HTLCCBFT Chapter 4

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter  4

Oliver’s plan was to hoe a standard plot of land so the steward could have the serfs follow his example.

The current division of farmland was far too chaotic and disorderly. It was nothing like modern fields, which were enclosed by fences or walls, making the boundaries of each household’s land clear at a glance.

Even free-roaming livestock could wander in and out of the fields as they pleased, and had to be driven away one by one by hand.

Of course, Oliver didn’t intend to take on all the farm work himself.

Even if he, with his game system, could perhaps single-handedly reclaim the vast territory… for a lord to do everything himself while leaving a large, ready-made labor force unused was something loyal retainers like Fosse would absolutely never tolerate.

Besides, using a hoe wouldn’t increase his proficiency in the “farmer” profession; only harvesting finished products would count.

With this in mind, Oliver unhurriedly swung the hoe.

Although the hoe produced by the game system had reverted to its most basic level, he felt no weight at all when he held it in his hands.

Yet, the hoe that felt as light as a feather to him sank into the hard clods of earth, firm from lack of moisture, as if a sharp blade were sinking into a block of tofu. It plunged deep with utter ease.

Huh.

Oliver blinked. He pulled the hoe out effortlessly, turning over a clod of earth that looked as if it had been measured with the most standard of rods, its length and width appearing identical to the naked eye.

He couldn’t help but stop and fall into thought.

He looked at the hoe in his hands, then carefully examined the patch of ground at his feet. Its proportions were so perfect that even the most demanding perfectionist couldn’t find fault with it.

And then there was the adjacent farmland, which was made to look even uglier and rougher by comparison.

Oliver: “…”

Before his brain could even process it, he had already swung the hoe a second time, unable to stop himself.

He couldn’t explain it, but watching the originally uneven, messy, and chaotic land become neat and orderly under his hands, forming a stark contrast with the old ground beside it… gave rise to an indescribable, magical sense of accomplishment.

It was truly addictive.

After the second strike, there was naturally a third, a fourth, and countless more.

As if some ancient impulse had been awakened, Oliver, who was gradually getting into it, found his hoeing speed involuntarily becoming faster and faster.

He had long forgotten his initial goal of “only hoeing a small plot as a standard.” With clean, crisp motions, he raised and dropped the hoe, happily pushing forward.

In contrast to their esteemed lord, who had accidentally become completely immersed in the joy of hoeing, the Laina citizens who witnessed it all fell into a strange silence.

What they were most used to seeing were pot-bellied, lavishly dressed lords, followed by a large retinue of terrified servants, striding arrogantly into the castle and casting looks of disgust at the slaves prostrating on the ground.

The words “lord” and “farm work,” even in their meager store of knowledge, should never have been linked together.

And for a lord with skin as pure as the whitest winter snow and a beautiful face more delicate than the most enchanting rose petals, no less?

No matter who looked, the sense of incongruity in this scene had reached its peak. Especially since this lord, whose nobility and beauty surpassed their wildest imaginations, was somehow even more efficient at the work than any of them. Although they were too far away to see the specific condition of the hoed ground, they could see that their lord, despite such intense and continuous labor, remained so refreshed that he hadn’t even broken a sweat. And then there was his breakneck pace…

Jonathan gradually awoke from his previous state of infatuation, only to fall deep into an unprecedented confusion.

He was, of course, well aware that whether they were slaves or freemen, they were beings so lowly they couldn’t even compare to the mud their lord trod upon.

But why was it that they, who had scrabbled for food in the fields their entire lives and were intimately familiar with the crops and heavy farm tools, couldn’t even measure up to their lord when it came to their own profession?

At this thought, Jonathan was both terrified and ashamed.

Could it be that their lord had come to the fields himself today to prove that Laina City no longer needed a bunch of useless mouths like them, who couldn’t even farm properly?

“You despicable, lazy things, what are you still gawking at?!”

Jonathan, lost in a daze, was finally jolted awake by Supervisor Joe’s furious roar. “Dammit, do you dare to fantasize that our noble lord will do everything for you, and then we’ll deliver the grain right to your mouths? The merciful lord is even working in the fields himself to keep you filthy vermin from starving! Now it’s your turn to get to work!”

As if waking from a dream, Jonathan and the other serfs finally came to their senses.

Farm work was their duty, and even if their minds were still blank, their bodies had long since developed an instinct for it.

After receiving Supervisor Joe’s clear instruction to “go water the fields,” Jonathan didn’t hesitate, becoming the first to grab a huge wooden bucket and dash toward the riverbank.

Spurred on by his lead, the other serfs, who had been a beat behind, also reacted before Supervisor Joe’s furious whip could fall, scrambling to grab buckets and rush out.

