Chapter 24: Seeds of the Future
The wind swept gently across the hills of Frostleaf Town, carrying with it the scent of freshly turned soil.
Rhodes stood at the edge of the fields, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze stretching far into the distance. The land, once wild and untamed, now bore the marks of human effort: furrows lined in neat rows and dark soil enriched with carefully rationed fertilizer.
"One thousand mu…" he murmured.
It was a number that would have been meaningless not long ago. Now, it represented hope.
Behind him, Otto approached cautiously.
"My lord, the seeds have been gathered from the remaining stores. But…" he hesitated, "it may not be enough for all the land."
Rhodes didn't turn around immediately. Instead, he bent down, scooping a handful of soil into his palm. He rubbed it between his fingers, feeling its texture.
"Not enough is fine," he said calmly. "We don't need to plant everything at once."
Otto blinked. "My lord?"
Rhodes straightened and turned, his expression steady.
"We prioritize quality over quantity. Choose the best land, the flattest, the most fertile. Plant there first."
"If the yield is good, we expand next season."
If it fails…
Rhodes didn't say it aloud. There was no need.
Otto nodded quickly. "Understood, my lord."
Rhodes continued, "Also, separate the seeds. The healthiest grains are for planting. The rest can be used as food."
"Don't let anyone mix them up."
"Yes, my lord!"
As Otto hurried off, Rhodes exhaled slowly.
Agriculture was never simple. In his previous life, machines, fertilizers, and science had made it predictable.
Here, everything depended on judgment… and luck.
—
Not far from the fields, the newly made curved plows were already being put to use.
Four men worked together, two pulling, one guiding, and one resting and waiting to switch in. Their movements were clumsy at first, but far more efficient than before.
The iron-tipped plowshare bit into the soil, carving deep, clean lines.
"Keep it straight!" one farmer shouted.
"I am keeping it straight!" another snapped back.
The plow suddenly jerked.
"Rock! Lift it, lift it!"
They scrambled, barely saving the plowshare from damage.
From a distance, Rhodes watched silently.
Then he nodded.
"They're learning."
—
Back at the manor, Durant stood beneath the mounted wyvern head, arms crossed, studying it.
Even now, it was hard to believe.
A creature that had nearly wiped out a village… reduced to a trophy.
"You're staring at it as if it'll come back to life." Gunther's voice came from behind.
Durant didn't turn. "If it did, I'd cut it down again."
Gunther chuckled. "With your new sword?"
Durant finally glanced at him. "With anything."
Gunther grinned, then leaned casually against a pillar.
"My axe… how long?"
"Half a month," Durant replied without hesitation.
Gunther groaned. "Too long."
"You can use a normal one until then."
"That's like telling a starving man to eat dirt," Gunther muttered.
Durant ignored him.
After a moment, he said, "The patrol team is ready."
Gunther straightened slightly. "Renn's joining?"
"Two hunters. The rest are guards."
Gunther smirked. "Good. I was getting bored."
—
In a separate cabin, the air was warm, almost unnaturally so.
A small fire burned steadily in the corner, watched closely by a guard whose only task was to keep it alive.
Two wooden crates sat side by side, filled with hay and surrounded by chunks of iron ore.
Inside them…
The wyvern eggs lay silent.
Rhodes stepped in, followed by Luna.
"How are they?" he asked.
Luna hesitated before answering. "They are… unchanged."
Rhodes crouched beside one of the crates, gently placing his hand near the shell.
Warm.
At least the temperature was right.
"Any signs at all?"
Luna shook her head. "Not yet, my lord. But… eggs like these… they take time."
Rhodes nodded.
Time he didn't necessarily have but would have to give.
"If anything changes, report to me immediately."
"Yes, my lord."
As Rhodes stood to leave, he paused.
"Luna."
She looked up.
"The internal organs—any progress?"
Luna's expression grew thoughtful. "Some reactions have been observed. The toxins are strong… but with certain herbs, they may be turned into something useful."
"Medicine?" Rhodes asked.
"…Or poison."
Rhodes smiled faintly.
"Both are useful."
—
Night fell over Frostleaf Town.
Torches flickered along the paths, and the distant sounds of hammering still echoed faintly from the blacksmith's workshop.
Rhodes sat alone in his manor, one of the books Durant had purchased open before him.
His eyes scanned the pages, absorbing every detail.
Monsters. Herbs. Creatures.
This world was dangerous—but it was also full of opportunity.
A wyvern slain.
Eggs waiting to hatch.
Weapons that could pierce anything.
And now…
"Spellcasters…"
Rhodes leaned back slightly, his gaze sharpening.
If they truly existed nearby, then sooner or later, their paths would cross.
And when they did—
"I need to be ready."
He closed the book.
Outside, the wind howled softly across the fields.
Beneath the soil, unseen, the first seeds of Frostleaf Town's future had already been sown.
(End of Chapter 24)