“Uh, Miss, how did I do?”
“Perfect!”
“Our territory needs talents like you!”
Irene immediately made the decision, her expression clearly saying, ‘It’s settled, Clarette!’. Even her voice was so excited it changed pitch.
She suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Clarette’s hand. The latter was startled by the abrupt movement, nearly spilling the teacup in her hand.
“Clarette! My dear Clarette! From today on—no, from this very moment—you are my right-hand woman! My Chief Administrator! All daily affairs of the territory are in your hands!”
Her eyes sparkled with the brilliance of someone who had found a savior. “You are the hope of everyone in our village!”
Clarette was a bit embarrassed by Irene’s exaggerated praise, her cheeks blooming with two rosy patches. But in her emerald eyes shone a bright light of being needed and recognized.
She set down her teacup and grasped Irene’s hand in return, giving it a firm shake. “Please rest assured, Miss! Leave it to me—there’s absolutely no problem! I guarantee I’ll get these ‘little scraps of paper’ sorted out perfectly!”
Irene was so moved she nearly burst into tears.
She nodded vigorously, and then, as if she’d put down a thousand-pound burden, her whole body felt so light she could almost float.
“But—but, Miss, even if I handle things well and the policies are implemented accurately, if there aren’t enough funds…”
As she spoke, Clarette seemed to recall something and reminded Irene.
Irene nodded, pondering, “Funding is indeed a big problem. I’ll think of something…”
After the extravagance in Eusebius City, Irene’s funds were no longer as plentiful as before. The problem of lacking money was right in front of her—was she supposed to return to her old ways?
Should she use ‘smile-inducing wild gambling’ again? But unlike the Royal Capital, the borderlands didn’t have any wealthy casinos, even in neighboring territories.
With so many mouths to feed in the territory, the expenses were no small matter.
She sighed softly. Was she really going to have to sell those rare magus books?
Irene actually liked those books a lot. Maybe it was because of the memories inherited from the Magus, but to Irene, those magus books she wrote were like her own children.
Sigh, she’d just have to take things one step at a time.
Thinking this, she glanced at the fine weather outside the window, then at Clarette, who was hard at work handling government affairs. A clear thought suddenly emerged in her mind.
“Leila!” she called out, her tone lighter than it had been in days. “Get ready! We’re heading out right now!”
Leila snapped out of her thoughts about Clarette’s astonishing efficiency. “Miss, where are you going?”
“To inspect the territory!” Irene’s voice was filled with the joy of breaking free from a cage. “Paperwork is dead, people are alive! The mess Vincent left behind—how can I rely solely on these cold numbers? Only by seeing it with my own eyes can I truly understand, and only then can our revival and reconstruction be real!”
How could Irene just toss aside such a mess? Before the territory improved, her dream of taking the girls out on adventures and bonding was dashed. Damn Vincent!
She hoped that after he was sent to the Royal Capital, he’d be executed along with his entire clan! Ah, no, wiping out the whole clan was too much—after all, she was technically his relative. Maybe just quartering, drawn and quartered, and a full Iron Maiden package would suffice.
Irene could be very vicious.
She declared loudly, “Have Ansel lead a squad of guards to escort us. As for Helga…”
She thought of the girl excitedly burying herself in ‘magus books’ day and night, and said helplessly, “Let her keep researching her ancient magus techniques for now—no need to disturb her.”
She cast one last glance at the desk that Clarette had organized like a work of art, and at the “genius administrator” who was eagerly picking up the next file. A sense of unprecedented reassurance filled her heart.
“All domestic affairs of the territory will be entrusted entirely to our Clarette!” Irene announced, her tone resolute.
Hooves thudded dully against the muddy, not-yet-dried road.
Irene rode a gentle chestnut mare, with Leila and Ansel flanking her on either side, slowly making their way through the heart of the Barony.
Once they left the relatively tidy area surrounded by the high walls of the Lord’s Mansion, the scene that unfolded before Irene instantly wiped away the light-hearted feeling she’d just gained from the inspection. In its place was a heavy chill.
Poverty.
That was the most direct, and most glaring, impression.
Everywhere she looked, there wasn’t a single decent, intact house in sight.
The situation in the fields was even more appalling. It was supposed to be a season of tender green after the spring sowing, but vast stretches of land lay barren, exposing grayish-yellow, impoverished soil.
The villages were eerily quiet, with almost no sound of chickens or dogs.
A few villagers repairing tools beside a half-collapsed mill saw the lord’s party from afar and immediately dropped their work. Their faces wore an expression mixed with numbness, fear, and humility as they bowed deeply, nearly burying their heads in their knees.
Their clothes were equally ragged, and their exposed arms and calves were covered in old work scars and frostbite.
Irene reined in her horse and dismounted in a relatively tidy open space at the village entrance.
A few old men and women mending a broken fence saw her coming and immediately stopped what they were doing in panic, standing there at a loss, their heads bowed even lower.
This left Irene at a bit of a loss herself. Weren’t these the same people who used to shout at her, ‘Witch, get out!’? Why the sudden change in attitude?
Respect was fine, but this was respect to the point of fear! What was with these people? How was she supposed to ask questions like this?
Just as she was about to speak up, now that she was closer, she heard—
“Sa… Saintess!”
This abrupt cry was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake.
The surrounding villagers were stunned at first, then it was as if some long-suppressed emotion had been ignited.
Those who had just been bowing in fear now all raised their heads. Their eyes, as they looked at Irene, suddenly burned with unspeakable awe, hope, and… blind devotion!
“Saintess! It really is the Saintess!”
“Goddess above! The Saintess has heard our suffering!”
“Please, Saintess, bless us! Save us!”
“……..”
The cries rose one after another, and more and more people poured out of the dilapidated houses, all with the same fervent expression.
No one knew who was the first to kneel, but immediately after, like wheat blown down by the wind, villagers all around the open space dropped to their knees one after another!
They prostrated themselves toward Irene, devout and humble, their foreheads pressed to the cold, muddy ground as they muttered prayers, all asking the “Saintess” for blessings, for disaster to be averted, for salvation.
Irene was completely dumbfounded!
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