Sweet Rewards

"Tute! Tute!" The bustle of a rural harvest is a scene hard for city-raised folk to imagine—men and women don their simplest, cheapest clothes. Women tie their hats tightly, while men toss aside their tattered caps, swinging their long scythes to swiftly cut the wheat with swift, sweeping motions.

Harvesting was the one task that couldn't be delayed. It had to be done and dried as quickly as possible. Otherwise, if the harvest dragged on, countless greedy birds would swoop in to steal the grain. If heavy rain fell and delayed the harvesting and drying, some wheat would sprout. Then, a large portion of this year's harvest would be lost. In any case, the only solution was to get all the wheat back into the barn. Otherwise, every day it remained outside was another day of worry for the people.

The Stewarts were no exception. In years past, he bore the heaviest burden. Though Lily was a capable homemaker, she wasn't born with the robust strength common in many women. Her parents had once considered arranging her as a mistress for some nobleman. For while Lily possessed beauty, village women lacking half a man's strength—unable to work the fields or labor tirelessly during harvest season—were often sold off by their husbands.

Fortunately, Stewart never broke the vow he made to Lily back then. At this time of year, Stewart was always alone, working frantically day and night. Lily would assist him briefly during the day, but most of her time was spent preparing meals and tending to her Tute. Though her heart ached for Stuart, Lily's body simply couldn't endure the grueling, day-long toil in the fields. If she pushed herself too hard and fell ill during the busy season, as she had before, it would only add to Stuart's troubles.

In earlier years, Lily's brothers would come to help after harvest with their oxcarts. But in recent years, after the eldest son of the former duke—the elder brother of Duke Edward—took power, he ruled with extreme harshness. leaving everyone living in constant fear. Lily hadn't heard from her father or brothers in years. Though her home was only a few mountain ridges away by cart, her family owned no ox-drawn cart. If she couldn't make the round trip in a single day, she'd find no lodging in the mountains. Moreover, with young children and poverty at home, even if she learned something, she could do nothing about it—only grieve... Thus, Lily had no choice but to pretend she had forgotten the matter. In this era, the challenges people faced were simple, yet they seemed insurmountable.

But now things were different. Lily welcomed Stewart back as he stepped up patrols during the busy farming season. He removed his patrol cap—though identical to the one Lance had custom-made years ago—for Stewart was now one of the Duke's officially recognized future patrol captains of Black Swan City!

Moreover, as the overseer of York and Black Swan City's construction projects, Stewart had not only secured this position but also received overtures from merchants arriving in the city. At the very least, Lily knew they would have their own little house in the future development zone—not one of those apartments meant for sale to workers and citizens, but a small house with a garden! Everything would be laid in concrete. If they had the money, Lily herself would decide on all the home decorations and furnishings—custom-made in any style they desired!

Stuart's home now looked vastly different from last year. Though the village faced redevelopment, they remained some distance from the inner city planned by Black Swan. Only families like theirs, with a patrolman in the household, might earn the privilege of moving into the inner city—let alone the best-planned residential district.

Stuart had excellent sources of information. He'd even heard that young Mr. Lance was scheming to establish a Roman-style Forum on the largest facade of the building currently under construction in the community before winter arrived. There, all citizens could discuss their ideas for the city with the sheriff, and everyone could share their wisdom.

But that wasn't even the main point. The most important thing was that children would receive a gentlemanly education. Stewart had been putting in extra effort lately, hoping his children might secure a spot. So recently, beyond his regular duties, he'd been hanging around Mr. Little Lance.

Now, returning home, Stewart saw Lily's eyes—slightly lined with age yet adding to her charm—glowing in the dim candlelight. Behind her, Adam and Penny, swallowing their food while peeking at the dishes, cheered joyfully at their father's return. This house was utterly transformed from its former self. The old dwelling had been simple, with straw spread across the damp-proofed floor of the living room. A fire crackled in the hearth, a cast-iron pot suspended above it. Usually, it held a thin porridge of wheat, thickened only during the busy farming season.

Now, though the light remained dim and the home still worn, the presence of hope and laughter within seemed to make the house glow with radiance.

Stuart kissed Lily and smiled, saying, "Lily, you've worked so hard. I heard our house will be finished before winter. I've seen the blueprints—my goodness, I never imagined I'd live in such a place in my lifetime!"

Her eyes lit up at his words. Behind them, Adam dashed forward, clinging to his father's leg and shouting, "I missed you, Daddy!"

"We'll talk tonight." The two exchanged a knowing smile, dropping the earlier topic. These unconfirmed matters mustn't reach the children. Innocent as they were, if they accidentally blurted something out and stirred up trouble, regret would come too late. But the adults were overthinking it. Little Adam and Penny couldn't care less. Right now, they were staring wide-eyed at the food on the table—today wasn't just bread and such, but also a very fresh dish. It gave off a spicy, numbing aroma that had the two kids utterly curious.

"Just a heads-up," Stewart announced to everyone. "Young Master Lance warned us that while this stewed offal is delicious, it's quite potent. Kids shouldn't have too much!" After his announcement, the family picked up their forks, each speared a piece, and popped it into their mouths.

This was a recent small act by Lance. He'd discovered that the poor folks nearby actually discarded offal and entrails simply because the Temple deemed them unclean. Tang Feiliu held no fondness for the Temple. In this era of scarce food, discarding such rare high-calorie, high-fat items showed a faith that cared not a whit for the common people.

The lofty nobility and temple priests, who lived off the people's offerings, undoubtedly enjoyed the finest food. They could scorn offal as unclean, but in this era, though meat and fat were plentiful, they remained crucial sustenance for ordinary folk. Across Asia at the same time, people had already begun utilizing offal, smoked and stewed to perfection. Yet here, commoners were misguided by their beliefs, discarding vital nutrients their bodies desperately needed.