“Mr. Fosse,” said Joe, who had just been playing the part of a vicious tyrant toward the lazy slaves. The moment he and the other supervisors came before the stern new steward of the territory, Fosse, his face instantly switched to a fawning expression. “We’ve already sent those shameless lazybones to water the fields. And, we didn’t use the whip.”

Although he didn’t know why, this imposing-looking steward, Fosse, had specifically emphasized “no using the whip” when he had coldly ordered them to drive the slaves to water the fields.

Otherwise, for them, while swinging a whip took a bit of effort, watching the lowly slaves’ numb faces twist in agony was a small form of amusement.

“Mm.”

Fosse responded coolly, his gaze never leaving his Duke, who was getting farther and farther away. His hands, at some point, had clenched into tight fists, his nails digging deep crescents into his palms.

Fosse, the former knight-captain, who had always held a certain reverence for the gods, if not true piety, felt a surge of intense resentment toward the so-called “God of Wealth” for the first time.

Even a god should not subject his most noble master to such hardship!

Oliver only stopped, still wanting more, when the continuous “ding-dong” of the warning that his stamina bar was about to bottom out finally sounded in his ears. Perhaps it was due to the game system that had inexplicably integrated with his soul into this body, but even under such high-intensity labor, he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired—of course, that was on the condition that he didn’t let his last bit of stamina completely drop to zero.

Logically speaking, the best way to recover stamina was to consume food.

But the moment he thought of the cook’s terrible skills, he was no longer in any hurry.

Just like the previous night, the air was filled with an unpleasant smell of grass mixed with manure.

But when Oliver stood on a small earthen mound and, like a king surveying his proud domain, looked back at the large plot of land he had tilled all this way…

Oliver squinted in satisfaction.

Surrounded by the mottled and unsightly fields of varying shades of dark and light, the plots he had personally dug were perfectly regular, their color astonishingly uniform.

The square patches of earth, separated by high, straight ridges, were as neat and pleasing as if they had been measured one by one with a standardized template.

Especially when contrasted with the other plots, they could almost be called a delightful work of art.

Oliver returned the hoe to his game backpack and sat relaxedly on a large rock to admire his masterpiece, a profound sense of satisfaction welling up in his heart.

—He had changed his mind.

If the serfs couldn’t perfectly adhere to his standards, then he would rather work a little harder and finish tilling the rest of the land himself.

Just then, having likely seen his young master stop his tilling from a distance, Butler Fosse, who had been on edge all morning, suddenly perked up.

He could no longer be bothered with the decorum he usually valued so highly. Hoisting the items he had prepared earlier, he led three male servants and, under the astonished gazes of the supervisors, dashed toward the Angel Duke with incredible agility.

“Your Highness, may I ask if you are finished?”

Though his words were respectful, Fosse’s hands never stopped moving.

He methodically directed the male servants to set down a parasol, a patterned wooden table and chairs, spread a fine velvet tablecloth, and place soft cushions on the seats. At the same time, he leaned over to arrange the food from a bamboo basket, item by item.

In the blink of an eye, a small pavilion for enjoying a perfect afternoon tea had appeared in the middle of the fields.

Oliver didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he was also moved by the sentiment of the old butler, whose eyes were filled with heartache. He passed his teacup over. “Your thoughtfulness brings me great joy. In that case, why don’t you share this view with me?”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Fosse couldn’t help but reveal a proud and joyous smile at this unique honor, and of course, he wouldn’t refuse.

However, he hadn’t brought an extra chair, and he was absolutely unwilling to drink the reward from His Highness while standing. So, ignoring the freshly turned soil on the ground, he prepared to kneel on one knee.

“I forgot,” Oliver stopped him in time, looking around. “Wait a moment.”

He had noticed it earlier while tilling—the fields, which had only been weeded and roughly cleared in the spring, still had quite a few stones that had been washed in by the rain.

He didn’t have enough strength to move the larger, heavier stones directly, but he could use the pickaxe from his system tools to break them. The shattered pieces would then become weightless in his hands, allowing him to collect them in his system backpack and finally pile them on the nearby ridges. It was better to have butler Fosse sit on a rock for the time being than to have him kneel directly in the mud.

Ignoring butler Fosse’s flattered and startled refusal, Oliver decisively walked towards the nearest large rock.

After conjuring a pickaxe out of thin air amidst the suppressed gasps of the manservants, he deftly struck the rock twice.

Under that magical pickaxe, the incomparably hard, gray boulder was cracked open effortlessly like an egg.

However, the next moment, butler Fosse, who had always been composed and stern, uncharacteristically let out a hoarse, startled cry in front of everyone!

—Collapsing without warning along with the scattering pieces of rock was the unlucky duke, who had completely forgotten that his stamina bar had already hit rock bottom.