“Tsk tsk. I already explained the property relations to you,” Kenneth said.

  Kenneth the steward-cum-foreman had his office on the third story of the lodge overlooking the village side. From his front window Jessica could see down onto the tiled roof of Earl Heinrich’s manor house.

  “Yeah, I know what you explained. What I don’t understand is how they’re still serfs if their hamlet burned down,” she said.

  “They owe a certain portion of their labor to their liege lord, Earl Heinrich, and as his personal steward I have elected to employ that labor toward the manufacture of flavor crystals,” Kenneth said. “What is not making sense to you?”

  “Oh, you know, just the 14-hour work days. They weren’t even working that hard in Barleyfield!”

  Kenneth sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Craft work is of a different nature to agricultural work. Anyone with a background in commerce knows this. While crops are contingent upon the invariable march of the seasons, craft work is beholden only to time. Thus, it is imperative in such work that the efficiency of time be maximized. The Earl’s serfs, which he has put at my disposal, are perfectly capable of working a mere 14 hours.”

  Jessica threw up her hands. “Screw it! Why not 15 hours then!? Why not 16!?”

  “We found that many were beginning to collapse at 15 hours,” he explained.

  “God, I can’t imagine why! How long do you work?”

  “Though my work is intermittent, I am at the Earl’s disposal at all times. If I must be roused from sleep to do his bidding, so be it,” Kenneth said.

  “How often is that?” Jessica asked.

  Kenneth frowned. “You are exceedingly tedious and annoying. Even more so than most adventurers. Is there something I can actually help you with or did you come here only to moralize at me?”

  Jessica shook her head in disbelief. “You stole my recipe and made a factory out of it and you’re calling me annoying and tedious?”

  “Your recipe that consists entirely of boiling seaweed?” Kenneth said, smirk edging onto his face. “I am the loyal servant of Earl Heinrich first and foremost, but secondarily I am a man of commerce. In both capacities I am obliged to maximize my lord’s interest. To knowingly fall short of this duty would be tantamount to treason.

  “Moreover, a serf’s physiology was designed by the gods in their wisdom to bear the burden of hard labor. They have no practical use for leisure and indeed have a marked tendency to get up to mischief when given any. It is best for all involved that they be put to the most productive form of labor available to their lord which in this case, monetarily-speaking, is the manufacture of flavor crystals.”

  Kenneth had such a slippery and long-winded way of speaking that Jessica had to remind herself every few seconds he was talking a load of crap. By the end of his rant she’d already forgotten he ditched the vegetable hydrolysis method she sent Granny Marb down with.

  “How about the fact that I was a serf for a bit and I was on course to get a PhD three years early?” she asked.

  “You were made a serf by Sir Hayek’s malevolent intervention, not by virtue of birth.”

  “And somewhere down the line the first serf was made a serf by malevolent intervention. What the hell is your point?” Jessica said.

  Kenneth leaned forward and steepled his hands over the desk.

  “Ma’am, I have already given you permission to meet with the serfs when they ought to be resting, potentially decreasing their productivity tomorrow. If you continue to quibble with me over matters settled centuries ago I will have to revisit that decision.”

  Through force of will Jessica bottled up her anger and took it out of his office with her and let it detonate against a wall where it mostly just bruised her knuckles. Ultimately, she felt guilty. Because of her the Barleyfielders were stuck under an even more grueling form of enslavement while she had found a way to avoid the same fate.

  What was even more frustrating was everyone telling her the application of magic made technology unnecessary. Fertilizers weren’t needed because magic could grow food, they said. Fine. But that abundance of food had to be picked by someone and it wasn’t being done by thousands of magical hands. What was even the point of magic if not to make life easier?

  Meanwhile, the adventurers, who were the only people anyone paid attention to, could not care in the slightest. There was no aura farming or level progression or zany harem hijinks in overturning serfdom.

  A darker part of herself wondered: Would it even be a medieval fantasy world anymore if everyone worked in factories? Injecting modernity into Tushita would mean recreating everything that reincarnated adventurers were trying to escape from. And if Jessica was being honest, she was trying to escape from it too.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Jessica took this sour mood with her into the workers’ quarters.

  The quarters were set up barracks-style with enough bunk-beds to fit a modestly-sized hamlet. These beds were tucked behind a row of wooden beams holding the roof up. The kids of the village—who shockingly still had energy—were using the beams as obstacles for a game of tag. The adults, however, were all either passed out or talking quietly in clusters.

  Spotting the Serfs, Jessica walked over to where Charles was snoring loudly, Rosemary was darning socks, and John was reading a book.

  “I thought you couldn’t read,” Jessica said.

  Her voice startled John into dropping the book which she could see was a cookbook for Al-Mazra’an cuisine.

  “Jessica? What are you doin’ here!?” he asked.

  “Coming back for a visit since it didn’t seem like you all were gonna get any PTO. I didn’t know you could read, John.”

  “He can’t,” Rosemary said. “But he thinks starin’ at letters all day is gonna get ‘em in his head. I keep tellin’ him that ain’t how it works.”

