HTLCCBFT Chapter 149

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 149

Watching the merchants from out of town indulge in drinking, even choosing to stay in ordinary inns rather than returning home after the Spring Market concluded, Oliver, as their lord, was naturally pleased to see it.

These were practically walking advertisements: even if it was impossible to empty every merchant’s purse, the new label of “City of Wine” had at least been preliminarily attached to Albury City.

This didn’t mean all merchants were chronic drunkards, of course.

Before the advent of distillation technology, the only alcoholic beverages available were low-alcohol fermented drinks, with beer being the most common. Wine with a less astringent taste was considered a luxury item, priced beyond the means of most people.

Beyond money and reputation, Oliver gained more crucial information from these merchants who traveled frequently between major towns.

Although Fosse had dispatched informants to key cities like Gregor City, limitations in conditions meant they could only gather limited intelligence, and the transmission process was relatively slow.

In comparison, well-connected merchants were always the most informed about business-related trends that could affect their safety.

Often, even when they weren’t aware of the deeper implications, the superficial facts they noticed were enough for sharp individuals like Fosse to capture the true dynamics.

“Your Highness,” Fosse said gravely that evening, “the wool merchant Wul mentioned that Count McKenna of Gregor City has been purchasing large quantities of wool recently.”

“Wul?” Prompted by this, Oliver felt tempted and suggested, “Let’s acquire a batch too, Fosse. The best season for shearing is undoubtedly spring—sheep shed their heavy coats to stay cooler and more comfortable on summer pastures, without worrying about catching cold.”

“And since shorn wool emits a strong odor and becomes matted unless thoroughly cleaned—a rather laborious process—it isn’t suitable for long-term storage… So, shortly after winter ends is unquestionably the cheapest season for wool prices.”

Though the topic had veered off course, Fosse only smiled with a mix of resignation and indulgence, nodding, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“My dear Fosse,” Oliver smiled contentedly, feigning seriousness, “I believe you brought up Wul’s business not merely out of concern for his trade, right?”

Fosse gave a slight nod and said calmly, “Your Highness might not be aware that beneath the armor we knights wear into battle, we have padded short robes on top and woolen long socks underneath.”

“Oh?” Oliver was genuinely intrigued now, focusing on Fosse with a smile as he waited for more.

Having spent days gathering more convincing evidence through his subordinates’ subtle inquiries with the merchants, Fosse slowly curved his lips and continued, “Wul’s business in Gregor City proceeded unprecedentedly smoothly—he managed to sell large quantities of goods in just three days. Among them, cloth merchants—especially his usually hard-to-sell canvas—sold out in a single day; and farm tool merchants were particularly generous.”

It is said that the buyers did not leave even a single iron bar for him; Count McKenna, despite the spring plowing in Gregor City being fully completed, had slave merchants searching everywhere for mercenaries on his behalf.

Oliver listened quietly, a knowing curve slowly forming at the corner of his lips.

With this series of highly targeted actions, anyone who held even the slightest wariness toward the seemingly incompetent and absurd lord would immediately sense the danger.

Crude iron rods and blocks were the basic materials for melting down in furnaces or directly heating and forging into lethal weapons; canvas was one of the most cost-effective foundational materials for crafting armor for ordinary infantry; and hiring mercenaries specifically after the busy farming season had ended…

“Ah.”

Oliver feigned a troubled sigh, then smiled wryly. “It seems our neighbor intends to be the rotten fish at the banquet.”

That was a common expression in the inns—an uninvited, stingy guest was as unwelcome as a rotten fish accidentally served at the table.

Fosse gave a slight nod and murmured, “Your Highness, the guards have completed their initial training.”

Though, under the former knight captain’s exacting scrutiny, they were far from capable of ensuring Oliver’s safety… at the very least, they would prove more loyal and willing to give their all for their master than a group of temporary “mercenaries” armed with farming tools and clad in canvas armor.

To the butler’s surprise, the young lord—who had once been troubled by bandit gangs far smaller than Count McKenna’s forces—did not even furrow his brow this time. Instead, he remained calm and composed, smiling as he said, “You’ve taken great care, my dear butler. This uninvited guest will serve as our finest training opportunity—a blade that has never tasted blood, no matter how sharp, cannot truly be called a good blade, can it?”

Fosse bowed deeply, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Although Oliver intended to let the soldiers—selected through athletic contests and swordplay competitions the previous autumn and subjected to rigorous guard training throughout the winter and spring—gain practical experience, he was prepared to intervene directly if necessary.

After witnessing the tragic fates of the tormented female slaves in Albury Castle, he no longer strictly adhered to the absurd principle of “avoiding interference from the game system as much as possible.”

If he were to remain detached and let nature take its course… why had he gone to such lengths to save the Laina people in the first place?

Soldiers needed training to cultivate a sense of honor in their roles, strengthen their attachment to the territory, develop an instinct to obey military orders, and forge a resolute will unswayed by the enemy.

But he had no intention of letting the people he had painstakingly nurtured die easily on the battlefield—especially in the kind of invasive war he despised most.

As he speculated about Count McKenna’s possible motives, Oliver couldn’t help but frown, a flash of coldness swiftly passing through his eyes.

