The tour continued, moving from the cramped residential district to the sprawling, open fields that surrounded Flower Town. The transition was stark—the claustrophobic squalor of the hovels gave way to a different kind of desolation: the quiet, desperate emptiness of unproductive land.
Liszt reined in his horse atop a gentle rise, looking down at the patchwork of fields that stretched toward the southern ridge. In theory, this was the town's lifeblood. In reality, it looked like a wound on the earth.
The soil was a pale, dusty grey, cracked in places where the moisture had leached out. The crops that did grow were stunted, their leaves yellowing at the edges, heads drooping as if apologizing for their own existence. A few peasant families were scattered among the rows, hacking listlessly at the ground with hoes that looked as tired as the soil.
"Barren," Liszt murmured.
"It is the Blight of the Stones," Marcus said, his voice devoid of sentiment. He rode up beside Liszt, his warhorse snorting in the crisp air. "The soil here is thin. Beneath the topsoil is a layer of gravel and ironstone. It drains the nutrients before the roots can drink. We have tried crop rotation, but..." He shrugged. "The land is stubborn."
"Stubborn land can be tamed," Liszt said, though his confidence was mostly for show. In his previous life, he knew the basics of agriculture—fertilizer, irrigation, crop rotation—but this wasn't a simple garden. This was an ecosystem fighting against him. "What about the harvest yield?"
"Six bushels per acre on a good year," Marcus replied. "A neighboring barony, Iron Hill, averages twelve. We barely produce enough to feed the town through winter. If the trade caravans from the capital are delayed, people starve."
Liszt's jaw tightened. *Six bushels.* It was a miracle the town was still standing. He scanned the fields, looking for something, anything, that could turn the tide.
His eyes drifted to a small, walled garden near the edge of the fields, attached to a slightly larger cottage—the residence of the village head, likely. Inside the low stone wall, the vegetation seemed marginally greener.
"That garden," Liszt pointed. "Why is it thriving?"
Marcus followed his gaze. "That is the personal plot of the Village Head, Cornell. He uses the town's only Elf Worm to tend the soil."
*Elf Worm.*
The term triggered a cascade of memories from the original Liszt. In this world, 'Elves' were not the tall, beautiful humanoids of fantasy novels. They were magical spirits born from nature—some took the form of small, glowing humanoids, while others were beast-like or insectoid.
They were the essence of agriculture in the Kingdom of Steel Ridge. An Elf Worm could revitalize soil, accelerating decomposition and enriching the earth with magic. Without them, farming was a grueling battle against nature.
"Bring the Village Head to me," Liszt ordered. "I want to inspect this Elf Worm."
---
Within minutes, a thin, middle-aged man with a receding hairline and patched clothing stood before Liszt, wringing his hands nervously. This was Cornell, the man responsible for the day-to-day management of the peasantry.
"My Lord Baron," Cornell stammered, bowing low enough that his nose nearly touched the dirt. "What an honor to receive you. We... we were not expecting a visit today. The fields are muddy, your boots might be—"
"Spare me the pleasantries, Cornell," Liszt cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. "I am here to see the Elf Worm. Show it to me."
Cornell froze. His eyes darted to Marcus, then back to Liszt. The fear in them sharpened.
"The... the Elf Worm, my Lord?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Of course not, my Lord! It's just... well, it's a shy creature. And it's currently working in the compost heap. Disturbing it might... might affect its magic."
Liszt nudged his horse forward, forcing Cornell to step back. "I am the Lord of this land. Every stone, every drop of water, and every Elf belongs to me. If I wish to see it, I shall see it. Lead the way."
Cornell paled but turned quickly, leading them toward the compost heap behind the cottage. As they approached, a faint, pulsing light emanated from the mound of rotting vegetation.
It was a soft, emerald glow.
Cornell knelt and carefully shifted aside a layer of straw. There, burrowing into the decay, was a creature about the size of a large earthworm, but it pulsed with translucent green light. It had tiny, vestigial legs and a head that resembled a snake's, complete with minute antennae.
