While Silas wrote with growing enthusiasm, his pen moved swiftly, as if his thoughts had already surged far ahead.

Out in the field, the atmosphere was much simpler.

Lucas, Silvara, and Anya continued their work—lining each basket with broad leaves. There was no meaningful conversation, only the soft sounds of leaves being folded and the wicker baskets shifting.

Not long after, Geralt finished his work. He brushed the dirt from his hands, let out a long breath, and walked over toward his child.

All the baskets had been fully lined.

Lucas did a quick count, then stacked them neatly. Three piles. A total of twenty-four baskets.

At that moment, Liona arrived with lunch as usual. She spread out a small mat near the field, her movements practiced and familiar.

They took a break.

While sitting, Lucas turned toward Geralt. "Tomorrow, bring your wife along for the harvest."

Geralt was briefly startled, then nodded quickly. "Yes, Young Master."

Liona's gaze fell on the stacks of baskets. "Will the baskets be kept here?"

"I'll bring them to the manor later with Silvara," Lucas replied casually.

Silvara still looked irritated, her arms folded.

Liona hesitated for a moment, then spoke up. "In that case… how about I carry them later instead?"

Silvara shot her a sharp look. Liona quickly added, "And… may I join the harvest tomorrow?"

For a moment, silence fell.

Liona and Silvara continued to address him as Young Master—Geralt and Anya were still present.

Lucas glanced at them briefly, then nodded. "That's fine," he said shortly. "Come along."

Liona's face immediately brightened. Silvara snorted softly.

Lunch continued, and the field returned to calm—

while the day of harvest drew ever closer.

Lunch came to an end.

Lucas stood up first.

"Geralt. Anya. You can go home. There's no more work for today."

Geralt nodded in relief.

"Thank you, Young Master."

Anya stood straight and gave a small salute.

"Yes, Young Master!"

They left the field.

Not long after, Liona took her leave as well. She approached the stack of baskets—all twenty-four of them—and lifted them with an expression that was almost radiant.

Her steps were light. Her face bright, almost too cheerful for someone merely carrying baskets.

Lucas watched her for a moment.

"…She doesn't look like an oppressed, miserable servant anymore," he muttered quietly.

Liona waved a small hand before leaving, her back receding with boundless energy.

As usual, the field fell quiet again.

Lucas turned toward Silvara.

"Training again," he said shortly.

There were no complaints this time.

Silvara stepped forward at once. The air around her trembled briefly—then the claymore appeared in her hand, massive and heavy, planted firmly into the ground.

Lucas gave a faint grin and raised his own hand.

With a single breath—

the Great Hoe appeared, its blade gleaming dully under the sunlight.

Silvara rolled her shoulder once.

"When the duel comes," she said flatly, "Aldric will most likely play around at the start."

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"Especially when you're fighting with that Hoe of yours," Silvara continued. "He'll be more than happy to toy with you."

Her gaze settled on the weapon in Lucas's hand.

"In that kind of situation, your Late Buffer ability is still useful."

Lucas chuckled softly.

"Sounds like I might find an opening then."

"Hopefully," Silvara mocked.

Lucas gave the Hoe a light spin.

"Fine," he said casually. "Let's start." He flashed a wide grin.

Silvara lifted her claymore.

"Come."

The air tightened once more.

Training began again—

no spectators, no pause, only the sound of metal, earth, and steadily growing breaths.

---

At last, the training came to an end.

Lucas's breathing was heavy, sweat dampening his temples. Silvara lowered her claymore, planting it into the ground once more before it vanished from her grasp.

The day was already drifting into late afternoon.

As usual, Lucas gestured toward the field.

"Water it with the Loticentra."

He summoned the device into his hand and handed it to Silvara.

Silvara clicked her tongue, but did it anyway. The tool activated, mana flowing smoothly as water spread evenly between the rows of plants.

Once she finished, Lucas took a breath and straightened up.

"Let's go to Mae's clinic."

Silvara turned to him.

"For what now?"

"To inform Mae and Lina," Lucas replied casually.

"The harvest is tomorrow. They need to come."

Silvara immediately looked irritated.

"Why don't you just send someone else?" she said sharply.

"You can have someone else deliver a message like that."

Lucas let out a long breath.

"I know."

He glanced toward the village road.

"But I don't want to sit around doing nothing until I get bored."

He shrugged.

"There's nothing wrong with taking a walk in a world that's still unfamiliar to me."

Silvara stared at him for a few seconds.

"…Tch."

This time, however, she didn't refuse.

The two of them left the field, their footsteps blending with the fading light of the afternoon.

In short, the matter was settled.

Lucas and Silvara left the clinic, their footsteps fading as they walked along the village road, now growing quiet.

Inside the clinic, Mae tidied up the medicine table. Lina stood beside her, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

"Miss Mae…" she said softly.

"I know why Young Master came all the way here just to tell us something so trivial..."

Mae paused.

"So he could go out together with Lady Silvara," Lina added innocently.

Mae let out a small chuckle, a thin smile full of understanding.

"I know."

----

The sun was already leaning toward the west when Lucas and Silvara arrived at the manor.

The gate was still open. Several servants moved about, the atmosphere a little busier than usual.

Lucas had just stepped into the courtyard when someone came jogging over from the side.

Liona.

Her steps were quick, her breathing slightly uneven, but her expression was composed. As soon as she reached Lucas, she stopped and bowed neatly.

"Y–Young Master," she said quickly. "Sorry to disturb you."

Lucas stopped.

"What is it?"

Liona lifted her head slightly.

"Someone from the Merchants' Guild is waiting," she said. "In the Baron's study."

Lucas didn't answer right away.

Silvara narrowed her eyes.

"The Merchants' Guild?"

Lucas paused for a brief moment.

…That was fast.

Without any further comment, Lucas headed straight for the Baron's study. Silvara followed behind him.

Inside—

The Baron sat stiffly in his chair.

Across from him: Silas.

The moment he saw Lucas, Silas stood properly and offered a faint smile.

"Ah. Young Master Voss," he said politely.

"We meet again."

He took out a document from a leather folder and placed it on the desk.

"The contract for the sale of the harvest," Silas continued calmly. "As per our discussion."

The Baron swallowed.

His hand gripped the armrest of his chair too tightly. Please don't let this be some kind of guild trick, the Baron thought.

"L–Lucian," the Baron spoke up nervously. "Are you sure this is—"

"It's fine," Lucas cut in flatly.

He stepped forward and picked up the document.

He read on. Line by line, his brow creased deeper.

"…If—"

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