I Picked Up the Fallen Earth

Chapter 2. Damned Middle Ages (2)

Despite its downfall, the time Jeron looks forward to the most each day, holding onto his memories from the modern era, is now.

Bathing almost every day, Jeron was known as an oddity even within his own territory.

In this era, epidemics were commonplace, often blamed on water.

Thus, people lived with a fear of water, making bathing a perceived dangerous(?) act.

When Jeron first began to enjoy baths, he had to endure nagging not only from his vassals but also from his family.

But for someone with the memories of a modern person, avoiding baths was simply not an option.

Eventually, he managed to win his right to bathe by using precious drops of holy water.

Slipping into the warm water, he felt his blood circulation improve and his fatigue start to ebb away.

After dealing with individuals of rigid thinking all day long, both his body and mind were considerably weary.

Jeron closed his eyes and thought,

“Could something truly serious have happened to father?”

It was the worst-case scenario imaginable.

While some might be desperate to secure the position of a lord, Jeron had no such desire.

Already struggling to adapt to the shocking cultures of the time, the idea of leading such a barbaric culture (?) seemed like the ultimate challenge.

Wouldn’t it be a truly extreme job?

He had hoped to pass the time somehow for at least 10 years, but what if something happened to his father?

Jeron shook his head vigorously, his long hair whipping around, flinging droplets of water in all directions.

“Let’s not think such unlucky thoughts.”

After his bath, he headed to the manor’s dining hall.

The floor was laid with marble, though many parts were cracked, and chandeliers, a sign of wealth, hung from the ceiling but were so rusted and distorted, they were hardly recognizable.

Chandeliers were out of place in this poor domain.

He would have liked to dispose of them, but they were deemed significant heirlooms of the family lineage and thus remained.

A long table stood alone in a space that looked to be at least 30 pyeong, with a whole wild boar on it and unidentifiable vegetables floating in a mysterious soup.

A bottle of sour, rustic wine stood thankfully on the table, embodying the noble’s dining table.

“Today was another hard day.”

“Yes, mother.”

Ophelia straightened the hair that fell over her furrowed brow.

In her mid-thirties this year, her face looked a decade older.

It was sad to see his mother aging so rapidly in this life, but given the era’s characteristics, it was inevitable.

Across from his mother sat his younger sister, Sharon.

A 15-year-old girl with many freckles, she looked every bit the tomboy and unmistakably Jeron’s sister.

If she were living on Earth, this girl in her teenage years would soon be having an adult ceremony and looking for a husband.

“Have you arrived, brother?”

“Yes. Did anything special happen today?”

“Of course not. I’ve been diligently attending my bridal lessons.”

“Well done. You’ll soon be an adult and start preparing for marriage.”

“Yes, brother! I will surely marry into a noble family of high standing and be of assistance.”

“Good. Always remember that is the destiny of a noble family’s daughter.”

As he spoke, Jeron wanted to smack his own head. Weren’t the very idea of discussing marriage with a 15-year-old essentially criminal? Proposing marriage to a middle school girl?

Yet, his mother and sister considered it perfectly natural. Nobles of the medieval ages always thought of marriage strategically; Jeron was no exception.

Last year, at age 17, he had pursued a marriage alliance with the second daughter of the influential Count Philip’s household, only to be broken off.

The Philip household chose to align with a more powerful county rather than marrying their daughter into the declining Farrow barony, unilaterally declaring the annulment.

To Jeron, that occurrence felt like divine intervention. He had no desire to spend his life with a woman full of freckles and a snub nose, especially one with such an intolerable personality, making a harmonious marriage impossible.

Baron Farrow was looking everywhere for a suitable match for Jeron, but as rumors of their impending downfall spread, finding a marriage partner became increasingly difficult.

Click.

The butler served a whole leg of boar on the plate. The smell of blood was already filling the air. If it had come to this, they might as well have had a barbecue.

This world wasn’t just primitive in terms of laws and institutions; its culinary culture was also appalling.

Glug glug glug.

Jeron doused the meat in grape wine and waited a bit before cutting into it. The sourness and slight sweetness of the wine acted as spices, making the otherwise bland food somewhat edible.

