Chương 31: Fifty Gold for the Spare Heir

Supply Wagon Four departed shortly before sunset, joining more than a dozen other wagons traveling beneath the protection of the newly assembled reinforcement force. Horses pulled equipment and provisions while the recruits marched or rode wherever space remained available. Sieghart sat on the front bench beside Edric, with their traveling bags secured beneath their feet. His grandfather's enchanted bow rested across his lap, its dark limbs and crimson runes drawing almost as much attention as Sieghart himself.

Almost. People had been staring at Sieghart since they left the mustering square. Young recruits turned their heads whenever their formations brought them near the wagon, while several older fighters abandoned all attempts at subtlety and watched him openly. Sieghart initially assumed that they were surprised to see a five-year-old among military reinforcements. That would have been reasonable. Even in a force composed mostly of adolescents and older citizens, he remained absurdly young.

However, many of their gazes settled on his hair. The combination revealed more about him than Sieghart wanted strangers to know. His crimson-red hair already stood out, especially beneath the evening sunlight. The remaining golden-blond strands made it even more distinctive by combining the most recognizable features of both his parents. Sieghart wondered whether this world possessed an effective method of bleaching hair.

If he turned everything white or pale blond, he could determine whether people were staring because of his appearance or because the army had recruited someone who still needed help reaching high shelves. The experiment might provide useful information, although Elara would probably respond badly if he returned from the war with damaged hair. His grandmother had accepted black fire, enchanted weapons, and military conscription with varying degrees of concern.

Voluntary hair destruction might finally break her patience.

"You're attracting attention," Edric said.

"I noticed."

"That isn't always a bad thing."

"Maybe." Edric smiled slightly before returning his attention to the road. The wagon rocked beneath them as its wheels crossed a shallow rut, causing the bow on his lap to glow faintly. Most likely, people knew exactly who Sieghart's father was. The Crimson Sword King commanded the border forces, appeared in books about legendary warriors, and carried one of the most recognizable names in the kingdom.

The kingdom might consider Sieghart a failed heir, but failure remained interesting when it belonged to someone famous. People enjoyed examining the flaws of powerful families because those flaws made their own problems feel less embarrassing. Some recruits probably expected Sieghart to possess a hidden combat Aura worthy of House Emberhart. Others might have already heard that he lacked one and wondered why Lord Alaric's useless firstborn had been included among the reinforcements.

Sieghart didn't particularly care which explanation they preferred. None of them would change what he could do, although constant attention could make concealing his true mana reserve more difficult.

"It might be good for you to make some friends during this job," Edric said. Sieghart turned toward him.

"Here?"

"There are many young people traveling with us."

"Most of them are at least five years older than me."

"That doesn't mean you can't speak with them." Sieghart looked across the convoy. The youngest recruits appeared to be ten or eleven, and even they carried training weapons or wore the uniforms of military squires. Some marched beside older relatives. Others gathered in nervous groups and spoke too loudly, pretending that traveling toward an active war represented an exciting adventure rather than a decision they hadn't been allowed to make. A battlefield seemed like a terrible place to make friends.

People would be fighting for their lives, watching others die, and wondering whether the defensive lines would survive another day. Friendship usually required shared interests, free time, and enough emotional stability to speak without examining every nearby bush for an ambush. War didn't appear to provide ideal conditions. More importantly, no one in the convoy would treat Sieghart as an equal.

The closest person to his age had still lived twice as long in this world, even if Sieghart's memories made him mentally older than nearly everyone present. From their perspective, he was a small child with unusual hair sitting beside his grandfather. They might protect him, pity him, or treat him like a mascot, but genuine friendship seemed unlikely.

"I'll try," Sieghart said. Edric recognized the lack of enthusiasm but accepted the answer. He probably understood that Sieghart had spent most of his life surrounded by adults and books rather than children. The convoy continued eastward until darkness began covering the road. The commanding officer ordered everyone to stop near an abandoned pasture, where the wagons could form a defensive circle without damaging cultivated land.

