Dealing With The Refugees
Back in the Mist Country, Asahi and I walked through the dark‑elf village.
Technically, as the new lord of this land, I should have walked a step ahead of him. That’s how authority is meant to be displayed. But neither of us cared. We walked side by side, the way we always had.
Nothing between us had changed.
Everywhere we went, people bowed.
Some bows were sincere. Others hesitant.
The elderly were enthused, lowering their heads deeply, and the children copied them without knowing why. The young men didn’t bow at all.
They stared—and talked.
Their conversations cut off the moment I passed. Eyes followed with open suspicion. To them, I was an outsider who had arrived only days ago and somehow taken the title of lord over their homeland.
A title previously held by a dragon.
Unthinkable that a mere mortal would dethrone a dragon.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” I murmured, nodding awkwardly to those who bowed, offering strained smiles and trying not to look uncomfortable.
In my previous life, I was a nobody—a naive high scholar who enjoyed a leisurely life with no responsibility. Now, lives were entrusted to me. The climb had been too sudden, too steep. There wasn’t any time to complain or adjust.
But there was no time for hesitation either. Any moment of delay would put the lives and land entrusted to me in danger.
I can not disappoint myself like that.
At least I had known loss before becoming a lord. It made it easier to feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.
“You mustn’t say that, young master,” Asahi snickered. “We need your guidance.”
I didn’t have to look to hear the satisfaction in his voice. He was enjoying this far too much.
I slid him a sullen side glance. “Don’t enjoy this too much.”
“I'll try my best, young master,” he said, smiling.
I let it go and returned to the matter we’d been discussing in the dining room.
“But seriously, when I said we needed stable food, I didn’t expect you to show me rice fields you personally planted. I was shocked.”
“I picked something I actually understand,” he said. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked.”
“That Avatar of Creation blessing of yours—the goddess must really favor you.” I shot him a snide remark. If he could tease me for being a lord, I could do the same about being the Goddess's boy.
“Haha… well, it’s not that powerful. I can only—”
We stopped.
Asahi fell silent when Mariada appeared in front of us in a ripple of magic. A magic circle suddenly manifested in front of us, and there appeared Mary.
However, the transfer was fast.
She stood there as elegant as ever.
Her new form lent her an overwhelming beauty and greater magical force. She looked almost entirely human now—only her ears marked her as a beastman. Even her tail was gone.
This new form of hers comes from her evolution into a Catsy.
“Mary…” I said.
“Young master.”
She bowed slightly, then raised her head—but her attention drifted past us before she could continue.
I noticed it immediately.
Whispers.
Some impressed. Others hateful. Nasty words muttered under breath, steeped in resentment toward her. Mary heard all of it. Her ears twitched, but her expression stayed calm.
She was used to hateful comments about her.
Still, her attention lingered.
When I passed them earlier, they whispered about my lordship—but seeing Mary made it worse. Sharper. Meaner.
“So,” I said, pulling her focus back, “what did you need?”
She refocused, composure sliding neatly into place. “Oh—sorry. There’s a matter that requires your attention.”
“Me?” I tilted my head.
“Yes. It concerns the refugees. Sir Bradsby has requested you see him as soon as possible.”
Her tone wasn’t urgent—just formal.
That alone made me curious.
☆
We convened in the dining room with me seated and Bradsby standing. Mary and Asahi stood at my side like pillars of support.
“What is it, Sir Bradsby?” I asked. “Is something the matter?”
Bradsby bowed deeply.
“Lord Krai—”
“Please,” I cut in. “I’d prefer you call me young master.”
“Oh… of course. Please forgive me.”
“It’s fine. What’s the matter?” I asked again.
He straightened. The bow wasn’t only a formality. There was weight behind it.
“First, let me thank you for saving the slaves,” he said. “I truly appreciate your kindness.”
“It was nothing,” I simply said.
“No,” Bradsby replied, firmer. “To you, it may seem small. But to me—to the people you saved—it meant everything.”
His voice trembled.
“Not only did you help us, but you asked for nothing in return. Such kindness must be met with gratitude.” He put a hand to his chest and stepped forward. “Please—if there’s anything you need at all, anything—don’t hesitate to ask me.”
“No, really, it’s fine. I accept your thanks.” I waved it off lightly. “Besides, I was the one surprised by the care you showed them.”
I rested my hand and met his eyes with genuine respect.
“You’re the first human I’ve met, besides Master Reina, who looks at demihumans as people. It’s good to know there are still those like you in the world.” I smiled.
He went still.
He looked at me differently then—as if I were older than I seemed.
It was my fault for speaking like someone who had long watched this world. I knew demihumans were cast aside as less than human, treated like beasts without rights. And yet here I was, showing them compassion without a second thought.
“So,” I said gently, “let’s set the thanks aside. Why did you call me?”
“Right.” He gathered himself. “Everything is fine with the refugees, but… some wish to return home. They feel alienated here, so I thought to bring the matter to you.”
He paused, then raised his voice a touch, as if to smother any hint of ingratitude in his own words. “There’s nothing wrong with this place—it’s wonderful. They only—miss their families.”
