Aurelian certainly wasn't going to deliberately pour cold water on Charles's enthusiasm. If he did, he wouldn't be able to recruit any volunteers. Free citizens had the right to refuse, at least in theory.
He wasn't going to tell Charles just how vast this world was, or that beyond talent, it also had Legendary Bloodlines that were practically cheating. And Charles was nothing more than an ordinary person—so ordinary he couldn't be more ordinary.
The gap between ordinary people and geniuses in this world was even greater than the gap between humans and dogs.
Perhaps Aurelian's words of encouragement had brought the two of them closer without either realizing it. Things got livelier after that.
Charles seemed to have opened the floodgates. As he led the way, he chattered nonstop about his experiences.
He brought up what he considered his proudest achievement: his father's Iron Hammer had never once touched him, not even a hair. Every time, he managed to get away.
As he put it, what he liked most was seeing his father fly into a rage.
Aurelian listened patiently the whole time. He found it amusing; after all, when he was little in his previous life, he'd taken his fair share of two-parent beatings.
Jeanne remained expressionless throughout. Roundball had fallen asleep in her arms, snoring loudly.
Hume, the fat man who hadn't said a word, looked at Charles with sympathy. The kid would come home at the very least a layer of skin lighter. Old Rune wouldn't let him off.
Before long, they finally reached the place where the town's food was stored.
"My lord, this is the place."
By the light of the magic lantern, Aurelian looked around. Many areas were empty. In one corner sat a few bags of flour, and a few strips of black cured meat hung from the rafters.
"My steward, is this all the food we have in storage?"
The lord's sudden question made Hume hurriedly pull a small notebook from his pocket.
His small eyes narrowed as he quickly checked the entries in the notebook. Then he wiped the sweat from his face and answered at once.
"My lord, I checked the records. This is all that's left in the warehouse."
Aurelian raised an eyebrow and asked, "Then where did the food that wasn't put in the warehouse go?"
He wasn't suspicious of Hume hoarding it. He just wanted to know where the food had gone and whether it had reached those who needed it.
"Over the past few days, everything that needed to be distributed has been handed out. The warehouse is practically empty."
"So the townspeople should have enough to eat now?"
Aurelian rubbed his chin as he asked.
"I believe so. Almost no townspeople have starved to death these past few days. At least we won't have any more stories of people mistaking horse manure for potatoes."
Hume's face took on a sycophantic look again as he waved his hands repeatedly.
Aurelian frowned. Where had this fellow heard that story?
"Distribute the remaining flour and cured meat, too."
Aurelian shook his head. The problem with crop growth had been solved, but his people were still going hungry, living day to day on empty stomachs.
He still had to find a way to solve the food shortage.
"Let's head back first."
After leaving the warehouse, he said goodbye to the talkative Charles and reminded him to report to Master the next morning.
Before leaving, Aurelian also gave Hume another instruction: find out exactly how many people were still in the town, including the number of able-bodied adults and the numbers of men and women, as well as how long their household food reserves would last.
Three hundred was his optimistic estimate. His predecessor had paid no attention to anything, and there had been a stretch of famine, so plenty of people had likely starved to death.
He could only hope the actual numbers wouldn't leave him gasping.
Still, Winter Territory was his foundation. He had to manage it well if he wanted to keep developing.
"That Stone Book hasn't done anything for a week."
Aurelian suddenly felt lost and helpless. But he quickly realized he couldn't rely too heavily on a Stone Book of unknown origins. He had to do something himself.
"Magic potions are worth a fortune. The harvest is still a long way off, but I should start preparing now."
His eyes lit up as he thought of someone from his memories.
"That fellow would be perfect. Maybe I can make a killing off this."
He rode back to the castle with the maid.
Jeanne took Roundball back to her bedroom. Ever since Roundball had hatched, she hadn't left its side for even a moment.
Hah. Women.
Aurelian scoffed, but he had no time to worry about that. He had business to attend to, so he returned to his room.
Thanks to Old Will, the place was now spotless.
He sat down at his desk and laid out a sheet of stationery.
Picking up the quill beside the desk, he dipped it into the black ink and began to write.
The letter was for Byron, a wealthy merchant who lived near the border of the Wall of Despair.
He was famous along the border. Before his predecessor had come to Winter Territory, he had bought a lot of supplies from Byron. When they arrived, he discovered that many of them were defective, which had infuriated him.
One of the North's biggest and most unscrupulous merchants, Byron could buy gems at the price of stones, then sell them for three times what they were worth.
As the saying went, no merchant was honest. Plenty of nobles had done business with him, only to realize afterward what had happened and nearly spit blood in their fury.
As for why Byron, still a commoner, hadn't been targeted by the nobility, it was because a powerful border count stood behind him.
With someone backing him, he'd made those nobles spit blood three times over. They could only grit their teeth and accept their losses.
There was no helping it. A powerful border count wasn't someone just anyone dared to offend.
But now Aurelian was writing to him to propose a business deal.
It was a necessity. Winter Territory lay at the Star Kingdom's northernmost edge, beyond the Great Wall, and the only person capable of transporting supplies there was this crooked merchant.
Grain potions were among the most common magic potions, but their price had always remained sky-high, rivaling gems and gold.
He estimated that each small bag of Magic Seed Wheat—that is, each pound of wheat—was worth ten Star Coins. It was that expensive.
Ordinary people simply couldn't afford it.
Aside from setting some aside for Master and the others, Aurelian planned to sell a thousand pounds of Magic Seed Wheat to Byron.
That would cover the compensation payments, with a large sum left over.
But in his letter, he quoted three times the usual price for grain potions. There was no other reason: he'd learned from the lessons of those who came before that when doing business with a crooked merchant, the best way to avoid losing money was to shamelessly play the same game.
He slipped the letter into an envelope and walked to another room.
The room was spacious, with several golden-trimmed birdcages hanging inside. They looked quite elegant.
A few black birds with pale purple spots hopped and played on the perches, giving off flute-like chirps.
They weren't pigeons, but Star Crows, birds specially used to deliver letters. They were a species unique to the Star Kingdom.
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