Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

VOLUME IV: SMOLDERING HORIZON | CHAPTER: 108 Political Strife - The Road Ahead

The land of Zorno was a farmer's dream—vast, fertile landscapes with manageable soil, abundant sunlight, and virtually no natural disasters. The surrounding forest provided a unique ecosystem, housing mild-tempered, carnivorous monsters that kept pests and rodent-type vermin at bay.

Among the lush and bountiful crops that the land yielded, rice stood out as the most impressive. Thriving in the tropical climate, it flourished thanks to a meticulously controlled irrigation system that maintained the ideal water depth for the paddies.

"Phew," Alaric Beaumont sighed contentedly as he placed the last paddy in the saturated soil. Then he turned to admire his handiwork, taking in the symmetrical lines with satisfaction.

"Always the perfectionist, huh?" another fellow teased, playfully pushing the straw hat down over Alaric's eyes. "They're gonna grow either way, y'know."

"Says the one whose batch performed poorly last year," Alaric murmured with a playful grin, earning chuckles from the other folks who had gathered around.

The man draped an arm around Alaric's shoulder with a harmless frown, pulling him close. "I thought we agreed never to mention that ever again!"

"Only if you stop criticizing my organizational skills," Alaric challenged, raising his straw hat, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The man released his tight grip and spun around theatrically, like a damsel in this distress. "But that's one of the few joys I have in my life."

"Maybe if you mustered the courage to confess your love to Martha, you wouldn't be so lonely and miserable!"

Amidst the jovial atmosphere, the farmers' laughter filled the air, their cheeks aglow with delight and their expressions radiant with happiness. Suddenly, the scene shifted as two men arrived on horseback, their leather armor proudly displaying the crest of a noble family.

The haughty tilt of their heads and disdainful glances caused the farmers to clench their jaws shut and take a hesitant step back, except for one man.

The messengers regarded him with a lighter shade of scorn, but as their eyes fell upon the man's bare, mud-caked feet, and the close-knit gathering of peasants around him, their expressions darkened even further.

"Lord Beaumont," one of the messengers began, fighting the urge to reprimand the man for his unbecoming behavior. Instead, he reached for a scroll sticking out of his saddlebag. "I bring an urgent message from Lord Ignatius Pembroke."

"Forget it," Alaric said dismissively, halting the man's hand. "I don't care what he's offering this time. My answer will always remain the same. The land of Zorno has been in the Beaumont family for generations, and I have no intention of parting with it."

The messengers sneered, but their anger and frustration promptly transformed into smooth smiles, causing Alaric to frown suspiciously. "Kindly take your leave," he commanded confidently. "And please inform Sir Pembroke that further messengers are unnecessary, as my decision is firmly set in stone."

The messenger scoffed, effortlessly guiding the horse with the reins to pivot it around. "Your loss," he murmured ominously under his breath.

The other man's grin widened, his sidelong gaze glinting with hostility. With a swift kick, they urged their horses into a gallop, swiftly disappearing into the horizon, leaving behind a cloud of dust and an uneasy silence.

***

Later that evening at the manor, Alaric savored a delightful meal with his beloved wife and their seven-year-old son.

"Are you looking forward to beginning your sword training with Commander Leopold tomorrow?" He asked.

"Hn!" The child nodded enthusiastically. "I want to be strong just like Father one day!"