Chapter 34

The next morning, the convoy departed from the South Gate of Ironwood City.

Davis led a squad of knights at the vanguard. Behind him rolled Ophelia's mithril carriages, flanked by another squad led by Charlo, who rode parallel to Ophelia's window.

"I am curious, Viscount Charlo. How is such a flat and solid road surface paved?" Ophelia asked, gazing out the window at the smooth asphalt beneath the wheels.

"It is merely crushed stone and sand, mixed with water and mud, then flattened. A trivial mortal craft, unworthy of Lady Ophelia's eyes," Charlo replied, spouting nonsense with a straight face.

"Is that so?" Ophelia looked at him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I find it quite useful. The carriage hardly bumps at all on this road."

"If Lady Ophelia is interested, I can offer you the formula later. However, constructing such a road is arduous, consuming vast amounts of manpower and resources. As you can see, in all my years here, I have only managed to pave this single ten-kilometer stretch."

Charlo stared straight ahead, his tone calm and even.

"The House of Landon does not take by force. I will purchase the formula from you later! You may set the price yourself," Ophelia smiled, effortlessly deflecting his subtle defensiveness with grace.

The convoy traveled in silence. Soon, the Great Forest of Death appeared on the southern horizon.

The rolling mountains rose and fell like dancing dragons and snakes. The slopes were entirely covered by lush, verdant Ironwood trees, forming wave after wave of green. From a distance, it looked like an endless emerald ocean.

Even though winter was approaching, this green sea showed no sign of fading. Since recorded history began—through the Age of Gods, the Dark Era, the Dawn Era, and up to the present day—it had remained unchanged for tens of thousands of years.

Further south, they arrived at the Ironwood Logging Camp.

Built at the foot of the mountains, it had no walls, only dormitories for the workers.

The massive logging machines had been moved overnight, and the mana-saws were hidden away. The workers were now manually wielding axes and hand saws, sweating profusely as they hacked at the iron-hard trees. Efficiency had plummeted, but the deception was complete.

Ironwood trees were towering giants, reaching heights of over a hundred meters—the record stood at 187 meters. Their canopies were massive and layered, growing so densely that they blocked out the sun, turning day into night beneath their branches.

"We have arrived. This is the Ironwood Logging Camp!" Davis halted his horse at the front.

The convoy stopped at the perimeter, and the group proceeded on foot.

Ophelia walked alongside Charlo, listening as he introduced the facilities one by one.

Dormitories, canteens, warehouses...

Finally, they climbed a hill to overlook the operation. Ophelia watched as thousands of loggers, spread across several hillsides, heaved and grunted, taking forever just to fell a single tree.

"Viscount Charlo spoke the truth. To think you conscripted so many people just to harvest timber!" Ophelia exclaimed, looking at the army of laborers.

"After all, in this remote place, only Ironwood is worth any money. Of course, I must harvest it vigorously!" Charlo laughed.

"But I wonder... how do you feed such a massive workforce? The price of grain is not much lower than timber these days..." Ophelia narrowed her eyes at Charlo. Her blue irises flashed with dangerous light, like a cat finally spotting a mouse.

"Simple!" Charlo didn't panic. He smiled faintly. "Did you see the farmlands along the road?"

"Those fields... were all farms?" Ophelia paused.

"Of course... and more!" Charlo drawled, adopting the smirk of a greedy lord. "I have reclaimed vast tracts of land across the entire territory. All the slaves I bought were sent to farm. Therefore, the amount of grain I need to purchase externally is actually very small."

"I see..." Ophelia nodded, piecing together a logical (but incorrect) picture.

He uses slaves for farming and commoners for logging. Slaves don't need to keep a portion of the harvest; everything belongs to the Lord. He only needs to feed them enough to keep them from starving immediately.

As for how many slaves die of hunger or exhaustion? That doesn't matter.

Looking at the energetic, robust loggers (who were actually well-fed citizens and aspiring knights), Ophelia naturally assumed they were free commoners. "The commoners look so healthy and loyal. You truly are a benevolent Lord!"

