After leaving the training grounds, Louis led Sif down a dirt path. Partway along, he suddenly stopped and headed toward a modest but clean wooden cottage.
"I'm going in to check on him," he said, pushing open the door.
The room was dim, and a faint scent of medicinal herbs hung in the air.
A knight lay on a wooden bed against the wall. His face was still pale, but he looked much better than he had a few days earlier.
He was Javier, the knight wounded in the battle against the Frost Giant several days ago.
When he saw Louis enter, he instinctively struggled to rise and salute, but Louis gently held him down.
"Don't move." Louis frowned. "Your wounds haven't fully healed yet."
Javier gave a slightly sheepish smile. "My lord, I'm much better already."
"Don't push yourself." Louis pulled over a chair and sat down. "What did the doctor say?"
"My condition has stabilized. I just need time to recover." Javier lowered his head, though he still seemed reluctant to accept it. "I'm sorry to have worried you."
"It's already a blessing that you made it back alive." Louis sighed softly. "Don't worry. I'll find a suitable potion as soon as I can and try to help you regain your cultivation sooner."
"Thank you. I'll never forget your kindness, my lord. Once my wounds have healed, I'll continue serving the Red Tide Fief."
Javier's voice caught slightly, his words filled with loyalty.
Sif stood nearby, watching the scene as a faint ripple of emotion stirred within her.
She had assumed Louis was merely putting on a show, going through the motions.
But the undisguised loyalty in the wounded knight's eyes suddenly made her question that belief.
"Don't make it sound like a final farewell." Louis chuckled, then stood and patted his shoulder. "Focus on recovering. Don't rush back just to make a fool of yourself."
Before leaving, he also instructed the guards to take good care of Javier, bringing tears to the knight's eyes again.
After saying goodbye to Javier, Louis led Sif east toward the riverbank.
Morning light spilled across the water, setting it shimmering. Several fishing boats lay quietly moored along the bank, where fishermen busied themselves sorting their nets, their hearty laughter occasionally ringing out.
Louis looked around. The fishing industry had entered a stable phase. There were more boats than at the beginning, but the catches were no longer as plentiful.
This came as no surprise to him. It was precisely the result he had intended.
To prevent overfishing and ensure the fish could keep breeding, he had ordered larger mesh sizes for the nets so that young fish could escape.
Fishing was also restricted to set times, with closed seasons to give the river and its fish populations a chance to recover and keep the industry sustainable.
When Luke, the fisheries officer, spotted Louis, he hurried over with a somewhat fawning expression.
Louis nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the river. "How is the fish farming coming along?"
"We've already begun trials." Luke patted his chest.
"We selected several kinds of fish suited to cold water and are trying to raise them in partially enclosed areas," he said excitedly, pointing toward the wooden rafts on the water.
"It's all thanks to your foresight, my lord, planning for our long-term development so early. Otherwise, we'd have caught every last fish within a few years!"
"Mm, you've done well," Louis offered casually.
Luke immediately beamed, waving his hands. "Oh, not at all! It's all thanks to your wise leadership, my lord!"
Louis chuckled without replying.
Watching from the side, Sif secretly curled her lip.
She scoffed at this flattery about the lord's "wise leadership," but she had to admit that the people of the Red Tide Fief truly trusted him.
Louis glanced at Sif, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. He knew perfectly well what she was thinking, but could not be bothered to explain.
"Let's go," Louis said, setting off toward the Red Tide Fief's farmland.
Broad fields stretched beneath the morning light. The rye stalks were noticeably sturdy, their dark green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The potato plants were lush, and the turnips were thriving too, making for a scene brimming with life.
Mick, the Agricultural Officer, was inspecting the fields with several farmers.
When he saw Louis, he hurried over, brushing the dirt from his hands with a simple, honest smile.
"We can start harvesting the turnips in another ten days or so. The rye is growing well, and there haven't been any problems with the potatoes either. We should have a good harvest."
Mick spoke to Louis with a measure of pride in his voice.
Louis nodded, sweeping his gaze across the fields. The rows were neatly arranged and the soil was moist, clearly showing how carefully they had been tended.
"Well done, Mick," he praised.
Mick froze for a moment, then his smile widened, touched with excitement.
He clenched his fists as though trying to contain his joy, but a smile still escaped at the corners of his mouth.
Everything he had achieved was thanks to the young lord before him.
Once, he had been nothing more than a slave scratching a living from the soil, without even the right to raise his head and look at a noble.
Yet Louis had not only granted him freedom but also entrusted him with managing all the farmland in the Red Tide Fief, turning him from a lowly slave into the overseer of its agriculture.
Now, his greatest ambition in life was to do everything he could to improve agriculture in the Red Tide Fief.
To make its soil feed more people, and to make this territory more prosperous than anywhere else.
"My lord, I won't let you down," Mick said solemnly, his voice trembling slightly.
Louis smiled and patted his shoulder. "Keep up the good work."
Then, looking at Mick's glowing face, he suddenly remembered something and raised an eyebrow. "So, how is married life treating you? Settling in all right?"
Mick blinked, then his weathered face flushed red as he stammered and waved his hands. "N-no, nothing like that. Please don't tease me, my lord."
Louis laughed and patted his shoulder. "You still need to show some restraint. I don't want you ending up too exhausted to get out of bed one day."
The farmers around them joined in the laughter, and the atmosphere immediately grew more relaxed.
Over the course of the morning, the Louis Sif saw had gradually changed from a cunning noble into an approachable, respected leader who cared about his territory.
Whether he was sincere or merely pretending, at least his subjects' love and respect for him were genuine.
She felt a little worried. If every territory in the Northern Frontier developed as steadily as the Red Tide Fief, the Cold Moon Tribe would face a serious threat.
But then she reconsidered. So what if they faced a threat?
They were all traitors who had killed her family. They deserved to die!
Sif pulled herself from her thoughts and looked toward Louis nearby.
He stood among the fields, chatting casually with farmers and slaves, his tone relaxed and a slightly languid smile in his eyes.
A breeze stirred his black hair. With the sunlight behind him, the contours of his profile looked especially distinct.
For some reason, Sif found herself staring, lost in thought.
Before you continue