บท 4: The Normal Way to Govern like a Side Character Part 1
In the dimly lit tavern, the midday sun streams through the small, grimy windows, casting a hazy glow upon the rough wooden tables and worn-out chairs. The air is thick with the scent of ale and the muffled hum of distant conversations. At a corner table, a weary estate servant, clad in faded livery, shares a moment of respite with a weathered farmer, who looks as if he's spent more time tilling the earth than sitting in taverns.
The servant, with sunken eyes and a threadbare uniform, leans forward, his tone conspiratorial as he shares the latest gossip. "Hey, have you heard?" he whispers, glancing around cautiously. "We have a new lord again, apparently the lady Baroness has been deposed by the new lord…"
The farmer, his calloused hands nervously fidgeting with the edge of his patched-up cloak, responds in a small voice, "Is that true? I've heard the real lord, the son of the late Dromastus, has returned, so it must be true… The poor Baroness… It has not yet been two months since she began…"
The servant nods knowingly, his eyes reflecting a hint of bitterness. "Well, that's nobles for you. They will kill even their own kin if that is what it takes to be lord," he remarks, taking a sip from his mug as the murmurs of other patrons mix with the creaking sounds of the tavern.
As the low hum of conversation continues in the tavern, the door swings open, and a stout merchant strides in, his robes adorned with embroidered patterns that hint at wealth and prosperity. His eyes scan the room before settling on the table where the servant and farmer sit, deep in their discussion.
The merchant, with a wide grin that suggests both confidence and curiosity, approaches them. "If you don't mind," he says, pulling out a chair, "I've heard the lord of this territory has a very beautiful wife…"
The servant, looking up at the newcomer with a mixture of surprise and amusement, responds eagerly, "She is! Blonde hair, and blue eyes. She is almost like royalty, but clearly, a lord from the backwaters like this cannot have such a good wife! The lord must have hit the lottery!"
The farmer, his skepticism evident, takes a sip of his booze and interjects, "Lottery? They are all rigged…" He leans back, eyeing the merchant with a hint of cynicism. "No one has seen yet the mysterious wife, but only glimpses."
The merchant leans in, absorbing the details with keen interest, a smirk playing on his lips.
The servant leans in, a glint of excitement in his tired eyes as he continues the tale. "It is because the lord's wife is so beautiful people will momentarily forget their own mind!"
The farmer scoffs at the notion, his roughened hands gesturing dismissively. "Sorcery! Bah~! I don't believe it. You know most lords are sorcerers, aren't they?"
The servant counters with a shake of his head, "But from what I have heard, the lord's wife was a commoner, a merchant's daughter! It can't be that she's a sorceress. If she is, she won't end up a wife to some poor baron."
The merchant, undeterred by the farmer's dismissive tone, takes a seat at the table with an air of business. "I have a question," he says, eyeing the servant and farmer intently. "Does the lord dote on his wife? I have a few accessories that might interest your lord."
The farmer waves a hand dismissively. "Give up, this place is poor… And heck, for a time, we aren't paying taxes because of the lack of a lord. I hope things change now that we have someone to lord over us."
The servant, however, sees a glimmer of hope in the prospect of change. "Isn't that good? No taxes?"
The merchant chuckles wryly, shaking his head. "As if… War just ended, and bandits are on the prowl, not to mention all kinds of unsavory people. If the lord doesn't collect taxes, then his coffers must be empty. And if it is empty, he won't have any capital to invest in the guards!"
The farmer, swirling the last dregs of his drink in his mug, offers a grizzled nod. "You heard the merchant, boy… Taxes are not necessarily evil. If used in the right way, it can invigorate the city. When this place still had a lord, I used to earn good money because all of my crops got sold to the military."
The merchant, now seemingly more at ease with his company, chimes in, "You, dear sir, are right! Just by me knowing this place has not been collecting taxes for years clues me in on how much of a failed estate this is… I am sorry if that sounded offensive, but this place is actually very lucky for not being a criminally infested territory yet."