"Haha! Logging Ironwood is hard work. They can't do it on an empty stomach!" Charlo laughed heartily, glossing over the term "commoners." Half the logging team were technically slaves working toward citizenship, but he wouldn't mention that.

"Next, I believe it is time for me to see... the Knights of Ironwood!" Ophelia changed the subject abruptly.

"Certainly! Please, take a good look!" Charlo agreed without hesitation, gesturing toward the training grounds.

Southeast of Ironwood lay a valley, naturally enclosed by mountain ridges into a flat basin.

Charlo and Ophelia set up an observation post on the hillside, looking down at the colorful flags and the imposing formation of knights below.

Infantry squares, cavalry wedges, and archer lines were arranged neatly. Each square contained a hundred men. Every single one was a supernatural knight. Although most were only First-Rank, their collective combat power was not to be underestimated.

They wore shining plate armor, reflecting the dazzling sunlight like a sea of silver.

"Truly an elite force!" Ophelia praised. "Just looking at their momentum, I would almost mistake them for an Imperial Knight Order! Viscount Charlo is indeed extraordinary to train these low-rank knights to such a standard!"

"Comparing them to a Knight Order is too early. But to receive such praise from you... I think they would be proud!" Charlo shook his head and smiled.

Currently, he only had a dozen Fourth-Rank Knights. How could he compare to a true Knight Order?

A genuine Supernatural Knight Order required a thousand members, all at least Fourth-Rank. Only at the Fourth Rank could a knight freely mobilize mana to join a Charge Formation led by High-Rank commanders.

Furthermore, a true order needed dozens of High-Rank Knights to lead it.

Only the Emperor and the Four Archdukes could afford such a configuration.

"I believe that under Viscount Charlo's training, they will eventually become outstanding knights!" Ophelia smiled at him. "With your ability, it is only a matter of time, right?"

Though phrased as a question, her tone held no doubt.

"...Yes. I can." Charlo looked down at the knights, his voice filled with determination. "I will make them all into outstanding knights!"

But they will be knights of a New Era, Charlo added silently in his heart.

______________________

Night. Ironwood Keep.

After the evening banquet, Ophelia returned to her room and activated the magical projection. The rotund figure of Archduke Fokk materialized in the air.

"Good evening, Father."

"Good evening, Ophelia!" The Archduke waved his large hand.

"Is the sales data for Ironwood ready?"

"Of course!" The Archduke smiled benevolently, the fat on his face trembling. "So far this year, Ironwood has sold timber worth 2,125 Imperial Gold Coins to us alone."

"Over two thousand..." Ophelia calculated.

Hiring a Grand Magus cost at most one gold coin a month. Even a Seventh-Rank Magus wouldn't cost more than ten.

Just by selling to the Landon family, Charlo had earned over two thousand gold coins. Who knew how many other Earls and Marquesses in the East were buying from him? He was indeed wealthy.

She recounted her observations of the day to her father.

After listening, Archduke Fokk stroked his round chin thoughtfully. "So, Viscount Charlo hasn't committed treason? He's just simply... rich?"

"That explains why he has been buying slaves so aggressively, regardless of quality. I see now..." The Archduke’s mind cleared instantly.

"What do you mean?" Ophelia asked.

"It's not a big deal. Viscount Charlo has been buying slaves in such large quantities that the market supply is tight," the Archduke chuckled. "I was wondering what he needed so many for. Your report explains it."

"You mean... Viscount Charlo uses slaves to farm, confiscates all the grain, and when that batch of slaves starves to death, he simply buys a new batch?" Ophelia frowned. "That seems... incredibly wasteful."

"Well~ How he uses his property is his business. Young people... always so eager for quick success. There aren't many slaves left on the market now. Once the last winter batch is sold, he will realize that slaves don't just pop out of thin air! Like crops in the field, they need time to grow back!" The Archduke laughed dismissively.

"Since Viscount Charlo hasn't rebelled, you should return after tomorrow, Ophelia! You need to prepare early for your enrollment at the Central Magic Academy!" The Archduke waved his hand, preparing to end the call.

"Yes, Father!" Ophelia nodded and closed the connection.