Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 258

**Chapter 258:**

“Ugh… eurachacha. Kkuung. Ah, my back hurts.”

In the midst of the harvest, farmer Eric straightened his bent back with a groan of discomfort.

Contrary to his complaint, however, his face was radiant with an unyielding smile.

Even as sweat beaded and trickled down his sun-burnt skin,

Even as his back screamed in pain from swinging the scythe since dawn,

The dense, yellow waves of wheat spread out before him—something he hadn’t seen in his forty years of farming—translated all his hardships into a rewarding experience.

The fact that there was as much work left to do as the waves of wheat filling his field was, strangely enough, a source of happiness.

“Eric! Don’t rest by yourself, let’s take a break together! It’s time to work quickly! You’re not planning to rest only after doing your own field, are you?”

Leon, his colleague who was shouting nearby, seemed to share the same sentiment; his face was full of smiles too.

This atmosphere was not only spreading across the newly cultivated western wasteland, but laughter was overflowing throughout the entire royal territory, including the far reaches beyond the wasteland.

“It’s a bountiful harvest! A great harvest indeed!”

“Wow, look at these grains of wheat. I’ve farmed all my life, but I’ve never seen grains this plump.”

“And the rice, too!”

“This year we won’t have to worry about food!”

All this was the result of the magical fertilizer farming method, which had been implemented only within the Maclaine territory last year.

This year, not only the newly cultivated western wasteland but the entire royal jurisdiction and even the Esperanza territory were experiencing an unprecedented bumper harvest.

Moreover, with the taxes that had skyrocketed last year now reduced by 30%, the faces of the farmers, sweating beads as they welcomed the harvest season, were filled with nothing but joy.

The kingdom’s overall crop yield was no different from average years, but only the Maclaine and Esperanza territories, along with the royal lands, were enjoying this bumper harvest.

This situation, combined with the timing of the king’s purging of the nobles and enforcing new tax policies, sparked strange rumors.

“The lands blessed by His Majesty the King yield a rich harvest.”

While those with a bit of intellect might scoff at such nonsense, the number of common folk believing the rumor was steadily growing.

“The Maclaine territory had a good harvest last year too!”

“What about this newly cultivated wasteland having such a bountiful harvest?”

“Drought-stricken wasteland turned into fertile land, and now this unprecedented harvest…!”

Regardless of the logic or evidence, the change was too vivid in their eyes.

‘Our’ King is a divine being graced by the gods.

Amidst such rumors that had shifted 180 degrees from before concerning Logan and the royalty, there were still those who sighed in this changed world.

* * *

“My lord, it seems it’s going to be difficult.”

“…Is that so?”

Baron Trevold Dalton couldn’t help but sigh dejectedly upon hearing his retainer, Leto’s report.

“How much are we short?”

“After taking out 60% of the collected taxes for the royal tribute, it won’t even make up a third of last year’s budget for the territory.”

“Be more specific.”

“If the harvest is as expected, just the salary for thirty knights would exceed the budget.”

“Hmm…”

Baron Dalton’s face darkened further.

‘A lord unable to maintain his own order of knights. Is the King really intent on killing us nobles?’

Truth be told, the Dalton territory had always been on the poorer side.

Even when collecting 60% taxes and sending a third to the royal treasury, sometimes they would incur deficits—this mountainous territory had no choice but to remain a low-level rural nobility, unable to afford a residence in the capital.

Thus, when the tax system was forcibly shifted from 40% to 60%, financial ruin was an inevitable outcome.

“…I’ll have to appeal to His Majesty.”

It seemed better to at least plead their case than to die without voice.

But Leto did not seem to share his thoughts.

“My lord, you could bring disaster upon us. His Majesty already annihilated the opposing nobles in one fell swoop!”

Leto’s pale face clearly signified how dangerous the baron’s intentions were.

“I won’t do it alone. Other territories should be suffering as well, not just ours.”

“…You mean to appeal together with other nobles?”

“Yes, it’s the only way.”

“But, my lord. If we do so, we might end up like Count Jacques Huon….”

“Leto!!”

“My, my apologies.”

