Facing Gwenis's proposal, Harold nodded regretfully, saying, "If you've come for food, I'm afraid I can't help you much, and I might disappoint you. Like you, I've spent a lot of food gathering subjects, and now our reserves are almost depleted. There's probably no surplus to sell or lend."
Hearing this, Gwenis was stunned for a moment. Why was this person so straightforward?
"Really none at all? Not a bit?" he asked tentatively.
Harold sighed and began to recount his hardships, including the daily consumption of over a thousand subjects, his already meager reserves, and even the sacrifices he made during the war to ensure his guards stayed combat-ready, even if it meant he went hungry.
"To be honest, I'm also in a difficult situation now. I've sent people to the eastern part of the Earl's territory to purchase food, but there's still no news. The days are tough; we can only take one day at a time."
Baron Harold's narrative was sincere and heartfelt, and when he spoke of his struggles, one could even see a hint of tears in his eyes. It seemed that he was indeed going through a tough time.
Seeing Gwenis nodding repeatedly, Harold was about to say something to send him away.
"If that's the case, it's perfect... I mean, it's a pity. I sincerely worry about your difficult situation. As a respected noble, you shouldn't be living in such conditions."
"Huh?" Harold was a bit confused.
"Since your days are so hard, how about if I say I can sell you a batch of food? Would you be interested?"
...
Harold thought he had misheard. He wants to sell me food? Wait a minute, isn't this the person who came to ask me for food? Why is he now selling it to me? How could he have surplus food?
Looking at Harold's confusion, Gwenis smiled.
Of course, he didn't know that Gwenis had stored all the autumn harvest from last year and hadn't sold a single grain. So even though he had gathered over two thousand subjects in the castle for several months, the food reserves were still quite ample.
Moreover, in the final battle against the Hafdans, after wiping out an enemy squad, he also conveniently packed up the enemy camp's food and brought it back to the castle. Although the Hafdans didn't carry much food when marching, preferring to forage locally, they still carried some to avoid any shortage. It was enough food for a thousand people for two or three weeks, which might not seem like much, but in the current critical situation, it was crucial.
"We are both nobles, colleagues under the rule of the Earl. In difficult times, we should help each other, don't you think?" Gwenis said with a smile.
Seeing Gwenis's appearance, Harold's mouth twitched a bit. He knew the other party was serious. Was he really going to sell food to me?!
Thinking about this, Harold immediately regretted what he had said before, wishing he could swallow back his words. He had actually revealed his situation to a merchant who wanted to do business with him. How could he negotiate the price now? He couldn't just retract what he said and claim he was lying, right? That would be damaging to the noble's dignity.
You're right; in the eyes of "true" nobles, their dignity might not be worth much. They might just turn their backs and deny everything they've said. Unfortunately for Harold, being a relatively new noble and placing a high value on things like honor and integrity, he felt that having finally become a noble, he needed to cherish his newfound status.
After a moment of silence, Harold sighed and accepted his fate. The communication between the two parties shifted into the fast lane.
"How much are you asking for? Since I've already revealed everything to you, I'm not afraid to say that I'm really out of money. If your price is too high, I'm afraid I won't be able to afford it," Harold said, taking a sip of wine to show composure.
"No need for money; for one thousand people, exchange for 2380 bushels of black rye," Gwenis replied.
Harold nearly spit out his drink. "Are you crazy?"
Gwenis smiled. "2380 bushels! It's roughly... well, I've already calculated it for you. 2380 bushels of black rye, based on the usual price, is equivalent to about 40 Kingdom gold coins."
Gwenis nodded graciously. "40 gold coins! Exchange for one thousand people!" Harold, who had just displayed an elegant and composed demeanor, now roared, "Yes, 40 gold coins might not seem like much, but this black rye, if managed conservatively, is enough for you and your subjects to live for fifteen months until next year's harvest."
"Of course, as neighbors and colleagues, symbols of our friendship, I'll also give you an additional 900 bushels of high-quality black rye as a gift. You can keep it as seed. Just have your subjects plant it after the autumn harvest... if there is an autumn harvest. By next year's harvest season, you'll have a full warehouse of food, and your territory's daily production and life can return to normal," Gwenis earnestly stated.
"At that time, you will still be a baron ruling over your land, maintaining your lofty status and identity, without having to live like you are now, eating black bread as a family, right?" Gwenis picked up a small crumb of black bread from the table, smiling.
Harold fell silent. At present, although he had preserved most of his subjects, and his family remained healthy without any harm during the Hafdans' invasion, he was already pushed to the brink. As a newly appointed noble, his social connections were shallow. He didn't have powerful backing like those nobles born into prominence or the local old nobles with intricate alliances, where in times of difficulty, someone would always be willing to lend a helping hand.
Being a noble for more than a decade, perhaps due to his humble origins, Harold had never been well-regarded by other nobles. Limited by delicate pride, he also had reservations about other nobles, so over the years, he hadn't built close relationships with his colleagues. In other words, even if he wanted to seek help now, there was nowhere to turn.
Without this batch of food, he truly didn't know what to do. The atmosphere in the east of the Earl's territory was delicate, and a conflict could erupt at any moment. Nobles were preoccupied with their own affairs, unwilling to be bothered with him. In the west, everyone was in jeopardy; even those who weren't in dire need of food knew the preciousness of it. They wouldn't sell at ordinary prices; each one was demanding a hefty sum.
Over the years of becoming a noble, his territory was not particularly affluent. There were many expenses, especially with just the castle itself. It took several years of tax revenue to roughly restore it from a dilapidated state to a livable condition, just barely maintaining the dignity of his noble status.
Now, facing this unexpected disaster, with no resources, it might be time to face reality. However, even with this batch of food, could his territory recover?
Harold suddenly aged by more than ten years, looking weary as he lifted his head. At that moment, he caught a glimpse of his daughter peeking around the corner of the stairs.
Perhaps, his roar just now had been too loud, alarming his family. They had followed him for these years, although they became nobles, they hadn't truly experienced comfortable days, especially his wife, who originated from humble beginnings. She was always personally engaged in housekeeping, tirelessly busy with their daughter. When asked, she claimed she couldn't idle around; she needed something to occupy herself.
Thinking of this, Harold waved to his daughter. "Lily, come here."