The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess

Now, as a member of Nightfall Domain’s human heavy cavalry, Sidhem spent his days in intense training. Only during the evening patrols did he get a chance to relax a little and wander around comfortably.

"Hey, little girl. It’s dark—don’t run around." Sidhem lifted his visored helmet and pointed toward the nearby shelters. "Go back home."

"M-my lord, I have something to report."

Clara was startled, nearly dropping to her knees from fright.

"Haha, what could a kid like you possibly have to report?" Sidhem laughed.

Clara raised her neck, her voice trembling yet loud. "Some slaves are planning a riot. I heard it myself."

"Huh? Don’t scare me like that."

Hearing this, even the knight couldn’t stay calm. Though he doubted a child truly understood what a riot meant, he frowned, thought for a moment, and said seriously, "You’d better not be lying. Angering the baron is something neither you nor I can afford."

Seeing the girl stubbornly holding her ground, Sidhem gritted his teeth. "Come with me. Now."

...

Inside the grand winery, a townsman had already reported the possibility of a riot to Phield.

"My lord, I personally saw several slaves constantly watching Windrise Town instead of working. I asked around, and found that those keeping watch all know each other. I swear on my soul—those bastards are definitely up to something."

Phield listened calmly, nodding from time to time. He noticed the man’s sunburned skin and the small cuts on his fingers—marks of long years spent farming.

"You just became a freeman. Yan, right?"

"Yes, my lord."

The man named Yan was overwhelmed with emotion. He dropped to one knee, too excited to even speak properly.

To have his name remembered by the baron—what an honor. If my father knew, he’d die of envy, he shouted inwardly.

Phield smiled and nodded. "I’ve noted it. Once verified, you’ll receive your reward."

After sending Yan away, Phield felt quite pleased. Even without the black crow’s surveillance, the rebels couldn’t stir up much trouble.

Tisiana stepped out from the adjoining room, puzzled. "My lord, why are you pleased even though you know about the riot?"

"It’s not the riot that pleases me," Phield replied. "It’s the fact that people are reporting it voluntarily. That proves one thing—people like Yan have become true subjects. They’ve genuinely integrated into the territory and become my loyal supporters."

This had been part of his plan from the very beginning.

Slaves must never be freed unconditionally.

Only by earning their freedom through labor—by striving for a better life themselves—would they truly cherish it, and refuse to let anyone else take that right away.

In that instant, they would draw a clear line between themselves and their former class.

"My lord is amazing."

Tisiana smiled sweetly and clapped her hands lightly, like a teacher praising a child. It was hard to tell whether she genuinely saw him that way.

"Hmph."

Phield let out a cool snort, neither confirming nor denying it. Just because she made me drink that much milk doesn’t mean she gets to climb over my head. Better to keep some kingly dignity.

"Let’s go watch a good show."

According to the black crow, Anwei and his group were about to make their move.

"Let me see the baron!" a hurried voice came from outside.

"Wait. Let us report first," the guard on duty replied.

"My lord, I have urgent matters to report!" the man shouted.

"Let him in."

Clad in full plate armor, Sidhem handed his weapon to a nearby soldier and stepped forward, dropping to one knee. "Honorable Lord Phield, some slaves are planning a riot—new arrivals, foolish ones. Allow me to bring you their heads!"

"So many reports in such a short time..."

Even Tisiana was stunned. Only nobles with exceptional control over their territory could achieve something like this.

The man before her felt increasingly extraordinary.

"Very good. But there’s no need to suppress the riot just yet." Phield nodded. What surprised him wasn’t the cavalryman reporting—but the little girl beside him. If Sidhem had brought her along, she must be the one who informed. "And this little girl is... Clara?"

Both of them froze, clearly not expecting the baron to remember a slave’s name.

They recounted the situation once more.

Clara shrank back slightly and said timidly, "My lord, I’m telling the truth. Please don’t punish me... my sister would be sad."

"You did nothing wrong. I won’t punish you."

Amused by her reaction, Phield nodded to Sidhem. "You did well. I’ll remember your loyalty and quick thinking. Return to the barracks—this is a minor matter. The guards will handle it."

"Yes, my lord!"

Sidhem straightened and responded loudly before leaving the winery.

"I..."

Clara looked around nervously.

"No need to be afraid. Nina, prepare some snacks for little Clara," Phield said, clearly fond of the clever and well-behaved girl. He crouched down and gently pinched her nose. "Stay here and eat for now. When I’m done, I’ll arrange a new job for you."

Phield intended to bring Clara into the learning group, to begin educating her.

...

Leaving the winery, Phield rode along the newly paved stone road toward the slave shelters south of Windrise Town.

Unaware of the danger closing in, Anwei, Jay, and the others lit their prepared torches, pulled out their stone spears from beneath straw piles, and stepped out of the shelters one by one.

Gathering together, they advanced aggressively toward Tate’s house.

Tate was a workaholic. To better manage the slaves, he always built his temporary hut near their shelters.

Arriving at the door, Jay rolled his shoulders. Seeing the light still on inside, he revealed a savage grin. "Brothers, a good life is right in front of us. Once we kill the overseer, we’ll rush into the town and loot!"

"Heh, Phield is nothing special."

Anwei was elated, his smile dark and sinister. "Not even worth a hair of mine. Stupid nobles—how could they ever outplay people like us who specialize in schemes?"

In his eyes, nobles were good for nothing but indulgence. If not for their control of power, wealth, and divine favor, he believed he could be a lord himself. It was also why he dared entangle himself with Florine—he was convinced Simon would never find out.

With a kick, Anwei burst the door open, already imagining the lord’s dear advisor trembling at his feet.

Laughing loudly, he rushed inside.

However...

There was no one in the room.