Experienced recruits secured the horses while others gathered wood, prepared food, and established watch positions. The organization appeared rough, but several older fighters moved through the camp correcting mistakes before they became dangerous. Sieghart climbed down from the wagon and stretched his legs. Protection remained active beneath his skin, reducing the stiffness caused by several hours spent sitting on a wooden bench with almost no cushioning.

Edric inspected the surrounding pasture before choosing a place near Supply Wagon Four. They spread their blankets beside the wheel, keeping their belongings close enough to grab if the camp needed to move suddenly. Sieghart expected to eat, study the other recruits, and perhaps test the first stage of his Firewall spell after finding a safe patch of ground. Those plans ended when a boy carrying an enchanted bow approached him. The boy appeared approximately twelve years old.

His brown hair had been cut short, and nervousness remained visible despite his attempt to stand like an experienced soldier.

"Are you the mana charger?" he asked. Sieghart looked at the identification tag hanging from his neck.

"Apparently."

"Can you charge this?" The bow was an old model with green runes along its limbs. Sieghart recognized the enchantment as a Wind Arrow array similar to several weapons Master Thorne rented through his shop. Sieghart accepted the bow and examined its condition before transferring anything. The runes were worn but intact, and the storage array contained only two arrows.

"How many does it hold?" Sieghart asked.

"Fifteen." Mana Transfusion activated the moment Sieghart touched the grip. He supplied energy slowly enough to avoid attracting more attention, although his Level Fifteen skill could have filled the entire array within seconds. The remaining symbols brightened one after another. The boy's eyes widened when the final mark activated without Sieghart showing any exhaustion.

"It's full."

"Already?"

"Yes." The boy took the bow and inspected the glowing runes. He hurried away before Sieghart could ask his name. Edric watched the exchange with an amused expression, probably considering it the beginning of the friendship he had suggested. Sieghart considered it unpaid labor. More recruits approached before he could return to the wagon. News traveled quickly through a camp filled with adolescents, and the sight of one fully charged weapon was apparently enough to attract every person carrying depleted equipment.

A girl with a wind spear arrived next. Two older boys brought enchanted shields capable of releasing brief barriers, while an elderly hunter requested energy for a pair of boots that reduced the impact of long jumps. Sieghart inspected every enchantment before charging it. Master Thorne's warnings remained important. Damaged runes could leak energy, overload surrounding materials, or transform a useful item into a surprisingly expensive explosive.

The weapons had been maintained well enough for safe use, but most carried little mana. Their owners probably lacked the reserves necessary to charge them without exhausting themselves before reaching the eastern region. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Sieghart supplied enough energy to fill each storage array.

Mana Transfusion became smoother with every transfer, guiding energy into several different enchantment patterns without requiring him to understand their runes completely. A small crowd formed around him. Some recruits asked questions, while others simply waited with their weapons and watched Sieghart work. Most spoke politely. One older boy attempted to move ahead of the line by announcing that his Aura was more suitable for combat than everyone else's. Edric sent him to the back without needing to stand.

Sieghart continued until more than twenty weapons had been charged. He didn't become tired, but pretending otherwise required him to slow his breathing and rub his forehead occasionally. People already considered his reserve exceptional. Performing the work without showing any strain would push that description toward something far more dangerous. Edric watched the line grow longer.

His initial satisfaction disappeared as he noticed how quickly Sieghart's official assignment had transformed into an unlimited source of free magical labor.

"Who authorized this?" Edric asked. The elderly hunter holding the enchanted boots glanced at the others.

"We were told the mana charger could prepare our equipment."

"Were you told how much he would be paid?" No one answered. That silence settled the question. The recruits had been ordered to bring depleted equipment to Sieghart, but no one had explained whether the work provided separate compensation. Edric told the remaining fighters to wait and walked toward the command tent. Sieghart finished charging the hunter's boots before returning the equipment.