As both an ordinary person and a foodie, Tang Feiliu was not only furious but utterly heartbroken!

After Tang Feiliu created his signature stew of assorted offal, he began passionately advocating this practice to those close to him, occasionally even enthusiastically promoting it to interested individuals.

Fortunately, while the Temple held sway over the nobility, within the Duke's domain, the most devout followers mostly remained within the Temple's jurisdiction, subjected to daily indoctrination. For ordinary folk, if they could enjoy sweet bread and spicy food in reality, if they could eat their fill and live a beautiful life in this lifetime... who the hell cared about some vague, unproven afterlife or paradise?!

Put simply, such beliefs can exist. But when this era becomes as cruel and ignorant as this one—forbidding bathing, prohibiting organ consumption even amid severe malnutrition, stifling medical progress—it threatens the very foundation of survival. Once people taste a better life in reality, they might not care much about that so-called paradise anymore.

This is the very foundation of humanity's triumph over countless massive, ferocious beasts—the instinct to seek benefit and avoid harm. It's also the root of humanity's relentless progress. Tang Feiliu hadn't thought that deeply; his mind held very little. He was still far too naive.

Fortunately, after catching the angel who fell into his arms, the Duke had already begun steadily gathering strength. He understood what lay ahead and resolved to take the offensive. For the best way to protect his treasure was to wield power that struck fear into the hearts of predators.

But the Duke had no intention of telling his little angel. It would frighten the innocent child. He only needed York to grow up carefree in York, doing what he loved. Behind everything Tang Feiliu did, the Duke silently stood guard. Tang Feiliu witnessed only the immense joy of the wheat harvest and the astonishment at the first potato crop. He vaguely understood the duke had distributed potatoes and mapped out planting areas, but he knew nothing of the knights' intensified training—a regimen utterly unlike anything before. His Grace commanded the knights to bring their squires, forbidding the squires from carrying the knights' armor. To their astonishment, the squires received uniformly issued chainmail from the duke, even their own weapons. Moreover, they were assured that any slave squire demonstrating exceptional merit would receive the duke's special pardon.

This upheaval instilled a sense of crisis among the once-idle knights. As nobles, they resented the prospect of being treated as equals to their slaves. Meanwhile, the slaves now ate their fill and were freed from serving their masters, who now trained alongside them. Their sole task became relentless training to avoid being weeded out. When the first slave—a natural strongman with an enormous appetite—calmed a startled horse by choking it to submission after eating his fill, earning the duke's admiration, and when this slave received a horse as a reward from the duke and mounted it like the knights, the slaves went wild.

Everyone assumed the duke commanded only two hundred knights, and now he was dispersing them across every corner of his domain. The castle's defenses seemed thinner than ever. The duke assigned knights to oversee new urban construction and patrols, citing the need to distribute wheat and potato seeds to his subjects and teach them cultivation methods. alongside promoting cement and hydraulic engineering, new irrigation systems, and composting methods... It sounded as though His Grace had become utterly obsessed with farming. Even the most well-informed nobles merely chuckled dismissively at the notion.

Some sharp-eyed individuals may have sensed something amiss, but none dared speak. Nobles preferred not to exert their minds—their brains were already saturated with the fat from sweet breads and cream, mirroring their own bloated figures. As courtiers to the nobility, the clever ones knew better than to voice unwelcome truths. Besides... no one had proof. After all, the highly potent wine recently produced in York was truly intoxicating. Duke Edward had become the nation's darling overnight. Watching nobles from other realms become utterly captivated by his wine, it was even rumored the Pope himself required a daily cup of that potent, pure brew to sleep... Who would dare cross this man whose influence and fortune had skyrocketed?

Little did Tang Feiliu realize at the time that all this had originated from his own prank. Since His Grace the Duke habitually drank a glass of red wine before bed, Tang Feiliu had been curious to see what the Duke would be like when drunk. He had stashed away the distilled, purified wine from the kitchen barrels, never using it. So he simply swapped the duke's wine—Tang Feiliu didn't want to admit it was because, being young and restless, he'd hoped to get the duke drunk and gain some advantage. After all, since their mutual feelings were revealed, the duke had been too proper, leaving Tang Feiliu no opening... Do something, even if it was just a little sweet reward!

And sure enough, the duke, tasting strong liquor for the first time, got drunk. He clung to Tang Feiliu and nibbled away at him relentlessly. By the time Tang Feiliu was left breathless and disoriented, His Grace had simply passed out.

Tang Feiliu had shot herself in the foot. Just as she’d tasted a bit of sweetness, she’d been left hanging, and in her fury, she kicked the Duke several times. But the pain from kicking too hard only made her even angrier.

The next morning, the Duke awoke to find Tang Feiliu still asleep, her face twisted in a pout, lips pursed as if still fuming in her dreams. For the first time in his life, he laughed aloud. He whispered softly into the sleeping angel's ear, "Wait until you're feeling a bit better."

Clearly, despite his hangover, His Grace remembered exactly what he'd done the previous night—and the mischievous little troublemaker's true intentions. Thus, though thoroughly pranked, the Duke felt as if he'd been drenched in honey.

The Duke kissed the rosy cheeks of the sleeping figure before rising to wash up. Tang Feiliu remained utterly unaware, merely smacking her lips, rolling over, and continuing to snore sweetly through the night.

Author's Note:

Tang Feiliu: Wasting my youth day after day—heartbreaking!

Duke: …Endure.