I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 4: You Stockpile Grain, I Stockpile Guns

“We believe!”

Someone in the crowd shouted in response, and gradually the surrounding people awoke from their shock.

The convoy loaded with grain behind Mitia was constantly reminding them that she was not speaking empty words—everything was true.

One after another, voices rose in agreement:

“We believe in you!”

“Yes, yes! We believe in Lady Mitia! We believe in the Astal Family!”

Mitia let out a breath of relief.

She knew that, at least in the short term, there should not be any uprising or rebellion, which meant she could free her hands to deal with other pressing matters.

Amid the calls of the crowd, Mitia stepped back and walked over to Graf’s side, asking coldly: “Uncle, is there anything wrong with her belly?”

Graf was taken aback at first, then quickly understood what Mitia meant.

Feeling awkward, he glanced at the not-yet-grown Mitia and muttered:

“N-no problem...”

But his face showed unease.

Mitia did not speak, only narrowed her sharp gaze at him.

Graf hesitated for a moment before explaining: “Her husband died. Her mother-in-law then had her remarry the man’s younger brother...”

...

That indeed was not a problem in itself—just something that could not be spoken aloud.

“Forget it... No, wait. Her husband sacrificed his life. Didn’t I issue compensation? How did it come to this?”

The sum Mitia had distributed was by no means small.

For an ordinary family of three, if frugal, it could last five years without issue.

Even now, during a famine with soaring grain prices, it should have lasted at least a year or two.

This time Graf answered quickly, giving a bitter smile: “They were once the tenants of Viscount Hunter, and he robbed them...”

Mitia closed her eyes, forcefully suppressing her anger as she began to think of countermeasures.

This Hunter was a young noble whom Ackerman had admired during his lifetime.

At present, it was not easy for her to move against someone Ackerman had once valued.

However, back then, her grandfather Ackerman had lowered the land rent while raising the taxes on manor lords, gravely harming their interests.

When he was alive, he could suppress them with reputation and force.

Now that he was gone, things had cooled—if she did not move against them, then they would surely move against her.

And, strictly speaking, Mitia did not yet have jurisdiction over them.

Because she had not yet gone to the royal capital to formally receive her title, her authority under the law was not yet established.

Otherwise, people would already be calling her Marquis Mitia instead of “Milady Mitia.”

But... she insisted on intervening.

“Confiscate the estate!”

“W-what?!”

Throwing the lord’s seal to Graf, Mitia extended a finger for her waking younger brother to clutch and suckle on.

She strode quickly toward the carriage without looking back and said:

“Confiscate his estate, seize all his property for the public treasury, and exile the entire Hunter family.”

“Remember, this is in the name of the Astal Territory. I am not yet Marquis Mitia.”

If someone delivered themselves to her door seeking death, she did not mind using him as a breakthrough point to open the situation.

“...Yes, Milady!”

Hearing Mitia’s last words, Graf’s eyes lit up, and his face hardened with ferocity.

He had long despised this bully who preyed on the weak, but until now he had lacked the authority to act.

Watching Graf stride away with excitement, Mitia smiled faintly and climbed into the carriage.

It was normal for Graf to have concerns—he was thinking on her behalf.

Graf had been her father’s closest friend since childhood and was also his brother-in-law.

Mitia’s mother was Graf’s younger sister, making him her uncle.

The two families were bound by strong blood ties.

Moreover, Graf had not yet married or sired children.

His loyalty was unquestionable—he was one of the strongest arms left to Mitia by her father.

But Mitia, through her idle readings in the library, could stand on the shoulders of her predecessors and see matters more clearly.

Although Ackerman’s reputation still exerted pressure for now, it was obvious that some people had already begun harboring schemes.

And her instincts told her that the deaths of Ackerman and her father were not simple matters.

She could not overly rely on the residual prestige Ackerman had left behind.

Issuing compensation to the families of the fallen had been the first proper thing she did after taking over affairs.

Anyone daring to tamper with that was clearly testing her bottom line.

To those who saw Mitia merely as a beneficiary of her elders’ legacies, she was nothing in their eyes.

They did not believe that a mere twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl had the courage to punish them.

