The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

Old World, Glamorgan County, March, Jean Town.

Winter had finally passed. After the last snowfall in March, spring finally arrived, and the bright spring light illuminated the county's sky. It was another bountiful year.

The amazing effect of the Lady of the Lake's high tower spread outward from Jean Town. The closer the farmland was to the town, the higher the yield increase. After the winter wheat was harvested, many serfs found that even after paying a substantial fixed tax, there was still plenty of grain left to feed their families comfortably.

It wasn't like five years ago. As long as they worked hard, every serf family had some stored grain. Because of this, many serfs were tempted. They secretly inquired in the town to see if any merchants were buying grain.

Indeed, the serfs received good news: several merchants in town were buying grain!

Bono from Red Fish Village was one such serf planning to go to town to sell grain. His family had stored a lot of grain, with many bags of barley flour alone. Everyone in the village knew Bono had a connection in town—a long spearman named Raymond, one of the Count's soldiers. Since he said there were merchants buying grain, there definitely were!

Bono, being uneducated, firmly believed this because their lord, Count Ryan, was a Grail Knight and would never deceive them!

Ten or so serfs gathered and got a few handcarts ready to transport the grain to town.

The next day, they rose early, frantically loading bags of grain onto the carts to sell in town.

"Are you going to town to sell grain?" As the serfs loaded the carts, a large bald-headed kingdom knight passed by. He was munching an apple, carrying a fat pig under one arm, and had two axes strapped to his back—a daunting figure.

But after five years, the serfs knew that Lord Angron wasn't as terrifying as he appeared and actually enjoyed farm work, seeming like a kind and simple farmer.

"Good morning, Lord Angron!" The serfs quickly stopped what they were doing, wanting to kneel and greet him. One serf stammered, "Lord Angron, we have already paid our fixed tax! We are good people. We have some grain left, more than we can eat, and we want to sell it in town to buy some things."

"Oh, I see. Go ahead then," Angron nodded indifferently. "What are you selling?"

"Mainly barley flour, wheat flour, buckwheat, millet, and lots of vegetables like carrots, cauliflower, cabbage, beets, onions, and garlic," the serfs nervously opened their goods for Angron to inspect.

"I remember carrots and cauliflower sell well in town. I wish you good prices!" Angron turned and left.

The serfs continued on their way.

The road to the town became increasingly crowded, with many carts and handcarts squeezing together, slowing progress. The serfs pressed forward, eager to reach town.

"So many new faces in town! Southerners, Imperials, and recently even Northerners?"

"So many people selling grain!"

"Hurry up! We might miss the good prices."

"Bono, where's that guy Raymond you know?"

"He's already waiting for us in town!"

After a long journey, they finally entered the town. Raymond, now robust from his service under the Count, wearing a decent linen outfit with a fur cloak and a stylish hat adorned with a crest, greeted them.

"Uncle Bono, you made it to town with all this stuff?" Raymond, on a day off, quickly approached. Despite the wide streets, the goods on the handcarts still took up a lot of space. The serfs were exhausted but excited at the prospect of selling their grain.

"Raymond, where can we get the best price for our grain?" Bono, in his thirties, panted, looking hopefully at the young man.

"Oliver Trading Company and Hadrian Trading Company offer good prices. Other companies are okay. Recently, land trade routes with the Empire have been cut off, causing grain shortages in Palawan, Montfort, and Gisoreux. Empire merchants from Middenland are also importing large quantities of grain. Grain is selling well, and..." Raymond paused for effect before continuing, "many townsfolk no longer want to eat black bread."

"Oh!" The serfs didn't understand the trade issues but grasped that grain and vegetables were selling well, which was all they needed to know.

Many serfs smiled; it had been a bountiful year without pests or disasters. Grain was never in surplus.

The carts' wheels creaked along the bustling streets, arriving at a large, well-decorated shop. Many serfs came and went, entering with full carts and leaving empty-handed. Inside, staff bustled about.

At the counter, Bono stepped up first. Before he could speak, an Oliver Trading Company director behind the counter addressed him directly, "Here to sell grain, right?"

"Yes! What's the price?" The serfs crowded together, their sunburned faces lined with wrinkles.

"Wheat is one silver coin per pound, barley sixty copper, buckwheat fifty copper, rye eighty copper, rice two gold crowns, chickpeas two gold crowns. Other grains and vegetables' prices are on the wall. Take a look yourself," the director said flatly. "Selling?"

The serfs huddled to calculate. Grain prices had risen slightly, but not significantly. Vegetable prices were good!

This deal was doable!

"Should we check other places?" one serf whispered.

"Other places? They say Oliver Trading Company's prices are the best! Where else would you go?"

"Maybe Hadrian Trading Company?"

