The Great Hall of the castle, usually a cavernous space of echoing stone and stale air, was alive with the scent of roasted meat and the crackle of a roaring fire. The kitchen staff, spurred into a frenzy by the unexpected bounty, had outdone themselves. The massive head of the Iron-Hide Boar, its metallic scales scrubbed to a dull sheen, rested on a platter in the center of the long table—a trophy of the day's victory.
Liszt sat at the head of the table, cleaned and changed into a simple doublet of dark blue velvet. He felt a thrumming energy beneath his skin, a constant reminder of his recent breakthrough. The fatigue that had plagued him for weeks was gone, replaced by a vibrant alertness.
Across from him sat the guest.
Captain Rom was a man of the river. He had a weather-beaten face that looked like old leather, a thick beard braided with colorful beads, and eyes that darted around the room, calculating the value of everything they touched. He wore a heavy wool coat stained with river mud and trade grease.
"A magnificent beast, Baron," Rom said, tearing a leg of pork from a platter. He spoke with a booming, gravelly voice. "I've seen Iron-Hide Boars in the bestiaries of the capital, but rarely one this size. To kill it with a simple hunting party... impressive."
Liszt swirled the watered wine in his goblet. "Flower Town has its dangers, Captain. But we are learning to manage them."
"So I see." Rom took a long draught of ale. "When we passed the riverbend and saw the smoke, my first mate thought it was a forest fire. Then we saw the carcass being hauled up the hill. Imagine my surprise. I was told this town was... how should I say... a backwater struggling to breathe."
"Information travels slowly on the river, Captain. Flower Town is changing."
Gort, seated to Liszt's right, leaned forward. His eyes were shining with a mixture of pride and greed. He had watched Liszt negotiate with the merchant for the last hour, and the fallen knight was visibly impressed. The boy he had tutored for years would have been intimidated by a man like Rom. This Liszt haggled like a street vendor.
"The Captain was just discussing the price of the hide," Gort prompted.
"Indeed." Rom wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Iron-Hide leather is tough. Too tough for the local smith, I'd wager. But in Coral City, the tanners know secrets. I can transport it for you. My fee is twenty percent of the sale price."
"Twenty percent is robbery," Liszt said calmly. "And I have no intention of selling the hide in Coral City."
Rom paused, his mug halfway to his lips. "Oh? Where else? Iron Hill? They are poorer than you."
"I intend to sell the hide to *you*, Captain. Right now. Along with the tusks."
Rom frowned. "I deal in spices, fabrics, and ores. I don't have the coin to buy a luxury trophy like that. It ties up my capital for months until I find a noble buyer."
"I don't want coin," Liszt said.
The hall went quiet. Marcus, who was eating silently at the far end of the table, looked up.
"No coin?" Rom scratched his beard. "Then what? Grain? I have grain, but the price is high this time of year."
"I don't want grain either. I want tools. I want iron nails, saws, hammers, and rope. I want a crate of high-quality glass panes. And I want a book on agricultural surveying."
Liszt leaned forward. "You are a trader, Captain. You have a ship. You carry goods. I am giving you a prime Iron-Hide Boar hide and two tusks. In exchange, you offload some of your general cargo onto my dock."
Rom blinked. "But you don't have a dock. You have a rotting pier."
"I will have a dock by tomorrow afternoon," Liszt said, his voice steely. "My men are already felling the trees."
Rom laughed, a booming sound. "You work fast, Baron. Fine. Let's say the trade is equitable. The hide is worth perhaps... thirty gold coins in the right market. The tusks, maybe ten. That's forty gold coins worth of goods. I have nails, tools, and I think I have some glass in the hold from a cancelled order. But books? I have a few romances and a ledger or two."
"The surveying book is a specific request. If you can bring one on your next run, I will add a premium to the trade."
Rom rubbed his chin, calculating. "Agricultural surveying... I know a printer in Coral City. I can get you a copy. It's a deal, Baron."
He extended a rough, calloused hand.
Liszt shook it. The grip was firm. "It's a deal. Carter, draw up the contract."
