Malt Sugar

Romain used two snowy-white sticks shaved from oak branches, inserted them into the malt sugar, and gently stirred with both hands. Before long, a large lump of golden, glistening malt sugar had wound itself around the ends of the slender sticks.

He handed it to Gevra.

Catching its sweet, delicate fragrance, she impatiently opened her mouth to take a bite.

Romain righteously stopped this wasteful act.

"You're eating it wrong. Keep stirring it, use strength with both hands, and make it turn white..."

Under Romain's guidance, Gevra began stirring. Though her movements were clumsy at first, she quickly got the hang of it.

As it was pulled and stretched, the malt sugar gradually began to whiten.

Romain nodded in satisfaction. Turning his head, he saw Aaron and Green gathered beside the Wooden Barrel filled with malt sugar...

Smack!

Romain promptly slapped Green's sneaky hand away.

Green's expression stiffened as he glared furiously at Romain, as though he would draw his sword and fight to the death the next second.

Romain remained calm and said to Aaron, "Aaron, you try some."

Aaron nodded, took the wooden chopsticks Romain handed him, wound some glittering golden malt sugar around them, and put it into his mouth. His taste buds were swiftly overwhelmed by its rich sweetness.

Aaron's absorbed expression made Green even more curious about the malt sugar's taste, and he could not help swallowing.

"I'll try some too," Green said roughly, like some crude pirate from the frozen north.

Then the hand he reached out with was slapped away by Romain again.

Romain gave a cold snort. "Even if I die—die in a swamp—I still wouldn't eat something that even pigs refuse to eat!"

Green's body trembled. He turned to Aaron and roared, "Aaron, how can you speak to Lord Romain like that? Hurry up and kneel to apologize!"

Aaron glanced at him. At last, he understood why Romain had been targeting Green.

When will that rotten mouth of his ever learn some restraint?

Ignoring Green's pleading look, he continued gathering malt sugar to eat.

Even a War Knight rarely got to eat food this sweet. At most, he ate a few more fruits during summer.

Though wild honey existed, beehives were fairly scarce in nature.

And besides, none of the Grand Duke's beehives would ever make it into his mouth.

Most incredible of all, he had witnessed the entire process of making the malt sugar from beginning to end.

"Brother Aaron, you're eating the candy wrong. You need to keep stirring it..." Gevra corrected him.

"Gevra, that's how children eat it. Go play." Romain patted Gevra on the head. Gevra gave an "oh," nodded obediently, stood behind Romain, and continued lowering her head to stir the malt sugar in her hands.

As his cooking level rose, he had unlocked many recipes, including the method for making malt sugar.

Green clasped both hands to his chest and said in a soft, coquettish voice, "Lord Romain, Aaron knows he was wrong. Please be merciful and spare him."

Seeing this, Romain said with a half-smile, "War Knight, have some backbone!"

Green said painfully, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Heh!"

Hearing that cold, heartless sneer, his whole body wilted. Hanging his head in dejection, he said, "Lord Romain, Green is already dead. His greatest wish is to have one bite of sweet candy before he dies. Can you grant him that wish?"

"Now you know how impressive my cooking is, right?"

Bullshit!

This has nothing to do with cooking!

Green cursed fiercely in his heart, but circumstances were stronger than he was, so he could only put on a pitiful expression to win sympathy.

"Ahem, ahem..."

At that moment, Seth coughed from nearby. He was already used to such farces.

But Romain had work to do now.

"My lord, Morey's merchant caravan has arrived."

Romain nodded and directed the male servants to carry the twenty Wooden Barrels onto the Ox Cart.

Bro River docks.

Romain met Morey.

The young merchant was somewhat excited.

He first bowed in greeting, then said eagerly, "Honored Lord Romain, I have brought you eighteen Draft Cattle and twenty-eight Draft Horses."

Romain was quite satisfied with that number. The progress of road construction could be accelerated by a large margin.

Being able to purchase so many large livestock animals within a month showed that Morey was very capable.

Romain said, "But I don't have enough cash to pay you that much right now."

Morey heard this without panicking. He merely waited for Romain to continue.

Sure enough, Romain pointed at the Wooden Barrels on the Ox Cart behind him. "Why not take a look at how much this stuff is worth?"

Morey followed Romain to the cart, opened one of the Wooden Barrels, lifted the lid, and drew out long strands.

Romain wound the long strands of malt sugar around a thin wooden stick and handed it to Morey.

It was Morey's first time seeing malt sugar. At first, he thought it was honey, but he quickly realized its texture differed from honey.

If honey gave off a naturally sweet fragrance like fresh flowers, then this syrup carried the scent of green wheat.

Morey frowned deeply, finding it difficult to judge the value of this malt sugar.

Then he looked at the number of Wooden Barrels on the cart, and his frown deepened further.

"How much can you offer?"

Morey hesitated before saying, "Forgive my bluntness, but your syrup isn't as sweet as honey, and its taste isn't as good either..."

Its nutritional value was inferior to honey as well.

Romain silently added that point for Morey.

He said calmly, "I know. You only need to name your price."

Morey hesitated for a moment. "For one barrel of syrup, I can only offer one Gold Coin."

Romain frowned as well. The value of malt sugar, a luxury good, was lower than he had expected.

Only nobles could afford it. He had originally thought he could sell it for two Gold Coins, but Morey had cut the price in half right away.

"This is also my first time seeing such a product, so I can only estimate its price..." Morey said.

With a merchant's sharp instincts, Morey had named this price while leaving himself room to maneuver.

That meant he was confident he could buy it at that price and sell it at the same price.

He simply would not make any money, but he certainly could not do business at a loss.

Of course, Morey did not think this product would be impossible to sell.

There were very few sources of sugar in this era. Only certain fruits and honey could provide it.

Even if malt sugar was inferior to honey, it could still serve as a substitute for honey.

Its potential customers across this land were the entire upper class.

"It only has a shelf life of one year," Romain explained.

Morey was not particularly surprised. Honey also had a shelf life. If stored improperly, it merely lasted a little longer than malt sugar.

Luxury goods in this era had always been in a slump.

Compared with strategic supplies, malt sugar had no obvious advantage.

This was a relatively savage and turbulent age, and trade was not particularly prosperous either.

No noble had ever become rich through honey, and professional beekeepers had yet to appear. Nobles usually found wild beehives and then sent people to harvest them regularly; there was no large-scale cultivation.