To put it bluntly, the reason McKenna dared to target him so blatantly was that he was waiting for Oliver to laboriously restore the city, only to then exploit Oliver’s ties with King Cameron, due to strained relations, was preparing to seize control of this city.

It was a clear case of taking advantage of someone’s misfortune, with an obvious suspicion of “the strong bullying the weak.”

“Fine then.”

Oliver murmured under his breath.

Since that old man McKenna had no sense of honor, then he need not bother with it either.

He instinctively glanced at the eternally unchanged sixth slot in his game backpack.

Ever since unlocking the [Top-Grade Explosive Egg] recipe from reaching Miner Level 8, he had casually crafted two of them using readily available materials for self-defense.

Although from the moment of their creation, these glaringly bright red explosive eggs had been lying idle in a corner alongside their pitch-black companion, the [Intermediate Explosive Egg], gathering dust… if Duke McKenna truly dared to march his army here, Oliver was determined to blast that arrogant fool sky-high.

If the other party thought they could bully him recklessly just because they had greater power and influence, he certainly wouldn’t let them have their way.

Oliver thought expressionlessly.

After finishing the portion of affairs that required his personal review, Oliver, for once, did not linger in the hall. Instead, he returned to the bedroom with the Cat God.

On the floor of the bedroom, eighteen seed makers were neatly arranged: these were the ones he had mass-produced back in winter when he used corn products to create corn seeds.

He disliked having to stay by the seed makers twenty-four hours a day, so he usually left them operating in the room under the supervision of the Cat God’s little gold coin, letting the little gold coin collect the outputs and temporarily place them on the bed.

When he returned to the bedroom, he would then store them all in his backpack.

What Oliver calmly fed into the seed makers were the corn cobs from the first two batches of mature corn, harvested from the farmlands in Albury City that he had personally planted some time ago.

After unblinkingly feeding eighteen corn cobs into the machines, during the short wait, Oliver couldn’t help but glance at the Cat God, who had barely spoken all day and seemed lost in thought.

He smiled slightly, his tone carrying a hint of teasing and jest, his gem-like blue eyes sparkling as if he didn’t mind at all, and leisurely asked, “My dear Cat God, are you perhaps missing someone? You’ve seemed a bit distracted all day today. Or is it that you’re really craving a drink? If so, although I don’t recommend it, I could make an exception for you.”

The cat-eared deity was taken aback and immediately shook his head: “No, it’s not that.”

What he failed to realize was that because his reply was too quick and decisive, it came across to Oliver as a guilty attempt to cover something up.

Oliver glanced at him without changing his expression, then smiled and probed further: “Then are you missing some new companion who is also a deity? It couldn’t be Death God Deyth, could it?”

Oliver, you’re amazing!

As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver, who had merely been speaking offhandedly, was slightly surprised to see the Cat God suddenly display an unmistakable expression of “Oliver is amazing” and “Oliver actually guessed it.”

Oliver blinked, unsure of what he was feeling, and hesitantly asked, “…Are you really thinking about Deyth?”He had mistakenly thought the relationship between the two deities who always fought upon meeting could be described as hostile as fire and water.

“Hmm.”

The golden-haired deity, who couldn’t stop thinking about Deyth’s furious shout of “actually getting aroused in the divine realm,” had instinctively wanted to find the other party again to clarify the meaning of those words. Yet this time, some subconscious feeling inexplicably told him that this question shouldn’t be directed at Oliver.

After hesitating for only the briefest moment, he unconsciously relied on the “simple and honest” impression he had always maintained in Oliver’s mind, successfully deceiving the particularly perceptive beautiful lord in certain aspects: “I want to ask Deyth… Deyth… some questions.”

Oliver grew even more surprised inwardly.

But he showed no trace of it on his face, maintaining his usual gentle smile as he softly asked: “May I ask a few more questions?”

The cat-eared deity nodded without hesitation: “Oliver… you can ask anything.”

Even though he wasn’t surprised by this answer, whenever Oliver remembered the black mist that had contaminated the Cat God during the previous two encounters, his doubts and concerns couldn’t be alleviated: “Is it an important question?”

Here he paused, then couldn’t resist asking further: “Could it be related to your Divinity?”

Seeing how the Cat God always seemed somewhat confused, if he happened to meet a rare companion, it would be understandable for him to set aside past grievances and ask questions about Divinity or the use of divine power.

The cat-eared deity’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat, his golden triangular ears slowly drooping, faintly revealing a sense of guilt and unease that even he couldn’t explain.

That day after drinking, whenever he looked at Oliver, his divine power would fluctuate violently.

What was even stranger was that even after kissing and caressing his beloved believer, that restless heat that made all his divine power nearly spiral out of control didn’t disappear along with that faint sense of satisfaction.

This was somewhat different from all the emotions he had experienced before.

That all-black Deyth, though he seemed somewhat foolish, appeared to know the real answer behind everything happening to him.

It should… probably be considered related to his Divinity, right?

Thinking this, the fluffy tail behind him swished rapidly a few times before he nodded as seriously as possible: “Yes.”

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