The morning air was cool. No one spoke for a while.
Anya turned, then reached into her item board.
She took out a small white stone, shaped like chalk, no longer than the tip of a little finger.
She turned to face Lucas.
"Young Master," she said in a solemn voice—far too solemn for her small frame.
"I wish to present the fruits of my conquest over letters."
Lucas held back a smile.
Her tone and word choice were completely at odds with her round face.
He let out a small chuckle.
"Very well," he said, inclining his head slightly toward her, sounding like an uncle humoring a niece.
"Then show me, O Iron Knight."
Anya’s grin stretched wide at once.
She sat down on the ground, carefully crossing her legs to avoid the mud, and began writing on her item board.
Stroke by stroke.
Neat.
Far neater than before.
Silvara glanced over. Her brows lifted slightly.
The name appeared clearly.
Lucian Voss.
The writing was clean. Straight. Almost like an adult’s hand.
But there was something strange.
The letter S.
Above it was a small added mark—sharp, pointed, like a tiny thorn deliberately carved in.
Anya lifted the board and showed it to Lucas, her face glowing with pride.
Lucas stepped a little closer.
"...Why is the S like that?"
Anya straightened her back. Her expression turned serious, as if she were explaining a piece of art.
"It is a symbol," she said softly, yet firmly.
"A symbol of Your evil visage."
Lucas’s eyebrow twitched.
Silvara immediately turned her face away, her shoulders trembling. She was clearly holding back laughter.
Lucas looked at Anya.
"...Am I truly that evil?"
Anya shook her head quickly.
"No," she said.
"Though your face is evil... you seem to be kind."
Lucas let out a small breath, almost relieved.
"But...," Anya continued.
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
"But?"
Anya lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked up again.
"I feel... that you are someone else."
Lucas blinked, slightly caught off guard.
"What do you mean?"
Anya tilted her head, thinking hard. Her lips puckered.
"You are not as you were before," she said quietly.
"In the past, I was very afraid of you."
Lucas said nothing.
"Now," she went on, "for some reason you appear like..."
She paused, thinking again.
"...hmm."
Her head tilted even further.
"Like a serpent that does not bite."
Lucas let out a dry laugh.
"Heh."
Sharp kid, he thought. But seriously—why a snake of all things?
Silvara stopped holding in her laughter. This time, she fell silent instead.
There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes.
Anya was the only child who had interacted with Lucas often since... the change.
It was natural that she sensed something amiss.
Lucas gently patted Anya’s head.
"Your observations are... strange," he said lightly.
"But thank you."
Anya smiled in satisfaction, as though she had just won an important battle.
Not long after, the spray stopped.
Loticentra faded away.
Lucas stood up.
He brushed off his trousers.
The sound of approaching hooves reached them.
Silvara rose reflexively, her steps following Lucas’s.
A luxurious wagon came to a stop not far from the field.
Anya pointed.
"Is that the well-dressed old man?"
Lucas glanced at her, then at the wagon.
Silas?
Then it clicked.
Tomorrow was the second harvest for the first batch.
The wagon door opened.
What stepped down was not an old man, but a young one, his expression faintly displeased.
He walked toward Lucas.
A Merchants’ Guild pin was fixed to his chest.
Lucas gave a small nod.
Right. He said someone else would come—not him.
The man stopped in front of Lucas and bowed—too polite, almost stiff.
"Good morning, Young Master," he said with a practiced, somewhat rigid smile.
"The place for the tomato harvest transaction has been arranged."
He produced an envelope and offered it with both hands.
"Inside are the coordinates, along with the appointed time.
We ask that you arrive accordingly."
Lucas accepted the envelope.
"Thank you."
The man bowed once more, then turned and left.
After taking several steps away, his thoughts raced.
There are many tomato trees. The quality is undeniable.
Yet the number of plants and the field’s breadth differ from what Sir Silas described.
Did he expand the field after that report?
He returned to the wagon.
This must be conveyed to Sir Silas.
The wagon moved off.