*Serpent Script flashed in Liszt's vision.*
**[Species: Common Earth Elf (Larval Stage)]**
**[Attribute: Soil Enrichment]**
**[Status: Malnourished]**
**[Potential: Low. Can barely sustain a small garden plot.]**
Liszt stared at the text. The system was analyzing the creature for him.
*Malnourished,* Liszt thought. *The creature is barely surviving.*
"You keep this Elf in the compost?" Liszt asked, watching the creature writhe sluggishly.
"Yes, my Lord," Cornell nodded rapidly. "It eats the rot and turns it into magic for the soil. It's... it's very valuable."
"It is half-dead," Liszt stated bluntly.
Cornell flinched. "My Lord?"
"Look at its color. The glow is flickering. It should be a steady, bright green. You are overworking it, Cornell. You have it enriching your garden and the compost simultaneously, without proper rest or nutrition."
Cornell looked terrified. "My Lord, the town needs the grain! I was only trying to—"
"I know," Liszt interrupted, raising a hand. "I am not accusing you of sabotage. I am observing that our resources are being pushed to the breaking point."
He dismounted, kneeling beside the compost heap. He reached out, not touching the worm, but letting his hand hover near it.
*The system said I have four Elf Seeds. Where are they?*
He rifled through the original Liszt's memories. A vague recollection surfaced—a small wooden box, shoved into a drawer in the study, forgotten amidst the piles of debt notices and empty wine bottles.
*Four seeds. Dormant potential.*
If he could hatch those seeds, he could have his own Elves. But until then, he had to preserve what was here.
"From today forward," Liszt announced, standing up and brushing dirt from his knees, "this Elf Worm is under the direct supervision of the castle. Carter will allocate a portion of the castle's kitchen scraps specifically for its feed. It is to be rested every third day."
Cornell looked like he might cry. "But my Lord, the garden—"
"Your garden will survive, Cornell. Or it won't. But if this Elf dies, we have nothing. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my Lord. Yes, of course. You are most wise."
Liszt turned to Marcus. "Make a note of this. I want a rotation schedule established for the town's magical resources. We cannot bleed a stone and expect water."
Marcus looked at Liszt with a renewed curiosity. He pulled a small notepad from his belt—a sign of his literate status—and scribbled a quick note. "Understood, Sir. I will have the schedule drafted by tomorrow."
As they mounted their horses to leave, Liszt felt a strange sensation in his chest. It was faint, a warmth spreading through his veins. He paused, focusing on it.
**[Mission Progress: 20%]**
**[Sub-task Completed: Assess Magical Resources.]**
He glanced at the mist that only he could see. The progress bar was moving.
*So, I don't just have to look around. I have to actively assess and understand. Good to know.*
---
They moved on from the fields, heading toward the river that cut through the southern edge of the valley. The sound of rushing water grew louder, a soothing constant in the quiet landscape.
The river was wide and deep, flowing from the mountains in the north. It was the lifeblood of the valley, yet as they approached the banks, Liszt saw the same neglect that plagued the fields.
There was a small wooden pier, rotting in several places. Two fishing boats were moored there, their hulls scraped and patched. Nets lay draped over posts, drying in the weak sun.
"This is our fishery?" Liszt asked.
"Yes, Sir," Marcus said. "The river is teeming with fish, but we lack the boats to harvest them in bulk. The current is strong further out, and our small boats cannot handle the mid-stream currents. We fish the shallows."
Liszt watched the water. He could see flashes of silver beneath the surface—schools of fish moving with the flow. It was a protein source going to waste because of a lack of technology.
"What about the forest across the river?" Liszt pointed to the dense treeline on the other side.
"The Black Forest," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. "It is dangerous. The trees grow thick and block out the sun. We do not venture deep. The loggers only take trees from the fringe."
"Dangerous how?"
"Wolves. Bears. And... other things."
