Baron's Son with -9,999,999 Reputation Point-Chapter 150: Well

The woman fell silent for a moment, her slender fingers gripping the rim of a porcelain cup that still released a thin curl of steam. Her left eye, its pupil faded, a sign of an immense magical burden, or perhaps an old wound that never truly healed, appeared clouded beneath the sunlight filtering onto the stone balcony.

She slowly pulled out the carved wooden chair behind her and sat down with deliberate grace, as though every inch of her body had been trained never to waste a single motion.

"Come closer, Morvy," she said softly to the white crane.

"Would you tell me about it? About that man."

The crane, called Morvy, lowered his neck slightly in respect before beginning. His voice was low yet clear, carrying news that had crossed territorial borders.

"This matter has shaken the nobles in that area, My Lady. Lucian Voss... challenged Aldric Rosevelt to a duel. And the reason was neither family honor nor some grand territorial dispute. He did it over nothing more than a plot of tomato land."

Vianna, the Archmage, frowned slightly.

"Tomatoes? Just for that?"

"Yes. But what became the talk of the nobles was not the object of the dispute, it was how he fought," Morvy continued.

"According to those who observed from afar, Lucian Voss was remarkably persistent. Even though his weapon was merely a hoe, a farming tool, somewhat oversized."

Vianna froze. The hand that had been about to lift the teacup stopped midair.

"Persistent?" she repeated inwardly.

"That man? The Lucian Voss I knew... persistent?"

Unconsciously, she raised her right hand and gently brushed the faded lid of her left eye. Her memories of Lucian were of someone shallow, arrogant, and utterly distant from the notion of struggle.

"Has that man truly changed?" she murmured, barely audible.

Morvy observed the shift in his mistress’s expression.

"O Archmage, Lady Vianna... does this news trouble you? If it brings you discomfort, I will stop."

Vianna lowered her hand and shook her head slowly. A thin, unreadable smile formed at the corner of her lips.

"No. On the contrary, I want to know more. Tell me, how did that foolish persistence end?"

Morvy continued.

"In the duel, Lucian Voss lost a great deal of blood. His wounds were severe, My Lady. By all physical measures, he stood on the brink of defeat. Yet he did not lose in the truest sense. Amid the chaos, Crowseal of the Grimhelt family discovered something crucial, the transaction papers belonging to Aldric Rosevelt."

"Transaction papers?"

"Yes. Aldric was proven to have purchased a Stone of Staboyonaz from black-market merchants. That stone was used to sabotage Young Master Voss’s land."

Vianna’s eyes widened slightly.

"What? He used a forbidden item... over farmland?"

"More importantly," the crane added,

"in the final moments, just before Aldric nearly finished Lucian, Lady Matruska intervened after seeing the evidence. Aldric’s fatal mistake was forging a noble seal in that transaction. A grave violation of Imperial law."

Vianna set her cup down with a sharp, clear clink against the table.

"So... was the so-called ’Blade of Rosevelt’ executed for seal treason?"

Morvy lowered his head.

"Regrettably not, My Lady. His sentence was ’only’ life imprisonment. His family’s connections were still strong enough to pull him away from the gallows."

At that, Vianna’s hand clenched atop her lap. Her breathing grew heavier, and a flash of anger crossed her uninjured eye. She said nothing, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes.

The crane watched her clenched fist and thought silently,

Is she angrier at the flaws in the law itself than at the fact that the man who caused her suffering escaped death? Is her sense of justice truly that pure... or has her hatred long surpassed the need for death itself?

Morvy blinked, gazing at Vianna’s silhouette bathed in the afternoon light.

She truly is the only human worthy of standing beside.

"That is all I know for now, My Lady," Morvy said, breaking the silence.

Vianna let out a long breath, attempting to relax her fingers.

"Thank you, Morvy. This news... gives me much to think about."

"If My Lady permits," the crane asked,

"I would like leave to perch upon the balcony rail for a while."

Vianna let out a soft chuckle, a rare, gentle sound.

"Morvy, there’s no need to be so stiff. Go ahead. Treat it as your home, though you are always here anyway."