Dinner passed in silence. Was it a meal merely to survive? Not eating would weaken them and hinder tomorrow’s plans, so Jeron forced himself to eat. The happiest moment was perhaps after the meal, freshening one’s mouth with fruits and wine.

“Have you heard? It seems a war is about to break out.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. There’s already been skirmishing at the border of the Lapis Kingdom. If the war escalates, we’ll have no choice but to join.”

“It’s really worrisome. Just when life seemed to be getting better, war breaks out again.”

“It’s inevitable, I believe.”

Should war arise, the Farrow barony, a vassal directly under the king, would need to provide troops. Feudalism was a contract-based system; kings divided their territories among vassals who, in return for their allegiance, were obligated to pay taxes and provide military service.

Within their domains, they had tax rights, military rights, administrative rights, and judicial rights, reigning like kings. But, when war erupted, they had to raise armies, often leading to economic catastrophe.

However, war wasn’t purely harmful. Victory could bring slaves and spoils of war, and merits could earn additional territories or even ennoblement.

War was a high-risk, high-reward venture with both the risk of downfall and the chance for honor.

‘Normally, capturing nobles in war meant receiving a ransom for their release, but the problem is the barbaric Lapis Kingdom doesn’t follow such customs. With bad luck, one could end up flayed or their head hung on the walls as decoration. Of course, that only happens if you lose.’

After a long discussion about war at the dinner table, Jeron went to his room and fell asleep, ending his day.

***

County in the morning.

Jeron woke before dawn and swung his sword in the training ground. In a knightly noble society, swordsmanship was not only a crucial virtue but also necessary in this uncivilized world where one might face combat at any time.

Moreover, with war looming, Jeron, now fully grown, would join his father in battle.

This was the undeniable duty of a noble.Even in defeat, one must never neglect the physical training to avoid capture. Yet, Jeron’s swordsmanship was of considerable level, having been called a prodigy from a young age.

This was due to his experiences battling mutants in his past life, which, when combined with various modern sword techniques, forged his sword skills into something truly practical for combat.

Therefore, Jeron possessed enough skill to not lose to an average knight in a one-on-one battle. The faintly glittering sword blade. Only through continuous physical conditioning and practice could one become stronger. After about an hour of movement, sweat drenched him.

“Violet.”

“Yes, young lord! I’m here!”

Jeron cooled himself a bit by pouring water over his head and then quickly drank some water. Feeling a bit relieved from the heat, he wiped his face and body with a towel.

Sadly, that concluded his morning wash. Violet naturally took care of the laundry.

Violet, at the age of 15, has served Jeron from a young age as a maid. She had always been of great assistance, and as she grew up, it was somewhat apparent that she harbored feelings for Jeron.

However, unless someone intended to use her as a bait, there was absolutely no reason to trouble her. Besides, Jeron wasn’t particularly attracted to someone as slim as she was.

Ignoring such thoughts, Jeron proceeded to his room to gear up for the day. He tightened the laces of his boots, ready to start the day when a loud bell rang out.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Such ringing from the bell tower indicated that a significant emergency had befallen the estate. It essentially meant trouble.

Sure enough, Garcia came running, panting.

“Young lord! Barbarians have invaded!”

“Why? Are they coming into our land because they were chased out by our forces?”

“I’m not quite sure yet!”

“Then what do you know aside from how to charm women?”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Damn it! Issue a call to arms immediately and prepare for battle.”

In this world, venturing beyond the city walls was perilous. While there were farmlands outside, they required guard posts and regular patrols by soldiers, with certain areas restricted due to frequent monster appearances.

It was not uncommon for hungry barbarians or various monsters to swarm in groups. However, the timing was particularly curious.

Hadn’t Baron Ark Farrow deployed half of his knights and 300 soldiers for a punitive expedition? It would be somewhat relieving if it were just the barbarians fleeing into their lands from enemy forces.

But what if the expedition had been defeated, and now the barbarians were invading?

Jeron immediately rode out towards the southern wall of the estate. Yet, even before he arrived, a faint smell of blood wafted through the air.

Upon finally reaching the wall, he saw hundreds of barbarians, their bodies drenched in blood, not even bothering with upper garments, charging through the breached defenses.

Drawing his sword, Jeron muttered, “Ah… Damned Middle Ages! I’m truly sick of this!”