Liszt looked closely at the treeline. The forest seemed to loom, a dark wall of shadows. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck—the instinct of prey.
*Serpent Script appeared again, hovering over the dark canopy in the distance.*
**[Danger Zone Detected: Outer Perimeter of Black Forest]**
**[Threat Level: Moderate]**
**[Primary Threat: Iron-Hide Boars]**
*Iron-Hide Boars.*
"Iron-Hide Boars," Liszt said aloud, reading the text. "Are those the beasts you mentioned earlier?"
Marcus looked surprised. "You are familiar with them? They are rare this far south. They usually stay deep in the mountains. Their hides are tough as iron, and their tusks can pierce plate armor. They have been attacking the livestock lately."
"Why haven't they been hunted?"
Marcus's face darkened with frustration. "Because hunting them requires a coordinated team of knights or a skilled archer with enchanted arrows. I am the only Earth Knight here. If I leave to hunt boars, the town is undefended. And the soldier apprentices..." He shook his head. "Their spears would bounce off the hide. It would be a slaughter."
Liszt absorbed this. The threat was real, and it was bottlenecking their expansion. They couldn't expand farmland into the forest, and they couldn't safely use the deep river if the banks were dangerous.
*I need to get stronger. I need to complete this mission.*
He dismounted again and walked to the edge of the pier. He knelt, dipping his hand into the water. It was freezing, glacial melt from the northern peaks.
He looked at his reflection in the rippling water. A pale face, sharp blue eyes, and blonde hair that fell in messy curls. The face of a young man who had wasted twenty years of life.
*But not anymore.*
He stood up and turned to Marcus. "Instructor Marcus, tell me honestly. Do you believe I can change this town?"
Marcus sat rigid on his horse. The question was direct, unprecedented. The old Liszt would never have asked for an opinion, only validation or money.
"Sir," Marcus said slowly, choosing his words with the care of a man disarming a trap, "I believe that the Tulip Family sent you here because they expected you to fail. Or perhaps, they simply didn't care enough to give you a chance to succeed. This territory is a dead end."
Liszt nodded. "And you? Do you think it is a dead end?"
Marcus looked at the fields, the dilapidated pier, and the dark forest. Then he looked back at Liszt, his eyes narrowing.
"I am a knight, Sir. I follow the sword and the lord who wields it. I have served your family for three generations. I have seen nobles who talk, and nobles who act. You have been here for a month and done nothing but sleep and drink." He paused. "But today... you noticed the Elf Worm was sick. You noticed the boy Micky had potential. You noticed the threat of the boars."
He straightened in his saddle.
"It is not my place to believe, Sir. It is my place to serve. But if you truly intend to change this town..." Marcus's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, "then I will follow you into the forest to hunt those boars, even if I have to do it alone."
It was a conditional pledge. *Show me action, and I will show you loyalty.*
Liszt felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. This was the difference between a boss and a leader.
"Then prepare yourself, Instructor. Because tomorrow, we begin training. Not the basic drills. Real training. And soon, very soon, we are going to hunt those boars."
Suddenly, the mist swirled violently in front of Liszt's face.
**[Mission Update]**
**[Sub-task Triggered: Eliminate the Iron-Hide Boar Threat.]**
**[Description: The beasts are preventing expansion into the forest and terrorizing the riverbanks. A Lord must secure his borders.]**
**[Reward: Aura Ascension (Medium) + 1x Elf Seed (Random Type).]**
Liszt's breath hitched.
*An Elf Seed.*
The very thing he needed to jumpstart his territory's agriculture.
He looked at Marcus, who was waiting for a dismissal or an order.
"Let's return to the castle, Marcus," Liszt said, mounting his horse. "We have plans to make."
As they rode back, Liszt didn't look at the depressing scenery. He looked at the potential. He saw the future docks, the cleared forests, the fertile fields.
The mission was clear. The path was lit.
*First, the tour. Then, the kill.*