HTLCCBFT Chapter 115

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 115

In order to filter out the residents who possessed “good physical fitness” and “certain command talent,” Oliver divided them into two broad categories for what he considered a rather unconventional sports event.

For the “physical fitness” aspect, he had neither the intention nor the conditions to replicate the numerous events of modern times, instead roughly testing only two items: running and swordsmanship.

The steward organized people into groups of twenty and had them race along Laina City’s newly constructed carriage road, with the fastest to arrive being declared the champion.

For sprinting, the result was based on a single trip; for long-distance running, it involved four round trips.

As for the weapons confiscated during the recent suppression of bandit groups, they had long been put to use. Although it wasn’t yet luxurious enough for every civilian with combat ability and duty to have their own weapon, at least two people could take turns using one.

For Laina at this stage, it was sufficient for two people to share a weapon for training.

Following the knights’ impartial teaching methods, the skill levels achieved varied greatly depending on individual talent.

Having never taught “fools” before, the knights naturally applied the strict training standards their former knight instructors had imposed on them to these fortunate individuals…

The results of these people’s over-a-month-long learning could only be described as pitiful.

Perhaps sensing the intense killing intent emanating from the instructors, very few dared to sign up for the “Great Cat God’s Swordsmanship Test.”

Aside from the fear of possibly angering the instructors, this was undoubtedly closely related to their growing sense of shame.

God! How could they have the nerve to display their clumsy swordsmanship in front of the Lord!

Fosse, of course, paid no mind to their thoughts.

Everyone knew that this dignified and formidable butler cared only for the young lord from beginning to end.

A few days earlier, upon seeing the list submitted by the knights, Fosse frowned slightly and mercilessly sent it back: “All guards must participate. For the others, you directly select the candidates—choose at least fifty.

Don’t joke around.

Those who were once lowly slaves and commoners utterly unworthy of approaching the young lord’s side…

If not for the young lord’s benevolence and kindness, they would likely never have had the chance to interact closely with knights in their lifetime, let alone receive swordsmanship instruction from active knights!

Since the young lord cares so much for them, how could they hide and disappoint him?

Fosse would never allow the beautiful Duke to show a disappointed expression on his face just because of their cowardice.

After receiving the butler’s command, the knights quickly carried it out.

As for the minor commotion following the swordsmanship competition sign-ups, Oliver, of course, remained unaware.

In his view, it was entirely normal for people to enthusiastically sign up, as the rewards for the ten winners of the swordsmanship competition were the best among all the tests—this was also to enhance their honor and sense of belonging, ensuring they would demonstrate greater loyalty after joining the guard team.

On the day of the competition, he leisurely enjoyed his breakfast but, unusually, was in no hurry to go down. Instead, he stood by a high window in the castle, looking out and smiling as he watched the bustling scene below.

The people of Laina were especially busy that day.

With a hint of distracted restlessness, everyone finished their farm work as quickly as possible, then grabbed the provisions they had prepared the night before and rushed like the wind to the competition grounds.

They weren’t particularly interested in the swordsmanship contest: they had already heard from the steward the previous night that it would involve sword apprentices using cloth-wrapped swords to spar, eliminating contestants until only ten remained.

There would be no bloodshed—it was just about observing how skilled the participants were with their sword techniques… How could that compare to the excitement of watching their neighbors, friends, or even relatives compete on the track against familiar faces!

Seeing the slaves, their faces alight with excitement, swarming toward the carriage road, the merchants—who were also more interested in that side—hesitated.

Although they had noticed during this time that Laina’s miraculous duke lord was particularly kind to the slaves…

But to actually mingle with those grubby slaves…

“Huh?”

The sharp-eyed bookseller Booke suddenly noticed something and couldn’t help asking, “Why does everyone have something tied to their waist?”

Some had a stalk of winter wheat, some a piece of corn husk, some a hollowed-out pea pod, and others a short section of pumpkin vine…

At a quick glance, he could distinguish at least six types, all clearly recognizable crops.

“Hey, friend, you must not have listened carefully to the innkeeper last night,” Clauth[mfn]克罗夫 (Kèluófū) – I think its meant to sound like ‘cloth'[/mfn] grinned, patting his shoulder. “Those are their team insignias.”

His mood was exceptionally good.

When he came to Laina this time, he had only hoped to try his luck, with little confidence in how much he could sell.

But thanks to that old friend Wul, he managed to close two big deals on his second day in Laina!

Not only did he sell all the fabric he had brought, but he also purchased a large quantity of rare, snow-white, high-quality cloth.

The only things that pained him were: first, the young, amiable-looking male servant, who seemed to smile often, drove a hard bargain; and second, he didn’t have enough coins on hand. Even after spending all the money he had just earned—still warm from the sales—and borrowing more from Wul, it was only enough to cover a small portion, far from sufficient to buy the entire batch.

He could only watch with regret as the other half of the fabric was snatched up by other lucky small cloth merchants.

Ah!

Thinking of this, Clauth felt both joy and anguish.

Although the cost was unusually high, he knew very well that such fine fabric… no matter which city he took it to, he could easily sell it to nobles and make a substantial profit!

After all, he was well aware of how picky those noble lords usually were and how much they adored this kind of white cloth that could be dyed into the cleanest colors.

Especially since it felt so smooth to the touch, like a cloud, and wouldn’t risk scratching the delicate skin of noble ladies.

“Teams?”