As the butler hurried off, Rom leaned back. "You know, Baron, if you can actually build a functioning dock here... I might stop by more often. The river route cuts three days off the journey to the Iron Mines. I usually bypass this stretch because of the bandits and the shallows."
"The bandits are next on my list," Liszt said. "And the river will be dredged."
Rom chuckled. "Ambitious. I like it. A man with ambition makes for good trade."
He didn't know that as he spoke, the mist was gathering behind him, invisible to his eyes.
**[Side Mission Triggered: The Trade Route]**
**[Objective: Establish a formal trade agreement with Merchant Rom and secure the delivery of the survey book.]**
**[Reward: Information on a hidden talent in the town.]**
Liszt smiled. *Another mission. The system wants me to build connections.*
---
Late that night, after the merchant had returned to his ship and the castle had quieted down, Liszt sat in his study. The box of Elf Seeds sat on the desk before him.
He had put the new seed—the reward from the boar hunt—into the box alongside the four dormant ones.
He focused his will.
*Serpent Script.*
The mist rose, coiling around the box.
**[Item: Elf Seed (Active)]**
**[Type: Potato Elf (High-Yield Variation)]**
**[Attribute: Earth]**
**[Growth Cycle: 60 days]**
**[Effect: Can grow in poor soil. High resistance to drought and pests. Yield is 300% of common potato.]**
**[Description: A humble spirit with a heavy burden. It seeks only to feed the hungry.]**
Liszt exhaled, a shiver running down his spine.
*Potatoes.*
It wasn't a glittering diamond or a magic sword. But in a medieval world where famine was a constant specter, a Potato Elf was worth more than gold.
*The soil here is bad. The wheat struggles. But potatoes... potatoes can grow in rocky, marginal earth. And a 300% yield?*
This was the solution to the food crisis. With this, he could ensure no one in Flower Town starved during the winter. It would free up the grain stores for trade or livestock feed.
*But I have to plant it.*
He looked at the dormant seeds. They needed revitalization.
He picked up the active Potato Seed. It felt warm in his palm, pulsing with a faint rhythm.
"I need to plant you," he murmured. "But I also need to wake up your brothers."
He thought back to the system's instructions. *Expose to the Battle Aura of a Knight.*
He wasn't a high-ranking knight, but he had just ascended. He had broken through the barrier. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to jumpstart the dormant seeds if he did it repeatedly over time.
He stood up. "Carter!"
The butler appeared almost instantly, as if he had been waiting outside the door.
"Sir?"
"Prepare a lantern. I'm going to the garden."
---
The night air was biting, but Liszt didn't feel the cold. His internal heat—the Battle Aura coursing through his veins—kept him warm.
He walked to the Village Head's cottage, where the small walled garden lay. The moon was hidden behind clouds, making the lantern's light a small island in the darkness.
He found a spade leaning against the wall and selected a patch of soil near the compost heap—the area most enriched by the Elf Worm.
He dug a small hole.
He took the Potato Seed and placed it gently in the earth.
"Grow for me," he whispered.
He covered it with soil.
Then, he closed his eyes. He focused on the energy inside him. He visualized it moving from his core, down his arm, and into his hand. He visualized it as a golden light.
He placed his hand on the disturbed earth.
*Flow.*
He pushed.
It wasn't a stream; it was a trickle. His Battle Aura drained rapidly, leaving him feeling lightheaded. He gasped, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
*It's working.*
He could feel the soil reacting. He could feel a tiny spark of life igniting beneath his palm.
**[Battle Aura Consumption: 30%]**
**[Seed Germination: Initiated.]**
Suddenly, the ground shifted.
A small green sprout pushed through the dirt. It grew rapidly, unfolding two small, heart-shaped leaves. But it didn't stop there. A pulse of green light emanated from the base of the plant, spreading through the soil.
The air shimmered.
Sitting on the dirt, next to the sprout, was a tiny figure.
