Claude followed behind Ghislain, nervously biting his nails.
'No way… did the sprouts really appear?'
The reasoning Ghislain had provided made sense on the surface, which had left Claude feeling a bit uneasy.
After all, the man hadn’t studied farming, researched agriculture, or even learned any magic, so Claude had confidently bet against him, assuming he would fail.
'No… if the sprouts have really grown, I’ll be a slave without even a word of protest! It must be that the inspector made a mistake!'
Trying to hide his growing anxiety, Claude maintained an arrogant stride as they approached the reclaimed land.
By the time they arrived, a large crowd had already gathered.
The news had spread quickly, and people from all over the region, even some of the mages, had come to witness it.
The crowd, staring in disbelief, parted as Ghislain approached the fields. His heart raced with anticipation.
“Oh, this is impressive!” Ghislain exclaimed.
What greeted him were rows of green wheat sprouts, standing upright in perfect lines, as if they were soldiers.
While Ghislain smiled in satisfaction, the people around him stared at him in shock.
From soil that was essentially dead, sprouts had appeared far sooner than anyone could have imagined!
Even Alfoy, standing nearby, clenched his fists, his face flushed with disbelief.
All of the enlightenment he had felt days ago seemed to vanish, and his mind was now in turmoil.
Alfoy pointed at the sprouts angrily, yelling, “Why are you here?!”
This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.
To think that he, the heir to the Tower of Mages, would become a slave for ten years without pay!
The mana swirling around him became unstable, teetering on the edge of an outburst.
The shock of facing such a humiliating reality had completely overwhelmed him.
Trembling, Alfoy suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed.
“Cough!”
Ghislain clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“What’s with him? Is it really worth having a mana backlash over this? It’s only been a few days since he had that so-called enlightenment. Strange guy… Hey, you lot, take him to rest. He’s a valuable slave; can’t have him falling ill.”
Alfoy was hurriedly carried away by the nearby attendants, but his breakdown paled in comparison to Claude’s despair.
‘No… this can’t be happening.’
Everything Claude had believed in crumbled in that moment.
‘Did he really copy the production of crops? How is this possible? Lord Ghislain managed this?’
There was no known method of farming like this anywhere in the continent.
It meant that Ghislain had thought of this on his own. Anyone could come up with ideas, but the fact that it actually worked was beyond comprehension.
Claude simply couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Ghislain, who he thought knew nothing, had succeeded so spectacularly.
“Did I lose? How could I—the top graduate of the Saireon Royal Academy—lose?! That can’t be right!”
Claude began to deny reality.
“I must be exhausted from overwork. I’m seeing things. Oh, Anna… I miss you…”
“Come on, Claude!”
Ghislain grabbed Claude by the shoulders, shaking him firmly.
“Are you alright? Snap out of it! You’re not someone who gives up here!”
“…Huh?”
“You’ve got ten more years of work ahead of you! You can’t lose your mind already!”
“…”
For a moment, Claude almost felt touched—until he realized how infuriating Ghislain’s words were.
Ghislain grinned and patted Claude’s shoulders lightly, the equivalent of a verbal coup de grâce. Claude couldn’t take it any longer and passed out, foaming at the mouth.
Fortunately, Wendy, who had been standing nearby, caught him before he collapsed completely.
“Make sure he rests well. He’s going to be very busy starting tomorrow. I have a lot of tasks for him,” Ghislain said, amused.
“Yes, my lord,” Wendy replied, bowing slightly before dragging the unconscious Claude away.
“Well, let’s go take a look at the other fields, shall we?”
Whistling, Ghislain leisurely made his way through the estate.
Although there were slight differences in the stages of growth depending on when the seeds were planted, sprouts had appeared—or were on the verge of appearing—in every field.
Ghislain smiled contentedly as he made his way back to the castle.
Although the knowledge he used had come from the future, it didn’t change the fact that the most critical aspect of developing the estate—securing a stable food supply—had succeeded.
This estate would now grow rapidly, as food was the foundation of all development.
“Master! How did you manage this? How did you know it would work?” Belinda asked, persistently.
“Well, you see, the seeds absorbed mana, which made them resilient enough to withstand the strong nutrients in the soil,” Ghislain responded vaguely, brushing off her curiosity.
In truth, even Ghislain didn’t know the exact science behind it.
This method was something that future mages and scholars had developed together after extensive research.
Ghislain only knew the results.
Though his explanation didn’t make much sense to either party, they both decided to let it slide. Belinda assumed it was some family secret or knowledge too complex to understand.
In the end, the explanation didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had successfully increased food production.
After confirming the wheat was growing well, Ghislain turned his attention to other matters.
For him, this project was merely one step in a long-term plan. The bet with Claude had just been a small bonus.
However, for the people of the estate, this event was a life-changing moment.
“Are crops really growing this well on our land? I can’t believe it, even though I’m looking right at it.”
“Our lord is truly blessed by the heavens! He must be favored by the god of farming! We must trust and follow him!”
The estate’s inhabitants were overjoyed.
Throughout the Fenris estate, praise for their lord echoed nonstop.
Up until now, they had appreciated Ghislain’s generosity but had always harbored a lingering sense of unease.
It was wonderful to see the estate’s infrastructure being improved, but these things required money.
What if their lord’s wealth ran out? What if they became poor again? And if that happened, would their lord turn on them and exploit them, like other lords had done?
