HTLCCBFT Chapter 112

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 112

Oliver decided to bring the Cat God along and personally visit the market.

Present-day Laina City had already earned more profit from Kondiment’s payment for the pickled corn than the total revenue from selling grain throughout the entire previous year.

Even the extra 32 jars Oliver had casually pickled were purchased without hesitation by Kondiment, who had brought sufficient funds this time, delightedly acquiring them all.

The ambitious spice merchant wasted no time—on the very day he secured the goods, he set out from Laina once more.

He planned to sell this rare, richly flavored food to wealthy nobles before winter arrived.

He knew full well that those nobles, always chasing after rare luxuries as symbols of prestige, might not necessarily fall in love with the robust flavor of pickled corn, but they certainly wouldn’t mind adding such an intriguing dish to their banquet tables.

Oliver now held a full 1,220 gold coins in his hands.

Compared to the Summer Market period, when Laina City’s ledger was filled with credit debts and only a few coins remained in cash reserves, this was almost like overnight wealth—even if it still fell far short of the affluent Gregor City.

Oliver was deeply satisfied.

This was public funds taken from Laina, to be used entirely for Laina—enough for him to splurge at the Autumn Market on next year’s development plans.

Suddenly recalling the poor-quality pale ale that had once accumulated unwanted in the warehouse, a flicker of disgust surfaced in Oliver’s eyes.

During times of widespread famine, grain could indeed fetch high prices.

But Laina’s harvests had been declining year after year—barely enough to feed its own citizens and slaves, let alone surplus for sale.

Yet the former lord, seeking enjoyment in this impoverished backwater, showed no regard for his subordinates’ survival. He sold off most of the grain just to purchase flashy but impractical silverware for appearances and alcohol so wasteful that a single sip equaled a barrel…

Thanks to this “brilliant” transaction of his, an appalling two thousand slaves starved or froze to death last winter.

And nobody cared.

Exempt from taxes and denied a place in population registries, they were viewed purely as the lord’s property.

If the lord didn’t care about such “property loss,” naturally no one else would.

Only the steward was somewhat displeased.

Burying so many corpses was troublesome—digging such large, numerous pits delayed spring plowing and the care of winter wheat.

As for the slaves themselves, they had grown numb: all lived with constant uncertainty, and even if they miraculously survived one winter, there was no guarantee they’d make it through the following year.

But this year would definitely be different.

The slaves harbored unprecedented confidence.

They carefully harvested the golden wheat stalk by stalk with their own hands. After a month of sun-drying, women beat the husks from the ears with sticks, then sent a small portion to the mill for grinding into flour while storing the majority properly in granaries.

The original number of granaries was long insufficient—with the addition of large tracts of reclaimed saline-alkali land, even if the yield couldn’t match ordinary farmland, the sheer acreage made up for it.

Laina welcomed miraculous harvests, one after another, for the first time in ages.

The power of scientific cultivation was immediately evident. Even the three large granaries that Oliver had prudently ordered to be newly built were almost filled to the brim at once.

The leftover wheat straw was also a rare treasure—whether used as fertilizer, fuel, or roofing material, it was simply perfect.

In the past, both the wheat and the straw would have been the Lord’s property, completely beyond their reach.

But now, things were different.

Though they dared not covet the enticingly abundant wheat, the Lord had explicitly decreed that each household could claim a portion of the straw.

Those whose houses had been hastily built eagerly used it to patch their roofs; those hoping to further boost their land’s yield burned it into plant ash and mixed it into the fields where winter wheat had just been sown; and those who hadn’t gathered enough firewood over the past half-year stockpiled it in their yards, planning to use it as fuel for the winter.

No matter how they used it, the sheer abundance brought smiles of pure joy to their faces for the first time.

After sowing the winter wheat, they happily watered the fields, eagerly anticipating the seeds taking root and sprouting safely beneath the coming snow, ready to burst with vitality for everyone by spring.

Yet in Oliver’s eyes, this year was merely a passable transition period.

Only by next spring would Laina truly begin stepping onto the path of a virtuous cycle: most of the saline-alkali land would be leached, allowing for large-scale cultivation of salt-tolerant crops; ordinary farmland would no longer need to lie fallow under the three-field system. Instead, with the first harvest fertilized by compost from eco-toilets and the mass planting of legumes, soil fertility would be replenished in time to keep the fields continuously productive; increased crop yields would provide ample feed to expand chicken and pig farms further; chickens would lay eggs consistently, provide meat when slaughtered, and their manure could be returned to the fields.

Such was the tentative plan for cultivation.

The slaves, of course, dared not think so far ahead.

