The Vintage Wine!

The moment he saw the cellar's state of disarray, Field almost despaired.

Fortunately, fate offered a glimmer of hope. After searching only a few spots, Field found unopened casks.

*Thump… thump…*

He lightly tapped a cask. A deep, muffled resonance answered. Field's heartbeat quickened, and joy instantly lit his face. Worried he might be celebrating prematurely, he forced calm. "Open this one. Pray it's filled with fine wine, not tentacles."

The Grey Mist only corrupted living things; inanimate objects generally didn't turn monstrous, provided the wine had been properly sealed.

The guard pried the cask open with effort. *Pop!* A rich, intoxicating aroma of wine instantly flooded the air.

In this winery reeking of decay and monsters, encountering the scent of top-tier wine was an experience as bizarre as finding shrimp in an outhouse.

"This is it! Black Pearl Wine – extinct in the Empire for a decade!" Field exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. He pumped his fist and ordered the wine-tempted guard beside him, "Summon my steward, Kaul. Have him tally the number of drinkable casks here."

Seeing Field lost in elation, Ashina cautiously advised, "My Lord, even fine wine should be consumed in moderation." Many lords had fallen to drunkenness, forever lingering in taverns and houses of ill repute.

"Worry not, Ashina. I don't plan to drink these." Compared to wine, Field preferred iced tea or cola. "These vintage vintages, lost for ten years, are liquid gold! Transported to the Imperial Capital—no, even to any nearby city—they'll instantly flood our coffers with mountains of gold coins."

The exact value depended on how much wine was here. But Field was certain nobles and magnates would trample over each other for such legendary vintages.

"Oh~" Ashina tapped a slender finger against her lips, a thoughtful look on her face. "If Black Pearl Wine is so precious, couldn't we brew it ourselves? The Starry Night Winery is ours now, after all."

"You're right," Field conceded. "But that's something to consider only after we've secured our safety."

Leaving the cellar to Kaul, Field finally had time to properly survey his domain.

Centered around the winery, an area roughly the size of a small school playground marked the land Field now held. As long as it remained free of the Grey Mist, people could move freely here – it was true territory. What lay *on* the land was unimportant for now; it was all corrupted plants and creatures that needed clearing before any development could begin.

"Now, the real challenge begins."

Field walked a circuit around the outermost edge of his claimed land. The corrupted creatures lurking in the fields had dwindled significantly thanks to the settlers' efforts. It finally looked vaguely habitable.

The settlers were herding clusters of twisted, corrupted creatures together. These monsters had no combat ability, but their very presence polluted the land. The rotten wood cleared from the winery was being put to use – tossed onto the monster piles and set alight.

Screams like cats in heat echoed incessantly, mingled with the sizzle of roasting flesh. Great plumes of grey smoke billowed from the burning bodies.

"By the Valkyrie! These devil's spawn are finally being cleansed!" The maid, Scissors, clasped her chest, exclaiming in an exaggerated tone.

The female slaves laboring nearby cast envious glances. The privilege of entering the castle, eating the Lord's leftovers, and even having the luxury of rest time – enough to make any slave burn with envy.

"Scissors, I need you to do something."

Having toured his territory, Field decided to address his household servants before issuing new decrees.

"My Lord, you say…?" The maid Scissors' smile vanished instantly. She looked like a startled grasshopper, her usual loud voice silenced. Though Field had previously acted weak and foolish, he remained an entity far above the common folk.

Field had been so busy with expansion these past two days, he'd neglected much. Now, he was starkly reminded of the vast chasm of class difference in this world.

He recalled an anecdote about his cheap excuse for a father.

An enemy noble planned an ambush on the family caravan. By chance, a peasant witnessed the trap. The peasant rushed to the castle and informed the Count of the plot. The Count then turned the tables, slaughtering the enemy force.

Logically, the peasant deserved a reward. Yet, upon his victorious return, the Count had the peasant hanged publicly as an example.

The reason? The peasant's lowly shoes, soiled with disgusting dung and mud, had left defiling footprints on the Count's carpet.

To the nobility, settlers were little better than scum beneath their boots. Slaves were even lower than that.

Field was no saint. He wouldn't overthrow himself, nor would he fully assimilate into the role of a complete feudal lord.

*Just let my people live decent lives,* Field thought. *Well, the obedient ones, anyway.*

"Scissors, gather everyone who serves me. I have words for them."

"Yes, my Lord." Scissors immediately hitched up her apron and scurried off.

The steward arrived first, naturally, as the highest-ranking among the servants, and thus Scissors' first stop.

"My Lord, the cask count isn't finished yet. It will take at least two more days," Steward Kaul reported, slightly breathless from hurrying. He looked gaunt, his thighs worryingly thin, suggesting hard times.

Yet his wages were the highest in the territory: 5 silver and 50 copper coins a month. Tasks like procurement and accounting were also entrusted to him, offering ample opportunity to pad his income considerably.

Typically, one copper coin in the Empire bought one loaf of black bread – rye bran bread, often containing wood chips and bark. Unlike modern conceptions, this bread was hard as stone, capable of chipping teeth. The proper way to eat it was to soak it in hot broth until soft, then dip it in coarse salt heavily mixed with impurities.

It tasted neither of grain nor sweetness – just salt and bitterness.

Yet, even this miserable fare was unattainable for many who couldn't earn enough for two loaves a day, eventually forcing them into slavery.

The maid, manservant, and cook earned daily wages of 15 copper coins, totaling 4 silver and 50 copper a month.

Soon, Field stood before his small household: two maids (including Scissors), one manservant, and one cook.

In modern society, having two or three servants would be remarkable affluence. Here, in this medieval setting, it marked Field as a poor, struggling noble. His sister – the woman who sent cavalry to run him down – employed twenty manservants alone, tasked with everything from chopping vegetables and butchering meat to holding horses and trimming nails.

Field's sharp gaze swept over each servant. They lowered their heads in unison, avoiding eye contact with their Lord – a gesture of respect, bordering on fear.