Germination

Aresian Calendar, year 816. Frost Season. Light rain.

Nord sat at the desk in his room, quietly watching the drizzle beyond the window. The Norsen Continent used a common calendar system, said to have been established by the Aresian Empire, the empire that had once united the continent. Eight hundred and sixteen years had passed since then, and that powerful empire had long vanished into the dust of history.

Only some of its institutions had survived, and the Aresian Calendar was one of them. It divided the year into six seasons: New, Clear, Summer, Rain, Frost, and Cold. The duration of each season varied by location; in the Amon Mountains, Frost Season lasted four months.

More than half a month had passed since Nord arrived in Tami Village. During that time, he had followed the guards into the mountains every day for patrols. Yet things had not gone as he wished. They had searched all the surrounding forests, but never again found such abundant spoils as they had on that first expedition.

They had made a few minor gains, but relying on such scattered experience to level up quickly was like trying to put out a cartload of firewood with a cup of water. It would be better to save the experience for the new guards and help them catch up in level.

What pleased Nord was that, with everyone training each day, Ryman and the others' attributes had been steadily improving. Ryman, for example, had gained two points of Strength and was gradually approaching the limit of his Troop Type template. The system had surely played a part in it. For ordinary people, such improvement in just half a month would have been impossible. Even Old Mor now moved with the vigor of a much younger man.

And that was not the only good news. Construction on the manor was progressing astonishingly quickly. The outer work had all been completed, and more than half of the main building was done. In another ten days or half a month, they would likely be able to move in.

There was also the matter of food. The men now worked on the manor every day, while the women dug yams from the safe forests nearby. Even the half-grown children ran all over the mountains. Nord had specifically assigned part of the guard force to patrol around the digging sites.

The villagers were living fairly well now. Not only did they have yams, but they also had the wheat Nord distributed. Their faces were now filled with happy smiles, and they no longer looked as pale and haggard as before.

But Nord still prepared for the worst. Although there were still plenty of yams in the forest, he continued studying how to cultivate them. They were short on manpower. There were many who could fight, but when it came to researching such matters, Nord had to do it himself. More than ever, he wished the system would give him a few more management or technical talents like Abel.

There was no helping it. Once he decided to do it, he acted. Nord had learned a little about yam cultivation, and the key was making them sprout. So, more than ten days earlier, he had placed a batch of yams on the ground outside, covered them with a thin layer of soil, and let them receive sunlight each day. Since it was Frost Season, the sun did not appear often. When Nord had checked a few days ago, the yams had shown no change. With the light rain falling for the past few days, he had grown concerned about them.

Though light rain fell from the sky, it could not extinguish the villagers' enthusiasm. They knew who had given them hope for their present lives. Braving the misty rain, they continued working diligently. Nord could only have Abel keep steaming food and hot water ready at all times to prevent the villagers from falling ill. It was precisely this attitude that greatly shortened the construction time.

Nord had not entered the mountains these past few days. Instead, he divided the guards into three squads, with Ryman, Marco, and Old Mor each leading one to patrol and train around the Wild Boar Cave and Tami Village. The recent results had been good, and several young men had reached the verge of promotion.

As Nord watched the rain outside and pondered quietly, he did not know how much time had passed before golden sunlight pierced the gloomy clouds. The drizzle outside gradually stopped. The long-awaited sun hung in the sky and shone upon Nord's face.

Watching the sky clear after the rain, bright with color, Nord could not help leaving his room. The stale heaviness that had built up from being shut indoors for days was swept away. For some reason, whenever it rained, an inexplicable melancholy rose in his heart. He did not know where it came from, and when it faded, it did so without a sound. Looking at the clear sky now, Nord's mood brightened.

When Reed saw Nord leave, he immediately followed him. Reed had nearly been stifled these past few days. Since Nord had not gone out, Reed could only stay with him. Watching his brother, Marco, and the others roam the forests all day had made Reed green with envy.

"Lord Nord, are you... going out? Where are we going today?"

Reed was excited. His bright eyes stared intently at Nord, hoping to hear the good news he wanted from his mouth.

"Let's go out and take a look. The weather has cleared, so it's a good time for a walk."

"Really? Lord Nord, let's go! Where are we going?"

"Let's check on the yams first."

Reed was like a child who had been cooped up too long, almost unable to wait. Nord had liked peace and quiet in his previous life, so spending several days at home had not bothered him. But it had been hard on Reed, who seemed to have boundless energy. His only amusement each day had been teasing Art and his sister. These past few days, whenever Lysa saw her little uncle, she ran away. The two children knew that once they ran out of the house, their little uncle could do nothing to them.

Nord walked out of the small courtyard. Though the rain had not been heavy these past few days, the village roads had become muddy and difficult to walk on. It seemed that after the manor was built, the next task would be repairing the roads.

They arrived at a patch of mountain land to the west, where Nord had been cultivating yam seedlings. From afar, he could actually see a hint of green. Nord was overjoyed. Had the yams sprouted already?

As he approached, it proved to be true. Every yam had sprouted. Tender green shoots brimmed with boundless vitality. This was the power of hope. Nord knew that he would no longer have to worry about food in the future.

Nord carefully inspected every yam. After the rain, all the yams had sprouted. Each yam bore three or four shoots, and every shoot could become a yam plant. From his digging, Nord knew that a single yam plant could produce eight or nine yams underground. That was why yams had such astonishing yields. It was almost like magic: one became three, and three became nine, endlessly multiplying. That was why Nord was so confident that he would no longer worry about food. Moreover, yams took at most three months to grow.

In other words, if they planted them now, they could harvest before Cold Season arrived. They would no longer need to brave the bitter cold to search the forests for food. It seemed he needed to arrange for the villagers to clear mountain land and plant yams as soon as possible.

Nord rose and looked at the tender green shoots that had only just emerged from the soil, as though he could see endless food waving to him. He wanted to hurry to the construction site and tell Village Chief Colin the good news.

On his way to the manor, Nord saw Marco approaching from the opposite direction in a great hurry. The moment he spotted Nord, he rushed over, panting as he reported the situation.

"Lord Nord... Ryman just... north of the Wild Boar Cave, found... found an injured... stranger. Judging by his clothes, he should be... a mountain dweller from deep in the mountains."