Just gazing upon the overflowing granaries and remembering the Lord’s kindness, even without daring to hope for too much, filled them with a sweet sense of security.

So much grain—all planted under the Lord’s guidance!

And the wisdom bestowed by the great Cat God… they must study hard to master it.

Though Oliver couldn’t fully grasp the slaves’ inner journeys, seeing so many of them sitting on the ridges during breaks from fieldwork, intently reading with their children, brought an involuntary smile to his face.

“Look, my dear deity,” he murmured softly, his voice brimming with joy as he turned to the tall deity who had been quietly holding his hand and walking beside him. “They are our people.”

They are neither hopelessly foolish nor lazy, lowly specks oblivious to suffering.

They are like seeds—left to wither and die in barren soil, yet capable of bursting with vibrant life when nourished by a drop of dew, sheltered by sunlight, and covered by fertile earth.

In Oliver’s eyes, only the awakening of these ‘seeds’ held the true hope for Laina City.

The deity with hair and name as golden as sunlight blinked upon hearing this.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away from their clasped hands, looking toward the slaves diligently studying in the distance, tilting his head slightly.

Though he didn’t understand why Oliver found such an ordinary scene so delightful…

He liked a happy Oliver.

Bathed in the twilight glow, the two figures—both with equally brilliant golden hair, one strikingly beautiful, the other handsome—naturally drew everyone’s attention as they strolled along the gravel path toward the market, surrounded by attendants.

Witnessing such a serene and picturesque scene, like an oil painting, everyone briefly puzzled before instinctively breaking into smiles.

Even Fosse, the butler who always prioritized the young Duke’s dignity, tacitly allowed the “old king’s illegitimate child”—tall and imposing yet clinging to Oliver like a child—to keep holding Oliver’s hand.

Oliver led the group to the Autumn Market square and, within just a few steps, immediately spotted the goods he currently desired most.

—wool.

Large quantities of wool filled the shelves of two temporary stalls.

Anyone could see at a glance that this batch had been cleaned, appearing white and soft, unlike the grimy wool he had previously bought at an unbelievably low price.

The price was certainly higher.

But for Oliver, worse wool was actually better—since the final products from the loom would be of identical quality, why not use the cheapest raw materials to maximize profits?

However, inferior wool was limited in supply, and most wool merchants wouldn’t travel such a long distance just to sell a mere few gold coins’ worth.

Since he wasn’t short on funds now, he decided to buy it outright.

Finally reclaiming the financial boldness befitting a Duke, Oliver inquired about the price and, though it pained him slightly, promptly decided to purchase the entire stock, considering the potential returns.

In less than half a day after arriving in Laina City, the wool merchant Wul—freshly bathed, changed, and rested at the inn—received news that left him dizzy with shock.

Sold out? All of it?

That was twenty full cartloads of wool!

Rushing to the market, the moment he laid eyes on the legendary Angel Duke, he was instantly struck speechless, lost in a daze of awe.

Oliver merely glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to Fosse, who was handling the payment.

No one but the unusually perceptive Cat God noticed that the seemingly composed Duke was inwardly wincing at the expense.

His newly acquired 1,220 gold coins… 1,100 were gone in an instant!

Even if the money would likely double and return to him soon, Oliver still felt the sting of such rapid spending.

He forced himself to look away, thus missing the thoughtful expression on the Cat God’s face.

“Your esteemed Grace.”

It took Wul a long moment to collect himself from his rare stupor.

Awakened by the sharp gaze of the impeccably dressed, authoritative butler, he instinctively bowed.

After stating his identity and receiving a reserved nod of approval from the breathtakingly beautiful duke, he asked in an incredulous, trembling voice, “Do you truly intend to take all of it?”

“Mm.”

Oliver answered somewhat distractedly, then suddenly his eyes lit up.

He smiled at Wul, the wool merchant who had abandoned his usual shrewd demeanor and now wore a look of infatuation, and asked gently, “Merchant, among the cloth dealers you are acquainted with, are any of them attending the Laina Autumn Market this time?”

Wul nodded dazedly.

—On the same night, with the moon hanging high, through Wul’s introduction, Oliver contentedly had his servants sell off the batch of fabric made from inferior wool.

This single transaction directly swelled the gold coin count—which had just been reduced to a mere 120—to a staggering 3,210.

Money really came too quickly.

So quickly… that Oliver even lost his initial excitement.

Nevertheless, Oliver couldn’t resist personally watching the butler, who wore multiple hats, secure the gold coins in the vault and record the transaction before he finally felt reassured enough to return to his bedroom.

Of course, to keep others from finding out, the Cat God had already returned to the guest room earlier—though shortly after, he would transform into a cat and reappear in Oliver’s bedroom.

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