novelGlobal Chapter 169 : Chapter 169
Chapter 169 : Chapter 169
Chapter 169. Pay More
One day later.
The iron gate outside the experimental fields, usually kept shut year-round, was shoved open with force. Accompanied by a burst of noisy, disorderly footsteps, the once-quiet grounds instantly became lively.
Dozens of elderly men in patched coarse cotton jackets, with mud still clinging to their trouser legs, were led inside by City Hall clerks.
These were the “planting experts” the City Hall had scraped together overnight by sending riders on fast horses through more than a dozen nearby villages.
They had spent their entire lives wrestling with the barren frozen soil of the Northern Territory. The calluses on their hands were thick enough to sharpen blades like sandpaper, and every wrinkle on their faces seemed to be packed with years of wind and frost that could never quite be washed away.
The old farmers hunched their shoulders as they entered the greenhouse. Looking at the strange crops around them—plants that grew in ways completely beyond common sense—their cloudy eyes were filled with caution and suspicion.
“Everyone.”
Logaris stood atop the pile of potatoes and looked down at them from above.
He did not bother with pleasantries. He went straight to the point.
“My name is Logaris. I am also the current chief advisor of Winter City. I did not invite you here for tea and conversation. I invited you here because I want to offer all of you a chance to make a fortune.”
The farmers looked at one another, but no one spoke.
Logaris picked up one of the giant Number Two potatoes and tossed it to an old farmer named Old John.
Old John caught it in a flurry. The surprising weight of it made him freeze for a moment.
“What is this?”
“This is something that can keep your entire village from starving to death,” Logaris said evenly. “It is called the ‘new potato.’ It does not fear the cold, it grows quickly, and its yield is five times that of the worthless junk you used to plant.”
Boom.
The crowd erupted at once.
“Five times? Who are you trying to fool?”
“Exactly! Where is there such a thing? I’ve farmed for forty years and never heard of it!”
“This has to be another trick from those mage lords. It looks big, sure, but who knows if it’s even edible? It might even be poisonous!”
Doubts rose one after another.
And honestly, that was not their fault. For people who lived by the land, experience was iron law. Anything that violated experience looked like a fraud to them.
Old John turned the giant potato over and over in his hands. At last, he still shook his head.
“My lord, please don’t blame me for speaking frankly. Crops in the field are something Heaven grants us to eat. Your thing here… it sure looks impressive, but no one can say whether it’ll live, whether it’ll grow, or whether it can even be eaten. If we plant this and the harvest fails, then our whole families are truly going to starve to death.”
That was the wisdom of farmers.
Conservative, but life-preserving.
Logaris had expected this from the start.
Trying to explain science to these old diehards—trying to talk about genetics, selective improvement, or magical catalysis—would be like playing a lute to a cow.
There was only one way to get them moving.
Snap.
Logaris flicked his fingers.
Lilith came forward from behind carrying a heavy chest and dropped it straight onto the ground.
The lid sprang open, and the brilliant golden gleam inside nearly blinded everyone present.
It was a full chest of Golden Lion Coins.
The crowd, so noisy only a moment ago, fell instantly silent. All that remained was the sound of people swallowing their saliva.
“I am not going to argue with you.”
Logaris scooped up a handful of coins from the chest. The sound of metal striking metal was the finest music in the world. “I am only here to discuss business.”
“This is insurance.”
He pointed at the chest. “Anyone who takes seeds will sign or leave their mark. As long as you plant them according to my instructions, then when the harvest comes, if the yield does not even reach half of what I promised, or if the crop dies, or if it proves inedible…”
He let the coins in his hand spill back into the chest.
“Then even if you harvest nothing at all, I will compensate you at last year’s highest grain price, in full.”
The air froze for three full seconds.
Then came the sound of heavy breathing.
Old John’s hands were trembling.
Farming had always been a gamble. You gambled on the weather. You gambled on pests. If you lost, the whole family went hungry. If you won, you merely scraped by with a full belly.
But now, this lord had changed the rules of the game.
This was a guaranteed profit.
As long as they planted the crop, they would either reap a bumper harvest and eat their fill, or they would suffer a crop failure and receive money instead. This was not farming anymore. This was a blessing dropping straight from heaven.
“My lord… does your word truly count?” Old John asked in a trembling voice.
“Official notices from City Hall will be posted all over the city shortly.” Logaris’s face remained expressionless. “My name, Logaris, is still worth something.”
“We’ll do it!”
Old John stamped his foot hard, that ruthless edge born of fearing poverty finally rising in him. “As long as you dare to compensate us, then we dare to plant it! Isn’t it just digging holes and burying things in the dirt? We know that work better than anyone!”
Once one person took the lead, the others, no matter how skeptical they still were, could no longer keep their eyes from reddening under the lure of gold.
“I’m taking some too!”
“Give me two sacks of the big ones!”
“I want the thick-skinned kind! My land’s on the shaded slope!”
Watching those old farmers—who had all been full of doubt only moments ago—now practically fighting to snatch up the potatoes, Logaris’s lips curved into a faint, almost invisible sneer.
As expected, there was no problem in this world that could not be smashed open with money. And if there was, it only meant you had not thrown enough of it.
“Hold it.”
Logaris raised a hand and suppressed the commotion. “I can give you the seeds, but this thing is not planted the same way as your old crops. If any of you idiots ruin my seed by planting it however you please, then not only will I refuse compensation, I will make you cough back up everything you’ve eaten.”
The farmers froze.
This thing needed special care too?
“Then what are we supposed to do? We don’t understand any of that.” Old John scratched his head.
Logaris turned around and pointed at Iowen, who had just been about to pack up and leave for the day.
“He’ll teach you.”
The notebook in Iowen’s hand hit the ground with a smack.
“What?!”
The noble elf pointed at his own nose, his face full of disbelief. “Me?”
“Do you have an objection?” Logaris pushed up his glasses. A cold glint flashed across the lenses.
“It’s not that, but… they can’t even read!” Iowen said through gritted teeth. “Do you really think they can understand the fertilizer ratios and soil acidity analyses I wrote down?!”
“Then write something they can understand.”
Logaris rejected the protest without mercy. “Make me a Foolproof Planting Manual. No text. All pictures. Draw every step for me. Step one: how deep to dig. Step two: how far apart to bury them. Step three: when to water. Draw all of it.”
“I refuse! This is an insult to my intelligence!”
“I’ll add another zero to the cheque.”
“…On second thought, spreading knowledge is one of the fine traditions of us natural elves.” Iowen picked up his notebook, his expression instantly turning saintly. “This too is a form of cultivation.”
“Good.”
Logaris had no time to listen to him moving himself to tears. “Three days from now, you will take that illustrated manual and personally go into the countryside. You will visit every single village and teach them by hand. If the seedlings in any village die, I will deduct your bonus for that village.”
“Lilith, keep an eye on him.”
“Gladly, boss.” Lilith shook the dagger in her hand with undisguised delight. “I’ll make sure our ‘teacher’ stays perfectly safe. As long as he doesn’t try to run, no one will lay a finger on him.”
Looking at the old farmers crowding toward him, their bodies reeking of sweat and their eyes shining with a thirst for knowledge—or rather, a thirst for gold—Iowen felt his vision go black.
…
After tossing this entire mess onto Iowen’s shoulders, Logaris walked out of the experimental fields.
The air outside was still bitterly cold, but that chill only made his mind clearer.
Several flatbed carts loaded with seed potatoes creaked and rattled into the distance amid the farmers’ shouting.
At least for the moment, agriculture had been patched up in a rough and brutal way.
Which meant that the only thing left for him to deal with next was the Magitech Academy.