  John looked up at her with puppy dog eyes. Plastered across his face was a genuine hope that this was how it worked.

  Jessica rubbed her neck. “Er… not quite. But it’s a worthwhile goal!”

  She watched John’s face fall as his dreams of erudition were dashed. Rosemary kept on with her socks but Jessica could see her face was paler. Salt crusted her eyes and lips.

  “How are you all holding up?” Jessica asked.

  Rosemary replied with a pained smile. “Well, it ain’t been great, but we manage. Ya don’t pick your circumstances but you can make the best of ‘em. Our food’s never tasted better too!”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “What do they have you eating?”

  “Same old barley gruel,” Rosemary replied, “but it’s got flavor crystals in it now. This stuff’s magic, Jessica, and you did it without any magic! Ain’t that somethin’.”

  “Ain’t it,” Jessica said, wincing at Rosemary’s optimism. “I’m sorry you all got stuck here. This wasn’t— I didn’t think they would stick you in a factory and—”

  Rosemary patted her arm. “It’s alright, dear. We’ve made it through famine and disease before so really this ain’t so bad. We ain’t no prissy nobles who can’t take a bit o’ work. Ain’t that right, Charl— oops, don’t wanna wake him up.”

  Jessica’s mind was already turning on ways to break them out. With her otherworldly knowledge there had to be a way to make enough money to buy out whatever contracts bound the Barleyfielders to Earl Heinrich. Even if it meant some harebrained, get-rich-quick scheme, she would make it work. She had to.

  “Here’s what I’m gonna do,” Jessica said. “I want to get John out of here and maybe if I take him back to the capital we can tell the king and queen what’s happening and they can crack down on the ridiculous hours Kenneth is making you work. At a minimum they have to agree that your children shouldn’t be working, right?”

  Rosemary raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t the kids be working?”

  “Because—” Because it was so obvious Jessica had never needed to articulate before why child labor was bad. “Because they need to study so they can grow up and uh… get good jobs?”

  Oh God, Jessica thought, she sounded like her mother.

  Rosemary laughed. “What jobs are they gettin’? They’re serfs! And even if they weren’t, they’d be craft apprentices or some such. Ain’t nothin’ they can do with books.”

  “Just… trust me on this. It’s like the micro-demons thing. There are spiritual forces beyond the veil of reality which reward education and literacy. I can’t really explain it, but that’s why everyone who comes from Earth achieves so much. They read books and learn math and expand their horizons. It’s not that adventurers are better than you, they just come here with more knowledge. But your heads have to be lifted off the dirt to make that happen.”

  Rosemary responded as she usually did to Jessica’s rants with a smile of light embarrassment at her own ignorance. Contained in it was the resignation that she would never understand what Jessica was going on about. This in turn frustrated Jessica because she was certain Rosemary could puzzle it out if she didn’t immediately give up.

  “I trust ya know what you’re talking about, dear. The best I can do is offer you a place to stay for the night so ya don’t gotta pay an inn. You’re welcome to sleep in John’s bed if ya like,” Rosemary said.

  Jessica flushed bright red.

  “I’d be sleepin’ on the floor!” John hastily added.

  Jessica giggled at that. She missed staying with the Serfs. It was nice having Riza and Naga around, but it also felt like they were tied up with the stress and danger of the castle. Hearing John’s flustered voice and Rosemary’s hearty guffaw again put her at ease. Like she was back in Barleyfield before any adventurers or psychotic elves had set out to harm her.

  “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want another run-in with Kenneth. I’ve got plenty of money to stay at an inn,” Jessica said.

  “Probably better than these flea-ridden beds, truth be told,” Rosemary said.

  Before she left, Charles cracked his eyes open and mumbled a hello along with a half-hearted wave. She said hello back and departed.

  Jessica stayed up until midnight coming up with a suitable plan to pry John from Kenneth’s grip. Without ever coming to a conclusion, she passed out and woke up the next morning with what she felt was the perfect plan.

  “I’m taking John Serf with me,” Jessica told Kenneth.

  Kenneth raised his eyebrows. “Is that one of the serfs?”

  “No, his name is unrelated to his profession.”

  “I don’t like your attitude.”

  “Oh, brother, believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Jessica said, leaning back in her chair. “But here’s the thing: As the king’s faithful and only concubine I have certain privileges which supersede the authority of his vassals. One of those privileges is the ability to levy corvée labor for clear and present needs. Since I currently lack a groom for my horse I am levying John Serf. Any issues can be taken up with His Royal Majesty, King Capra.”

  Kenneth ground his teeth for a moment and then said, “Fine. He was one of our underperforming workers anyway.”

  Facade: The Girl who will Destroy the System

  Facade: The Girl Who Will Destroy the System

  The world is governed by a hidden System.

  Llyne is not chosen. She gains no powers.

  She is simply aware—and the System was not built for that.

  Comedy first. Psychological collapse later.

  Read before the System notices her. ????