It was no bigger than a thumb. It looked like a miniature human, but its skin was the brown of bark, and its hair was the green of leaves. It wore a vest made of a single curled leaf. It yawned, rubbing its eyes with tiny fists.
It looked up at Liszt.
*Lop.*
The sound wasn't spoken; it was felt. A mental projection of a soft, comfortable sound.
**[Elf Hatched: Common Potato Elf]**
**[Name: Unassigned]**
**[Bond: Established with Lord Liszt.]**
Liszt slumped back, exhausted. His aura was nearly depleted, but a wide grin stretched across his face.
"Hello there," he whispered.
The tiny elf blinked at him, then crawled over to his finger and hugged it. It felt cool and solid, like a piece of wood.
"You need a name," Liszt said. "How about... Chips?"
The elf tilted its head. "Lop?"
"No? Okay. How about Spud?" The elf looked indifferent. "Kocha?" (Potato in the old tongue of the original Liszt's memories). The elf's leafy hair seemed to perk up.
"Kocha it is."
Liszt stood up, his legs trembling slightly. He had one seed hatched. He had a trade deal. He had the beginning of an economy.
He looked back at the castle, where the lights were dimming for the night.
"One down," he said to the night. "Four to go."
---
The next morning, the construction of the dock began.
Liszt stood on the riverbank, watching the activity. The "dock" was currently just a cleared section of mud, but the timber from the forest—the outer fringe, now safe from the boars—was arriving by cart.
Marcus was directing the soldier apprentices and a group of conscripted villagers. They were digging post-holes for the pylons.
"The current is strong here," Marcus said, pointing to a spot further down. "We need to angle the pier to break the flow, or the ice in winter will smash it to pieces."
Liszt nodded, watching the men work. He was learning. Every piece of knowledge, every bit of practical experience, was a brick in the foundation of his future.
"My Lord!" A voice called out.
Liszt turned. It was Thomas, the valet, running down the path from the castle. He was waving a piece of paper.
"My Lord! A message from Coral City! A courier just arrived!"
Liszt felt a pang of anxiety. *Father. What does he want now?*
He took the paper. It wasn't from his father.
It was from the Coral Island Knight Academy.
*To Baron Liszt,*
*We have received word from the tax office that your annual report is pending. As per the regulations of the Knight Academy, a mentor visit is scheduled for one week from today to assess the progress of the Baron of Flower Town and his knight retainer.*
*Signed,*
*Viscount Clint, Dean of the Academy.*
Liszt crumpled the paper.
*A mentor visit. An inspection.*
In this world, a noble's territory wasn't entirely private. The Knight Academy, a semi-independent power, sent mentors to ensure that knights were training properly and that baronies weren't collapsing into chaos.
If they found the town in ruins, if they found the Baron weak... they could petition the crown to revoke his title or force him into a wardship under another noble.
*One week.*
He had one week to turn a muddy riverbank and a pile of wood into a functioning dock, and to turn a starving town into something presentable.
He looked at the mist swirling around his feet.
**[New Mission Available]**
**[Mission: The Inspection]**
**[Objective: Raise the prosperity level of Flower Town to 'Poor' (Rank F). Complete the Wooden Pier. Pass the Knight Academy's combat assessment.]**
**[Reward: Aura Solidification (Earth Knight Threshold) + 500 Gold Coins.]**
Liszt crushed the paper in his fist.
"Marcus!"
The knight jogged over. "Sir?"
"We have a deadline. The Knight Academy is sending an inspector in one week."
Marcus's face darkened. "Viscount Clint? He is a harsh man. A Sky Knight. He has no love for fallen nobles or backwater barons."
"Then we cannot disappoint him," Liszt said, his eyes flashing. "Double the shifts on the dock. I want the pier finished in three days. And send a runner to the merchant Rom—if he hasn't left yet, tell him I have another job for him. I need to buy food. Lots of it."
"Food, Sir?"
"Yes. We are going to host a banquet. And we are going to show the world that Flower Town is not dying. It is being born."
Liszt turned back to the river. The water flowed on, indifferent to the struggles of men. But for the first time, he felt like he was the one directing the current.