Lord of Rot

The atmosphere at the breakfast table this morning was a little off.

Gelan, who had finally managed to learn how to use chopsticks, picked up a fried egg from the plate in front of him, took a bite, and then cautiously glanced at the Lord.

Across the table, Quickblade, though a coarse man, was sharp when it came to sensing the mood.

He shot Gelan a questioning look, and Gelan returned it with a glance of his own.

’The Lord must be upset about something. His face is gaunt, and he has obvious dark circles under his eyes. He probably didn’t get a good night’s rest.’

"It could work!"

Leech said suddenly.

Gelan and Quickblade immediately sat up straight.

"Yeah, I refuse to believe you can withstand explosives!"

’I have the formula for Magic Gunpowder, and I have the right people. The materials are just a bit expensive, but what’s a little initial investment for a mountain of gold and silver?’

Leech let out a long breath.

He picked up his cup and took a sip of warm milk.

He tried to calm himself down.

"Uncle Quickblade, I want you to train the soldiers," Leech said, looking at Quickblade. "The number of soldiers in Porcupine Territory must be raised to one hundred."

"One hundred?"

’With a population of around six hundred, supporting a hundred soldiers would be impossible for any other territory.’

’What a waste!’

Leech’s father, Lieder, had been able to support a force of eighty men only because his wealth came not from farming, but from war and enfeoffments—funding war with war.

The fact that Porcupine Territory was so poor it could barely feed itself after the wars ended showed just how flawed that approach was.

Now was an era of peace. Although minor conflicts still occurred, relying on war to sustain the territory was nearly impossible.

"Why not train a militia instead?" Quickblade suggested.

In peacetime, during the busy farming season, a militia could work the fields and raise pigs. When war came, they could take up their swords and go to the battlefield.

Leech shook his head.

With the appearance of Extraordinary Knights and the return of Magic, militiamen in simple leather armor would be nothing but bound lambs to the slaughter on the battlefield.

"I’m not training soldiers for war," Leech said. "It’s for the caravans. When Joel returns, the task of escorting the caravans will be a heavy one. We’ll need soldiers as escorts."

Even if they settled things with Green Forest Castle, there could always be unexpected trouble on the road.

"Yes, sir!" Quickblade nodded.

He was a soldier. He knew to obey orders, not question the Baron’s commands.

"Mr. Gelan, how is the tavern construction coming along?"

The road that had been impassable when Quickblade returned was where the tavern was being built.

With Joel having left with goods and news, many merchants would surely be coming to Porcupine Territory in the future.

"It will be finished in a little over ten days," Gelan said.

"Mm, as soon as possible. When the time comes, you can find Mr. Wine Barrel and have him pick two apprentices to work as cooks at the tavern."

"Yes, my Lord!"

"Also," Leech paused, then said, "go to the Scholars’ Tower in Iron Stone City for me. Find a Taven Scholar and purchase some Alchemy Materials."

Gelan had no questions, merely nodding obediently in agreement.

’The Baron enjoys reading and chatting with scholars. Perhaps he has a heart for exploring knowledge, even though it goes against the doctrine of the Four Gods Sect.’

’Truth should not come from learning, but from the grace of the gods.’

’But those words are for common people. Nobles are never bound by such rules.’

It was just like how Leech had "invented" the waterwheel, watermill, plow, and beehive, yet the villagers only saw it as wisdom granted by the gods, not the intelligence of their Lord.

With the return of Quickblade and the other soldiers, the castle’s training grounds became much livelier.

Carrot and Little Joel gritted their teeth and endured the training from a group of harsh soldiers.

Leech saw this but said nothing. ’If you can’t accept it, find a way to beat them up. Respect between soldiers is earned with fists and glory, definitely not with pity and tears.’

...

"You damned bastard! What is this! Use those pig eyes of yours and look! What is this!"

The roars from the kitchen could be heard from far away. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The young servants kept their heads down, terrified of getting dragged into it.

"What’s wrong?" Leech had just finished his training and was washing his face when he heard the commotion.

Wine Glass answered, "My Lord, it’s Mr. Wine Barrel scolding someone."

She was a bit bolder than the others and hoped the Lord would go in and do something about it. The kitchen apprentices were yelled at every day, and it was truly miserable to watch.

