The last time Field gave them eggs, many of the guards didn't even bother chewing. They greedily swallowed the eggs whole, only to choke and roll their eyes in distress. The scarcity of food had made them desperate for protein, and even now, some still dreamed about the taste of eggs.
They never thought such a treat would come again so soon.
"It's simple. Just follow my lead," Field said.
He demonstrated the military standing posture used during student drills in Huaxia, standing straight and steady, before going around to correct each guard's stance with patience.
Field had high expectations for these elite guards. In the future, they would likely form the backbone of his military force.
Once everyone was in position, Field called for a servant to bring out a chair and set up a sand timer.
"Hold this posture for half an hour, and the egg is yours," Field said, flashing a devilish grin.
Iron Hammer, one of the guards, awkwardly stuck his rear out as he struggled to keep his posture straight. His rough hands slapped against the sides of his hips, his legs spread apart at the required angle.
"This must be one of those ridiculous performances nobles enjoy," he muttered to himself. He'd heard that nobles loved clown acts, and while he'd never seen a clown, he figured he probably looked like one now.
Still, Iron Hammer thought, It's worth it for an egg. What's this compared to hauling bricks or digging mines all day?
Iron Hammer quickly discovered the true terror of standing at attention.
The farmland of Nightfall, though cleansed by purification potions and Field's lordly powers, was still far from fully restored. The soft, soggy ground felt as if it had just been drenched by rain, making it nearly impossible to keep his footing.
To onlookers, however, the shaky stance of the guards wasn't a soil issue—it was their trembling bodies, their legs wobbling like wet noodles. As the heavy sensation of fatigue spread through them, the guards realized that standing motionless was no easy feat. The dull, throbbing ache in their muscles felt as though they'd spent an entire day hauling heavy loads.
Iron Hammer's forehead was slick with sweat, but he gritted his teeth and silently cheered himself on.
"For the egg. For the egg."
Several other guards muttered the same mantra under their breath. Despite their swaying bodies and shaking knees, they persisted, determined not to falter.
Field's lips curled into a grin as he glanced at the sand timer. "As expected, tangible rewards are an excellent motivator."
After leisurely finishing his cup of red tea, Field finally announced a break. The guards collapsed like piles of mud, sprawling across the ground in exhaustion.
"Brilliant strategy, my lord. That's exactly how they should be handled," said Kao, the steward, as he approached with a freshly inked report on the wine cellar inventory. Seeing Field "tormenting" the guards, he assumed Field had embraced the noble ethos of treating people as tools. Kao's heart swelled with pride and relief.
"Oh? You understand the power of discipline?" Field asked, startled. He even adjusted his posture to appear more serious. The philosophy behind standing drills wasn't something a medieval mind would grasp easily. Yet here was his steward, seemingly forward-thinking enough to recognize its significance.
"Discipline?" Kao rubbed his nose in confusion. "I was talking about the value of tormenting slaves in creative ways. It's the best way to keep them obedient."
"Oh, never mind then," Field said with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. Slumping lazily against the back of his chair, he flashed a mischievous grin. "This isn't torture; it's training. They performed well, so I've decided to give them extra eggs for lunch."
"Eggs? For slaves again?" Kao looked as though he had been struck by lightning. His mouth opened and closed in stunned disbelief, and he nearly fainted on the spot. "Lord Field, this is the second time you've done something so preposterous. Slaves should be eating the whip, not eggs!"
If Field had thrown shiny gold coins into the "treasure cave" of an old, ugly crone, Kao might have grudgingly called it inventive. But giving slaves the privilege of eating eggs? That was downright scandalous, a luxury so outrageous it made Kao's heart ache.
Kao could swear that across the entire Empire, Field's actions would be considered bizarre and shockingly extravagant. Even the most wasteful brats in the imperial capital wouldn't dream up such a creative way to squander wealth.
Seeing his steward fuming and tugging at his collar for air, Field found the scene amusing. He reassured him with a laugh, "This is the Cursed Lands, Kao. Things can't be run like in normal regions. Here, the rules will be new, and I'm sure you'll get used to them. By the way, how's the wine inventory coming along?"
Kao seized the opportunity to shift gears and handed Field a detailed report. His tone became professional as he eagerly explained, "Based on standard Sherry cask measurements, we have:
3 barrels of barley beer,7 barrels of mead,7 barrels of olive wine,24 barrels of Black Pearl grape wine, and1 barrel of rare sparkling wine, Champagne."
The first three were commoners' beverages. The real value lay in the grape wines.
"This is much better than I anticipated. Excellent," Field said, standing abruptly. He began pacing, his excitement bubbling over as he broke into a laugh. "The most important thing now is to turn them into hard, glittering gold coins. Only when they've been converted to money will I feel at ease."
After all, if a monster were to sneak in and destroy the stock, all those profits would vanish into thin air.
"Kao, assign a group of slaves to pack provisions—enough to feed forty people for ten days. Don't forget feed for the horses as well. You'll oversee the preparations and make sure nothing is missed," Field ordered. "I'll personally travel to Maple Leaf City to visit the local nobles and find buyers for the wine."
"This… isn't it too risky? The death mist is no joke. We were lucky last time, but if we run into a large horde of undead, the consequences could be disastrous. My lord, wouldn't it be better to send the Chosen to lead the trip instead?" Kao suggested cautiously. Glancing around to ensure Ashina wasn't nearby, he relaxed slightly before adding, "Besides, we've only just settled in at Nightfall. Everyone still needs your leadership here."
Field sighed in exasperation. "Me staying behind is the real risk," he muttered under his breath.
If Ashina were to fall, there would be no way for Field to hold the winery.
Without his minimap, Ashina would inevitably stumble into waves of undead hordes—not just one or two, but entire swarms. Field was all too aware of how perilous the Northern Province was; they were effectively treading water in a sea of rotting corpses, and one misstep could spell disaster.
"This is an order. Just do as I say," Field said with a dismissive wave, turning away to avoid further argument.
Kao was literate—one of only two people in the territory who could read and write—but that didn't make him a competent administrator. Sending the Chosen on a trading mission was tantamount to announcing to the entire Empire that Field, a minor baron with no support and little standing, had a rare and coveted Chosen in his service.
Field couldn't afford to lose Ashina, nor could he let her existence be exposed to the outside world.
"Huh? What are they up to?"
Field's attention was drawn to two female slaves whispering to each other as they made their way toward the outskirts of the territory.
"Maybe it's just some girly secret, gossip… or possibly… a plot," Field speculated.
The likelihood of a conspiracy seemed slim. Without a mist-repelling lamp, venturing beyond the territory's boundaries was a death sentence—unless someone miraculously awakened as a Chosen.
More likely, they were just slacking off. Field, being well-acquainted with the art of shirking duties himself, recognized the signs all too well.