"Whoosh~"
A massive flame erupted from the scroll, engulfing the two corrupted deer corpses in fire.
The flames hissed and crackled, making the deer's decayed flesh sizzle noisily.
But… that was all it did.
The used scroll lost its magical glow, turning into nothing more than a piece of parchment fit for wiping up spills.
There were no dramatic special effects, no apocalyptic blaze like the draconic wolf's infernal breath. Field felt as though he'd just witnessed a low-budget fire-breathing act—nowhere near as thrilling as a gas canister explosion.
"I think I just wasted ten gold coins," Field muttered, beads of sweat forming as the full weight of his blunder hit him.
While magic scrolls were known for their low damage output, a Tier 1 scroll typically sold for around fifteen gold coins. An antique scroll, like the one he'd just burned through, was easily worth ten gold. It wasn't cheap by any stretch.
Ashina stuck out the tip of her delicate tongue, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "How could that be a waste? We learned about the scroll's power. Like you always say, knowledge comes from practice! Besides, it's my first time seeing a magic scroll in action—it was fun!"
Field raised an eyebrow, surprised by her tactfulness. This little wolf girl really knew how to smooth things over.
"I only mentioned that offhand, but I'm impressed you remembered," he said, smiling. Her positive energy was contagious. Gently, he patted her on the head.
The chest contained a total of 24 magic scrolls. After subtracting the one he had used, the rest could easily be sold for around 230 gold coins—a substantial and satisfying haul.
Scavenging junk can be surprisingly rewarding, Field thought to himself. A simple stroll outside the territory had turned into a profitable adventure.
Thanks to the unique environment of the Northern Province, few adventurers dared to venture into its depths. As a result, plenty of valuable remnants were still waiting to be found.
Back at the territory, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief upon seeing Field return safely.
If anything had happened to their lord, they would have been doomed to die in the death mist by nightfall. Besides, Field was genuinely a good lord in their eyes. The slaves thought, May Field remain our lord forever. If he can keep us half-fed, it's already a life of luxury.
"Ah! That's a goblin's head!" exclaimed Dogpaw, a freeman with more worldly experience. "I've seen these filthy creatures in the big cities. They'll even mate with sows and produce litters of little goblins."
"That's right. These monsters were the ones that attacked our territory," Field said as he casually tossed the goblin head onto the ground. Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped his hands clean. "We've avenged the dead. Let's hope they find peace in the goddess's embrace."
"Long live the lord!"
"Thank you, Lord Field!"
The slaves were overwhelmed with gratitude. Being treated as if their lives had value was a rare and precious feeling. For once, they didn't have to fear being killed by vile creatures during the night.
Field wasn't motivated by a sense of justice or human rights. He simply wanted to eliminate threats so the slaves could work efficiently. Still, that didn't diminish their appreciation. Most lords wouldn't care about a slave's life—they were more concerned about whether to dine on apple pudding or cherry compote.
"All right, go on. Rest up," Field said, feeling the exhaustion creeping over him.
With the goblin problem resolved, Field clapped his hands as an idea struck him. There was something important he still needed to take care of.
The goblin attack had exposed a glaring issue: the pitiful performance of the territory's guards. The patrols had been caught sleeping on duty, and the resting guards acted as if it wasn't their problem. If not for Jug's frantic efforts to wake a few of them, the entire territory might have been massacred while the guards remained blissfully unaware.
"If we don't strengthen the territory's military, I won't even be able to sleep at night," Field muttered to himself.
Relying solely on Ashina wasn't a viable solution—she couldn't possibly oversee the entire territory on her own.
After finalizing his plans, Field jotted them down in a code only he could understand. Then, he collapsed onto his bed. The dilapidated floorboards and windows of the grand winery groaned loudly in protest, creaking under his weight. Occasionally, an unpleasant gust of wind seeped through the cracks in the brickwork.
"This place needs to be fixed up as soon as possible," Field grumbled in frustration, covering his ears and burying his head under the blanket—the only thing left that still carried a faint scent of civilized comfort.
The next morning, after a restless night, Field finished his breakfast—a slice of bread with blueberry jam—and called for all the soldiers to assemble. That included the demi-human cavalry recruits, many of whom hadn't even learned to ride yet.
"Stand up straight," Field barked, his tone sharp and commanding.
The soldiers, acutely aware of their failure the night before, nervously shrank back. Some looked on the verge of wetting themselves, convinced they were about to face the gallows. They stole anxious glances at Field's face, desperately trying to gauge his intentions.
Field initially planned to drag the most negligent among them out and flog them with thirty lashes in front of the others. But as he scanned the group, his anger waned.
Many of them were pale, emaciated, their ribs visibly protruding. Some could barely stay upright under the weight of their armour, swaying like they might collapse at any moment.
"Thirty lashes?" he thought, shaking his head. "Even ten would probably send half of them straight to their graves. If they didn't die, they'd be bedridden for months. And then I'd be forced to waste precious potions on saving them. In the end, I'd only be hurting myself."
The most critical issue was that if Field punished them too harshly, it would leave him with even fewer capable soldiers among the remaining slaves.
Rubbing his temples, Field tried to see things from their perspective. These guards lived on two fist-sized pieces of black rye bread a day, had no pay, no freedom, and no wives. If he were in their shoes, he wouldn't put in much effort either.
"Last night's patrol guards will run six laps around the territory. Those who failed to assemble will run three laps. That's your punishment—and don't think about trying to slack off," Field declared firmly.
"Phew…" The guards collectively exhaled in relief, some even breaking into smiles.
Though they couldn't fathom why their lord was so obsessed with running, they much preferred it to the prospect of being lashed until their skin was flayed. Running was practically a blessing.
"I love running," one of the guards quipped cheerfully, tossing his weapon aside and unfastening his armour.
"Wait! Put on your leather armour first, and don't forget to carry your weapons while you run," Field added. Before despair could set in, he spoke again in a devilishly enticing tone, "And if you finish before noon, everyone gets a slice of smoked meat."
Providing proper nutrition was only fair, after all.
"Smoked meat?"
"By the goddess! Did I hear that right?"
"Is today a holiday? Bless our beloved lord!"
The grumbling in their bellies instantly turned into energy. The guards scrambled to change into leather armour and hoist their weapons before taking off like madmen. The lively scene drew curious glances from the slaves working on the corrupted farmlands nearby, who couldn't help but steal glances at the commotion.
The remaining dozen guards exchanged hesitant glances. Thoughts of smoked meat made their mouths water, and finally, Lynx mustered the courage to step forward. Carefully, he asked, "What about us, my lord? Can we run too?"
Field scanned the group. These were the elite among his guards—many had taken down over ten corrupted creatures each. Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "You don't need to run. Last night, you were among the few who assembled promptly. The smoked meat is already yours by right."
The group's faces lit up with relief, though Field wasn't done yet.
"I've got a new training regimen for you. It's called standing at attention. If you do it well… I'll throw in an extra reward: one egg."
"Gulp~"
The mention of an egg caused another round of audible swallowing, their excitement barely contained.