The soldiers at the west gate of Retvik already recognized Noein Earlkvist by face, so he was usually allowed to pass without needing to introduce himself. However, today, one of the soldiers stopped him.
“Sir Earlkvist, Viscount Arnold Keinitz wishes to see you. I will have someone guide you to the Viscount’s mansion.”
“…Understood.”
Noein replied, wondering internally what this could be about, and followed one of the soldiers to Viscount Arnold Keinitz’s mansion.
It had been a little over three months since Noein last met the Viscount when he first arrived in Retvik to pay his respects.
Noein was ushered into a reception room within the grand, aristocratic mansion, a stark contrast to his own tented dwelling. Mathilda, serving as both his escort and attendant, stood quietly behind him as he sat on the sofa.
Shortly thereafter, Viscount Arnold Keinitz entered the room, prompting Noein to rise.
“It’s been a while, Viscount Keinitz.”
“Ah, Lord Earlkvist. I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I hear the development is progressing smoothly?”
“As a minor noble of the kingdom, I am doing my best, despite my inexperience.”
Noein replied to the Viscount, inwardly acknowledging that Keinitz was likely probing his situation.
Noein had been coming to Retvik regularly for supplies, interacting with the townsfolk, and talking about the increase in population in his territory. It was only natural that the Viscount, as the lord of the region, would gather enough information to know that Noein’s efforts to develop his land were at least making progress.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“Ah, well…”
The Viscount began to explain to Noein about the 24 refugees who had recently arrived in Retvik.
“I see. So, you’re asking if I could take these refugees into my territory?”
“Indeed, I appreciate your quick understanding.”
“I can imagine it would be difficult to accept a large number of refugees in Retvik, considering the sentiments of the residents. On that note, my territory is in need of people, so this mutually beneficial arrangement is something I am happy to accept. I would be glad to take them in.”
As Noein spoke with a pleasant smile, Viscount Arnold Keinitz thought to himself how shrewd Noein was.
If possible, Arnold wanted to make Noein feel indebted by framing this as a favor—”giving people to a lord who lacks subjects.” However, Noein was keen on emphasizing that this was a “mutually beneficial transfer of refugees.” Noein likely knew that Arnold was struggling with how to handle the refugees.
Noein had no intention of easily owing a favor.
At the same time, he wasn’t trying to take advantage of the situation by saying something like, “I’ll take care of the refugees since you’re struggling with them.” He was aware of his position as a minor lord and showed no intention of competing with the Viscount, which Arnold found somewhat endearing, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
There was some doubt as to whether Noein could actually accommodate over 20 refugees in his forested settlement, but since Noein had already stated that he would accept them, what happened within the Earlkvist territory afterward was none of Arnold’s concern.
“I’m glad we could have a mutually beneficial discussion. The refugees are currently camped outside the south gate, with the church providing food and assistance. I’ll have them escorted to you shortly.”
“Yes. Thank you very much.”
With formal smiles, the two lords concluded their discussion.
…
After leaving the mansion, Noein explained to Pence and Mai that they would be accepting new refugees and told them to complete the shopping and wait at the west gate. He then headed to the south gate with Mathilda, guided by one of the Viscount’s soldiers.
Outside the gate, a few tents were set up close to the walls surrounding the city.
Given the proximity to the city, where monster attacks were rare, the refugees likely received no complaints as they could easily escape into the city if anything happened.
Upon noticing Noein’s approach, the refugees hurriedly crowded toward him, nearly tripping over each other in their haste.
“Lord Noein!” Mathilda instinctively moved in front of him to shield him, and the guiding soldier yelled at the refugees, “Step back! How dare you show such disrespect to a noble!”
The refugees were clearly looking at Noein as if they recognized him. Perhaps they had already heard that the young noble from the neighboring territory might take them in.
“It’s fine,” Noein said to Mathilda, signaling her to step back, and then he addressed the refugees.
“Who is your representative?”
A man in his late twenties or early thirties stepped forward.
“That would be me. My name is Edgar, Lord Earlkvist.”
Noein silently cursed Viscount Arnold Keinitz for telling them his name without his permission. How much had they been relying on him before he had even agreed to take them in?
“I heard you came from the south, but I’d like to hear the details directly from you.”
“Yes, we lived in a settlement near the southern border with the Lancel Kingdom, at the southern edge of the Bezel Forest.”
“Ah, I see. Were you driven out by the conflict?”
“Yes. I was instructed to lead the younger villagers out of the settlement, and we eventually arrived here in Retvik while searching for a lord who would accept us.”
Noein was aware that the area where the Bezel Forest narrows to the south, where the Kingdom of Roadberk and the Kingdom of Lancel meet, had been a conflict zone for several years.
So, these people were forced to flee their homes because of that, Noein thought as he looked over the refugees.
As Edgar had said, they were mostly young people, ranging from those in their thirties down to children as young as ten. Though they were thin, they didn’t appear to be in immediate danger of starvation, likely due to the church’s food assistance.
“I don’t see any small children.”
“Some mothers with young children were accepted into towns along the way, while others died from the long journey, camping, and starvation. We left with over 50 people, but only this many survived to reach here.”
As he spoke, Edgar clenched his fists, trembling. He must have felt responsible as the leader of the refugees.
It’s a disgusting situation, Noein thought. Attacking villages and causing farmers to suffer—what’s the point?
Internally cursing the situation, Noein did his best to maintain a gentle expression.
“I see. It must have been tough for you. Fortunately, my territory can accept you all. I hope you’ll start a new life there as my subjects.”
Edgar’s eyes widened at Noein’s words, and a murmur spread among the refugees behind him.
“Is it really… okay?”
“Yes. If you’re all in good enough health, we can leave for my territory tomorrow. How does that sound?”
“Of course! We’ll prepare to leave immediately. Thank you so much, Lord Earlkvist.”
The refugees all bowed their heads, expressing their gratitude, while Edgar, the only one maintaining proper posture, knelt down on one knee. His movements were graceful, indicating a familiarity with noble etiquette.
“You seem accustomed to dealing with nobles. Were you of high status in the village?”
“My father was the village head, and I was taught noble manners as his heir. I believe he died buying us time by resisting the Lancel Kingdom’s soldiers.”
“I see. I respect the bravery of your father, who made the decision to save the younger villagers.”
“Th-thank you for your kind words,” Edgar replied, his voice trembling.