"I'll continue after Grandpa comes back." Several recruits looked disappointed, but none argued. They had seen Edric's bow and probably recognized that irritating an experienced archer before reaching hostile territory would be unwise. Sieghart sat beside the wagon and opened his notebook. Mana Transfusion recorded how much energy he had supplied, allowing him to calculate the value using Master Thorne's usual market rate. The total already exceeded several days of work at the shop.

Military demand might justify a lower rate for bulk charging, but free remained considerably below any reasonable negotiation. Edric returned with the convoy leader several minutes later. The officer was a broad man in his late forties who wore chain armor beneath a dark-blue coat. A faded scar crossed his chin, while the insignia on his shoulder identified him as the person responsible for transporting the reinforcements safely to the eastern command.

Sieghart had seen him issuing orders in the mustering square, but they hadn't spoken directly. The man stopped beside the wagon and examined the remaining line of recruits.

"I'm Captain Harlan," he said.

"You're Sieghart Emberhart?"

"Yes."

"How many items have you charged?"

"Twenty-three." Captain Harlan's eyebrows rose.

"That many?"

"They were mostly smaller weapons." The response didn't satisfy the officer. He looked toward the waiting recruits, probably estimating how much work remained throughout the convoy. Edric folded his arms.

"What is Sieg being paid?"

"His expenses are covered by the eastern command."

"Food and a place beside a wagon aren't payment."

"Every recruit receives provisions."

"Then how much does he earn for charging weapons?" Captain Harlan hesitated. His gaze moved toward Sieghart before returning to Edric. That pause warned them that the answer would be unpleasant.

"Fighters assigned to the eastern defense receive five gold coins for each week of service," Captain Harlan said.

"Additional rewards may be granted after major engagements."

"And Sieg?"

"His position is different. He isn't registered as a fighter, squire, craftsman, or ordinary support worker."

"He is performing the work of a mana specialist."

"I know."

"Then pay him like one." Several nearby recruits pretended not to listen. Their complete silence made that performance unconvincing. Captain Harlan removed a folded document from the leather case at his belt. He opened it, checked one section, and released a slow breath.

"My lord already paid fifty gold coins for Sieghart's services." Edric became completely still.

"Paid whom?"

"Lord Alaric Emberhart." The words struck the camp harder than a shouted command. Even recruits standing several meters away turned toward them, while Sieghart felt one eyebrow begin twitching. Captain Harlan continued before Edric recovered.

"The payment secured Sieghart Emberhart's services as a magical equipment charger for the duration of the eastern reinforcement operation. The agreement was made before his summons was delivered." Sieghart stared at the officer. His father hadn't merely authorized the military to use him. Alaric had negotiated a price. Fifty gold coins.

That amount represented ten weeks of wages for an ordinary fighter, paid in advance for the magical labor of a five-year-old whose chances of dying were considerably higher than zero. Edric looked genuinely speechless. His mouth opened once, but no words emerged. Sieghart had never seen his grandfather fail to produce a response during an argument. Edric knew Alaric was proud, emotionally distant, and practical to a fault.

He had accepted that his son-in-law might approve Sieghart's conscription because the kingdom required support. Selling the right to use the child's mana was something else entirely. Lord Alaric hadn't paid for Sieghart's upbringing, purchased his books, supported his training, or compensated the grandparents who raised him. The moment Sieghart became useful, the Crimson Sword King collected payment for abilities he had dismissed.

"Did Lord Alaric specify how long this operation would last?" Edric asked.

"No."

"Did he establish a maximum number of weapons Sieg must charge?"

"Not in the document."

"Protection from combat?"

"Sieghart is assigned to rear logistics."

"That isn't what I asked." Captain Harlan's expression hardened, although his irritation seemed directed toward the contract rather than Edric. He had probably received orders without considering the details until now.