Leto bowed down, and Baron Dalton’s face hardened.

The story of ‘The Day of the Cleansing,’ when the King wiped out a revolt in one fell swoop, was a taboo among the noble families—especially in the Dalton house, which had considered joining Jacques Huon, albeit belatedly.

However, the shouting baron was no less worried himself.

‘The current King tolerates no opposition. If I submit this appeal, really… No, no. He wouldn’t cut off heads just for an appeal.’

The current difficult situation and the fear of the King were causing both turmoil and conflict in the baron’s mind.

Right at that moment…

Bang!

“My lord!!”

One of the knights burst into the office as if breaking down the door and shouted.

“A message from the royal palace!!”

Before he even took action, the previous conversation made the baron’s heart sink.

His anxiety only intensified as he entered the communications room with heavy steps.

“Are you Baron Trevold Dalton? I see you for the first time.”

A red-haired, red-eyed youth in the communication sphere.

Though the baron had never seen him in person, he could not possibly not know who it was.

“Y-Your Majesty. How can you personally…”

[Why? Did I do something I shouldn’t?]

With a gasp, the cold reply made the baron instinctively cower.

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. It is my honor just to be graced with your presence.”

[Is that so? Good.]

His calm tone gave the baron some relief.

But the moment of comfort was fleeting.

[But I heard rumors that you were thinking to side with Jacques Huon?]

“Such preposterous rumors!”

Struck by this thunderbolt, the baron sprang up still in a prostrate position.

“I absolutely did not, Your Majesty! Please believe my loyalty!”

The baron shouted with a face full of desperate resolve to cover his truth.

Sensing the sincerity, Logan chuckled and changed the subject.

[Very well. It’s just a rumor after all. I’m not contacting the baron directly just to talk about such rumors.]

“Say anything, Your Majesty! I will dutifully carry it out!”

[Is that so? Hmm. That’s good to hear. But this isn’t an order, merely a suggestion. Take your time to think it over and then answer.]

A suggestion?

From the King? To me?

…Why?

The sudden statement only added to the baron’s confusion, but an even more baffling proposition followed from the other side of the communication sphere.

[Baron, is managing your territory difficult for you?]

Yes. Very difficult, thanks to certain events.

That was what he wanted to say, but risking possible execution, the baron had to issue a cliché response.

“…I am merely recognizing my shortcomings.”

[Don’t beat around the bush. I’ve heard enough about the financial difficulties through the supervisors I’ve sent.]

What does that mean?

Could he possibly be offering help?

[Yes. Your conjecture is right.]

That, uh… What might that speculation be?

As the baron was lost in confusion, the King’s unexpected proposal came forth.

[If you wish, the royal family is willing to help with managing your lands.]

“…Excuse me?”

[The royal family will assist in the management of your lands, baron.]

The baron was too shocked to respond.

Wasn’t it the King who sought to seize and suppress the nobles’ rights?

Or was this also an elaborate trap for the unforeseen future?

As confusion piled upon confusion, the baron couldn’t help but ask obtusely.

“…Why?”

It was a childish question, as if throwing a tantrum.

‘What a fool I am…!’

Even the baron was startled by the blunt tone, unbefitting of the etiquette he learned as a noble, but the King on the other end of the communicator replied with a laugh.

[Why, as a King it is my duty to reach out to my subjects when they are in hardship, wouldn’t you say?]

At that moment, clarity struck the baron.

Too kindly a word for a King who massacred scores of nobles and led their houses to ruin.

“…What’s the condition?”

For the first time since the communication began, the baron spoke as if he were truly a lord.

The King merely laughed in response to his pragmatic question.

[Conditions? It is really just goodwill.]

“…If you offer help without conditions, I would be most grateful, but….”

That King would never do so without reason.

The baron looked at the communication sphere with anxious certainty, but an unimaginable answer came back.

[I will share with you the secret that brought a great harvest to the Maclaine territory, the royal lands, and the Esperanza territory.]

“Truly?”

For the baron, it was a vital proposition.

The great harvest in these three territories could not be seen as mere coincidence.

