Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

Delusional Land is farther north than the City-State Alliance, so the snow here is naturally thicker than in other places. The vast majority of deciduous plants have become bare, and the few evergreens in the woods look mostly listless, as if they could buckle under the heavy snow at any moment. The only exception, perhaps, was the vegetation planted by the Green Dragon.

Ron wasn’t in the best of moods during this first winter. It wasn’t because of the snow—the climate in Delusional Land was actually milder than his hometown.

But there was no wall insulation, underfloor heating, central heat, or air conditioning here!

It was unbelievable. He, a Lord who was nominally a refugee, had somehow become the most delicate one! Even Ivendel, the most spoiled of his colleagues, could handle the cold better than he could!

”My Lord, come on, just tell me. What family are you really from?” The young nobleman from Cloud Port sidled up to him mischievously. Having grown quite familiar with Ron, he casually squatted in front of the stove and took the firewood from his hands. ”Don’t try to fool me with that ’fell from the sky’ story. It might work on Delaford and Klade, but I’m not buying it.”

”You must be from a southern family, right? I hear it’s much warmer down there, so it’s understandable that you’ve never experienced a cold spell like this. Then again, the traveling merchants say they got heavy snow down south this year, too.”

”You’d be better off believing my story.” What else could Ron say to Ivendel’s umpteenth attempt to get chummy? Fortunately, he was the boss now, so his word was law.

Three gentle knocks sounded on the office door. At Ron’s ”Come in,” a Moon Elf with pointed ears, long white hair, and lake-blue eyes entered. Jilannis had changed into a warm fur coat, the Sword-Singing Lion Armor still fitted to her right arm. A light dusting of snow on the Lion Armor rustled off as she moved.

”I knew you’d be here,” Jilannis said as she entered. Ron noticed something unusual about her today: the Elf Grand Mage now wore armor on her legs, and her torso seemed much bulkier than usual. While this might not have been a striking change on a human, it was obvious on the comparatively slender frame of an Elf. ”It may be cold outside, but even a Lord can’t just hole up in his room by the fire, can he?”

”What are you talking about? Wasn’t I just at your institute yesterday acting as your guinea pig?” Ron stood up and patted his clothes, the lingering warmth from the fire a comforting sensation. ”Winter’s here, so there’s not much official business to attend to. Holing up in my room is the proper way for a Lord to act.”

Speaking of which, Ron absolutely loved the pace of life in this world. Though even he couldn’t spare a moment during the autumn harvest, his reward was an entire winter of leisure. In this world of ice and snow, all farming, herding, and construction had to be postponed. Even progress at the mine had slowed to a crawl.

Ron was no capitalist, landlord, or slave owner. As long as his industries could meet basic needs and fulfill existing orders, that was enough. He couldn’t be bothered to arrange for any extra production.

Besides, in weather like this, even the traveling merchants had mostly stopped running their routes. Stockpiling that many goods would just mean letting them sit there.

”The last time you were at my institute was a week ago.” Jilannis’s lip twitched. ”I’m here today for a follow-up on your condition.”

Ron thought back for a moment and finally recalled the actual timeline. He obediently rolled up his sleeve and extended his right arm. There, in the crook of his elbow, a dark piece of jade reflected the firelight with a gentle luster.

This was one of Jilannis’s greatest research accomplishments. As the former chief researcher of the Hailan Empire, she had managed to replicate her work from her peak, even under the strained conditions in Delusional Land. She had even made certain improvements—though she herself called them compromises.

”No signs of rejection. It seems my approach is correct,” Jilannis said after carefully examining the jade embedded in Ron’s arm and then checking his overall condition. ”Individuals with a talent for Arcane Magic accept the procedure more easily. The post-operative side effects are also reduced, or even nonexistent.”

”Couldn’t it just be a matter of difficulty?” Ron said, recalling the scythe-wielder he had encountered in Carolina. ”Getting someone with no talent to cast Magic—even the simplest cantrip—is much harder than teaching a Mage to fight in close quarters. After all, going from zero to one is a completely different challenge than going from one to two.”

”That’s a layman’s opinion,” Jilannis said, rolling her eyes at Ron. ”Achieving a level of Martial Arts that can rival a Caster is not as easy as you make it sound.”

”Have you ever sparred with Sera? Do you really think a Caster would have a clear advantage?”

Ron couldn’t argue. A Caster who wasn’t fully prepared would have a hard time against a powerful Warrior—especially when that Warrior could close a ten-meter gap in seconds and then follow up with several swings of a greatsword the size of a door. The slightest lapse in concentration could mean a one-way trip to meet the Final Lawgiver. Ron had learned this firsthand many times during his training.

However, for the past few days, Sera had been complaining that their sparring sessions were boring, so she had taken to diving into the forest to go pick fights with wild animals and monsters. Given that the Chieftain had hunted far more terrifying prey in the Northern Lands, Ron hadn’t bothered sending anyone to protect her. He wondered what she had managed to catch these last few days.

Ron decided to change the subject. ”By the way, why the full getup today? You don’t need armor in the institute, do you?”

”Aside from the progress I can make with you, all my other work has ground to a halt,” Jilannis shrugged. ”In these temperatures, even a temperature-regulating Array is difficult to maintain, which makes it impossible to get accurate data. This is especially true for the Red Mould research. The cold makes them extremely sluggish, and I don’t want some experimental oversight to cause you all to misjudge their nature.”

The Elf Grand Mage snorted. ”It’s not like I have to publish papers or defend a thesis anymore.”

”As for this armor, I put an Enchantment on the inside to maintain my body temperature,” Jilannis said, tapping her chest, which produced a cold, hard echo. ”I’m sick to death of casting spells like Warm Belly Fire all day. This is a much more permanent solution.”

Seeing Jilannis’s gear, Ron felt a little tempted himself. He wondered if he should make a set of his own; with his current skill in Enchantment, creating a similar suit wouldn’t be difficult. But before he could act on the idea, the door Jilannis had just closed was kicked open. A figure burst in like a whirlwind, bringing with them a blast of frigid air that snuffed out what little warmth had finally gathered in the room.

”Ron! Look what I dragged back!” Sera’s characteristically booming voice made the eardrums of the three people in the room ache. The barbarian slammed the heavy burden from her shoulder onto the floor, huffing out visible puffs of breath from her mouth and nose. ”Come take a look! See if you remember her!”

Ron followed Sera’s gesture and looked down at the ground. The person was a human woman in her thirties, clad only in a thin Bishop’s Robe. Severe frostbite was visible on every exposed part of her body. When Ron turned her over, his eyes flew wide open. ”Isn’t this Priest Pergrande?! What happened to her?!”

”Quick! Go get Victoria!”