HTLCCBFT Chapter 27

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 27

The significant news that the new lord of Laina City was the kingdom’s only Duke spread quite rapidly among the major merchants who had joined the guild.

Drawing from years of experience dealing with nobles of various ranks, many concluded that “the higher one’s status, the more willing they are to spend lavishly on fine wine.”

In their view, this Duke—who had been doted on by the old king since birth and accustomed to a life of luxury—must be deeply unhappy after being abruptly demoted to a desolate place like Laina, likely seeking solace in alcohol frequently.

Wynn and Bir[mfn]怀恩 & 比尔; Like ‘wine & beer’- the author is super unserious.[/mfn], renowned wine merchants from Eckerhall—one of the largest western cities famed as the “Capital of Fine Wines”—gritted their teeth and brought a massive shipment of five cartloads of wine barrels, betting on the Duke’s purchasing power.

They arrived at the bustling Summer Market on the second day at noon, having traveled a considerable distance from Laina City.

Unlike the essential grain and fabric merchants who were usually most popular in big cities, they found themselves unusually overlooked this time.

Most Laina citizens cast envious glances at their heavily laden wine barrels—which required two people to lift—before pragmatically looking away.

Just from the intoxicating, rich aroma wafting from afar, anyone could tell it was top-tier wine—and undoubtedly priced beyond what they could afford even if they sold everything.

Wynn and Bir were entirely unbothered by the lack of customers at their stall: in their plan, the biggest—and only—target client was the Duke in the castle.

The impoverished Laina citizens, who struggled to eat their fill daily, could never be their intended customers for such expensive wines.

Moreover, before setting out, they had considered that the Duke, during his favored years under the old king, must have received countless rare treasures and would have exceptionally discerning tastes.

To win the favor of this noble lord, they had brought only the finest wines from their main store, never intending to offer ordinary products.

Wynn and Bir remained calmly at their stall.

They were patient, planning to wait two days. If no summons came from the castle, they would then present a cartload of wine as a gift.

To their delight, within just half a day, the lord in the castle had sent a knight to urgently escort them inside.

“As expected, even the lofty Duke cannot resist the allure of fine wine,” Wynn mouthed silently to Bir, winking smugly as they followed the stern-faced knight.

Bir happily shook his head in agreement.

In a way, Wynn and Bir were not wrong—Lord Oliver was indeed in a hurry.

Unlike red wines, ale was not suited for long-term storage. Especially in the perpetually cold stone castle, the leftover drinks from the eighth lord would spoil soon if not handled promptly.

Whenever he thought of the vast amounts of grain wasted on those wine barrels and the large sums of money recklessly borrowed against the people’s welfare…Oliver really wanted to drag out the former lord—whose death was said to be quite gruesome—and give him a sound beating.

Wynn and Bir were soon brought in by the knights.

Oliver didn’t notice the dazed expressions that appeared on their faces simultaneously after they finished their bows and looked up.

Having learned his lesson from his earlier meeting with Nisse, he gave a slight, smiling nod to acknowledge their courtesy, then asked with restrained anticipation, “I have a batch of pale ale left behind by the former lord that I wish to sell. Would you be willing to purchase it?”

Wynn and Bir were utterly dumbfounded.

Half their minds had been struck into a muddled haze by that flawlessly angelic face, leaving only the other half to barely manage any thought.

This Angel Duke said… he had pale ale… that he wanted to sell?

As brewers who had only ever sold their products to nobles who spent their days in drunken stupors, this was the first time they had ever heard such a strange request.

After posing the question, Oliver watched their expressions closely and certainly didn’t miss the confusion and hesitation on their faces.

He couldn’t help but sigh softly, a trace of disappointment showing on his face. “You won’t take it?”

Wynn swallowed.

In his daze, he thought: Did a person truly exist in this world who could bear to see sorrow cloud that angelic face because of their answer?

Never mind what he could actually do—even things beyond his ability, he would probably recklessly agree to in this heated moment.

“W-we’ll take it, Your Grace,” Wynn stammered, lowering his head slightly, not daring to continue looking directly at that face, which now glowed even more radiantly with a happy smile. “May I ask how much there is?”

“That’s wonderful.”

Pleased to have achieved his goal so smoothly, Oliver smiled and turned to the stern-faced steward. “Fosse, could you take them to the basement storeroom to inspect the quality and quantity, then return to settle on a price?”

“Of course, my dear lord.”

Fosse bowed deeply, then swept a dangerous gaze over the two clearly infatuated men. “Follow me.”