The estate had no other visible sources of income, so their fears had been justified.
But now, those fears were gone.
The elderly, who had lived through famine, gazed at the fields with tears in their eyes.
“We won’t starve anymore. My children and grandchildren won’t go hungry. Hic.”
“Thank you, my lord. Truly, thank you.”
“We must serve him well. Lord Ghislain is our only hope.”
The hardships of the past now felt like a distant nightmare. Their new lord had solved all of the estate’s problems within a few short months.
Their loyalty to Ghislain grew stronger by the day.
In the great hall, Ghislain gathered his vassals, sitting smugly as he boasted.
“Didn’t I tell you? I said it would work. If anyone else wants to bet with me, feel free to challenge me anytime.”
The vassals remained silent, not daring to say a word.
It defied all logic, yet they couldn’t argue with the results.
For now, they had no choice but to listen to whatever Ghislain said.
Seeing their sullen faces, Ghislain snorted and turned to Gillian.
“The sprouts are still growing, so we’ll need to keep an eye on them, right? Make sure to station some troops around the fields so no wild animals or idiots trample them.”
Gillian grinned and replied, “The estate’s people have already volunteered to guard the fields in shifts.”
“Oh? Really?”
“They’re quite desperate to protect it.”
“That’s great. People who are motivated to protect something are strong.”
The fact that the people were voluntarily guarding the fields was a good sign.
It meant that everyone now understood that the fields represented the estate’s future.
Ghislain smiled in satisfaction.
The hope that he had held onto alone was finally spreading throughout the entire estate.
“Yes, he detonated all the runestones buried in the ground. The one who orchestrated it is Ghislain Ferdium… now Baron Fenris.”
Count Desmond Harold, flipping through a report, muttered under his breath.
His voice was heavy with exhaustion, and his face had grown pale compared to before.
His hair had turned white, and dark circles hung under his eyes, suggesting sleepless nights.
“I see.”
“...He’s a lunatic.”
At first, Harold hadn’t believed the report.
But the rumors spreading from Ferdium, and even confirmation from the Duke’s house, left no room for doubt.
While he accepted the facts, he still couldn’t comprehend Ghislain’s actions.
To preserve Ferdium, Ghislain had blown up runestones worth more than the entire estate.
“I didn’t realize I was dealing with someone too insane to do basic arithmetic. No wonder I couldn’t predict his moves.”
Harold clicked his tongue, turning to his aide.
“So, what’s he up to now?”
“He’s been focusing on increasing agricultural production, upending the estate’s infrastructure, and spending an enormous amount of money on development.”
“…Increasing agricultural production?”
Harold rubbed his temples, deep in thought.
After the defeat at Digald, the Ferdium estate had been annexed.
Half of it now belonged to Ghislain.
That alone was surprising, but hearing that Ghislain was completely transforming the Fenris estate was even more bewildering.
“Why would he be doing that? He should know that the land there isn’t suitable for farming.”
“Perhaps he’s desperate due to low production. If managed well, it could improve slightly.”
“Even so, he’s going way overboard. It’s as if he’s pouring every penny he earned from the runestones into this project.”
The aide cautiously offered his thoughts.
“He’s young and has just received his first estate. Some people need to try things for themselves, no matter what others say. It’s not so surprising when you consider his past as a reckless troublemaker.”
Harold nodded. It made sense.
There were many lords who wasted huge amounts of money in vain attempts to develop their territories, particularly those who had never received proper training as heirs.
“He must be getting cocky after winning a war with a single trap.”
Harold couldn’t accept Ghislain. No, he wouldn’t accept him.
Even if someone changed, their past as a troublemaker wouldn’t just disappear.
Harold’s towering pride and his prejudice against Ghislain clouded his judgment.
His meticulous investigation into Ghislain’s past had only served to blind him further.
To Harold, Ghislain was just a lucky upstart.
He was confident that he could sever Ghislain’s head the next time they met.
“Good. We don’t have the resources to deal with him right now anyway. Let him destroy himself. Leave him be.”
“Understood.”
“There are more important matters at hand.”
After their defeat in the siege of Ferdium, Harold had faced severe rebukes from the Duke.
If not for his prior accomplishments, he might have been executed.
This next task was critical. Failure was not an option.
It was far more important than seizing the Ferdium estate.
“It’s time to settle things in the North.”
The kingdom had gone according to Duke Delphine’s plans, except for the North.
To ensure the success of the rebellion, the North had to be pacified.
Harold’s sharp gaze swept over the assembled strategists.
“There aren’t many unconquered estates left. Use any means necessary to crush them. And push Amelia’s rebellion plans forward. I’ll figure out how to deal with Rayfold’s knight commander.”
The commander of the Rayfold Knights was known as the strongest man in the North, the Northern Swordmaster.
Harold had been preparing Viktor to deal with him, but Viktor had died in the previous war. Now he needed a new strategy.
‘Ghislain… if it weren’t for him. After I deal with Rayfold, you’re next. Get ready.’
Thinking of Ghislain made Harold grind his teeth in frustration, but for now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Both the Duke’s house and Harold believed that securing Rayfold was more important than dealing with Ghislain.
No matter how much Ghislain struggled, they were confident that if the Duke set his mind to it, he could crush him at any moment.
They had no idea how far Fenris would develop.
TFTC
TFTC
Tftc
30 October, 2024
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