The Lord Just Wants to Have Fun

Delpharos sighed as he observed Philip’s crafty expression.

“I’ll offer you better terms than them.”

Honestly, he could have haggled a bit more, but he chose to back down.

Philip was someone who could come up with unpredictable and ingenious inventions at any time. It wouldn’t be wise to antagonize him.

In the end, Delpharos agreed to add a 10% margin on top of the original distribution cost.

Philip did a quick calculation and found the offer reasonable, so he accepted.

“Lord Philip, I feel like if you had gone into business instead of becoming a noble, you would have been immensely successful.”

“Haha, but no matter how good I am, I could never match a merchant master like you.”

With the contract settled, they continued conversing about various topics.

Then, Delpharos let out a complaint.

“Sigh… More than anything, the refugee problem caused by the drought is becoming a headache.”

“Hmm? What about them?”

“Because they can’t find jobs, many refugees have turned to pickpocketing, theft, and street brawls, worsening the city’s security.”

Although it had rained recently, the prolonged drought before that had affected not only the Arteria Kingdom but the entire Laterranian Continent, creating a massive refugee crisis.

Some refugees had settled in remote areas such as mountains and forests, becoming slash-and-burn farmers.

However, a significant number had migrated to cities where work was available.

Even Campania, the wealthy trade city, had seen an influx of refugees.

“The city authorities have increased patrols to maintain order, but the fact remains that honest merchants are suffering losses due to these refugees.”

“Then why not create jobs for them? They could work as laborers for fortifications, road construction, or shipbuilding.”

“Heh… Do you think we haven’t tried? We’ve reached our limit.”

Since they could no longer hire any more refugees, Campania’s city authorities were even considering hiring mercenaries to drive them out.

But if desperate refugees rioted in resistance or set fires in the city, the damage would fall entirely on the citizens and merchants.

Thus, the city leadership was at a loss on how to deal with the issue.

‘A massive influx of refugees… This is just like the war refugee crises on Earth.’

Philip clicked his tongue in thought.

Then, his eyes gleamed.

Unlike Campania, the Baron Brandel domain was suffering from a labor shortage.

“Lord Philip! The blacksmiths need more laborers!”

“The glass and soap workshops, as well as the carpentry shops and mines, are all requesting additional workers.”

“We need more hands to cultivate the wastelands!”

At every recent administrative meeting, officials had been complaining about the severe lack of manpower.

The more successful Philip’s inventions became, the more labor was needed to produce them.

While skilled artisans could be recruited from within the domain, plenty of unskilled workers were still required for manual labor.

Additionally, expanding saltpeter farms and increasing the cultivation of commercial crops demanded even more workers.

The slash-and-burn farmers Philip had rescued from the Prill Mountain Range had already been assigned to various workshops.

And on top of that, Carpenter, the commander of the domain’s military, had been urging Philip to expand the army in proportion to the territory’s growth.

‘This is perfect.’

Having made up his mind, Philip turned to Delpharos.

“How many refugees are we talking about?”

“I don’t have an exact number. But according to the city’s official records, at least 3,000 have been counted.”

“I see… Then, how about we take all of them in?”

Delpharos’ eyes widened in shock.

3,000 people was a massive number.

Feeding, clothing, and sheltering them would be a heavy burden even for a barony.

‘But… the Brandel domain is different now. With the profits from selling various products and the war reparations extracted from the Viscounty of Mirabeau, it’s financially stable.’

Delpharos could tell that Philip had absolute confidence in handling the refugees.

“Lord Philip… Are you serious?”

“Of course. I don’t make jokes about serious matters. I will even cover the transportation costs, so send them all to me.”

“If you’re willing to do that, we would be incredibly grateful.”

“However…”

Delpharos flinched as Philip added a condition to his proposal.

For a moment, he feared that Philip might make a troublesome demand.

“Send me a few skilled shipwrights. After securing Lake Valhas in the recent territorial war, I find myself unable to fully utilize its resources due to a lack of proper boats.”

“That much can be arranged.”

Philip had long wanted to build ships based on his own designs. Delpharos found this a reasonable request and readily agreed.

It wasn’t as if Philip was asking for elite shipbuilders who crafted warships or large trade vessels. Losing a few ordinary craftsmen wouldn’t hurt much.

“Of course, I can’t make the final decision myself. I’ll report this to the Head of the Trading Company and get back to you.”

“I’ll be waiting for good news.”

*****

Upon receiving Philip’s proposal, Delpharos hurried back to Campania to report to Francesca Callisto, the head of the Callisto Trading Company.

She was a platinum-haired elf, a symbol of pure elven lineage.

Currently, she also served as the Vice Chairwoman of Campania’s Autonomous Council.

“Baron Brandel proposed that?”

“Yes. I judged it to be a very reasonable offer.”

Dressed in an elegant silk dress from the Eastern Continent, Francesca tapped her pipe against the ashtray, shaking off the embers.

Delpharos grew tense.

“Madam… Do you not approve of the idea?”

Though she had been lounging like a relaxed lioness, a frown had formed on Francesca’s face.

Swallowing nervously, Delpharos reminded himself of one thing—his boss was dangerous.

She was 57 years old, which, by elven standards, was still relatively young, considering their lifespans were two to three times that of humans.

Because of this, many had ridiculed and envied her, assuming she had inherited her position due to her noble lineage and beauty.