Lucas looked down at the envelope in his hand.
The Merchants’ Guild seal was still intact, hardened wax unbroken.
He broke it open.
Inside were two sheets of paper.
One small.
One larger.
Lucas unfolded the larger one first.
Inside it was another sheet.
Silvara stepped closer, peering from the side.
Lucas opened the paper.
Silvara froze. Her eyes widened slightly.
"...What?"
Lucas turned toward Silvara.
Silvara looked at the paper once more, then lowered it slightly.
"This doesn’t make sense," she said.
Lucas frowned. "Hm?"
"It’s too far," Silvara replied.
"And it isn’t within a territory that can be reached directly from Voss."
She pointed to a single line on the paper.
"The transaction is set at the Town Square of Baron Halden’s territory."
The name meant nothing to Lucas.
"...I don’t know any other territories," he said honestly.
"Just Voss."
Silvara nodded.
"To get there," she said quietly,
"we would have to leave Voss’s territory and pass through another territory first."
Lucas fell silent.
So that’s why.
"If we depart after the harvest," Silvara continued,
"we wouldn’t arrive until the following day."
Lucas immediately caught on.
"...A day late."
Silvara gave a small nod.
"Tomatoes can’t be left out in open air for an entire day," she said.
"Especially not in harvest quantities."
Lucas clicked his tongue softly. Damn it. Silas went straight for the clauses.
"Damn," he muttered.
"I can’t let him manage this field."
"Huh?" Silvara asked, her voice tightening with concern.
"What? Why?"
Lucas exhaled through his nose, then gave a thin smile, explaining the clauses he had agreed to back then.
Silvara’s brows drew together sharply.
"Are you an idiot?" she snapped.
Lucas just nodded.
"Yeah. I needed to settle Voss’s debts," he said plainly.
"And yeah—I was careless."
Anya looked up, glancing between them.
"Young Master... so you are an idiot as well as evil?"
Lucas glanced at her, then shook his head with a small laugh.
"No," he said lightly.
"This is a matter of merchants, Iron Knight. Now go—write again. I want my name written properly."
"UN!"
Anya nodded vigorously, sat down, erased the board, and began writing once more.
Silvara stared at Lucas, clearly holding herself back.
"You really agreed to something like that?" she said.
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp.
Lucas didn’t answer.
He stood there, shoulders relaxed, gaze lowered just slightly.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t defend himself.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
He had taken the risk himself.
Silvara exhaled, fingers curling at her side.
"You gambled without knowing the board," she said.
"And you did it alone."
Lucas remained silent.
Anya kept writing on her board, chalk scratching softly.
Her eyes flicked up now and then, watching the two of them.
They look like a matched pair, she thought cheerfully.
Scolding one another just like two disciples of the Iron Knight... hehe... heheh.
Her hand paused.
Am I truly an Iron Knight now?
She smiled to herself, imagination drifting far away—
far from contracts, clauses, and troublesome adults.
Lucas finally spoke.
"I’ll think about it," he said.
Silvara immediately snapped back,
"Don’t."
Lucas blinked.
"Stop thinking so much," she said, her voice firm—then suddenly lower, restrained.
"This time, I’ll handle the plan."
Lucas looked at her.
"You just—" she cut herself off, took a breath.
"...You just follow along."
Then, just like that, her tone shifted back to normal.
Calm. Flat. As if she hadn’t been angry at all.
Lucas frowned slightly.
"...What do you mean?"
Silvara looked away, already composed, arms folding neatly.
"Exactly what I said," she replied.
Not long after.
Footsteps approached.
Thriska arrived.
In her hands was the familiar mahogany box.
Anya glanced at it briefly.
Bread. She could already tell.
She returned to her writing, but her eyes kept lifting, watching Lucas and Silvara through the gaps between letters.
Silvara smiled at once—wide and unguarded.
Lucas noticed it.
That smile—
He turned toward Thriska.
Does Silvara’s plan have something to do with the Grimhelt knight? he thought.