The Astal Family now had only two women in power.

The boy was still an infant—who would not want to devour an heirless house?

After all, advancement in titles came not only from battle but also from marriage alliances.

But they only saw the immense benefits and failed to grasp the most crucial point...

【Whether she had the courage was one thing. Whether she had the power was another.】

Graf, carrying out the order, led five hundred infantry who had escorted the grain convoy, along with two magicians.

A follow-up force of a hundred light cavalry would later join them.

Such a force against a minor noble with at most a hundred private soldiers left no room for surprises.

Hunter would never have imagined himself being attacked.

He thought he had no reason to fear overplaying his hand.

On the surface, it looked like his own doing, but in reality, behind him stood more than half of the manor lords of the Astal Territory.

That combined strength was no small matter.

Even if old Ackerman were still alive, he would have had to weigh their sentiments carefully.

Unfortunately for Hunter, his opponent—whether in this life or the previous one—was but a child.

And children preferred to cut through knots with a sharp blade.

“Boom!”

“Crack!”

Cowering in his castle, Hunter watched in terror.

In front of the neat military formation, two magicians bombarded the castle gates without pause.

The heavy wooden doors groaned in agony, on the verge of collapse.

He could not understand why Mitia truly dared to act.

Did she not fear that, once word spread, the other lords would unite in resistance?

As for his private soldiers—upon seeing the overwhelming disparity in numbers, they had no will to resist from the very start.

They had already surrendered.

“Viscount Hunter Tulum, you are charged with maliciously seizing compensation funds for the families of fallen soldiers, evading taxes, forcibly abducting women... and other crimes. By law, you are hereby arrested. All your property will be confiscated, and your family exiled.”

Graf loudly recited Hunter’s charges.

His words were not for Hunter’s ears but for the surrounding townsfolk.

It was crucial to maintain the appearance of legitimacy.

From the castle, Hunter craned his neck out, screaming hoarsely: “I protest! I am a noble! This is my own domain’s affair! Lord Mitia has no right to directly judge a noble! I will complain to His Majesty the King of this insult from the lord!”

Graf’s face remained expressionless: “Very well! You may throw out a letter. I will accept your request on behalf of the lord.”

“But I’m sorry. At present, we have no lord. Therefore, we cannot respond to your request. Without a lord’s command, I shall proceed to judge you according to the laws of the Astal Territory!”

Hunter: “......”

Hunter was dumbfounded.

No lord? What did that mean? Then what was that wretched woman Mitia counted as?

Thinking back on Graf’s wording, he quickly realized—the damned woman was playing word games with him!

They had relied on Mitia not yet being formally enfeoffed as a marquis by the king to play tricks, pretending obedience while deceiving her.

And now she was indeed using that very fact—that she was not yet formally a marquis—to counter them.

Territorial law did not apply to nobles.

Local law was local law, while nobles were directly enfeoffed by the kingdom and enjoyed the highest level of nationwide immunity.

But that immunity followed procedures.

First, a noble could still be held accountable under local law.

If no crime was found, nothing happened.

If a crime was found, the noble would be punished.

However, he could invoke the kingdom’s decree of “nobles exempt from punishment” by appealing to the highest local authority, namely the liege lord.

Since the liege lord himself held a noble title, he was bound by the kingdom’s noble law.

In the end, the matter usually ended with the lesser noble paying a fine.

But now, the Astal Territory just happened to have no liege lord in the legal sense of the kingdom.

To whom could Hunter appeal?

Perhaps once Mitia was formally enfeoffed by the king, he could apply for arbitration and immunity.

But by then, after his estate had been confiscated, would he still have the wealth to offset his guilt?

At present, the kingdom’s protection of nobles in the Astal Territory was effectively null.

There was no one to whom responsibility could be attributed.

Mitia was the heir to a marquisate, but heirs were not automatically marquises.

Responsibility could not be pinned on her.

The result was a state of unaccountability.

Slapping his wailing wife twice to shut her up, Hunter paced anxiously, trying to come up with a plan.

But before he could think of anything, a deafening sound louder than before rang out below.

Hunter’s face turned ashen—he knew the gates had been breached.