Boundless Family Upgrades For The Deadbeat Lord

Ten days passed after the first sickles were raised over the fifteen-hectare basin, and the harvest settled into a rhythm that slowly became part of daily life in the Althoff Barony.

Every morning, long before the sun had fully climbed over the eastern ridge, groups of workers would leave the town carrying baskets, cutting tools, ropes, and whatever simple equipment they needed for the day.

They no longer walked toward the basin with the slow, dragging steps of people barely capable of supporting their own bodies.

Their pace was still measured, and many of them still needed frequent rest, but there was now a sense of purpose in the way they moved. Men and women talked along the road. Children old enough to help carried empty baskets or bundles of cloth.

Guards moved beside the procession, while Harlan and Gideon usually left earlier than everyone else so they could inspect the fields before the first teams arrived.

Once the work began, the basin transformed into a living machine.

Harvesting teams rotated through the wheat and corn sections while others worked through the vegetable plots. The stronger workers handled cutting, lifting, and loading.

The weaker citizens took lighter tasks such as sorting produce, tying bundles, carrying smaller baskets, and separating damaged crops from healthy ones.

Harlan and Gideon moved constantly between the different groups, checking the work, correcting mistakes, and preventing people from rushing themselves into exhaustion.

Captain Boris maintained patrols around the outer edge of the basin, while his guards watched both the road and the nearby ridges for any sign of prowling magic beasts.

And then there were the summoned knights.

Raymond had long since given up pretending their current jobs preserved even a shred of martial dignity.

Every day, Bronze and Silver Rank Knights could be seen hauling huge wagons between the farm and town, heavy ropes strapped around their armored torsos while the wooden carts groaned behind them beneath piles of grain, corn, sacks of root vegetables, and stacked crates of produce.

Ordinary draft animals would have struggled under half the weight, but the knights moved as though they were dragging children’s toys.

By the third day, the sight had become so normal that nobody even reacted anymore.

Raymond, however, still felt a small piece of his soul die every time he saw it.

On the fifth morning, he had stood near the basin entrance watching a Silver Rank Knight calmly pull a wagon so overloaded with wheat that one of the wooden wheels looked ready to snap.

Raymond had stared at him for several seconds before muttering, "A warrior who could probably slaughter a hundred men before breakfast has been reduced to transporting grain."

Harlan had been standing beside him at the time and looked genuinely confused.

"My Lord, isn’t that a good thing? He seems exceptionally efficient."

Raymond slowly turned his head. "That’s exactly what makes it worse."

Harlan hadn’t understood.

Raymond hadn’t bothered explaining.

The knights were faster than horses, stronger than oxen, never complained, never needed food from the territory’s grain stores, and could kill anything stupid enough to attack the wagons.

From a purely logistical standpoint, they were perfect.

From a dignity standpoint, Raymond was committing crimes against the entire concept of elite military power.

Still, every time a loaded wagon disappeared up the dusty road toward town, he reminded himself that winter didn’t care about dignity.

The farmland itself changed visibly with each passing day.

At the beginning of the harvest, the basin had looked like an endless green-and-gold sea stretching from the observation platform toward the rocky ridge. Now broad patches of dark, exposed earth were appearing between the remaining sections. The wheat fields were steadily shrinking. Rows of corn vanished one after another. Vegetable plots that had once been crowded with red, green, and orange were stripped clean and left as damp black soil.

The transformation was almost strange to watch. The more barren the basin became, the richer the town became. Every empty row meant another wagon had gone north toward storage.

Every cleared section meant more food had been secured against the coming winter.

By the tenth day, more than half of the harvest had already been removed from the fields. And that created another problem Raymond had fortunately anticipated before the first sickle ever touched the wheat.

Storage.

Growing food meant absolutely nothing if they had nowhere dry, secure, and properly ventilated to keep it.

During the previous month, while the crops were still maturing, Raymond had ordered the preparation of twenty separate storage facilities across the castle grounds and the nearby upper settlement.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to demand twenty completely new stone warehouses in thirty days. Even with summoned knights doing the heavy lifting, that would have been an absurd waste of time and materials.

Instead, they converted what already existed.

Several old castle chambers that had been abandoned for years were cleared out, scrubbed, dried, and reinforced. Two underground cellars were repaired and divided into separate sections. An old armory that had been nearly empty since Raymond’s exile became a grain store. Three unused servant halls were stripped of broken furniture and converted into dry storage rooms.

Outside the castle, simple timber granaries were erected from recycled beams and newly cut lumber.

The designs were basic but practical.

The floors were raised above the ground to prevent moisture from creeping upward. Narrow ventilation gaps were built into the walls to keep air moving without exposing the food directly to dust or pests. Crude shelving systems were added where possible, while grain sections used thick sacks and large wooden bins.

Raymond had also ordered the storage system separated by category.

Grains went into the driest facilities. Root vegetables were stored in cooler lower rooms.

Fresh vegetables were placed in well-ventilated buildings where they could be inspected frequently.

Seeds selected for future planting were kept separately under guard.