“I see,” I said quietly. “That makes sense.”
Then I considered for a moment. “I’d like to speak with them. Can you gather everyone?”
They gathered beneath the great tree on the plateau—the same place where Asahi and I had sat after our duel.
“I understand some of you wish to return home,” I said. “That can be arranged. You are free to stay… or to leave.”
Relief spread through part of the group. Of those who smiled, one was a beastman of the dog folk, and three were human girls.
“However,” I continued, “once you leave, you won’t be able to return to this place. Choose carefully.”
Their joy dimmed. The words hit like a stone.
"The current state of affairs is in dire straits." I continued. “For the safety of this place, once you cross the boundary, you cannot re‑enter. That is the law of this land.”
The dog man stepped forward.
“Lord Krai—”
“Young master,” I corrected, a wry smile tugging my mouth. “Please.”
“Forgive me.” He dipped his head.
I really didn’t appreciate “Lord.” It might be my title now, but "Young master" sounded less stiff. People might think I’m strict, but I’m not.
“Young master,” he went on, “please know that we’re grateful. If it weren’t for you, I’m even afraid to imagine what would have happened. You also gave us a place to live—there are no words strong enough to show you how grateful I am.”
“…” We all waited. He clearly had more to say.
“But even the best living conditions mean nothing to me if I can’t share them with my wife and son.”
“You have a son?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes,” his face softened, “a small boy of two years.”
“So young…” I murmured. “Then why not bring them here? I'm sure it's better than the outside.”
He shook his head lightly.
“I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but… my wife is human.”
I froze. Surprise flickered across my face before I could stop it.
“I—I see.”
"Yes. I wouldn't want to bring trouble to you." He lowered his head.
I had so many questions for him. But I swallowed them.
I just reshaped my face so I wouldn't weird out everyone.
I cleared my throat.
“What’s your name?” I asked instead.
“It’s Lois.”
“Lois,” I said, “as congratulations for your newborn, I’ll give you a family name.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Word of my giving Mariada a family name had spread. Even here, mouths fell open.
While they were still stunned, I was already thinking of the name.
“Let’s see. What would fit…”
“No! Please—don’t trouble yourself!” Lois blurted.
He was even dismissing my kind gesture with his hands.
“Huh?” I blinked at him. “You don’t want the name?”
“Please—you already saved my life.” He bowed deeply, dog’s ears and tail drooping with him. “I could never impose further.”
Most humans would never refuse such a thing. They’d press their luck, even suggest what they’d like to be called. Perhaps that entitled habit is human‑only. Yet even the demihumans behind him looked shocked. I’m sure they wanted to slap him for refusing a once‑in‑a‑lifetime honor right in front of them.
He must have seen what happened when Mary received her family name—more human than beast now, and far more powerful. It would suit him, too, married to a human as he was.
But he refused, because he didn't want to impose.
Such a good guy, I thought, smiling despite myself.
“Nah,” I said. “You’re getting it.”
Mana surged.
“From this day forth, you shall bear the name Fugger!”
Light enveloped him.
Before he could refuse again, the naming ritual had already begun. There was no stopping it.
When the light faded, he stood transformed—still himself, but refined. He had drooping dog ears, a lean tail, and a human frame balanced by new, quiet strength.
He was now "A Fugger".
However, something was amiss.
After bestowing him with the name, I looked at myself and realized that my mana was still abundantly available, unlike when I gave Mary my family name.
Was it different somehow? I thought.
But with no answer, I put it aside for a moment.
“There,” I said. Simply. “Now your son can inherit his father’s name.”
Tears hit the ground.
“Thank you…” He sniffled. “This name will be treasured for generations.”
For someone who refused the name, he was now overly emotional about receiving it.
We turned from the naming to the matter at hand.
“Now that we know who is going and who is staying,” I said, “we’ll make arrangements for those returning. It will take two days to prepare. Until then, rest and enjoy this place.”
The refugees bowed and accepted the terms.
As they dispersed, an elf woman in the crowd caught Asahi’s attention—the only one of her kind there. She walked with small, measured steps, hands joined before her, a face that forgot how to smile. Her eyes held nothing but sorrow.
Everyone else was envious of Lois Fugger—except her. She hadn’t seemed interested in any of it.
The stark absence of emotion on her face worked on Asahi like a drug. He watched her until she vanished from sight, eyes never straying.
He was intrigued.
☆☆☆
High in the mountain ranges bordering Ormsford lay Duke Mothis’s domain. In his castle, he addressed five figures clad in green uniforms.
“The Emperor has entrusted us with this mission,” he said. “And Green Oath will not disappoint.”
They stood in the hallway like soldiers on parade. The elf girl from the court meeting, another woman of her height, two tall men, and one of average height.
“Find out what King Manfroi is planning,” he went on. “Show the court what you are capable of.”
“Yes, sir!”
They moved at once.
Vismagia was about to receive visitors from outside. Count Herlon might have started this mayhem, but King Manfroi had fanned the flames, dragging the Empire to satisfy his greedy desires and power struggle.