The farmer shrugs off the apology with a resigned smile. "It is because this place is the boonies of the boonies…"
The servant, still contemplating the implications of their discussion, poses a question, "If the lord has nothing in his coffers, then how can they still hire a servant like me?"
The merchant strokes his beard thoughtfully. "I reckon the new lords have brought money with them. One thing I learned about nobles is that they cannot live without their servants."
In a shadowy corner of the tavern, a solitary figure sits hunched over a mug of ale, his weathered face barely visible beneath the hood of loose, tattered robes. Despite the bustling activity around him, the old man seems isolated, lost in his own world.
Unbeknownst to the other patrons, this seemingly unassuming figure is none other than me, the new lord himself, cloaked in a meticulously crafted illusion that conceals my true identity. Behind the façade of the old man lies a careful weave of magic, allowing me to eavesdrop on the myriad conversations that echo throughout the tavern.
With a subtle flicker of focus, I hone in on the trio engaged in conversation—the farmer, the servant, and the merchant. Their voices blend into the symphony of murmurs and revelations that fill the air. I listen intently, drawing upon the threads of their dialogue as they discuss taxes, my 'accidental' wife, and the state of the territory.
I have a confession to make as to why I have returned here to the Dromastus Territory and taken the baron title for myself… It is because I want to live at least in luxury… If I want to live a normal life, then I will do it with a normal amount of luxury. Being a noble, I thought I might be able to have at least some luxury if I get to inherit the barony. I am its rightful heir, anyway.
However, after drunkenly impregnating Mia and a bit of more poking around, I realize how poor this territory actually is. The luxury that I am able to enjoy in the Estate Mansion is actually only possible because Mia still has lots of money in her.
Amidst the ambiance of the tavern, I rise from my seat, settling the tab for my drink with a flick of coins upon the counter. Exiting into the cool embrace of the evening, I find myself enshrouded in contemplation, the weight of newfound responsibilities pressing upon my thoughts.
As Baron Dromastus, the expanse of my territory unfurls before me—a domain comprising the Estate and its encircling tapestry of twelve satellite villages. It is a modest expanse, one that would suffice for the aspirations of a 'normal' baron. Yet, within this canvas lies the canvas of potential—a canvas that demands attention, innovation, and guidance.
The journey from the tavern to the Estate Mansion becomes a voyage of introspection. Contemplating the methods to breathe life into these lands, thoughts swirl like eddies in a restless stream. "Hmmm… I should govern this territory just enough for it to be self-sufficient," I murmur to myself, mapping out a strategy in the theater of my mind.
However, a peculiar notion arises, threading its way through the back of my mind. "I cannot be too incompetent or too competent if I want my life to remain normal." The realization hangs in the air, a delicate balance between striving for prosperity and yet not attracting undue attention or responsibilities.
The grand silhouette of the Estate Mansion looms ahead, a beacon in the darkness. As I approach the imposing structure, a sense of purpose accompanies me. The door creaks open, and I step into the quiet halls. Govern? How a 'normal' baron does even govern? The lazy part in me just wants to wing it, but I know better than not to mess up. Nobles are like pigs, right? They sleep, eat, shit, and fuck… Well, at least I have somewhat a template…
The brisk morning air carries a sense of anticipation as I make my way towards the office. It's only been a week since Mia and I formalized our marriage contract—a union borne of unexpected circumstances. As I approach the doorway, the hustle and bustle of the Estate Mansion grows palpable.
Entering the office, I'm greeted by the sight of Mia, deeply engrossed in her work. Parchment after parchment sprawls across the desk, her quill dancing across the pages with a fervor that speaks volumes of her dedication. In this world, it's customary for the wife to take an active role in her husband's affairs, and Mia seems to have fully embraced this tradition.
However, what catches my eye is the change in her appearance. Mia, once adorned with regal and luscious blonde hair, has opted for a more unassuming style. Her hair, now fashioned into a humble bob-cut, frames her face with a newfound simplicity. It's a departure from the luxurious appearance she had before, yet it radiates a sense of purpose and adaptability.