Salted and preserved goods remained inside the castle’s most secure storage areas.

It wasn’t sophisticated but it was organized.

That alone made the Althoff Barony feel completely different from the chaotic settlement Raymond had inherited.

On the morning of the tenth day, Raymond personally walked through the storage area behind the castle.

He moved slowly between the buildings with his hands folded behind his back, occasionally stopping while workers carried in sacks and crates.

The first granary was full. So was the second and the third.

By the time Raymond reached the fifth storage building, one of the workers was pushing the wooden door closed because there was simply no more room inside.

Raymond stopped. He looked at the building. Then at the four others behind it.

Then toward the line of wagons still coming up from the basin.

His eyebrows slowly rose. Five storage facilities were completely filled, several others were already partially occupied and the harvest wasn’t even finished.

For a few quiet seconds, Raymond said nothing. A wagon passed him carrying thick bundles of wheat, another came behind it loaded with corn.

Then another carrying root vegetables.

Raymond stared at the procession.

Holy shit.

The thought appeared in his mind with absolute clarity.

We actually grew a ridiculous amount of food.

He had known the System crops produced far beyond ordinary yields. He had seen the size of the vegetables. He had listened to Harlan and Gideon’s reports.

But seeing entire buildings physically filling up created a completely different feeling.

Numbers were abstract. A locked granary door because there was no room left inside was not.

Raymond slowly smiled. "Not bad."

A nearby worker overheard him and laughed quietly. "Not bad, my Lord? If you ask me, we’ll need more storage rooms before the farmers are finished."

Raymond glanced toward him.

The man instantly stiffened, clearly realizing he had spoken too casually.

But Raymond merely looked back toward the wagons. "Then we build more if we need them. Food spilling out of storage is a much better problem than empty shelves."

The worker relaxed and nodded quickly.

"Yes, my Lord."

Raymond continued walking.

The sentence stayed in his mind.

A month ago, Althoff had been counting individual sacks of grain.

Now they were discussing whether twenty storage facilities would be enough.

That alone felt like victory but Raymond refused to celebrate too early.

The harvest wasn’t finished, the final quantity hadn’t been measured. The crops still needed proper sorting, drying, preservation, and distribution planning.

And winter was still approaching.

Until every single usable portion of the harvest had been secured, Raymond wasn’t willing to call the famine crisis solved.

That afternoon, he returned to the castle office.

The room had become considerably busier over the past weeks. Parchment reports were stacked along one side of his desk. A rough map of the town had been pinned to the wall. Storage numbers, worker assignments, and guard rotations were written across several smaller sheets.

Raymond sat behind the desk, reviewing the latest harvest records with a tired expression.

The numbers were incomplete. Annoyingly incomplete.

Harlan refused to give him a final yield estimate until the entire field had been harvested, claiming anything earlier would simply be guessing.

Raymond respected the logic, he still hated waiting.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "Ten days of harvesting and this bastard still refuses to give me a proper total."

He stared at the parchment. "He really knows how to torture a man."

A sudden series of hurried footsteps sounded outside the office.

Raymond’s head lifted.

The footsteps grew louder, then the door opened sharply.

One of Boris’s guards stepped inside, breathing heavily from running through the castle.

"My Lord!"

Raymond immediately straightened.

The man’s urgency made his first instinct jump toward danger.

"What happened?"

The guard quickly bowed. "No attack, my Lord. The eastern road watch just sent word."

He took another breath. "The trade party has returned."

Raymond froze. For half a second, his mind went completely blank.

Then his eyes widened.

"Lily?"

The guard nodded rapidly.

"Yes, my Lord. Lady Lily, the head maid, and the escort knights have crossed the eastern boundary. They’re approaching the main gate right now."

Raymond was already standing before the man had finished speaking. He pushed his chair back and walked quickly toward the window.

From the administrative office, he couldn’t see the eastern gate clearly, but he could already hear voices outside.

Raymond immediately left the office. By the time he reached the outer castle balcony overlooking the main road, the reason for the commotion had become obvious.

A long caravan was entering Althoff. Several heavy wagons rolled slowly through the broken eastern gate, their wheels kicking up clouds of dust as they moved through the town. Bundles of thick textiles were tied down across the first carts. Behind them came barrels, wooden crates, sacks, preserved supplies, and covered cargo stacked almost to the tops of the wagons.

Then came livestock. Horses walked beside the convoy. Large working cattle followed behind. Smaller crates and cages were strapped to the rear wagons.

Four Silver Rank Knights moved around the caravan like silent walls of steel.

And somewhere near the front, Raymond caught sight of a very small figure sitting proudly atop the lead wagon.

Lily.

The townspeople had begun pouring into the street. They stared openly at the arriving goods with expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief. For years, Althoff had watched merchant caravans pass far beyond its borders.

Now a caravan filled with food, clothing, livestock, and supplies was entering the town for them.

Raymond rested both hands against the balcony railing as the convoy continued forward beneath him.

A slow smile spread across his face. The harvest was filling the granaries.

And now the winter supplies had finally arrived.