Harrison was a man who, despite being a noble, tilled his own land with his own hands. Even as the sun darkened his skin and thinned his hair, he saw his way of life through to the end.
Why?
Because he loved the land, found joy in the work, and his purpose in life was clear. So it mattered little if someone mocked him as a baldy, and no offense was taken when they called him a penny-pincher. Did he not indulge in luxury?
That wasn’t the case. He often enjoyed a luxury greater than that of a king. Who would be the first to taste the fine wheat, grains, and fruits that came from his own land—the king?
Or himself?
It was himself. There was no greater luxury than that. He was a noble and a farmer.
“Is all you need simply safe roads?”
Enkrid asked again. Harrison found the other man’s reaction unfamiliar. He had never met anyone like this.
Had there ever been someone who offered so much without demanding anything in return, or without asking him to swear fealty? It was not unusual for one noble to serve under another. Hadn’t the Duke of the Fertile Plains gathered a host of nobles under his banner just like that?
But Enkrid seemed to want nothing. He simply said he would do it.
“Why are you being so good to me?”
Harrison asked.