Chapter 13 - A Noble’s Madness

The cold wind carried the scent of damp earth as Aldric walked through the village. His boots pressed into the dirt path, his cloak billowing slightly behind him. The image of the little girl rationing her food haunted him. No child should have to starve.

Winter was approaching fast. If people were already going hungry now, how much worse would it be in the coming months? He needed a solution.

A sudden commotion ahead caught his attention.

"Damn you, you feathered devil! Get back here!"

A panting farmer stumbled into the road, waving his arms wildly as he chased a plump white hen. The chicken darted left, then right, evading him like a trained escape artist.

Aldric stepped forward, reacting quickly. With a practiced hand, he lunged and caught the bird before it could flee again. The hen let out a furious squawk, flapping its wings in protest.

The farmer skidded to a stop, eyes wide. "O-Oh! My lord—thank you!" He bent over, panting. "Blasted thing always finds a way out."

Aldric studied the healthy bird, feeling the weight of it in his hands. This was the answer. A single hen could provide eggs for months, sustaining a family through the worst of times. But what if he had hundreds of them?

He handed the chicken back to the farmer, but his mind was already racing.

"Tell me," Aldric said, "would you be willing to sell some of your chickens?"

The farmer blinked, clearly caught off guard. He held the hen protectively. "Ah… well, my lord, chickens are mighty valuable. Eggs keep us fed, and when times are rough, the meat's a last resort."

Aldric nodded. He expected this. The people were protective of their resources. If he were in their position, he wouldn't give them up easily either.

"I won't force anyone to sell," Aldric assured him. He turned to the gathered villagers, his voice carrying through the streets.

"If you do not wish to part with your chickens, then I ask something else of you." He paused, letting them listen. "Go into the forests. Catch wild fowl. Chickens, ducks, geese, quails. As many as you can."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"The woods?" a grizzled older farmer muttered. "Wild ones be tricky to catch, my lord."

Aldric's lips curled into a small smile. "Hard, but not impossible. I will pay well for every bird brought back."

Now that got their attention.

The farmers exchanged glances. The promise of coin was always an incentive, but more than that—Aldric was proposing something new.

"What do you plan to do with them, my lord?" another villager asked cautiously.

Aldric exhaled. "I plan to raise them—not just for my manor, but for the village. If we can produce eggs and poultry on a larger scale, we can ensure no one goes hungry this winter."

Skepticism lingered in their expressions, but a flicker of hope shone in their eyes.

Aldric didn't wait for them to agree. He turned on his heel and strode back toward the manor. He had work to do.

Back at the manor, Aldric stood in his study, staring at the map of his estate. His finger traced over the neatly drawn borders, marking every section of land he owned.

His fields were already in use. His orchards were essential. The pastures for cattle and sheep could not be repurposed.

"There's no space," he muttered.

Lucien leaned against the wall, watching him with mild amusement. "You look like a man trying to fit a horse in a grain sack."

Aldric exhaled sharply. "I need land, but the surrounding fields belong to other nobles."

Lucien scoffed. "Well, we both know asking them is pointless."

Aldric nodded grimly. If he approached the nobles, they would demand to be involved. They would slow things down, question him, and expect a share of the profits before there was even a result.

He clenched his jaw. He didn't have time to convince them.

His gaze drifted toward the window, where the gardens stretched behind his manor.

The elegant gazebo, the manicured hedges, the marble walkways and decorative fountains—symbols of noble status. They were meant to impress.

They were useless.

Aldric straightened. There was his land.

The household staff, knights, and workers gathered as Aldric strode into the garden, his expression firm.

He pointed to the gazebo.

"Destroy it."

Silence.

Lucien blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"

Aldric turned, eyes scanning the gathered men. "The gazebo, the hedges, the fountains—clear it all."

The workers hesitated, glancing at one another.

One of the older stewards, his face pale, stammered, "M-My lord… that's your garden."

"Not anymore," Aldric said.

The murmurs grew louder.

"Has he lost his mind?"

"That garden's been here for generations!"

"A noble destroying his own estate? Who does that?"

Lucien crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. "You do realize this makes you look completely unhinged, right?"

Aldric's expression remained unshaken. "That land can house hundreds of chickens, ducks, and geese. Right now, it serves no purpose beyond looking beautiful." He turned, scanning the faces of those gathered.

"It won't feed the hungry."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

The knights merely scoffed, unimpressed. To them, this was another noble's whimsy. But the workers, the farmers, the servants—they were stunned.

A noble sacrificing his own comforts for the people? That was unheard of.

A peasant woman whispered, "Does he truly mean to do this?"

A young worker, gripping a shovel, hesitated. "That water wheel worked… maybe this will too."

The doubt remained, but hope flickered beneath it.

Lucien finally let out a chuckle. "Well, if we're going to do this, we might as well do it right." He clapped his hands. "You heard him! Start digging!"

A moment of stunned hesitation—then, the workers moved.

By nightfall, the garden was gone.

The gazebo lay in rubble. The marble walkways were torn apart. The fountains had been dismantled.

Where once stood a symbol of luxury, now stretched empty land—ready to be transformed.

Aldric stood at the edge, arms crossed.

Lucien dusted off his gloves, smirking. "Congratulations, little brother. You've officially committed social suicide."

Aldric's lips curled slightly. "Let them talk. When winter comes, and the people eat, I'll let the results speak for themselves."

A murmur of awe and uncertainty filled the air as the workers observed their noble lord—not as a distant ruler, but as a man willing to sacrifice for them.

They had doubted before.

But perhaps, just perhaps—Aldric was different.