The Mighty Dragons Are Dead

“Yes, Sister Eileen,” Maggie nodded earnestly in agreement.

In reality, Eileen had spoken too quickly, and Maggie had only understood part of it—about the master being noble.

“Don’t add too much flour, or the pineapple bun won’t taste good,” Eileen stopped Maggie from pouring more flour. “Our kitchen has many kinds of new bread, all invented in collaboration between Mrs. Abbie and Boss Reynard—bread that the master likes.”

She then whispered in Maggie’s ear, “Every day Mrs. Abbie makes bread of various flavors, and if the master doesn’t eat them, we get to have some.”

Maggie exclaimed in surprise, “Ah, the master, servants eat, good bread?” Her Serpent Script was halting and she had to use gestures to make herself understood by Eileen.

“Humph, you’ll come to understand the master’s kindness and generosity in time,” Eileen asserted.

Indeed, Maggie came to understand that very night when she got a small piece of the pineapple bun during dinner. The Lord Landlord had entertained two guests that evening, prompting the kitchen to bake plenty of bread. When there was an abundance left over, each servant got a small share.

Compared to the dark bread, this distinctive white bread was simply the most delicious food Maggie had ever eaten in her life.

“Little maids, little manservants, come along, be careful of snakes on the road after dark,” called out a Patrol Member, who was responsible for escorting the young apprentices back to their host families after dark.

Following behind the Patrol Member, Maggie felt incredibly safe.

She knew the warnings about snakes were just to scare the children.

Savoring the delicious taste of the pineapple bun, she silently praised the master over and over in her heart. Then, she suddenly remembered she had eaten her pineapple bun and had forgotten to save some for Mrs. Harriet’s family. Although her boarding was a mandatory arrangement by the town administration, Mrs. Harriet’s family had been genuinely kind to her.

“Should I… sign a contract of mother and daughter with Mrs. Harriet?” Maggie wondered, returning to an issue she had been troubled by for several days.

As a nine-year-old girl, whose parents had been killed by mercenaries, she naturally longed for a new family in her grief.

But, deep in her heart, she still held on to memories of her sister—a sister ten years her elder, tall and with curly hair. She always remembered when her sister left home, saying, “Maggie, when I come back, I’ll teach you magic. We’ll be magicians together, magicians who can cast fireballs!”

At that time, her sister was fifteen and their parents had forced her to marry a lame old man from the village.

The very next day, she had decisively run away from home.

Her sister had always been the idol she admired the most.

“Maggie, you’re back,” Mrs. Harriet greeted her warmly as she arrived back in town, unaware of how long the walk had been.

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Harriet, you don’t need to, pick me up every day,” Maggie managed to communicate.

“It’s no trouble, come on in,” Mrs. Harriet invited her.

Night fell.

A crescent moon formed in the sky. As Maggie lay in bed, she thought of Mrs. Harriet’s family’s kindness, of the castle’s delicious food, and somehow, her sister’s features from her childhood started to blur and become distant in her mind, and certain decisions quietly rose to her heart.

“If Mrs. Harriet asks me again, I’ll agree to it… She’s like my mother.”

The morning air was refreshing, Liszt greedily took a few extra breaths.

Then he began his daily practice and dog-walking routine before inspecting his territory—he didn’t like to socialize, and several nobles from North Valley City had sent him invitations to birthday banquets and noble gatherings. He generally just sent gifts in return, without attending in person—a form of keeping a low profile.

After all, the designated heir to Coral Island was his brother, Levis.

It wasn’t convenient for him to get too close to other nobles.

The Li Dragon Horse, holding its head high, trotted on the gravel path, unaware that its status was on the verge of collapse. Perhaps it would understand when Black Horse Island came into existence that a king is a king, be it yesterday or tomorrow—your lord is always your lord.

“The town lacks stonemasons to carve and polish stones; otherwise, we could pave the roads with stone slabs, just like those at the castle.”

Accompanying Liszt was Isaiah, who was also acting in his capacity as the administrative officer, reporting on the progress of various projects in Fresh Flower Town.

“Paving with stone slabs is a massive undertaking; the manpower of the town should be allocated to more pressing matters.”

“Yes, my lord, the autumn harvest has already been completed, as have the road construction and building projects. I am arranging for the serfs to focus on reclaiming the wasteland in each territory. Once the next batch of one thousand serfs arrives, we should be able to take over these fields smoothly. By next spring, we can begin sowing directly.”

“How’s the expansion of the Flame Mushroom greenhouses going?”

“An additional 20 acres have been expanded, bringing the total to 50 acres. The serfs have mastered the cultivation techniques for Flame Mushrooms, and the current yield has doubled from the initial levels. In a month’s time, with the new greenhouses producing, we can expect the yield to double again,” Isaiah happily replied.

But he also expressed his confusion, “Only, my lord, are the revenues from the Flame Mushroom Magic Potion Workshop directly recorded in the castle’s books, bypassing the town administration?”

“They bypass it, but issues regarding the taxation and welfare of the Mushroom serfs will be uniformly arranged by the town administration, and subsidization will then be handled by the castle.” Flame Mushroom Magic Potions had all gone into Liszt’s stomach, and to date, nobody had discovered he had become an Elite Earth Knight.

Isaiah didn’t ask further; it was normal for the landlord not to want anyone to meddle with magical potions.

The group, without realizing it, had arrived at the Thorn Garden.

The Thorn Cordyceps had grown into a four-meter-tall Thorn Tree, lush and eye-catching. Two-thirds of the surrounding area was encircled by Rapid Growth Magic Thorns, and one-third by Rapid Growth Iron Thorns. Only a small area was left to the common Rapid Growth Thorns as a token of remembrance.

Whether new varieties of thorny mutations would be born was still an unknown.

Without waiting for Liszt to ask, Isaiah spoke up, “My lord, the Thorn Garden originally spanned 180 acres, but with Jela’s birth, I’ve already had people fence off 800 acres for the Thorn Garden’s expansion. According to the current ratio, one-third will be Rapid Growth Iron Thorns, and two-thirds will be Rapid Growth Magic Thorns.”

He then pointed toward Thorn Ridge, “The Rapid Growth Spiky Thorns and Rapid Growth Poison Thorns have already started being transplanted towards the edge of Thorn Ridge. Due to a shortage of serfs, currently, only fifty serfs are responsible for transplanting the thorns. I’ve calculated their workload; by the onset of winter, we should be able to complete the transplanting for one-third of the path with thorns.”

“Don’t rush the work with Spiky Thorns and Poison Thorns; just plant as much as we can.” With Iron Thorns and Magic Thorns at his disposal, Liszt no longer placed much value on Spiky Thorns and Poison Thorns.

Especially the Spiky Thorns.

They were of little use, except perhaps for preventing the intrusion of chickens, ducks, and geese.

The Poison Thorns were highly toxic and could be extracted to create poison. This poison could then be applied to bladed and pole weapons or arrowheads for use in warfare.