CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 128: PIG FARMING_1

Lance made every effort to paint a terrifying picture of the outside world, instilling fear in the already isolated few. But he didn’t push too hard, leaving them some room; after all, even leeks won’t grow if cut too deeply.

"Your greatest pressure is probably your goods piling up and getting moldy in the warehouses. But I have to stake my life on this deal, which puts me under even greater pressure. Besides, this is a long-term trade, not just for grain. Other products can also be transported by my caravan. If the prices are reasonable, we can all profit together in the future."

After some deliberation, the four decided it was better to make some money rather than let their grain go moldy.

"Good. A pleasure to work with you."

The deal was struck at the dining table. After the meal, they led Lance to the farms for an inspection.

Lance inspected their stores and found them to be very abundant, truly worthy of the fertile lands within Hamlet Territory.

It could be said that they were poor yet had plenty of grain; this didn’t seem to be a contradiction for them.

The farm owners eagerly peddled their goods. They even offered several old wagons so Lance could transport more grain, urging the Serfs to help with the loading.

Bag after bag of grain was neatly stacked and tied, forming small hills. Everyone listened anxiously to the creaking wheel hubs, fearing they might break under the strain at any moment.

Luckily, I took down those bandits and secured over twenty horses; otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to carry much grain at all, Lance mused. He felt a flicker of ironic gratitude towards those "horse-providing brothers" he had defeated.

"Here is the payment for the goods. We’re square," Lance said after checking the goods and handing over the payment directly to them.

The farm owners looked at the small bag passed to them with curiosity. But when the shiny Gold Coins tumbled out, their mouths stretched into wide grins, their laughter almost uncontrollable. At the same time, their belief in the formidable backing Lance possessed solidified.

Lance paid no mind to their foolish delight, instead turning to the Serfs who were loading the wagons.

"Everyone who finishes loading, come and get a copper coin reward from me."

The Serfs, who had been brought in by the farm owners, visibly brightened at the promise of money. Originally, they had considered being called for such hard labor a misfortune, especially since they often wouldn’t even get a meal otherwise.

But now, with the prospect of payment, their previously slack work attitude improved, and their efficiency increased. Soon, the loading was completed, with everything expertly secured.

Lance did indeed give a copper coin to each Serf as promised. Holding the coins, they felt as if they had received a gift from heaven.

The farm owners, however, were quite surprised by this. Wouldn’t it be better to give us the money? Why give it to these Serfs? they thought.

Their merriment cut short, they promptly approached Lance to ask what he was doing.

"It’s just a small tip, a custom of our caravan. Nothing much," Lance said dismissively, then turned to the farm owners with a reminder.

"Remember, this is just the first trade. If you want to continue profiting together, don’t try to deceive me with inferior goods. Otherwise, you’ll be the ones suffering the consequences."

The price he had set was for high-quality grain; inferior goods would fetch a different, lower price.

If these people aren’t thinking clearly, they might try to mix inferior goods with the quality ones, he considered, which was precisely why he issued the warning.

Sure enough, Lance’s warning snapped their attention back, and they quickly assured him they would never do such a thing.

The caravan set off, its dozen or so fully loaded wagons forming a long procession snaking through the town.

Reynard, following behind, noticed that as soon as Lance’s caravan departed, the farm owners confiscated the copper coins Lance had just given to the Serfs. He immediately spurred his horse forward to report this to his Lord.

Before Lance could speak, Dismas, riding beside him, spoke up.

"My Lord, should we warn them?"

"Once the money is given, it’s no longer our concern. What they do is their business."

Lance didn’t care at all. Or rather, I had already guessed those Serfs wouldn’t be able to keep the money, he thought. Yet, I deliberately gave it to them in front of the farm owners. I had my reasons for doing so. It was a simple matter of buying goodwill. For just over twenty copper coins, my caravan could leave a profound impression on those Serfs. The farm owners seizing the money actually played into my hands. The harsher they exploit the Serfs, the easier it will be for me to gain their support when I eventually take over. Everything is going according to plan. My immediate goal has been achieved. Thus, I don’t truly need to concern myself with the Serfs’ current livelihood, because I genuinely can’t intervene at this stage.

Of course, I could eliminate the town mayor and those farm owners right now. But then what? Who would govern? Don’t think managing a small town of a thousand people is an easy task—I know that all too well from experience. I only have a few men under my command. Dispersing my forces would be very unwise. Walter is perhaps the only one who could handle such a role. But I still have other uses for Walter; he can’t be wasted in a place like this. Therefore, I have to leave things as they are for now. At least they can maintain some stability, and people will have something to eat, preventing starvation. Once I’ve accumulated enough strength, I’ll reclaim the territory directly. By then, those fellows will have to return all the money they’ve taken from me. It’s as if my money just went out for a little trip and returned with a large haul of grain. This pig is named ’He Shen.’ Fatten it up a bit more before the slaughter, and it will end up in my stomach. As for now... let the common folk suffer a little longer. The farm owners will bear the infamy, not me.

"Dismas, scout ahead with me."

Lance called out and spurred his horse forward. Dismas followed without hesitation.

Once they had pulled ahead of the main force, Lance spoke leisurely, "Do you know why I called you out here?"

Dismas was taken aback for a moment but quickly realized why his Lord had singled him out. He took the initiative to speak.

"I know... I hesitated last night."

"Do you realize that your hesitation could have endangered your comrades who trust you? I placed such trust in you, and this is how you repay me? Frankly, you’ve disappointed me."

Lance’s rebuke left Dismas deeply ashamed. He knew he had let his Lord down again. But this time, unlike before, he didn’t bluster about proving himself; instead, he fell silent.

"I know you’re a warrior, Dismas. There must have been a reason for your actions. Can you tell me?"

I actually know his situation, Lance thought. Dismas had sworn an oath not to harm women and children. However, during a robbery gone wrong, he accidentally killed a mother and child, which plunged him into endless guilt. So, my reason for calling him out isn’t to scold him, but to find a way to help him resolve this inner conflict. If this behavior persists, it will indeed cause serious problems down the line.

As the two rode on slowly, Dismas’s usual carefree demeanor had vanished, replaced by a troubled expression.

"Speak up. You’ll feel better."

Everyone has the desire to confide, especially about things that weigh heavily on their heart. For such matters, the urge is even stronger.

Lance’s words snapped Dismas out of his thoughts. He realized there was no point in hiding anything further.

"I was born in a..."