Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 669 - 398: Aftermath_2

It was like in a game: even if you didn’t brave the dungeons, there was still a cushy spot reserved for you.

Having dealt with the town’s matters, Lance finally had time to visit the raided farm to fulfill the promises he had made. He had initially promised Barin to visit his mother and also to take Tom, Mary, and their family away.

Mounting the captured Warwolf steed, he felt the wind whipping past him, a sensation incomparable to riding ordinary horses. It was a clear reflection of a noble’s life, evident even in just a single horse.

Lance did not disturb the person in charge of the farm. Instead, he stopped at its edge and walked along, leading his horse while talking with the scattered laborers. He checked whether his policies had been distorted, if prices had been marked up, if the treatment they received was fair, if they encountered any daily difficulties, and if they had any suggestions about their current situation.

What somewhat relieved him was that the person responsible here was quite decent, carrying out his orders, solving problems on his own, and even showing quite a bit of initiative. For example, with the wild boar Barin had caught, Lance wouldn’t have minded if they had slaughtered and eaten it. However, the person in charge chose not to do so. Instead, he decided to use the boar for breeding. This was a very constructive move to improve the genetics of the farm’s domestic pigs, making them more disease-resistant and robust.

As Lance continued his walk, he learned many things about the farm. By the time Lance’s figure reappeared in the main farm area, the fear from the Warwolf invasion had visibly dissipated. Normal productive life had resumed, and any traces of sorrow were buried beneath the bustle of activity.

The Warwolf invasion had indeed resulted in the deaths of some commoners; a few had fallen prey to the white wolves. Yet, as he walked, he truly didn’t see any worry or fear in those laboring people. Their level of resilience was something even Lance found somewhat unbelievable.

However, upon reflection, he understood—perhaps those with less resilience, those with fragile hearts, had already been weeded out by reality. Death, for them, was not an especially uncommon matter. Besides, the Lord had demonstrated that Hamlet had the capability to protect them. The swift arrival of reinforcements, the defeat of the Bastia Order of Knights witnessed with their own eyes, and now the presence of patrolling Cavalry and stationed soldiers—all these factors contributed to their sense of security.

Otherwise, the people under the rule of an ordinary noble lord couldn’t possibly have recovered their confidence so quickly after such an attack; they would have shrunk back into slightly safer settlements. They would either wait to be driven out and forced by the noble’s bureaucrats, or they would only venture out to work again when starvation threatened them. Even then, they would still be full of fear, a dread that only time could truly dissipate.

This was the norm in this world. The situation under Lance’s rule in Hamlet was the rare exception.

Lance summoned the person in charge, commended his actions, and gave him the reward he deserved. He hadn’t performed exceptionally during the Warwolf invasion, but managing this farm well was an achievement in itself. This was his true responsibility, and he had shouldered it well.

"It’s all thanks to My Lord’s guidance!"

The person in charge obviously hadn’t expected the Lord to come over just to praise him. He had been prepared for a scolding, perhaps even removal from his post. After all, people had died on the farm, significant trouble had arisen, and he hadn’t handled the situation well at the time. No wonder he became emotional.

But Lance’s greatest fear was their zealous attitude, prompting him to add another word of caution. "You were a refugee once, so you should know they can’t withstand much more upheaval. They just want a stable home, so just follow my plan. If you have any good ideas, investigate their feasibility first, then submit a report. Make sure to stay grounded in reality and avoid inflated claims."

Unfortunately, at the current level of productivity, relying on sheer manpower was the only way to accelerate progress. In the midst of large-scale development, what he feared most was that some people, in their eagerness to please him, would overburden the common people with unnecessary tasks. This was entirely pointless.

"Our farm will definitely implement My Lord’s policies diligently and push forward with the farm’s construction to the fullest..."

One could say this supervisor had a natural talent for bureaucracy; he spoke officialese fluently, without any formal training.

During their conversation about the farm’s situation, it became clear there were issues. Firstly, the farming tools suffered from severe wear and tear. Metal wasn’t immune to wear and tear; it naturally degraded with use, and this particular batch of tools was already almost two months old. The town’s craftsmen were all busy with military orders. Even if they did have time, they wouldn’t waste it forging farming tools.

Lance had considered this problem. They would have to wait for the cargo ship’s return from Totnes. Perhaps, also, some craftsmen of average skill, or even apprentices, could be redeployed to establish blacksmith shops at several farms. There, they could handle repairs and, in doing so, hone their skills.

The second problem was the short shelf life of milk. In the heat of summer, it could spoil in half a day. Even if kept in a cool place, its shelf life was only one day.

But Lance had plans for this too. Steam sterilization, yogurt, butter, and cheese—these dairy products needed to be incorporated into the development plan. Among them, cheese was relatively easy to handle, as it was already developed in this world. However, the concept of sterilization was not yet established and required research to provide clear procedural guidance. The most critical aspects involved developing suitable containers and mastering sealing technologies.

The technology to manufacture glass containers had existed for some time. The challenge was that Hamlet now needed time and resources to rebuild its glass workshop and, more importantly, find skilled craftsmen familiar with the necessary techniques. However, Lance remembered that among the people Vick had brought back, there seemed to be some who knew this technique. He could start planning upon his return; glass containers were crucial for development.

During this time, Barin, who had been out logging, was finally called back.

His physique, like an iron tower, and the Beheader clutched in one hand, his very presence was immediately oppressive.

"My Lord, you summoned me?" His deep voice carried a hint of breathlessness, indicating he had run all the way back upon hearing the Lord’s summons.

"I promised to visit your mother. Let’s go."

Lance found himself increasingly admiring this straightforward young man. Though his appearance was remarkable, he was, indeed, still a youth.

"Yes!" Barin replied eagerly. He hadn’t expected the Lord to actually keep his word. A noble visiting such a place was unheard of!

Lance stopped the supervisor who wanted to follow and went alone with Barin to a longhouse built of mud and wood. The building, designed to ordinary human proportions, was a tight fit for Barin. He had to bend his head and stoop, gingerly squeezing through the doorframe to avoid damaging it, all the while turning back to remind Lance, "Be careful, My Lord."

This wasn’t the first time Lance had entered such places. He felt somewhat helpless, knowing this was the only way to quickly build housing to accommodate so many people. Otherwise, how could they possibly have constructed so many dwellings in just half a month to shelter them? But for ordinary people, merely having a place that protected them from wind and rain was already a great boon.

For structural stability, the thatched-roof house had only a simple vent that barely qualified as a window. Even with the sunlight streaming in through the doorway, the interior was still quite dim. However, Lance could still make out a hunched, gaunt figure on a simple wooden bed, exuding a heavy aura of death, like a dried corpse. But she was indeed alive, though her breathing was incredibly faint. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Lance glanced aside and was surprised to find a simple pallet of straw on the floor. It seemed Barin slept there. His large frame must have been terribly cramped in such a small space. Nearby were bowls and spoons for feeding, and a wicker basket—the very one he used to carry his mother when they ventured out.

"Mother, I wasn’t lying! My Lord has really come to see you!" Barin exclaimed, crouching by the bedside with excitement, the shadow he cast covering a large area.

"Uh... My Lord..." The figure on the bed reacted to his voice, struggling to sit up.

Lance stepped forward and, unconcerned by the faint scent of decay emanating from her, reached out to support her. "Be careful, no need to get up."

"It’s really you, My Lord..." The woman struggled to rise, her eyes clearly brightening when she saw Lance.