The impact of that beautiful face was far too overwhelming; even Fosse’s murderous glare couldn’t immediately snap the two out of their half-dreamlike state.

Unaware of the sharp, icy glances Fosse occasionally cast their way, they wore intoxicated, peculiar smiles until they reached the temporarily repurposed cellar. Only then did the chill in the air jolt them awake.

They finally regained most of their senses on the spot.

“All the wine purchased by the former lord is here,” Fosse said indifferently. “This kind of drink… is utterly unworthy of being served at the table. Not a single barrel needs to be kept.”

After catching a whiff of the alcohol lingering in the air and forming a rough idea of its quality, Wynn and Bir couldn’t help but nod in deep agreement.

—How could such crudely made, inferior liquor ever be fit to touch the duke’s delicate, rose-like lips?

After randomly selecting a few barrels, pulling out the stoppers, and carefully tasting and appraising the contents, Wynn and Bir exchanged a look, their faces simultaneously twisting into identical expressions of dismay. It was unclear whether the previous Lord had been too foolish and was deceived by the merchants’ flowery words, or whether the wine had been stored for too long at improper temperatures…

With such a terrible taste, not only would it be impossible for them to purchase it for long-distance trade, but even if it were produced locally in Eckerhall, they wouldn’t give it a second glance.

Yet the thought of going back on their word and politely refusing—which would undoubtedly cause that beautiful Lord to show a disappointed expression—was something Wynn and Bir simply couldn’t bear.

“Excuse me, Mr. Steward,” after quietly discussing with Bir, Wynn made a decision that even the most profit-driven merchants would never dream of making: “Even if we have to painfully pay out of our own pockets, buy it back, and dump it midway, we can’t let that Lord feel sad.”

He then turned to Fosse, who had remained silent all along, and asked, “At what price was this batch of wine purchased? And at what price does His Noble Highness intend to sell it? “That fool bought it at two gold coins per barrel,” Fosse replied expressionlessly, referring to the eighth Lord as “that fool.”

“His Benevolent Highness would never wish to cause you trouble. He will sell it at the original price.”

“Two gold coins!”

Wynn gasped sharply.

He glanced at Bir, who was equally shocked, and said with a bitter smile, “Respected Mr. Steward, though we don’t know its original condition, as it stands now… selling it for even two silver coins per barrel would be extremely difficult.”

This awful-tasting pale ale, which couldn’t even be considered a flawed product, if truly purchased for more than two silver coins, would not only bankrupt him but also deal a devastating blow to his reputation as a wine merchant.

Fosse nodded slightly. “I understand. The final decision rests with His Highness. Please follow me back first.”

Though Fosse knew well that his incredibly soft-hearted and kind young master would never force these two cunning merchants… as a servant, his duty was only to assist his master to the best of his ability. He had no right to deceive his master or make decisions on his behalf.

Otherwise, he would be unworthy of that unique trust.

Before allowing Wynn and Bir into the reception room, Fosse chose to enter first and clearly relayed everything he had witnessed and his thoughts to Oliver.

“Ah,” Oliver frowned and sighed helplessly. “Though I don’t understand the nuances of wine, I can easily imagine that idiot couldn’t have bought anything decent in a place like this…”

He was far from desperate: Fosse would never easily agree to him selling off his personal assets to maintain this insignificant territory, but he did indeed possess a vast collection of rare treasures that could be liquidated.

Oliver’s reluctance to use those resources wasn’t because he particularly valued the possessions he never touched.

Rather, he didn’t want to upset Fosse and others, who deeply cared about his reputation and were utterly loyal. Moreover, he fundamentally believed that selling personal assets to support the territory wasn’t a healthy or sustainable approach. It seemed he had no choice but to abandon his initial plan.

The batch of light ale, acquired at the cost of wasted grain and money, was practically worthless and could never fill the original deficit.

Even if the two wealthy wine merchants were genuinely willing to purchase it at two silver coins… the resources wasted on long-distance transportation would inevitably prevent them from making any significant profit, and they were more likely to incur losses.

Their agreement was probably motivated by his status as a Duke, driven by a desire to curry favor.

As for that pitifully small income, it would be nothing more than a drop in the bucket for the severely troubled Laina City, holding little real significance… It would be better to store it a while longer and distribute it as a reward to the hardworking citizens after the summer farming season, letting them enjoy a moment of happiness.

Having decided how to deal with that batch of liquor, which was as good as scrap, Oliver returned to brooding over the lack of funds.

Soon, his gaze fell upon the more than half a stack of corn in his game backpack.

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