Leech walked toward the kitchen.

Unlike other nobles, he was quite fond of visiting the kitchens.

In this world, so barren of entertainment, fine food was one of the few things that could satisfy his spirit.

The kitchens of Porcupine Castle were significantly cleaner than those of other castles, because everyone knew that besides the study, the Lord’s favorite place to visit was the kitchen.

Little Limp stood to the side with his head down while Wine Barrel continued to curse furiously.

"What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?" Leech asked.

Seeing Leech arrive, Wine Barrel immediately lowered his voice, but his tone was anything but pleasant. "My Lord, it’s this idiot. I told him to salt-cure duck eggs, and he still managed to mess it up!"

Salted duck eggs were a sudden whim of Leech’s.

After his basic culinary tastes had been satisfied, Leech wanted to eat pastries made with salted egg yolks. It would also open a new door for Wine Barrel to create delicious pastries, rather than fussing every day over how well-done the roast meat should be.

He simply liked his meat well-done, for no other reason than safety.

It was the same reason he had never tried raw-cured foods to this day.

Coincidentally, Livestock Village had a large number of duck eggs, so they were used to make salted duck eggs.

"He wasted dozens of duck eggs!" Wine Barrel roared.

’Dozens of duck eggs?’ Leech’s brows furrowed slightly. It was indeed a huge waste. Although life in Porcupine Territory had improved, wasting food was absolutely forbidden—especially when it was their own.

"Little Limp, what happened?"

"My Lord!" Little Limp dropped to his knees with a THUD. "I-I cured them according to your instructions, my Lord. I didn’t expect this to happen."

"You... You dare blame the Lord!" Wine Barrel trembled with anger, his fleshy body quivering.

"Let me see the eggs."

Wine Barrel brought the earthenware jar of duck eggs to Leech.

A pungent smell of lime filled the air.

Wine Barrel came over and helped peel one of the eggs. It was black!

"It’s ruined!" Wine Barrel said, fuming. "It’s supposed to be white and tender, with a rich, fragrant oil like liquid gold. Look at this thing!"

"Hahaha!"

But Leech burst out laughing.

These were century eggs. Although the inside was still a gooey mess, they were already beginning to take shape.

"Little Limp, tell me, how did you cure them?"

"Yes, my Lord," Little Limp said, raising his head and rubbing his red, swollen eyes with the back of his hand. "I mixed salt and mud into a paste, coated the duck eggs with it, and then put them in the jar..."

Leech looked at him. "And then? Nothing different happened?"

"...Something did."

Little Limp stole a glance at the Baron, knowing that the part he had intentionally hidden had been discovered.

"The jar had a strong smell, different from Mr. Wine Barrel’s. But I didn’t dare say anything. I was afraid of being punished, so I sealed the jar tightly and hid it."

Leech placed a hand on his knee and stood up. "What kind of dirt did you use?"

"A white kind," Little Limp said cautiously. "I couldn’t find the clean dirt Mr. Wine Barrel was talking about nearby, so I ran a long way. I found this dirt that was white like salt, so I thought it was very clean."

"After you touched that white dirt, did your skin crack?" Leech asked, looking at Little Limp’s hands. The back of the boy’s hands looked like the bark of an old tree.

"Yes!" He hid his hands anxiously.

"Go find the Alchemist and have him prepare a remedy to heal you," Leech ordered.

"My Lord, this..." Wine Barrel didn’t understand. Why would the Baron be so merciful as to have Little Limp’s hands treated after he had wasted dozens of duck eggs?

’When someone deserves punishment, they should be punished severely, not shown such mercy.’

But no one dared to defy the Lord’s command, not even Wine Barrel, the most favored chef by the Lord’s side.

"Little Limp, where did you find that white dirt?"

"I’ll take you there."

"Let’s go now!"

He had only given them the general idea for curing salted duck eggs. The specific steps—curing with salt, curing with brine, curing with yellow mud, and so on—were all things Wine Barrel and his apprentices were experimenting with.

Some had succeeded, and some had failed.

Little Limp’s discovery was clearly an accident; he had unintentionally created century eggs.

But the key was the crucial ingredient for making them.

Lime!