But those within the company knew better.

They were painfully aware of how competent she was—and how terrifying her temper could be.

“I don’t dislike the proposal.”

She exhaled a puff of smoke, eyes sharp.

“If the refugee crisis is resolved, the company’s influence will grow, and so will my standing in the city government.”

But then she narrowed her eyes.

‘The problem is that it’s Baron Brandel leading the effort, not us.’

The Callisto Trading Company had profited greatly from their deals with Philip.

However, Francesca was increasingly annoyed that she was being led around by a young baron barely out of his teens.

“Delpharos. How long have you been with the company?”

“This is my 35th year, ma’am.”

“You’ve built quite a reputation during that time.”

With a smile, Francesca stood from her chair.

But Delpharos couldn’t smile back—

Because she suddenly kicked him in the shin with lightning speed.

BAM!

“Urgh…!”

“You’ve been here 35 years, yet you’re letting a 20-year-old brat manipulate you?”

“I-I’m sorry! I only wanted to secure profits for the company…!”

“Sure, we’ll profit for now. But what happens if that brat decides to switch trade partners later? Are you just going to sit there, sobbing into a handkerchief like a dumped lover?”

“T-That won’t happen! I’ll make sure—”

CRACK!

Another brutal kick to the shin sent Delpharos staggering.

Francesca’s voice boomed through the room.

“Nothing in this world is absolute! Even those who swore they’d never lose the Land of Paradise ended up burying their bones in foreign soil! Have you forgotten that?”

“No, ma’am… I remember.”

The ‘Land of Paradise’

A sacred land said to be flowing with milk and honey, home to the World Tree and the proud elven race.

For millennia, the elves had believed they were the chosen people of the gods, destined to rule this paradise forever.

But 1,000 years ago, during the Demonic Underground Invasion, the elves had lost their homeland to the demonkin.

That humiliation—the Exile from Paradise—was an unforgettable, painful stain on elven history.

“By the way…” Francesca’s lips curled slightly.

“The silver-extraction method from waste ore… wasn’t that something Baron Brandel taught us?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Francesca’s piercing gaze locked onto Delpharos.

“When someone provides us with such a groundbreaking technique, why didn’t you report it immediately? Someone that important should have been brought to my attention!”

“Well… at the time, I didn’t realize he was this significant… And besides, you were extremely busy…”

“Oh, so you thought you could handle it yourself?”

BAM! BAM!

She delivered two swift kicks to his shins, her expression cold.

“I’ll overlook it this time because of your past contributions, but if this happens again, you’re done.”

“A-ack! I understand! I will report even the smallest details from now on!”

After kicking him out of her office, Francesca took another drag from her pipe, deep in thought.

‘That young human baron… his ambitions are anything but ordinary.’

Winning a territorial war against a much larger viscounty, absorbing refugees, and now requesting shipbuilders—

It was all connected.

Lake Valhas might not have direct access to the sea, but the southernmost part of the lake was close to the coast.

If Philip expanded his domain in that direction, the next step was obvious.

“He wants to engage in direct trade. And once he accumulates enough wealth, I already know what he’ll spend it on.”

Outwardly, the Arteria Kingdom seemed peaceful.

But anyone paying attention knew the truth—it wasn’t stable at all.

The aging king wouldn’t live much longer, and the moment he passed, the noble factions—who had long been suppressed by royal authority—would rise up.

Philip Brandel wasn’t just going to remain an apostle of the Blacksmithing God.

He had bigger plans.

“…I’ll have to meet him in person soon.”

******

After returning to his castle, Philip summoned his retainers to inform them about taking in the refugees.

“Three thousand is no small number. Won’t this cause issues?”

“It’s fine. We’ll prepare food, clothing, and housing for them in advance.”

If supplies were lacking, they could buy more.

If they needed more homes, they could build them.

If security became a concern, they could increase the number of soldiers.

Money would be an issue—if they didn’t have it.

But Brandel had plenty of funds right now.

Philip’s calm explanation reassured his retainers.

But then, their attitudes suddenly shifted.

“Lord Philip! More than anything, the territory’s defense and security should come first! We need to recruit more soldiers!”

“What are you talking about? If we want to increase weapon and product output, we need to boost mineral production first!”

“Hold on! The blacksmiths need labor before anything else!”

The 3,000 refugees would likely include fewer than 1,000 able-bodied young men.

And now, every official—including Carpenter, the military commander—was fighting over who would get those 1,000 men.

Watching the chaos unfold, Philip realized something—

‘We’re even more understaffed than I thought.’

If their industries kept expanding, they would need even more manpower in the future.

Maybe he should take in even more refugees?

Campania wasn’t the only place struggling with displaced people.

He could absorb more of them, solve his labor shortage, and once they settled in, he could collect taxes from them.

It would even help him fund his personal projects later.

As Philip pondered the idea, something unexpected happened.

A semi-transparent scroll suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Oh?!”

“Lord Philip, is something wrong?”

Carpenter and the others, who had been arguing over manpower, all turned toward him.

Philip quickly considered how to explain this.

He decided to improvise.

“It seems… Lord Eldir is sending me a revelation. I must focus, so please leave the room for now.”

The retainers immediately obeyed.

A few even exchanged hopeful glances—

Perhaps their lord was about to receive another blessing or divine technique.

Once everyone was gone, Philip turned his attention to the scroll.