York

On the day they entered the city, the family rose early. After all, York wasn't exactly close by. Tang Feiliu had once traveled by carriage for a full day and night to reach it. Stewart's courage to venture into the city this time was largely thanks to Tang Feiliu—in ancient Europe, entering a city was far more difficult than in ancient Asia.

In truth, even in modern times, Europe remained sparsely populated. Back in ancient Asia, reaching a county town with a market was relatively easy—mostly a day trip. But the Lott Empire was different now. True metropolises were rare, and most medium-sized cities hadn't yet grown significantly. The landscape was still primarily made up of scattered villages. The nearest city they could reach was York.

Thus, ordinary farmers seldom ventured into cities. They preferred purchasing daily necessities from itinerant peddlers who traversed village streets on fixed market days. For most Lot farmers, entering a city was a truly momentous occasion—an event of utmost solemnity. The vast majority never left their hometowns their entire lives.

Stuart had only visited the city once, accompanied by his parents and the village steward who delivered goods to the old duke. At that time, the old duke resided within York City, This area was governed by a sheriff appointed by the duke himself. The sheriff would travel to the city annually to report to the duke and deliver tribute taxes. After Edward returned to Black Swan Castle, the local sheriff was expelled from the domain for greedily lining his own pockets. Consequently, the villagers could no longer join the tax collection caravans.

However, due to poverty and exhaustion, the villagers had little need to enter the city anyway. They possessed scarcely any money to make purchases within the city walls.

This time, however, things were different. Stuart had secured several days off to travel to York not just for his own family, but also to carry out duties for his patrol team. In fact, the idea of going into town arose during discussions about York and the household's shortages. Stuart had arranged his leave and asked others to cover his shifts precisely because everyone had asked him to bring back supplies, making it convenient for him to go.

Regardless, the Stewart family was overjoyed about this outing. Tang Feiliu's road improvements had made travel remarkably easier. Many spots where carts would get stuck had been leveled with earth, and bridges had been built over difficult crossings, with their piers firmly packed. This allowed Stewart to drive the oxcart swiftly. They stopped at a village for the night and set out early the next morning. By high noon, they finally reached York City.

First, they were astonished by York City's bustling prosperity. But soon after, the city's foul stench made the Stewart family cover their noses and mouths.

"Good heavens! A dung heap!" young Adam screamed wildly. "Father, this place is one giant dung heap!"

"Adam, don't talk nonsense!" Lily covered her youngest son's mouth with her hand, trying to stop him from shouting so they wouldn't attract trouble from the city guards. But as they drew nearer, Lily couldn't help but mutter softly, "Good heavens, Tut, this place... really is a dung heap."

Stuart, the only one in the family who had been to York before, found it just as bustling as he remembered. He laughed cheerfully and said, "You lot have been in the country too long. This is the smell of the city."

True enough, this dung heap was actually seen by many city dwellers as a natural phenomenon. Though they too found it repulsive and disgusting, some jokingly called it "proof of the city," a boastful reference to its dense population.

Though Tang Feiliu remembered despising this place, and the Stewarts were initially shocked by the city surrounded by dung heaps, unlike Tang Feiliu, the Stewarts were instantly captivated by the city's bustling vibrancy. The local bakery actually sold soft, freshly baked bread—and not just that. There were also ready-made cheeses and butter, displayed in large chunks in the shop window, looking utterly tempting.

Adam pressed his face against the pastry display window, practically drooling. Amused, Stewart said, "Whoever behaves best gets a whole sweet cake later, after we finish shopping."

Adam and his sister immediately began nagging their parents to hurry up with the shopping. They circled the town several times, and after Stewart compared prices repeatedly, he finally negotiated a reasonable deal. The reason everyone had chosen him to do the shopping was not only because he had been to York before, but also because they trusted he wouldn't let them get ripped off. After confirming this shop offered the fairest price, he picked up a yard of berry-red fabric and held it against his wife. "Lily," he said, "just look at this color! I can't even imagine how stunning you'll look in this dress!"

Lily blushed at the compliment, laughing as she protested, "Such a bright dress would be so hard to care for!"

Though she said this, Lily clearly adored the hue—evident from how she clutched the fabric. Yet after a moment of consideration, she set it down. "This color costs twice as much as plain white cotton," she murmured softly. "Better not."

White cotton cost one shilling per yard. Even with careful cutting, a dress would require four or five shillings. This red fabric, however, was five shillings for two yards. Stewart earned only ten shillings a month—half a pound. They also needed to buy salt, butter, and new quilts on this trip to town. Spending a large sum here simply wasn't sensible.

Stuart understood, but hesitation lingered on his face. He could see how much Lily loved the fabric. Lily, however, had an idea. She smiled and said, "But... I do love this color. Maybe we don't need to buy so much."

Lily's gaze drifted to the colorful remnant fabrics in the basket, labeled at two shillings per pound. She smiled and said, "I could just get half a pound of remnants."

"No, we can buy this fabric," Stewart said hurriedly, lowering his voice. "Lily, I told you today you could choose whatever you like."

"Trust me," Lily said soothingly, patting Stuart. Though he didn't understand, Lily's determination left him no room to object. Resignedly, he set down the red fabric and began selecting gifts for friends and necessities for home.

Back then, everyone bought raw materials to make things themselves. Few, like Tang Feiliu, bought ready-made goods, as processing fees were an unnecessary expense for villagers. Clearly, Stewart thought the same. He bought cotton and cotton cloth, then salt and some meat. Finally, under the eager gazes of the two little ones, he arrived at the bakery.

Upon entering, the two youngsters suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious. They were true country bumpkins—the closest they'd ever been to food was the mill, not a bakery. There, they could only give wheat to Monica or Sister Xiao Zhen to make bread. But here were these beautiful cakes they dared not touch!

