His own territorial management structure had yet to fully take shape, and he didn’t even have anyone to offer advice or brainstorm ideas. The entire household had only one master—himself. The servants around him could at most offer suggestions, and most of those leaned toward demands from the residents. Some were worth listening to, but the majority never considered things from a ruler’s perspective. So, in effect, he had no one by his side. Help was scarce, and most of it he still had to seek out himself.
Although Aslant came from the imperial capital, he was unfamiliar with Oroc City. He didn’t even know the small town Filio had mentioned earlier. That’s why he’d specifically brought along a local soldier to ask questions. The soldier was sloppily dressed, his hair matted into clumps as if it hadn’t been combed in months. For ordinary folks, poor diets meant less oil secretion, yet this man had managed to glue his hair together—a clear sign of how long it had been. His dazed eyes perked up a bit when he saw Sean, but his most striking feature was his bright red, bulbous nose. And his name was Red Nose.
“L-Lord.” “No matter. I’ll ask, and you answer if you know, stay silent if you don’t.” Sean wasn’t surprised by this kind of soldier. Even in Riyetis City, there were similar types. In recent years, scholars had called the Basharan Empire’s era a golden age of growth, but wealth had only accumulated in the hands of capitalists. Ordinary folks still lived mediocre lives, and the poor even more so. A fixed mindset also trapped many of the impoverished: if they had money, they should spend it on hoarding food or saving for a wife. How they looked or how messy their hair was didn’t matter.
“Yes, Lord,” Red Nose said. “Then tell me, has the town south of the city been getting many immigrants lately? And a lot more recently?” Sean asked. Red Nose was originally from that southern town, which was why Aslant had brought him along. Oroc City was large enough that it took two days for an ordinary person to reach the southern town. People from surrounding towns often came to the city for work or to enlist. Since the distance wasn’t too far, they could still go back frequently.
“There’ve been a lot for the past half-month. They seem to have come from the former Tacoma City. Lately, they’ve heard Oroc City will revive, so many have arrived! But they can’t get into the city, so they only live in the town.” Red Nose’s eyes looked dazed, but his speech was clear. “Have there been any problems recently?” “Problems, Lord, like...” “Like public order.” “It was fine when I went back last time, but I’ve heard there’s been more theft at night. We don’t really like outsiders.” Sean listened and fell silent for a moment, saying nothing.
Then Filodivara couldn’t help blurting out, “Why not just settle them somewhere else?” She suddenly realized she’d misspoken. *Don’t say anything unless the count asks*—that was what her father had drilled into her before she left home. She turned to look at Sean, who was staring at her. His gaze made Filio shrink back timidly.
“I understand. You may go.” Sean ordered a servant to give Red Nose some roasted meat. The man thanked him profusely and left. The dining room was left with only Aslant and Filio. Both stared blankly at Sean, afraid to speak.
Refugees, reconstruction, resettlement—and maintaining public order on top of that. A series of problems lay before him, and he couldn’t just dump them into the city. The townspeople could be arranged separately, as they were the former count’s subjects. That status alone was enough to let them live in the city, and he could tell the current Oroc City residents that as long as they followed him, they’d never be abandoned. In the history of the Basharan Empire, aside from inheritors, Sean was already one of the youngest counts. Privately, many were optimistic about his prospects, though some envied his rise. Right now, he needed people to help handle these matters.
Luke and the others were still in Taylemian. Calling them over directly would take time, and Sean wasn’t sure if Luke’s knowledge could handle Oroc City’s affairs in the long run. He pondered whether to pick a few scholars well-versed in humanities, history, construction, and planning. Such people would likely be found at the academy. Word had it that the Oroc City Grand Library housed the city’s academy, offering various disciplines.
Wait. As he thought this, a name suddenly popped into Sean’s mind. He looked up at Aslant and Filio, who were awaiting his orders.
“You may both go. Sorry, Miss Divara, I won’t have time to accompany you for a walk today.” “The Count must have matters to attend to. I’m the one intruding.” As a girl from a noble family, she knew when to stop. Though she’d had the urge to speak the whole time, she held back. Finally, she bowed to him and left the count’s residence. As she walked away, Aslant couldn’t help stealing a glance. Filodivara was fairly pretty—just the type unmarried young men admired. But for Sean, who’d grown up around girls, Filio’s looks were merely passable. She couldn’t compare to those girls from the Sky-Covering Wings, let alone Kalayana or Sohana.
“She’s gone. Stop staring!” “Heh.” Aslant laughed awkwardly after Sean tapped his shoulder. “Come to the study later. I’ll write two letters for you to deliver—one to the Riyetis Grand Library, and one to Taylemian Town.” Sean had mentioned the letter to Taylemian many times before, but Aslant didn’t know about the one to Riyetis City.
“Lord, the other letter is...” “For a scholar. I hope he’ll come,” Sean said. The person who’d just come to mind was Harry Wallop, whom he’d met a few times before.
………………
On the other side, at the Divara residence. Filio had just returned when her waiting father pulled her aside to ask about the day’s events. Filio recounted everything that had happened at the count’s residence. Orlando thought for a moment, then stood up and paced.
“What’s wrong, Father?” Charles asked from the side. “It seems this new count is more ambitious than we imagined.” After a pause, Orlando said.