CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42: POTATOES

After everyone had sworn to give up their noble status, Ryan suddenly had a whimsical idea and looked at them.

"According to the oath you just swore, now swear again—to the Spirit of the Stag of Aexniel Continent."

Although they didn’t quite understand the reason, Baron Arzel and the others still complied.

Ryan glanced at his spiritual panel—well, there was no reaction.

With their previous oath made under the witness of the Lord of Dawn, that was enough. As long as they were in his territory, they would be unable to resist him.

Ryan turned to look at the soldiers and maids nearby.

"You all heard it. From now on, you’re my soldiers and slaves."

The soldiers exchanged glances, then one by one dropped to one knee and pledged their loyalty to Ryan.

"Good."

Ryan sat down on a leather stool. But this time, the former nobles all remained standing, not daring to overstep.

"You’re all mage apprentices? Makes sense—there’s no longer any chance to become knights here."

"Tell me about the situation here. Are there any other noble territories nearby? I need people—lots of them."

"Well... where do we begin?"

The others looked toward Arzel, as if he were the only one with any real connection to Ryan.

After a moment’s pause, Arzel spoke:

"Lord Ryan, what you want to know is probably what’s out there—beyond just us."

"Then let’s start... about a month ago."

"A month ago, we were still quite prosperous—over 800 slaves, more than 200 soldiers. Aside from us, there were five or six other baronial lords nearby."

"There were also another four or five noble estates in the surrounding area. About a dozen miles south was a mage tower. We paid gold in exchange for their teaching us meditation techniques."

"Further south, we don’t know. But the mage from the tower said that on the southern coast lies a furnace city that burns with earthly fire—untouched by the ravages of the long winter."

"But everything changed one day, about a month ago."

"A group of cultists serving evil demons came to us. They offered us food and fire in exchange for sacrifices to their devils. But in truth, what they burned were slaves—and even commoners. Then they ate them. The bright-burning fire came from corpse oil—it drove away the cold."

"When we refused, they attacked us. And some of the barons among us were tempted."

"They incited the slaves to open the gates. After tasting human flesh, those slaves followed the cultists."

"As for us, we refused to eat people—would rather starve. We hid deep within the fortress. Only after they emptied the granary and left did we dare to emerge."

"We tried seeking aid from the mage tower, but by then it had already become a ruin. A golem puppet had taken it over."

"After that, we hid back in the fortress—until today."

A simple tale of apocalyptic survival and crisis. Hearing that these people hadn’t turned to evil even after losing their food made Ryan think more highly of them.

It seemed these people still held onto their noble pride and beliefs—even the spirit of knighthood.

That group of cultists had, in a way, helped Ryan by screening out the weak-hearted.

Even in the face of utter despair and starvation, these people had held on to reason.

"Where did those potatoes come from?"

Ryan pointed to the empty, spotless plates on the table.

"Potatoes? You mean those berries?"

"When we went to the mage tower for help, we didn’t find any mages—but we did find those... potatoes. Several hundred pounds of them, all stored there."

Arzel pointed behind Ryan, who turned around and saw a large stag statue with a cabinet beneath it.

Opening it, he saw indeed—potatoes. But somehow, they hadn’t sprouted, even though they should have by now.

Is that normal? Is it not?

Ryan wasn’t sure. He only remembered from his past life that in some place like Siberia, potatoes could survive the cold better than humans.

To be safe, and seeing that these potatoes had clearly been treated in some way, Ryan asked about the location of the mage tower.

"Gather all the soldiers here and come with me."

Ryan looked at one of the soldiers nearby, then turned to Arzel.

"Use this time to pack up your belongings. Don’t forget, it was in exchange for all your possessions that you were granted this opportunity. You won’t have another chance to return here—don’t leave anything behind."

The few nobles nodded silently, seemingly still in shock from losing both their titles and all their possessions.

Through the snow and wind, Ryan and his knight retainers followed behind thirty soldiers. The soldiers were different in one noticeable way: they all had ropes tied to their bodies.

"Looks like it’s thanks to these people that the others could still eat," Brand said softly. He knew well what such smooth movements meant in a world where visibility for ordinary people was under fifty meters.

"Good soldiers," Harrington added, clearly trying to measure himself against Brand at every turn.

After walking for about two and a half hours, Ryan finally saw a collapsed ruin. A month of bitter snowstorms had leveled the contours of the site, making it hard to tell how grand the structures once were.

"This is where we found the potatoes."

A soldier pointed to a corner of the ruins. "Back then, the snow wasn’t this thick. There was a furnace there—it seemed to resist the cold. The potatoes were there."

"And the golem puppet you mentioned?"

Ryan looked around but found no sign of monsters.

"N-No idea."

A month of storms had drastically changed the place.

"Maybe it left. Spread out and search carefully, but don’t wander off."

As Ryan gave the order, the soldiers dispersed. Their search method was primitive: they poked the snow to test the ground depth, then used their hands to feel for anything hidden.

In contrast, the five Bronze Knights from the Rimehart family were far more efficient. Using the Flame Dragon Breathing Technique, they summoned blazing heat to melt the surrounding snow easily.

"My lord, I think this is a cellar!"

Harrington soon called out excitedly.

Once it was confirmed there was indeed space beneath, Ryan gathered everyone. When the cellar was opened, the pitch-black hole looked rather intimidating.

After all, this had once been the domain of a mage. No one could say what kinds of spells or traps might still lie within.

In the end, the soldiers took the lead.

"My lord, it’s safe down here."

After safety was confirmed, Ryan and the others also entered the cellar.

Surprisingly, an oil lamp still burned inside. By its light, Ryan saw a desk, a notebook on top of it, and—in a corner—three treasure chests filled to the brim with sprouting potatoes.