The foolish commoners might say it’s divine blessing, but it was far more rational to assume the King had a special method. Even Maclaine territory had similar harvests last year, as documents proved such.

Yet it was merely a logical possibility, not a truth that anyone truly believed in.

For if such a method did exist, it would be more appropriate to call it a revolution capable of changing human history, not just a mere secret.

Therefore, it wasn’t strange for the baron’s complexion to shift into suspicion.

“But do you truly have such a method? I find it hard to believe…”

He was flustered by his own words.

He had explicitly doubted the words of the slaughterous King, and the baron’s face turned pale with shock.

But the King in the communication sphere just grinned.

[Would I really speak of something nonexistent?]

“My apologies, Your Majesty. If you can share the secret, I will regard it as the honor of my lifetime.”

The baron, relieved, bowed his head, still blending a little sincerity with his lingering fear.

[But even with this secret, managing your territory won’t become easy overnight, given your financial difficulties, right?]

He was speaking to the very person responsible for that financial difficulty.

Though the baron received a promise of extraordinary generosity from the King, who now held complete power, he agreed honestly.

“Yes. Even if next year’s harvest is assured, it will still be difficult to sustain the territory for a year.”

[Right. So for that matter and my own request, I have something to ask of you.]

“Sir?”

The unexpected continued.

Why would the King have any ‘requests’ rather than orders for him?

The baron’s face became perplexed again.

[Would you send your order of knights to the royal palace? The financial burden, including their salaries, will be shouldered by the royal house.]

The King’s words made the baron’s face stern.

‘Of course. He wouldn’t just give away something for free.’

Knights were the foundation of a lord’s power, the very reason a noble house stood above the commoners.

Every noble, not just Baron Trevold, would think that they could lose everything else but not their order of knights.

But those words came from the king, the one who grasped unprecedented power and might in the millennium-long history of Grandia Kingdom, so the baron asked cautiously.

“If I don’t send my knights, will you also withhold the secret you mentioned?”

He posed the question timidly, avoiding eye contact.

But an unexpected reply returned.

[No. Creating a prosperous nation for its people is a proper duty of the King. The secret to a bountiful harvest will be shared, regardless of my request.]

The King was too agreeable, making it all the more difficult for the baron to respond. Despite feeling cowardly, for the sake of his house, he had to safeguard his knights.

The baron shut his eyes tightly and spoke even more cautiously.

“…I’m sorry, but no matter what, it would be difficult to send my knights away. I will try my utmost to find a solution.”

Obviously, if the King insisted, there would be nothing he could do.

‘Even if the King withdraws his support, I have to preserve the knights.’

The baron resolved to hold on by any means.

While bracing for a shout or cold disregard, a softer voice continued.

[Baron. Unbeknownst to you, there are threats both domestic and foreign against the kingdom. I intend to concentrate the kingdom’s strength to withstand every crisis.]

The baron recalled the recent war the King had personally started, but it seemed like a peaceful kingdom otherwise.

His tension eased from the gentle voice, prompting him to question the King.

“…What do you mean, sir?”

[Because this nation is no longer Grandia but Maclaine Kingdom.]

Suddenly, the baron could grasp a bit of the King’s perspective.

An upstart kingdom that had overthrown the old dynasty.

He remembered that neighboring countries could pick issues with that.

The following words shook the baron’s heart even more.

[I see this period of crisis lasting three years. A three-year assignment of your knights should be sufficient. Your knights will learn the Ironblood Sword Style and return much stronger.]

Not absorption but deployment.

And a chance to learn the famed sword technique that contributed to the Maclaine Order’s reputation.

[Will you grant my request?]

Furthermore, it was the King, with his absolute royal authority, politely addressing a mere rural lord like himself, making it hard not to sway.

In consideration, the baron felt a twinge of shame for being self-serving. Once he had thought it through, his decision was clear.

“I will heed Your Majesty’s words.”

[…Thank you.]

That afternoon, thirty knights from the Dalton territory set off immediately towards the royal palace.

Around the same time, knights from other territories who had received the King’s communication began to converge towards the royal residence as well.