"That's several streets away! You want to go there? I'm not!"

"What if Hadrian Trading Company's prices are worse? Then we lose out!"

The serfs argued quietly, faces flushed.

The director behind the counter watched with disdain, thinking this was typical poor people's thinking.

Short-sighted, eager to cash in immediately. Based on experience, the serfs would...

"Are you selling or not? If not, don't waste our time. Many others want to sell," the director pressed.

"Sell, sell, sell! We'll sell!" The serfs quickly agreed, nodding and bowing.

The grain was unloaded, weighed, and checked for quality. The store buzzed with noise.

Before the transaction was complete, more serfs entered, asking prices, and soon they too were selling their grain.

As the carts emptied, the serfs' pockets filled with copper, silver, and even a shiny gold crown in Bono's pocket, which he proudly showed off, admiring the coin engraved with the founding knight king Arthur's face and the dates of his reign, and a Grail Knight emblem on the other side.

"Uncle Bono, put that away. Watch out for thieves," Raymond warned. "There have been thieves in town lately. The Count has increased patrols, but be careful."

"Right, right," the serfs felt like they'd been bitten by a snake, hurriedly securing their coins.

Raymond led the serfs to the market.

Jean Town's market was bustling, with shops selling all kinds of goods.

"Cloth, canvas, linen, wool! Cheap sale, buy a meter and get an extra ten centimeters free!"

"Top-quality furs! All kinds available!"

"Various dyes on sale, come take a look!"

"Sunflower oil, walnut oil, safflower oil!"

"Dwarf tools! Dwarf fire starters! Dwarf handcarts! Dwarf-made, guaranteed quality!"

"Furniture, pots, and pans for sale!"

Hawkers, like hungry wolves smelling blood, targeted the grain-selling serfs, knowing they had shiny coins.

Indeed, the serfs wanted to buy things. Animal fat candles, fabrics for clothes, dwarf-made tools, and household items began finding their way into serf homes.

High-end goods sold by Wood Elves and luxury items from Tilea, the Empire, or even High Elves, however, shocked the serfs.

A type of food called chocolate from the High Elves cost twenty gold crowns a box! Coffee from Tilea was sixty gold crowns a pound!

Hearing these prices, the serfs nearly had heart attacks and didn't dare look at those items again, fearing they'd have to pay just for looking.

Raymond just smiled, saying nothing.

When the serfs felt safe, they realized they still had plenty of money and gathered at a simple tavern. Ordering some roast meat and drinks, they began to celebrate.

Joy filled the tavern as the serfs shared their happiness.

"It's been a good year. Even after taxes, I still have plenty!"

"Life gets better every year with the Count here!"

"I heard you don't eat black bread anymore?"

"Just having a full stomach is great."

"Hope we can have more meat next year."

"Strange, ever since the Count came, there haven't been any disasters, and those forest beastmen seem to have disappeared."

"Not exactly gone. My grandfather's cousin's uncle's niece's husband's brother is in the Sharon Forest Patrol. He says there are still beastmen, but we always drive them back."

"Oh, I see."

They chatted animatedly until Bono, thinking deeply, signaled for quiet.

"Everyone, do you think that, living like we do now—well-fed, with grain stores, and occasional meat—are we still serfs?"

"Bono, what nonsense! We're serfs, born and bred. We're lucky to live well,

 thanks to the Count. If anyone opposes him, I'd smash their head in!"

"Yeah! Smash their head!"

The tavern echoed with agreement. Many serfs eyed Bono warily, some even cursing him.

"Bono, you bastard! You thinking of rebelling?"

"Beat him! Hit him!"

"No, no! I mean, I want to be a free man!" Bono quickly explained, fearing the angry mob.

The atmosphere shifted.

Becoming a free man wasn't easy. The only way was to join the army, earn merit, and receive the Count's recognition.

"When will there be a war?" a serf wistfully asked, echoing the group's sentiment.

The serfs eagerly awaited war more than the knights, seeing it as their only chance to change their fate.

To become free men, change their destiny, and even become knights!

At that moment, a commotion and cheers were heard outside.

"The Ursor Circus is here!"

"Let's go see!"

The serfs rushed to the tavern door, seeing a grand circus procession. Performers in Kislev garb showcased acrobatics, fire-swallowing, and juggling, drawing cheers.

Most eye-catching were the large bears, following the music played by the circus leader, dancing on their hind legs.

The star was a little golden bear, dressed in a shirt, clapping and swaying adorably.

However, Ryan, watching from a distant balcony, frowned. He immediately instructed Carsonberg, "Tell Captain Ivan to change that little golden bear's clothes. Change its color."

"Yes, my lord!"

Updated! First day of the month, requesting a monthly ticket!

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