NOVEL NEXT 178- Ronan. Marco.
Ronan.
When they helped Mary and Vincent, Ronan hadn't considered that what they were actually doing was deciding who would rank among the top students in their class. It wasn't that he didn't understand the power of his magic or his lady's—rather, if she wanted to help them, that's exactly what they would do. In Mary's case, he thought it was an excellent decision: the young woman had worked so hard to help Bob find his wife and daughter, yet they'd barely awarded her twenty points for so many days of dedication.
The truth was, Ronan never stopped to consider that giving her so many points would allow her to surpass almost everyone else, because to him, that didn't matter much. If it were up to him, he wouldn't be king of the ball. He felt no interest in it whatsoever, and even less in exposing his lady to ridicule, since he had no idea how to dance. Fortunately, she would guide him and manage to help them deliver at least a dignified performance to open the formal ball.
If it weren't for the fact that his angel was so perfect, he would certainly ask one of his skeleton friends to teach him, though he'd probably have to dig one up from some noble house's private cemetery first.
That's why, since the only advantage he saw in ranking among the top was the extra twenty percent points bonus, he hadn't realized how deeply he had hurt Darius. Not until Darius said it aloud.
He had to make it up to him, and he knew exactly how.
He went to knock on Darius's door.
"Do you have a moment?" he asked when Darius opened it.
"Hey, Ronan. Sure, come in."
Darius didn't greet him with his typical enthusiasm. He looked somewhat dejected.
The room was shared, similar to Ronan's own, but his roommate wasn't there at the moment.
"Have a seat."
Darius gestured toward the chair at his desk.
"No need. I will be brief, and then we will head out right away."
"Head out?"
"Yes. Tell me, the points from Professor Catrina were quite important to you in order to become her apprentice, were they not?
"Yes, but not just for that." Darius let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair. "My family doesn't belong to the high nobility like our friends' families do, and my father pressures me constantly about how I need to participate in the trials to win them more lands or a better title."
Ronan thought Darius must be truly sad to open up like that. Normally, Darius was like a flame that only knew how to burn forward, dragging everyone along with his infectious enthusiasm.
"You have worked really hard, and I, without realizing it, helped Vincent and Mary surpass you. I know this is not equivalent, but I want to give you something. Follow me."
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
"Are you finally going to let me ride the bear?" Darius asked, his spirits lifting slightly.
"Follow me."
They left the male dormitory wing and the building, crossed the gardens and the main academic building, then made their way to the academy's entrance area, which opened onto a broad expanse of ground. Once there, Ronan stepped off the main path and animated one of his scorpions as a zombie.
"This is the one you rode in the dungeon when it was still alive. I have spoken with it. Even though it is an undead creature, this zombie retains its soul. It feels honored by the idea of serving a warrior as brave as you."
Darius had moved a couple of steps closer to the undead—a gigantic creature covered in dark chitin, whose legs alone were slightly taller than he was. The scorpion turned its head to face Darius while rapidly clicking its menacing pincers, producing sharp, staccato sounds. The young man looked at it without fear; rather, the familiar fire seemed to be returning to his eyes at the prospect of riding it again.
"How long can I have it? Please make it a good while."
"Forever. It is yours. If it gets killed, just save me a piece of its body and I will animate it again."
"What? Really?" he asked, completely stunned.
"Yes, of course. There is no point in lying to you."
Darius was back to his old self again. He gave Ronan such an enthusiastic hug that Ronan realized two things. First, that his stat gains allowed him to easily withstand the crushing pressure. Second, that this was what a hug felt like. No one had ever given him one before.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
After a few seconds, Darius was shouting with joy and climbing onto his new mount. It wasn't technically his pet, since it remained Ronan's undead, but it would obey him. Its master had given it clear instructions about that. That's exactly why he had bound the soul to the creature's body—so it wouldn't be feral and lack the intelligence that could make it dangerous if a situation arose that his orders didn't cover, or where they could be misinterpreted.
After watching Darius and his new companion for a while, Ronan noticed that more and more students were emerging from the building, pointing at them and staring open-mouthed—some even looked terrified. A few spotted him and began whispering among themselves.
Well, he'd accomplished his purpose, so he could leave now. As always, his schedule was extremely tight.
Marco.
Marco Lacor had left the family manor with plenty of time, more than he needed to travel by horse to Solstar. The reason was that he planned to make a slight detour, to visit the lands of a noble who, while not one of his closest neighbors, had the kingdom's most powerful river running through his county.