"I cannot change an agreement made between my lord and Lord Emberhart," the captain said.

"You can decide how you treat a child under your command."

"I have no intention of placing him in battle."

"You brought children to a war. Intentions stopped being reassuring several miles ago." Captain Harlan didn't answer immediately. He looked across the camp at the young recruits preparing weapons beside men old enough to be their grandfathers.

"We use the people we have," he finally said. That sentence probably summarized the entire eastern defense. The best warriors were already fighting or dead, leaving commanders to build reinforcements from whoever remained capable of holding a weapon. Sieghart understood the captain's position. He still disliked being included among the resources available for use. His eyebrows continued twitching while he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

Anger stirred his Fire Magic, warming the air around his chest before he forced it under control. Creating a Firewall in the middle of camp would communicate his displeasure, but it would also provide his father with another ability to sell. Sieghart considered demanding his share of the fifty gold coins. The money legally belonged to Alaric because he remained Sieghart's father and guardian in the eyes of noble law, even though Edric and Elara performed every actual responsibility.

Fighting that arrangement would require authority Sieghart didn't possess yet. He was five years old, carried the Emberhart name, and had been summoned under an agreement completed before anyone bothered to inform him. The situation was insulting. It wasn't unexpected. His parents had considered him worthless until his mana became useful. Now his father had discovered a way to profit from the same child he removed from his household. Sieghart took a slow breath.

He had lived inside the Emberhart estate for approximately one year after his birth. During that time, his parents provided food, shelter, servants, and enough basic care to keep him alive until they sent him to the farm. Sieghart had been a freeloader. Admittedly, most infants were freeloaders. They lacked the coordination required for paid employment and rarely possessed marketable skills beyond sleeping, crying, and producing impressive quantities of laundry.

Still, Sieghart decided to treat this operation as repayment for that first year. Fifty gold coins probably exceeded the cost of feeding an infant, but noble households possessed expensive floors for children to crawl across. He would work this time. He would charge the weapons, learn everything he could, help prevent the eastern region from collapsing, and consider his debt to House Emberhart permanently settled.

Captain Harlan dismissed the waiting recruits and announced that charging would resume the following morning according to an organized schedule. Several people protested quietly, but no one challenged him openly. When the officer departed, Edric sat beside Sieghart.

"You don't have to accept this."

"The contract was already made."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No. It makes refusing more complicated." Edric looked toward the command tent.

"I can take you home."

"And then they accuse you of desertion and send someone else to collect me." Edric couldn't deny the possibility. Returning might protect Sieghart temporarily, but it would also place their farm and Elara under unwanted attention from House Emberhart. Sieghart closed his notebook.

"I'll work. After this, Father and I are even."

"You never owed him anything."

"I know." That was exactly why Sieghart could decide the debt existed and declare it finished. It wasn't about money or repayment. It was about creating a boundary inside his own mind. He would no longer consider himself supported by House Emberhart, indebted to its name, or responsible for fulfilling its expectations. Whatever his parents spent during his first year had now been repaid through fifty gold coins earned from his mana. The next time Alaric attempted to sell his services, Sieghart would refuse.

If refusal required strength, he would acquire enough strength before that day arrived. Edric rested one hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't sell me."

"I should have realized."

"So should I." Sieghart had expected his father to use his abilities for the kingdom. He simply hadn't anticipated Alaric placing a price on that use before Sieghart even reached the battlefield. The lesson was useful. Nobles didn't need to threaten, imprison, or openly control someone when contracts and family authority could accomplish the same result more politely. Fifty gold coins had purchased the eastern command access to his mana. It hadn't purchased his loyalty, obedience, or willingness to remain ignorant.

Sieghart would charge their weapons. In return, he would study their enchantments, observe their Aura techniques, learn military organization, gather information about Firians, and claim any experience the conflict placed within reach. His father had rented him like a magical tool. Sieghart intended to become the most expensive tool anyone had ever underestimated.