[Cake]
Everyone stood in disbelief as the magician in front of them suddenly prepared for battle, holding a magic wand in each hand.
Yan, observing from the sidelines, shot Hazen a shocked look with her jaw dropped, a typical reaction for her. “M-master! A-are you… insane?!”
“…Oh, right. I almost forgot,” Hazen muttered.
Eight magic wands manifested behind him, rotating in the air and casting a dazzling light.
“How careless of me. One should never let their guard down, regardless of the opponent. Thank you for the reminder, Yan.”
“W-w-wha… what the hell are you doiiiiiiiiing?!” Yan exclaimed, her shock turning into fury. “You’re pointing your magic wands at unarmed civilians!”
“Yan, remember this. A true powerhouse isn’t strong only against other powerhouses, but also against the weaklings.”
“Quit trying to act cool!”
Ignoring the girl’s futile retort, the magician—or as the girl labeled him, the abnormal man—glared fearlessly at the onlookers.
“What are you waiting for? Come at me.”
“Eek… N-now you’re resorting to threaten non-resisting citizens with violence?!”
“Non-resisting? You simply lack the courage because I’m ready for battle. If I were unarmed, I imagine all five hundred of you would attack me at once.”
“I-I… ugh…” Bazod, the young man, involuntarily took a few steps back.
“For your information, I once took on 30,000 people alone. Handling all five hundred of you is a walk in the park for me. Don’t think you can make me back down with your numbers.”
“…Gh.”
What was this nobleman going on about? The burly young man couldn’t help but break into a nervous sweat.
“Bazod! Calm down.” In that moment, Daryl, beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, halting his agitation.
“Is your son a cowardly dog or something? He keeps barking but offers no bite. You might want to invest more in his training.”
“…Please accept my apologies on his behalf, your lordship. However, while it’s true that the previous lord reduced the tax rate at his own discretion, it was only by 10%. Even then, we couldn’t afford it. Just look at me, I’m skin and bones.”
The old man displayed his frail arms, appearing on the verge of tears.
Daryl was a veteran negotiator. With his frail physique and poor countenance, he could easily elicit sympathy from anyone—a trick he often used to plead leniency from the previous lords, leading to concessions for the people of the district. Sympathy was a universal emotion, after all, albeit varying in intensity from person to person.
Unfortunately, the individual before him hardly fit the human category.
“Lies,” the black-haired lord fixed Daryl with a piercing gaze.
“I-I would never dare to lie to you, your lordshi—”
“Your body naturally doesn’t build much muscle, does it? No matter how much you eat, you remain as thin as a skeleton. You exploited this trait to gain sympathy from the former lord, who was kind-hearted. But I’m familiar with human anatomy. You have some nerve trying the same ploy on me.”
“…E-even so, if you suddenly increase the tax by 10%, we won’t be able to afford it.”
“In that case, how are all of you still alive and well? Ah, let me guess, you’re hiding some secret stash, aren’t you? Wouldn’t be surprised, given the tax deduction, plus you still didn’t cough up the full amount.”
“No, we would never stoop to that. We’re barely scraping by, just the bare minimum of bread. Everything else has been handed over!”
Daryl continued his deceit. Hazen had hit the mark; each year, he’d only paid 80% of the taxes, pocketing the rest. He knew the former lord’s kind heart wouldn’t scrutinize him.
But he mustn’t confess.
He had to somehow lie his way through this situation.
“Then why didn’t you hand over those bread? Maybe then the former lord wouldn’t have disappeared.”
“B-but without those bread, we’d starve. Please, I implore you to overlook this small misstep…” the old man pleaded, tears streaming down his face.
But in a very nonchalant manner, Hazen replied, “Then why not eat cake instead?”
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