Chapter 201: Ingenious Use of Magic

For these past days, the residents of Marshtown all knew that the knights under the new lord were sweeping through dangerous areas within the domain.

Some did it for the safety of their own labor, others for the thrill of feeling noble knights serve them, and one by one, they voluntarily delivered reports of hazardous zones to Marsh Keep.

Riedal responded to the people’s enthusiasm with vigor.

On one hand, he assigned the newly arrived Grado to meticulously record every dangerous location; on the other, he divided the knights into three squads, each led by himself, Geoffrey, and Rogner, to methodically inspect each site.

By mobilizing the populace in this way, aimless patrols transformed into precise strikes.

These past days, if nothing else, the meat supply at Marsh Keep had greatly increased—mostly crocodile and green serpent meat, much to the delight of the knights and guards.

As for materials like crocodile hides and serpent skins, their value was negligible, so Rogin paid them no further mind; Riedal distributed them according to battlefield merit.

Perhaps due to Rayson’s earlier purges during his tenure as baron of Marshtown, the knights found no traces of beasts in the areas where villagers commonly moved about.

Though the harvest was modest, this campaign left the people with a lasting impression of Marsh Keep as “close to the people,” significantly deepening their affection for the new lord.

Rogin, as lord, was no idle observer—he threw himself into the “Evaporation Project.”

Over the past two days, Wilson and Selin had already planned and divided the labor: some tilled the soil, others dug for fertilizer.

Certain areas could be mined directly, but others required proper drainage before organic fertilizer could be extracted.

It was not only labor-intensive, but also dreadfully time-consuming.

It was already late January; spring plowing loomed near, and what they lacked above all was time.

So Rogin conceived a simple yet efficient solution—he would use fire magic’s intense heat to evaporate the excess water.

Since ascending to Grand Mage, he had been diligently studying new spells, and now he had mastered the Fourth-Rank spell: Column of Flame.

A spell lasting at most ten seconds, it generated tremendous heat and covered a vast area.

Before him lay the wetland—a layer of muddy soil beneath, submerged under water—this was the zone he intended to dry.

His mental energy was already etching the spell’s runes some ten meters ahead.

Only after becoming a Grand Mage could one cast spells at a distance, and as Rogin began allocating points to his mage rank, the range of his casting had subtly extended.

He had cast the Column of Flame countless times; the pattern was etched into his soul.

As the runes completed their formation, magic from his mana pool surged outward. The runes glowed crimson, drawing in fire elements from the surrounding air—and with a hum, a colossal column of flame erupted from the water’s surface.

Hssss~

Fire met water. The extreme heat instantly vaporized the moisture, filling the air with thick steam that obscured his vision.

But Rogin needed no sight—he only had to sustain the spell.

Ten seconds passed. The runes rippled once, then dissolved swiftly—and the flame vanished into the air.

When the wind finally scattered the fog, the water lying atop the surface had entirely evaporated; even the soil seemed parched.

Yet if one dug, beneath the hardened crust, the mud below remained damp.

“Truly efficient!”

Rogin was deeply satisfied. He now genuinely wished there were another fire mage in the domain—someone who could be appointed “Chief Overseer of Marsh Excavation.”

Alas, among the three other mages in the domain, one was light-aligned, and the other two were water-aligned—none but himself wielded fire.

“Still, I’ve heard that fifth-rank water mages can manipulate water flow—could they not assist in draining marshlands?”

True enough, but becoming a Fifth-Rank Chief Mage was no simple feat.

Take Jennie: though Riedal said she showed signs of imminent breakthrough, even if she succeeded, she would be thirty-four.

Honestly, her talent was not low—but to reach Chief Mage, she still needed at least thirty more years.

By contrast, her daughter Elin would surely surpass her; with diligent training, she might become a Fifth-Rank Mage before thirty.

Even so, that still required over a decade.

A decade—would this glowing marsh even be fully developed by then? Perhaps there would still be a place for Elin.

“My Lord~”

A cavalryman galloped up, breathless. “Chahar sent me to inform you—Mr. Anthony from Pasture City has arrived with the slaves.”

Rogin’s eyes lit up. He mounted Cloudstrider and returned to the castle.

“You came all this way—and brought gifts?”

“Hah! Congratulations, my Lord, on becoming Viscount of the North Marsh! These trifles are but tokens—pray do not disdain them.”

Inside Marsh Keep, Rogin warmly shook Anthony’s hand.

The man had not only delivered slaves, but also brought crystal carvings, books and stationery, a dozen bows, and thousands of arrows.

Their total value amounted to little more than a hundred gold coins—less than a tenth of what Rogin had spent on him before—but still, it was no small gesture. At least Anthony knew how to do business.

Anthony clearly understood: the North Marsh needed to grow, growth required labor, and here, labor was scarce.

From their two prior transactions, Anthony knew Rogin was not short on coin—and now, as Viscount, even less so.

Thus, in the eyes of the Serpent Slave Exchange, Rogin was a premium client.

Spending a hundred gold coins to maintain ties with such a client was not merely wise—it was essential.

And indeed, in the ensuing conversation, Rogin hinted at his desire to purchase more slaves—sending Anthony into raptures.

There were few ways to acquire people, and though buying slaves cost coin, it was the fastest route.

Rogin knew it was immoral—stripping humans of their dignity and rights—but in this world, he had no choice but to conform.

All he could do was treat these slaves well—feed them well so they worked hard, and offer them a path to escape their fate.

“For now, I’ll purchase two thousand slaves.”

Rogin named a number, then added, “But I have another deal in mind.”

Anthony’s heart soared. Since last year’s deal, his standing within the Serpent Slave Exchange had skyrocketed.

Today, not only had he secured another major order, but an additional transaction loomed—he was overjoyed.

“My Lord, speak! Whatever you require, I shall spare no effort to fulfill it!”

Rogin nodded. “Actually, I wish to speak with you personally—not with the Slave Exchange behind you.”

“Me?”

Anthony blinked, puzzled by Rogin’s meaning. (End of Chapter)