The Money-Obssessed Archmage's Second Life As A Broke Duke-Chapter 49 - Let’s Open An Academy

Chapter Fourty Nine

"So..."

I smiled mildly at the three bandits that froze in their spots, glancing at the roasted meat laid out before us, "which one should I eat?"

Garrow went pale. "Your Grace! I beg your forgiveness. My subordinates have been—"

Crunch!

"It’s fine, Garrow." I dropped down beside the fire on bare snow without a care in the world. "Come. Sit."

[Ping!]

[Are you really just going to eat poisoned food, Host?]

Yes. It’s been an exhausting day.

"At least allow me to bring something for you to sit on—" Garrow started as I raised my hand, making him swallow the rest of his words.

"There’s no need, Garrow." I waved him over. "I’ve sat on worse."

Crackle. Crackle. Pop.

The fire crackled between us as I tilted my head, eyeing the portions.

"So," I asked pleasantly, "which one of these did you roast especially for me?"

"Your Grace! Please forgive my companions! None of the portions are poisoned. Please pick any you wish." The voice of the person who earlier hushed them rang in my ears as I gazed at the guy kneeling beside me. He was young and feeble.

Is this the kind of people Garrow left behind to protect such a large group of elderly, women, children and sickly?

Hah...

"There’s nothing to forgive, kid. I just want to eat what you’ve prepared for me from your hearts."

The young man’s head touched the frozen ground. He didn’t move. The two behind him looked like they wanted to bolt into the dark, but Garrow’s presence loomed over them like a mountain about to collapse.

"Your Grace..." Garrow began, his voice thick with a mixture of shame and disbelief.

"It’s okay, Garrow. Don’t scare the kids. They were working hard to prepare a meal for such a large group of people. Yet, the complain they had wasn’t about being overworked but the frustration of feeding the man who ruined their lives."

I picked up a skewer, the wood still hot against my palm. The meat sizzled, dripping fat into the embers with a hiss that sounded like a held breath.

[Ping!]

[Don’t eat. What if it’s really poisoned, Host?]

Poisoned, you say?

If it kills me, then my observation wasn’t enough. If it doesn’t, then their hatred wasn’t either. Survival isn’t built on fear of possibilities, Sysi. It’s built on observing, accepting risk and squeezing profit out of it.

[Ping!]

[What profit is Host getting from dying?]

Their guilt.

Look in their eyes, Sysi. They don’t have enough hatred for me to actually poison the food. They’re all like Garrow.

I bit down on the skewer.

[Ping!]

[What do you mean, Host?]

Didn’t you say you don’t understand why Garrow has 2 Likability Points?

[Ping!]

[Yes.]

That’s because they still haven’t let go of the gratitude they felt towards Veryon for accepting them into the North. Not killing them even when they turned into bandits.

Even if he didn’t do anything to improve anyone’s condition.

He never came up with anything to harm them. He let them live however they wished. He let them survive however they could.

[Ping!]

[But, the tax?]

Everyone knows it was Baron Vische’s idea. Plus, bandits don’t pay taxes. And, he never stopped the citizens from converting into bandits.

Neither did he make bandits pay taxes. Nor, did he hunt them down and take their life.

It’s like saying, I’ve given you the place you asked for, survive if you can.

[Ping!]

[We see.]

"It’s a logical frustration," I continued, taking another slow bite, watching the two kids trembling. It was tough, gamey, and lacked even a grain of salt, but the warmth was a godsend.

Oh god! I missed meat so much. So refreshing.

"If I were in their shoes, I would have probably actually poisoned the food rather than just spew words about it and then get caught later."

Garrow flinched as if I’d struck him. "Your Grace, they are young. They don’t understand the complexities of—"

"They understand hunger, Garrow. They understand the cold." I looked at the young man who was still trembling on the ground. "And they understand that the man sitting before them is the reason their bellies are empty and their fathers are in the ground."

I chewed and swallowed, the silence around the bonfire becoming deafening since the kids stopped chatting.

"Your Grace, please don’t execute them," the boy on the ground whimpered, shaking very badly. "I beg you."

"What’s your name, kid?"

"Lukas, Your Grace."

"And your friends over there?" I glanced at the two who looked ready to faint.

"Local and Oddball, Your Grace."

Local and Oddball? I stared at them for a beat. My God, the naming sense in this region is abysmal. How do they even come up with this shit.

Half of the time I’m just confused between Vizen and Vische. Then, there’s Eatassh. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

What a headache.

"How old are you guys?"

"I am nineteen, Your Grace. Local and Oddball are twins... they’re seventeen."

I turned my gaze toward Garrow, who was standing stiffly to the side. "You left teenagers to take care of such a large number of defenseless people, Garrow? You’re a terrible leader. These are kids. This is the age where they should be learning, exploring, and making mistakes."

Garrow’s jaw tightened. "Your Grace... there are not many opportunities for children in the North. Males must learn to fight and hunt to survive. Females must learn to cook and raise the next generation. It is the way of the North. It has been like that for generations."

"That is remarkably backward thinking," I said, tossing the empty skewer into the fire.

"With all due respect, Your Grace, this is not the capital," Garrow countered, his voice low. "There are no ’opportunities’ in the North. There is only the struggle to see the next sunrise."

"Then how about I create some? What do you say, Lukas?"

Lukas blinked, looking up with wide, watery eyes. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"

"Let’s open an academy for kids."

"Master!"

... How did he find me again? Ughhhh.