20: refugee

“Baron, it is time for dinner.”

Hearing the gentle female voice from outside the room, Lister, who had been deep in thought, snapped back to reality and said calmly, “I know, Flora. I will be down shortly.”

“Yes, Baron,” Flora replied respectfully.

As the footsteps gradually faded, Lister walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, instantly dispelling most of the fatigue left over from work.

A few minutes later, in the first-floor hall.

Lister, sitting in the main seat, began to enjoy the lavish dinner, with Thomas and others attending on either side.

Because he had advanced to Bronze Knight, his appetite was much larger than before, and he needed sufficient meat at every meal, or he wouldn't be able to keep up with the consumption from training.

Soon, the delicacies on the table were swept clean. After a short rest, he headed towards the training grounds.

Due to work and the Cold Wave over the past few days, his training progress had slowed considerably, making him, who was already obsessed with training to become stronger, feel quite unaccustomed.

However, as soon as he arrived at the training grounds, he heard good news.

Spartacus had advanced to Bronze Knight!

This speed was astonishing, but if it hadn't been for the Cold Wave, he could have advanced even earlier.

Furthermore, the fact that Spartacus practiced only a shallow-quality Breathing Technique also held him back significantly.

This gave Lister a clearer understanding of the talent required to potentially become a Golden Knight.

In comparison, he, the 'fake genius' who practiced a rare-quality Breathing Technique, was still far behind.

After another round of encouraging motivational talk, and seeing the extremely excited expression on Spartacus's face, Lister went to his dedicated corner of the open ground to practice.

He had originally wanted to learn a new skill today, but since the experienced Red was absent, he was afraid of making a mistake in his training, so he gave up and continued to focus on mastering his existing techniques.

Coordinating with the powerful and rhythmic 'Silver Wolf Breathing Technique', Lister frantically swung the black iron heavy sword in his hand.

It seemed to lack specific moves, but in reality, the moves had merged into the formless. Every simple, direct chop, hack, and sweep carried endless might and killing intent.

The Swordsmanship of this world did not require flashy moves; what mattered was the genuine skill to kill enemies on the battlefield.

He practiced Swordsmanship for a full hour, but the progress was still minimal. Lister hadn't even touched the edge of the Mastery Realm, let alone reached it.

Dispelling the slight feeling of disappointment in his heart, Lister began his Spearmanship training.

In the Pedan Kingdom, any weapon with a long shaft and a sharp, lethal head is called a spear.

As a Knight, using a Long Spear in combat is definitely more advantageous, especially since the massive inertial force generated by a horse charge allows the Long Spear to exert two hundred percent or even greater power.

Lister, who had previously reached the Introduction level of Spearmanship, handled the spear with decent form.

But compared to Swordsmanship, Spearmanship was harder to train. After so many days of practice, apart from the initial speed of reaching Introduction, he hadn't made much progress afterward, and was still far from the Proficient Realm.

After nearly an hour of training, his progress was still negligible.

Lister had initially thought he might be a Spearmanship genius because he reached the Introduction level so quickly, but reality had hit him hard.

For a moment, he couldn't help but think of Eric Alexander, who was mentioned in the previous Divination and held the Kingdom title 'spear of the north'... He heard that Eric was less than twenty-five years old and was already a Rank Nine Silver Knight, with terrifying talent in Spearmanship.

When he started practicing the spear at age fifteen, he instantly reached Introduction, Proficient in three days, Mastery in two months, and now he had reached a powerful realm beyond Mastery.

“Sigh, comparing oneself to others really is infuriating. I should just focus on my own training,” Lister sighed, then buried himself in practice again... The next day, at noon.

The refugees mentioned in the Divination information flowed into Ironthorn Territory right on schedule, mostly gathering in Ironthorn Town.

They all looked tired and weak, clearly due to prolonged lack of food. If they didn't eat soon, they would likely die quickly.

However, because Soldiers patrolled the territory daily, no matter how hungry they were, they dared not steal food from the residents of Ironthorn Town, and could only kneel by the roadside begging.

In a corner by the roadside, Lister watched this scene, his eyes filled with sorrow and pity: ‘Sure enough, no matter the world, it is always the Common People who suffer from war.’

However, amidst his heartache, he saw a scene that brought him comfort. Perhaps influenced by him, or perhaps because his Tax Reduction Policy had made the residents slightly wealthier.

Most of the territory's residents were willing to offer some food or money when they saw the refugees.

Listening to the refugees' continuous expressions of gratitude, Lister led Spartacus and the others out of the corner, appearing in everyone's line of sight.

Immediately, greetings rang out from the bottom of people's hearts.

“Esteemed Lord, greetings to you.”

“Good health to you, Lord.”

Seeing that the gorgeously dressed, excessively young man before them was actually the Lord of this land, the refugees, whose expressions were filled with humility and numbness, were all surprised.

Daring not to hesitate, they quickly dragged their exhausted bodies to kneel and salute Lister, but Lister stopped them, which filled them with apprehension and disbelief.

Glancing around, Lister estimated the number of refugees to be nearly a hundred, with young and middle-aged adults making up the majority, and only a small number of elderly, weak, women, and children.

Clearly, the weaker ones had already died in the Western Frontier Territory or along the way during their escape.

Withdrawing his gaze, Lister cut straight to the chase, proclaiming, “Hello, I am the Lord of this territory, Lister Howard.”

“I presume you fled from the Western Frontier Territory, but that is not important. Since you have arrived in my territory, it is a great destiny.”

“Currently, my territory requires a large population. If you are willing, I can arrange for you to work in Ironthorn Town and become residents of Ironthorn Territory.”

“As long as you do not slack off or commit crimes, you will have the opportunity to eat your fill in Ironthorn Territory, and even be allocated your own Farmland.”

“Of course, if any of you are Literate or have other specialized skills, you may recommend yourselves, and I will arrange for important positions elsewhere.”

Having said this, he paused, waiting for the refugees' response. The last sentence was naturally intentional, its purpose being to attract the talent capable of being a magistrate.

The next moment, an excited clamor erupted from among the refugees.

“What? Lord actually wants to take us in, and we can even work here!”

“Farmland! We refugees, who are worse than Slaves, actually have a chance to obtain Farmland.”

“This is wonderful! Wuwuwu...”

They had no suspicion regarding Lister's words, nor did they dare to doubt him. After all, given their lowly status, what reason was there to deceive them?

Taking a step back, even if Lister had ill intentions, they would accept it. As long as they could eat a full meal right now, they would willingly accept death afterward.

“Esteemed Lord, is everything you just said true?”