Approaching her desk, I offer a warm smile, taking in the transformation. "You've changed your hair," I remark, noting the shift in her demeanor.
Mia glances up, a flicker of surprise followed by a gentle smile. "Yes, I thought a change might be suitable," she replies, her tone composed yet warm.
The bob-cut, a departure from the extravagance she once bore, seems to echo a different aspect of Mia's character—a willingness to adapt and embrace the responsibilities thrust upon her. The shift in appearance reflects a deliberate choice, perhaps a symbol of her dedication to this newfound role as my very 'normal' wife.
The lord's office is a stately room adorned with rich mahogany furniture, intricate tapestries, and the soft glow of strategically placed candles. The air is imbued with a mix of aged parchment and the faint trace of magic, creating an atmosphere both regal and mysterious.
Seated on a plush sofa, I glance curiously at Mia, who is immersed in her work at a grand wooden desk. "But really," I inquire, "What's up with your hair?"
Mia looks up from her parchment, her expression serene. "I am a powerful Fatemancer, dear. I have seen many versions of yourself through my precognition alone, and all of them obsess about normality. That means I also know your preferences. This bob-cut hair makes me look more villager-like, isn't it?" She continues writing, seemingly unfazed.
"Is that so?" I mull it over, rubbing my chin. "Do you use magic on your face? I wandered around a bit, and I realize people who have seen you have a tendency to forget your face. We have a deal not to publicly practice magic."
Mia glances at me, her eyes shimmering with a subtle amusement. "It is fine as long as I am not caught… And save yourself the trouble, I know you have rigged your territory with your magic… If that's not publicly practicing it, then which?"
I lean back, acknowledging her astuteness with a wry smile. "I guess it is 'private practice' as long as no one catches on to it."
Standing up, I survey the contents of the parchment spread across Mia's desk. Requests for stonemasons, carpenters, and various laborers suggest a meticulous approach to territory management. "What are you doing?" I question, a hint of teasing in my voice. "You are a control freak… My very 'normal' wife is already usurping my authority, and it's not even a day since we are married."
Mia, undeterred, meets my gaze with a composed smile. "You will be thankful. I am very good at territory management… I am a former princess, mind you."
I chuckle, unable to resist a playful jab. "Yep, a princess on the run from the authorities."
Her eyes glint with a touch of defiance. "A princess that you promised to protect."
I interject, correcting her with a smirk. "Correction. A promise to my normal wife and normal child."
Mia raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her tone. "So tyrannical. So when I stop being 'normal,' will you readily abandon me?"
I flash a grin, unapologetic. "Yes." The words hang in the air, and I can't help but sigh inwardly. Is this how a side character should act?
As the days unfold in the Estate Mansion, I find myself leaving my 'normal' wife alone, trusting her capabilities and occasionally checking in on her endeavors. Mia, once the enigmatic villainess in the novel of <Hero Ender>, has seamlessly taken the role of protagonist, immersing herself in the intricacies of territory management. I've come to understand her character well through the pages of the narrative, and her affinity for governance aligns perfectly with the responsibilities she's taken on.
In this peculiar twist of fate, I've willingly embraced the role of the side character—a departure from the conventional narrative. I let Mia busy herself with the demands of the estate, aware that she revels in the challenges of overseeing stonemasons, carpenters, and the myriad tasks that come with managing the territory. It's a dynamic shift, and I can't help but marvel at how seamlessly Mia has stepped into the limelight.
I leave my 'normal' wife alone for some time, occasionally checking on her if she has done anything crazy. I let Mia busy herself. I know her character well in the novel, and that's why I know that she likes managing territories and stuff. If my life is a novel, then I reckon Mia is now the protagonist, and I am her side character. Is this how a side character normally governs? I think it is! I am loving it! I can loaf around as much as I like!
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