Morvy hopped lightly and perched on the cold stone railing. From there, he could see the vast elite district, grand buildings and symmetrically arranged gardens stretching far and wide. A view utterly unlike the dusty tomato fields of Voss territory.

As he gazed at the horizon, Morvy thought to himself, 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Ferri’el... it seems there is something significant you’ve been keeping from me about your master’s son.

The sun began to drift westward, casting warm orange-red hues across the fields. Time crept from midday toward afternoon. Geralt’s family, the old farmer and his children, had already taken their leave after finishing their work for the day.

Now, only Lucas and Silvara remained in the wide field.

Lucas stood at the edge of a planting bed, his hands slipping into his pockets and out again. He looked restless, his eyes repeatedly flicking toward the dirt path leading to the main gate of his territory.

Silvara, cleaning farming tools not far away, noticed the odd behavior. She straightened and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

"What’s wrong with you?" she asked flatly.

"You’ve been acting like a worm on hot ground."

Lucas turned, his face twisted with mixed frustration.

"Why hasn’t anyone come yet?"

Silvara frowned, confused.

"What do you mean? Who are you waiting for? Karska said he’d come tomorrow morning."

Lucas shook his head quickly.

"No, not Karska. I mean... the common folk. They really don’t seem interested in the farmers’ guild at all." He sighed.

Silvara fell silent for a moment, then stared at Lucas as if he had just claimed the world was square.

"Lucas... didn’t you say yesterday in the town square that ’you know where to come’?"

Lucas froze. He stood motionless, mouth slightly open as his mind processed that simple yet fatal detail.

"...Oh. Right."

He slapped his palm against his forehead.

"Damn it. They’re probably all gathered in front of the main Manor, waiting for me to return, while I’m standing here waiting for them to come to me."

Silvara could only sigh deeply, unsure whether to laugh or pity her master’s occasional lapses of "brilliance."

"You really are hopeless with small details," she said.

"Shut up. I was focused on tomato quality," Lucas muttered, his ears faintly reddening in embarrassment.

Afternoon truly arrived. The second watering session of the day had finished, balanced neatly between system assistance and manual labor.

The field grew quiet. Silvara felt far calmer than she had that morning. Being alone with Lucas in the middle of the field like this was slowly starting to feel... normal. No longer new. No longer awkward.

She even caught herself smiling a few times while watching Lucas grumble at insects daring to approach his beloved plants.

Then the calm shattered.

The rapid pounding of galloping hooves sounded from afar.

An open-roof carriage emerged from behind a small hill, dust billowing in its wake. At first, Silvara and Lucas assumed it was routine pickup, it was nearly time to return to the Manor before dark.

But something was off.

Liona, who was driving the carriage, wore an expression of urgent haste. She didn’t even slow down as she approached the makeshift parking area at the edge of the field.

Without dismounting, Liona sharply pulled the reins, spinning the carriage around so it now faced the road home. She looked back at them, breathing hard, her face caught between panic and excitement.

"Lucas! Lady Silvara! Get on, now!" Liona shouted.

Silvara immediately went on alert, her hand instinctively moving toward the spot where she usually kept her weapon.

"What is it? Is there an attack?"

Liona shook her head rapidly, hair whipping in the wind.

"No! But the common folk, they’re insisting on getting farmer guild registration papers. They’re crowding in front of the Manor gates, shouting your name, Young Master!"

She swallowed before continuing.

"The gate guards are overwhelmed! If you don’t return immediately, they might tear down the fence!"

Instead of panicking, a wide grin slowly spread across Lucas’s face. The restlessness that had plagued him all afternoon vanished in an instant, replaced by deep satisfaction.

He brushed the dust from his clothes casually, as though he had predicted this small riot all along.

Lucas strode toward the carriage with unshakable confidence, like a king going to greet his people. Before climbing aboard, he glanced back at the rows of tomato plants gleaming beneath the setting sun.

"Well, well, well," he murmured, his tone thick with triumph.

Lucas went willingly, joy blooming quietly as the path opened ahead.