No matter how dissatisfied Sam was, unwilling to impart precious magical knowledge to a backwater Kobold, his discontent didn’t last long under the iron fist of the Lord’s absolute rule.

"Great Mage Sam, may we begin?"

Old Neil wrung his hands, looking nervous and uneasy as he timidly questioned Sam, who was sitting cross-legged before him.

He had never imagined that one day he would actually be able to learn precious magical knowledge.

After all, in the barren Wilderness, every last Shaman Wizard jealously guarded their knowledge, preferring to take their precious magical secrets to the grave rather than teach them to others.

And yet he, a mere slave, had been favored by the Lord and given the chance to learn magic.

From the bottom of his heart, Old Neil resolved to study magic diligently and dedicate his loyalty to the Lord.

Under Old Neil’s continuous stream of flattery, Sam’s expression softened considerably, and he obediently began to explain everything he knew.

The Lord, who had always possessed the heart of a Mage, listened in for a while before leaving with a blank expression.

’I never should have gotten my hopes up for a half-baked Shaman.’

Sam’s teaching ability was far from masterful; in fact, you could say he was leading his student astray.

The things he discussed seemed fine on the surface, but in reality, they were utter nonsense—just homespun theories he’d concocted himself, not even on par with the street Magicians of the Southern Territory.

Levi could only treat it as a long shot and hope Old Neil could understand.

In any case, he held no expectation of learning magic from Old Neil. He’d be better off waiting until he had enough men and power, then go to the Church Court, kidnap a Saintess, and have her teach him the knowledge day and night.

...

To express her gratitude for High Cliff Castle’s selfless aid, Miriel offered the cargo of three carriages as a thank-you gift.

Levi had intended to feign refusal to uphold High Cliff Castle’s selfless and glorious image, but he was afraid she might actually take the offer back. So, he accepted it outright. After all, he deserved it.

He was too embarrassed to ask what the goods were to her face, so he just secretly prayed for salt or tea bricks—hard currency in the Wilderness.

When the Beastmen had the two Wendigo Beasts HUFFING AND PUFFING as they pulled the cargo-laden carriages back up the hill and began to unload, Levi was surprised to find the contents were not what he had guessed.

Lifting the white cloth that served as a sun and rain cover revealed rectangular wooden crates. When Zat pried one open with an iron bar, he exposed neatly arranged, exquisite oak barrels that gave off a rich aroma of wine.

He poked a hole in one with a small knife, and a ruby-red liquid GURGLED out. Zat quickly lunged forward to catch it with his mouth, and the wine from the head-sized oak keg was quickly drained.

"Boss, it’s wine! And it’s high quality, a real rarity."

Zat gave a thumbs-up, his face lit with pleasant surprise.

He uncovered the other two carriages and found the same.

Levi stroked his chin, unable to figure it out.

Due to the immense demand for goods from both Pioneers and natives in the Wilderness, the wilderness trade had always been quite prosperous. The value of goods flowing into the Wilderness each year during spring, summer, and autumn could reach over a million Gold Coins.

Caravans would bring salt, tea, and even smuggled ironware into the Wilderness, then return with large quantities of livestock, horses, furs, or slaves.

’It’s not that you couldn’t bring fine wine *out* of the Wilderness, but since when could the backwater Wilderness People brew it themselves?’

’Just the oak barrels used for the wine are ridiculously exquisite, with decorative patterns engraved on the metal hoops. No matter how you look at it, this isn’t something a group of Wilderness People could make.’

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Levi. He thought of Miriel’s identity. Aside from being a subordinate of the Duchess of the North, her other identity was that of a Half-Elf.

As everyone knew, the Wilderness was vast, large enough to border three different countries of the Middle Ages Continent. No one knew just how many factions existed within it.

So, it wasn’t impossible for an Elf Tribe to exist there.

Only the Elves, who revered perfection and art, would put so much effort into packaging. Besides, brewing fine wine was one of the Elves’ renowned skills.

The wine they brewed ranked among the best on the entire Middle Ages Continent.

It seemed that Fulina, through the Half-Elf Miriel, had at some point managed to get in with an Elf Tribe.

To be honest, back in ancient times, the entire Middle Ages Continent was ruled by Elves, Giants, and Giant Dragons.

Humans were nothing more than slaves to these three races. Later, following a shift in the Magic Tide, these natural Magical Creatures lost the magic they relied on for survival.

Humans, who had always been slaves, began to turn the tables. Although individual humans were still no match for these powerful creatures in terms of martial strength, their reproductive speed was something these other races couldn’t hope to match.

Coupled with humanity’s terrifying learning speed, all sorts of new weapons were created.

After several more centuries of war, the three powerful races that had once enslaved humanity were beaten so badly they could no longer hold their heads high. Forced to hole up in remote corners of the world, humanity naturally became the strongest power on the Middle Ages Continent.

But it was undeniable that the Elf Race still possessed top-tier magical knowledge and advanced armament-forging techniques.

If nothing else, Levi himself wore a Longsword at his waist, forged from Mithril by the Elf Race.

And Mithril, a Magic Metal, was a substance whose source only the Elves controlled.

Levi couldn’t help but suspect that Fulina, the Duchess of the North, had a more far-reaching plan in her secret dealings with the Elf Race.

Although the Elf Race had fallen from grace and its branches were scattered across the world, this decline was only relative to humanity as a whole on the Middle Ages Continent. The strength of a single Elf Tribe was likely no weaker than an Earl’s Domain and still could not be underestimated.

’The main problem is that High Cliff Castle is caught right between them, which is a very uncomfortable position.’

Levi knew he might be worrying unnecessarily, but as the saying goes, one must plan for the future to avoid trouble in the present.

Unlike Zat, who was grinning foolishly while hugging an oak barrel and imagining drinking one and saving another, concerned only with killing enemies, Levi, as a Lord, had far more to consider.

Originally, Levi thought the Giant Dragon that had suddenly appeared near High Cliff Castle was a potential threat, but now an Elf Tribe had been added to the mix.

’The Elves described in stories are always peace-loving, but in reality, that "peace" is just an excuse they started using after they fell from power.’

’Back when the three races were at the height of their power, they beat each other’s brains out to become the sole rulers of the world. Why didn’t they talk about being peace-loving then?’

’So-called "peace-loving" is just what you say when you’re not strong enough. You have to act meek first.’

"Whatever. At the very least, High Cliff Castle is no longer a fledgling Pioneer Territory with just a handful of people. As long as I have enough time, it can grow into a behemoth."

Levi waved his hand, signaling the Beastmen to move the goods into the cellar.

’I not only have the system but also an iron mine. If I can’t even succeed with all this, then none of the other Pioneer Lords stand a chance.’