Booke looked bewildered, pointing at the slaves cheering excitedly around the racetrack where the first competition had just begun: “Did they all register their names to undergo this trial? There are so many women and children among them.”

“Impossible.”

Wul couldn’t hold back either and stepped forward to explain: “Though I don’t fully understand it myself, this is the decision of that beautiful and wise Duke. He had the supervisors divide all Laina residents into 8 large teams and registered them in the record book…”

God only knew why that Duke would do such a thing.

How could slaves be worthy of being recorded in a register? Only tax-paying commoners had ever been eligible! Many of them didn’t even possess proper names!

But this wasn’t a tax register after all—it was “the great Cat God’s registry of believers.”

Thus, even those with doubts didn’t dwell on it too much.

Or rather, they didn’t dare to.

Seeing Booke listening intently, Wul finished his explanation: “Anyway, on the field, the way to distinguish which team each person belongs to is through those 8 different types of crops you see. After each competition’s results are determined, points will be calculated for every team based on which team the winners belong to.”

Booke looked incredulous: “Does that mean the team with the highest total score will receive some extra reward?”

“Of course, otherwise why do you think those slaves care so much about this?” Wul shrugged: “I heard everyone will receive 2 eggs and a handful of grain.”

If it weren’t for their personal interests, even with family members participating, the slaves wouldn’t be this excited.

Booke’s eyes widened in shock: “Even the slaves get some?!”

“Yes.”

Wul sighed: “Commoners will receive more—double that amount.”

Booke had stopped listening.

He was lost in astonishment, thinking: If slaves are included, Laina City has a full ten thousand people!

After dividing into 8 teams…

He counted on his fingers and arrived at a staggering number.

Over 1,200 people! Adding the small number of commoners, that meant at least 2,600 eggs!

During his stay in Laina, out of curiosity, he had visited the chicken farm and seen the enormous flock of hens that even the chicken dealer Hahn found astonishing.

But even with two to three hundred hens, producing over 2,600 eggs would require nearly three weeks’ worth of egg production!

“…How generous.”

Booke muttered in confusion: “Too generous.”

Unlike other lords who would exploit slaves to the bone during widespread famine when slaves were cheapest, squeezing every last drop of labor from them.

Instead,

This Duke lord let slaves handle precious books, allowed slaves to undergo sacred trials, gave eggs to slaves for free, built houses for them, and even had them learn swordsmanship from knights… What exactly was this Duke lord trying to achieve?

Slaves were only good for simple, exhausting farm work—their minds were too dull to be useful for anything else, and one couldn’t expect any other returns from them.

The price from selling those 2,600 eggs and that grain could buy so many new slaves!

In the castle.

The Lord, who had been criticized by merchants for being “overly generous,” was now watching the just-begun and already fervent competition with great relish through the window.

The Cat God by his side was no exception.

Tilting its head slightly, it gazed intently… at the Lord, who was completely absorbed in the match.

Oliver looks very happy.

It blinked in confusion.

Was the sight of those people running around really that entertaining?

Meanwhile, Fosse, standing quietly nearby, gazed affectionately and indulgently at the young lord, harboring no suspicion toward this “illegitimate son of the old king.”

Shouts echoed from below.

“Go, Corn Team! Oh, you big oaf! Hurry up and pass those two skinny Cabbage Team runners!”

“Run! Faster!”

“He’s catching up! There’s a Potato Team fool right behind you!!! Don’t let him overtake you!!!”

“I knew you could do it! Beautiful! Keep up that momentum!!!”

“Hey, did you skip breakfast? I’m talking to you, Potato Team! Run faster!”

The boisterous cheers carried clearly from afar.

Many spectators grew so excited they couldn’t help but run along the ridges beside the field, shouting as they went.

Not everyone remembered the runners’ names, but everyone could see the crops displayed on their backs, representing their teams.

Thus, the most frequently shouted names were inevitably the team names.

Though the details became blurry once the runners moved farther away…

Oliver could see that nearly all of Laina’s people had been mobilized.

Even the commoners, swept up in the fervor, shed their usual reserved demeanor in front of slaves and shouted without restraint.

Initially, it was the tangible rewards—eggs and grain—that drew everyone’s attention to this “trial of the gods,” which involved only a few participants. These items were precious in ordinary times and held great appeal for commoners.

Especially now, as winter—the season of greatest scarcity—approached. Even if this year seemed the most abundant for Laina, those who had endured hunger still strove to stockpile as much food as possible.

But once the race began… the electrifying competitive atmosphere made them forget all about the eggs.

Their minds were consumed with thoughts like: “Hurry up and defeat the Pea Team! Gods, that Winter Wheat Team fatty is catching up from behind! What are you waiting for?”

Those rooting for the chasing team were equally frantic: “You fool! How can your legs give out after such a short distance? Useless! Don’t embarrass our Winter Wheat Team!”

What they regretted most was:

“If only I’d known you were this slow!”

The most impatient among them flushed red with frustration.

Panting, one man stopped running along the ridge, pounding his chest and lamenting aloud what many were thinking: “I should’ve signed up for the Cat God’s trial! If I were on that field, I’d definitely perform better than you!!”

How infuriating—he’d been too concerned with pride, too afraid of losing face…

If he’d known many participants were of this caliber, he would’ve joined long ago!

“Oh great Cat God, I truly am so foolish.”

He sincerely lamented: “How could I, how could I not have signed up?!”

---