In the Northern Lands, the greatest challenge was food.
Yet, Ryan never imagined that on his very first day arriving in his own territory—before he had even begun contemplating how to exploit his subjects—he would already be confronted with this food crisis.
*Here I am, a noble lord, and I'm actually expected to figure out how to get you lot some bread?*
*Apparently, yes.*
Ryan sighed, gazing at the transparent panel floating before him; the "Spirituality" counter displayed upon it was rising, bit by bit.
10... 11... 12... 13...
The final tally reached thirty-five. Observing the twenty-six villagers standing before him, Ryan began to grasp the source of this Spirituality influx.
With twenty-six subjects, eight squire-knights, and one elderly steward present, the underlying principle became immediately clear:
Each subject contributed one point to his Spirituality total.
But what, exactly, was the use of this Spirituality? Could it allow him to conjure food out of thin air?
He didn't know if that was possible in principle, but it certainly wasn't an option right now; Ryan could sense that he required a much higher level of Spirituality before he could unlock whatever latent function lay dormant within the system.
"Go—summon every single villager in this settlement."
Regardless of what the village had been called before, from the moment Ryan arrived, it was officially christened "Frozen Earth Village."
Standing nearby, Deren instinctively took a step forward. With his burly, imposing physique, he appeared to the villagers as nothing short of a terrifying beast.
The crowd of villagers scattered in a panic, but Deren managed to seize one of them, using him to coerce the rest into gathering together.
Before long, at the very heart of the village—near the communal millstone—
Ryan stood face-to-face with every single subject within his barony.
Each of them was bundled up tightly, though not in fine garments; rather, their clothing was woven from coarse tree fibers. Only a select few were clad in garments woven from beast hides; their status stood in stark contrast to that of the others around them.
Poverty and cold—Ryan finally realized the true state of his domain.
Fortunately, seeing that his Spirit stat had climbed into the nineties, Ryan decided for the moment not to be overly harsh with the villagers here.
One hundred and twenty-five people in total: thirty-one elderly folk who looked as if they were on their last legs, exactly ten children half his age, plus the twenty-odd people from before—all combined, this village had yielded him eighty-four points of Spirit.
"Ninety-three points of Spirit... still seven points short of triggering a change."
Feeling a touch of helplessness, Ryan temporarily set the matter of his Spirit stat aside and turned his gaze toward the villagers of Frozen Earth Village.
"Who is the village chief?"
A toothless old man, leaning heavily on a walking stick and supported by a middle-aged man at his side, stepped forward and knelt before Ryan.
"This humble one, Hamiti, pays his respects to the Lord."
"Rise. Is the man beside you your son?"
Ryan glanced at the middle-aged man standing next to the old chief, Hamiti—the younger Hamiti.
"He is."
"From this day forth, he shall be the village chief of Frozen Earth Village."
"Huh?"
Seeing Ryan frown, the middle-aged man beside Hamiti immediately knelt once more, pressing his forehead against the freezing ground.
"I thank you, my Lord."
Here was an old man who likely wouldn't even survive the coming winter; Ryan simply couldn't imagine him being fit for any actual work, so he decided to replace the village chief outright. Such matters were of no great consequence; as the Lord of the Frozen Earth Barony, he wielded absolute authority—indeed, it would be no exaggeration to say that these villagers were his personal property.
After dismissing the surrounding villagers, Ryan kept only Hamiti behind. The middle-aged man stood before Ryan, appearing visibly tense and apprehensive. "Surely you aren't going to tell me that my baronial stronghold is *up there*?"
Ryan pointed northward, toward a mountain peak resembling a rhinoceros horn. Perched atop it—visible even from where they stood—was a fortress; it had likely been commissioned and funded by the Empire back when the Northwind Province was first conquered.
However, gazing at the blizzard raging across the sky and the fortress that had clearly lain uninhabited for who knew how many years, Ryan couldn't help but inwardly curse the people responsible for building it.
He could tell at a mere glance just how bitterly cold it must be up there.
"Those damned parasites! Is this really how they do their jobs while drawing a salary from the Empire?"
Standing nearby, Hamiti dared not speak up, offering only a hushed reply:
"Rumor has it... It's because the view from up there is so beautiful."
Just because the view is beautiful, does that make it fit for human habitation? Ryan certainly didn't feel his current physical constitution was up to the task of living there.
"Aside from you lot—this group of a hundred or so people—are there no other inhabitants in this Frozen Earth territory?"
Hamiti shook his head. "It has been a long time since the Frozen Lands had a Baron. The village used to number several hundred souls, but gradually, those with marketable skills began to leave. The villagers were all free men; provided they were careful enough to avoid being captured and enslaved, their skills allowed them to survive in the territories of other lords."
"Later, a group of blacksmiths and carpenters departed. Once they had settled down elsewhere, the rest of the villagers slowly followed in their footsteps."
Having listened to this account, Ryan remained silent for a moment before issuing an order to Dren:
"Head back the way we came and bring back two kills from the hunt. Then, go look for them—weren't there those bandit gangs made up of escaped slaves roaming about earlier? Tell them that if they come here, I will grant them the status of free men!"
Upon hearing this, Dren could not suppress his shock. "My Lord, those dirt-poor rabble ought to be burned alive!"
"Do you not understand my words?!" Ryan fixed his gaze upon him—a look so intense that it made Dren tremble and drop to his knees.
"I shall go at once."
Standing nearby, the old steward, Beard, had remained silent throughout the exchange; yet, the look in his eyes as he watched Ryan grew increasingly approving.
He felt that Young Master Ryan was truly beginning to carry himself like a true nobleman.
Due to the reasons Hamiti had described, many houses in Frozen Village stood empty. After Ryan issued a decree formally banishing those who had abandoned the village, these vacant dwellings became his new base of operations.
"Sooner or later, I will take up residence *there*!"
Ryan gazed up at the fortress perched atop Rhinoceros Horn Mountain, standing motionless and fully absorbed in his thoughts.
The Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Technique—the signature breathing method of the Clayton family. Ryan knew full well that if he wished to establish a foothold in these Northern Lands, he absolutely could not do so without possessing supernatural means.
And as a Lord, he certainly could not afford to be frail or weak. One day passed, then two, yet Deren—who had departed with five apprentice knights—still had not returned.
"They... surely wouldn't have run off, would they?"
Ryan asked Old Beard, gnawing on a piece of hard black bread.
"They wouldn't dare," Beard replied. He watched with a look of deep pity as Ryan—devoid of any emotion—ate the black bread; however, upon hearing Ryan's question, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
"Their families have all been granted the status of free citizens within the Count's domain. If they were to dare to flee, their entire families would be reduced to slavery. Moreover, even if they did manage to escape, no other lord would spare them should they be discovered."
Those who betrayed their masters faced a relentless manhunt across the entire continent.
Just as the sky began to faintly lighten on the third day, Deren finally returned to the Frozen Lands. He brought with him the carcasses of five elk and a group of over thirty vagrants—all battered and bruised, and stripped of nearly every stitch of clothing.
Ryan formally asserted his ownership over these thirty-four individuals—who had originally been slaves in other territories—and with that act, his Spiritual Energy rose to one hundred and twenty-seven.
[Spiritual Energy: 127]
Ryan felt as though, at any moment, he could expend his Spiritual Energy to open a gateway leading into the unknown.