One of the problems Marco had encountered with the agricultural production of the barony he would someday inherit was that they didn't have enough water for irrigation. There were a couple of streams whose beds ran dry except during heavy rains, and they collected the water in a small reservoir. This allowed them to irrigate a series of fields—nowhere near enough to make theirs a prosperous barony with well-fed peasants. Despite the improvements he'd introduced to crop rotation, they needed to plant much more. The land was available. What they lacked was water.
The small agreements he'd made in previous years with his closest neighbors hadn't borne the fruit he'd hoped for. He needed something more ambitious.
His father had warned him that Count Hughes was a tough nut to crack, and that it would be hard to convince him. Moreover, it was risky to invest their few remaining economic resources in such a venture. However, Marco had explained that if they didn't make an effort to improve their barony, no one would, and the risk was manageable if it depended on their own effort. Both he and his foremen—men he'd personally selected—would give everything to make it work. After all, if they managed to grow more crops, everyone in the barony would live better, not just the baron's family.
"You want me to build a dam on my lands and let you run a water channel to yours?" Count Hughes practically laughed in his face when Marco stood before him in his great hall and proposed the idea.
The count, naturally, was comfortably seated and surrounded by two of his advisors.
Marco was also noble, but he knew and accepted that his rank was lower and that, by treating him this way—not offering him a seat—the count was asserting his superiority.
"It has advantages for you," he replied respectfully but without being intimidated. "A dam isn't just a stone wall across a river; it's an instrument of power for your house." He ignored the count's incredulous look and continued his explanation. "With a dam, you'll control the water, which becomes a resource of your county. During droughts, you won't suffer water shortages, and if necessary, you could irrigate the forests on your lands."
"My forests have never needed irrigation, and no one remembers a drought since my great-great-grandfather's time."
"Then perhaps you'd be interested in the economic benefits. You could, if you wished, install grain mills and forges powered by water. The river would stop running uselessly and would work for you. I, and anyone else who wants to use your water, would pay you. There are also defensive advantages. Your lands are elevated. I know there are no more wars, but if the prohibition were lifted, with the water from a large reservoir you could stop an enemy army or cut off their passage. Not to mention the prestige. A work of such magnitude won't go unnoticed, and you'll undoubtedly be remembered for ordering its construction."
The count narrowed his eyes, letting silence settle over the hall. Marco hoped he'd given him enough reasons. He had even risked mentioning the gods' prohibition, because before the ban, the count's ancestors had often had to fight to defend their lands.
"What do you offer me for this channel that would carry water to your father's barony?"
Marco knew he couldn't offer too much or it would end up being unprofitable for his barony. Once the audience the count had granted him was over, he'd have to travel back to the lands of the baron who bordered both their territories, to ask permission to build part of that channel through his lands. And he'd have to pay for that, too.
"We'll give you preferential trade terms, selling you the food we produce at twenty percent below market price."
The count burst out laughing.
"Do you take me for a fool? You'll give me fifty percent of your lands' food production."
"We can only increase production by thirty percent with that channel. We have limitations of land and labor. We can give you, at most, twenty percent of that extra production."
"Eighty percent."
"I also have to pay Baron Carmot for running the channel through his lands. Thirty percent."
"The way I see it, without water there's no extra harvest, and I'm the one who has to invest in building the dam. Eighty percent of your extra production, that's final."
"The dam will bring you other benefits."
"I won't build the dam unless you compensate me appropriately."
Marco considered this. His main limitation, more than land, would be labor, but better-fed peasants could work more effectively. It was a very risky gamble. He was confident that, over time, he could expand the number of cultivated fields.
"You drive a hard bargain. If Baron Carmot asks me for more than a ten percent discount on food purchases, it won't be worth it for me."
"Don't worry about the baron, he owes me a few favors. I'll make sure ten percent is enough for him."
"Very well. Agreed."
"Come by in a few days, I'll have the contract drawn up."
Marco had planned to draft it himself, but he wasn't going to argue about that. He'd review it carefully when he looked it over to make sure everything was proper and clear.
"Thank you very much, my Lord Count."
"You may go."
The young man did so. Once he had solved the irrigation issue, he could turn his attention to more pleasant matters, like his fiancée.
She had changed, and had captured his attention completely. He was looking forward to spending the evening of the ball with her to confirm that his decision—his impulse, rather—not to break off their engagement with the young woman had been the right one.
His heart raced just remembering her—standing there like a warrior fresh from battle, walking with such determination while completely ignoring his presence.
Nothing like the little girl he remembered from his childhood.