Tang Feiliu might not have called these "cakes"—in truth, they were little different from bread back then. The recipe was essentially the same, except whipped cream was beaten and spread thickly on top.

Yet this was already an incredibly precious treat. Even in York, it wasn't something ordinary folk could afford. In fact, there wasn't even a finished one in the display window—just a sign reading "Cream Cake." It was probably something made to order for wealthy customers. And the cake Stewart had promised earlier wasn't this either; it was the sweet bread from the neighboring display window, also called cake.

Adam and his sister were eyeing that very item—it represented the limit of their imagination. And clearly, this sweet bread was also the limit of what Stewart could occasionally afford. Visiting York for the first time, he wanted to give the children the most wonderful memory of their lives. He pulled out his money, bought two sweet breads, broke one in half to share with Adam and his sister, and handed the other whole loaf to his wife.

Stuart smiled and said, "I told you back then, one day I'd bring you to York, to the bakery, and buy you a whole cake to eat."

Lily's eyes reddened. She whispered, "You actually remembered..."

"I've never forgotten, not even Adam's brother..." Stewart gently embraced his wife, and Lily's tears streamed down her face. Their first child had died during a blizzard-filled winter. That winter, the child had developed a high fever, but they had no money. They could only watch helplessly as their frail child slipped away.

Life had been so hard. Half a lifetime had passed in the blink of an eye. Lily had long forgotten that afternoon filled with laughter and hope, forgotten that promise made in jest. Yet here she was, years later, standing in a place she never thought she'd see again in her lifetime.

She carefully tucked away the sweet bread, weeping and laughing at the same time, utterly speechless.

"It's so touching," murmured the baker's wife beside them, wiping her own tears. She was a woman of astonishing bulk, her voice thick with emotion. "If my good-for-nothing husband had half the thoughtfulness of yours, I might have snatched his bottle when he was drunk to death."

The baker's words made Lily burst into laughter through her tears. The woman had a wonderfully warm personality. Wiping her tears with her plump fingers, she couldn't help but smile. "Where are you from?"

Business was slow at the bakery at the moment, and the owner was actually striking up a conversation with them. Lily quickly replied, "From Black Swan Castle."

"Oh? Where little Lance lives?" But unexpectedly, the bakery owner's eyes widened, and she said wistfully, "Oh, my little Lance, my sweet little angel. How has he been lately? He must be so sad without my bread, right?"

...If Tang Feiliu had been there, he would have replied, "Auntie Vivian, your bakery became the best in town because I taught you how to make sandwiches and bake cream cookies! I'm perfectly fine without your bread, so don't worry!"

But Stuart and Lily didn't know this. They were immensely proud of Tang Feiliu's existence. Mentioning him instantly brought the two sides closer. Lily told Auntie Vivian about Tang Feiliu's situation, and Auntie Vivian suddenly felt much closer to the two of them. She exclaimed dramatically: I wish I could visit little Lance myself—he adores my thick soup! Wait a moment..."

With that, Aunt Vivian suddenly stepped away from the cash register. She maneuvered her large, rotund frame, crouched down, and retrieved two brown paper bags from the cabinet. Then she turned and grabbed several sweet rolls.

"Here, take these for Lance. Make sure he eats properly," Aunt Vivian said earnestly. Then she handed the smaller bag to Adam and his sister, smiling warmly. "These are my homemade breadsticks—nice and crispy. Have them on your way home."

"We can take these, but not that," Stuart protested, signaling Adam to return the baguettes. Though small, they were rather expensive. Adam reluctantly handed them back, his face full of regret—he could already smell the butter and honey. This bag of bread sticks was every bit as good as the Queen's Bread.

But Aunt Vivian cheerfully ushered them both out, smiling as she closed the door behind them. "Come back again soon! And remember to say hello to young Lance for me!"

Stuart was utterly bewildered, not realizing this was only the beginning. Someone nearby had heard Vivian's voice and approached, asking curiously, "Do you know young Lance? I mean, Dr. Lance Don?"

"We do... but Sir Lance isn't a doctor now. He's our sheriff." Stewart answered, still bewildered. Then he suddenly realized that everyone on York Street seemed to be treating them like locals.

"If I'd known you knew young Lance, I wouldn't have charged you so much!" Even the fabric merchant shoved half a meter of red cloth into Lily's hands. His smile grew genuinely warm as he tipped his hat to her. "Young Lance saved my mischievous child's life. Please convey my blessings."

...Thus, the family concluded their shopping trip in a daze, having scored an incredibly generous haul. Even after passing through the city gates, they stared at the cart piled high with goods, still unable to fully process their good fortune.

Adam, however, handed his mother the small bag of breadsticks, fragrant with honey and butter, saying, "Mom, keep these safe for me. We'll eat them once we're out of the city, where there's no stench."

He had clearly already discussed this with his sister, who now nodded in agreement—heaven knew the little girl hadn't been this solemn and serious when buying fabric for clothes.

And it was just after passing through the city gate and the dung heap that Adam leaned over the cart and sighed, "If only this dung heap were at Swan Castle. Then all the crops could be irrigated."

Children back then weren't carefree; they understood that the crops in the fields determined whether they'd go hungry in the future. One of Adam's friends had been sold by his family to a traveling merchant, likely never to be seen again. So the children were deeply concerned about the harvest. Adam, with his childlike nature, couldn't help but reflect on the fields, uttering a small adult's lament.

What was said without thought was heard with intent. Adam had merely spoken casually, but Stewart glanced back at the massive dung heap piled high against the city walls, nearly level with them. Stewart took it to heart.

Author's Note:

My head's spinning—almost forgot to update.

Edward's curse is terrifying, and my mother has caught a cold too... Edward, step up! Get us better and I'll reward you big time!!!