After leaving the training ground, Vaerik led Siv along a dirt path. He suddenly stopped and walked toward a simple but clean wooden cabin.
"I'll go in and take a look," he said as he pushed the door open.
The light inside was dim, with a faint scent of medicinal herbs in the air.
On a wooden bed against the wall lay a knight, his face still pale, but much better than the previous days.
He was the knight who had been injured during the battle with the frost giant days ago—Javier.
Seeing Vaerik enter, he instinctively struggled to rise and salute, but Vaerik gently held him down.
"Don't move around," Vaerik frowned. "Your wound hasn't fully healed."
Javier smiled somewhat embarrassedly: "Lord, I'm much better now."
"Don't push yourself," Vaerik pulled over a chair and sat down. "What did the doctor say?"
"It's stabilized, just needs some time to recover." Javier lowered his head, but seemed somewhat unwilling to accept his condition. "I'm sorry to have worried you."
"You're lucky to have made it back alive," Vaerik sighed lightly. "Don't worry, I'll find suitable medicine as soon as possible to help you recover your strength quickly."
"Thank you. I will never forget your kindness, Lord. Once I recover, I will continue to serve the Crimson Tide Domain."
Javier's voice carried a hint of choked emotion, his words filled with loyalty.
Siv stood to the side, watching this scene, feeling some ripples in her heart.
She had originally thought Vaerik was just putting on an act, merely going through the motions.
But seeing the unfeigned loyalty in this injured knight's eyes, she suddenly felt somewhat swayed.
"Don't talk like we're saying farewell," Vaerik chuckled, standing up and patting his shoulder. "Focus on recovering, don't rush back just to embarrass yourself."
Before leaving, he instructed the guards to take good care of him, bringing tears to Javier's eyes once more.
After bidding farewell to Javier, Vaerik led Siv eastward toward the riverbank.
Morning light spilled across the water's surface, creating rippling reflections. Several fishing boats were leisurely moored at the shore, with fishermen busy organizing their nets, occasionally bursting into hearty laughter.
Vaerik looked around. Fishing development had entered a stable phase, with more boats than initially, but the harvest wasn't as bountiful as before.
He wasn't surprised by this, as it was the result he had deliberately intended.
To avoid overfishing and ensure the continued reproduction of fish stocks, he had ordered larger mesh sizes for the nets, ensuring young fish could escape.
At the same time, fishing had to follow fixed schedules with closed seasons, giving the river and fish populations a chance to recover, making the fishing industry sustainable.
Fishing Officer Luke, seeing Vaerik, hurriedly walked over with a somewhat fawning expression.
Vaerik nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping across the river: "How is fish farming progressing?"
"We've started experimenting," Luke patted his chest.
"We've selected several fish species adapted to cold waters and are trying semi-enclosed farming," he pointed excitedly at the wooden rafts on the water surface.
"It's Lord's foresight that made us consider long-term development early on. Otherwise, within a few years, all the fish would have been caught!"
"Hmm, you've done well," Vaerik casually praised him.
Luke immediately beamed, waving his hands repeatedly: "Not at all, it's all thanks to the Lord's wise leadership!"
Vaerik gave a light laugh but didn't respond further.
Siv watched this scene from the side, secretly turning up her nose.
She sneered at this flattery about the "wise Lord," but had to admit that the people of Crimson Tide Domain genuinely trusted him.
Vaerik glanced at Siv, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, fully aware of her internal thoughts, but too lazy to explain anything.
"Let's go," Vaerik said, walking toward the Crimson Tide farmlands.
The vast fields stretched out under the morning light. The rye stalks were notably robust, their deep green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The potato foliage was lush, and the turnips were growing well—a scene full of vitality.
Agricultural Officer Mike was inspecting the fields with several farmers.
Seeing Vaerik, he hurried over, wiping soil from his hands, his face bearing a simple, genuine smile.
"In about ten days, we can start harvesting the turnips. The rye is growing well, and there haven't been any problems with the potatoes. We should have a good harvest," Mike told Vaerik, his tone carrying a hint of pride.
Vaerik nodded, his gaze sweeping across the fields, noticing the neat distribution of furrows and the moist soil, clearly well-tended.
"Well done, Mike," he praised.
Mike froze for a moment, then his smile grew broader, even showing some excitement.
He clenched his fist as if trying to contain his joy, yet couldn't hide the smile escaping from the corners of his mouth.
His current position was entirely thanks to the young lord before him.
In the past, he had been just a slave digging in the fields, not even qualified to look up at the nobles.
But Vaerik had not only granted him freedom but also put him in charge of managing the entire farmland of Crimson Tide Domain, transforming him from a lowly slave into an agricultural supervisor.
Now, his greatest goal in life was to do his best to develop agriculture in Crimson Tide Domain.
To make this land feed more people, to make this domain more prosperous than any other place.
"My Lord, I will not disappoint you," Mike said solemnly, his voice slightly trembling.
Vaerik smiled slightly and patted his shoulder: "Keep up the good work."
Then, looking at Mike's flushed face, he suddenly remembered something and raised an eyebrow to ask: "So, how are you adjusting to married life?"
Mike was taken aback, then his old face reddened as he stammered and waved his hands: "There's nothing to tell, please don't tease me, Lord."
Vaerik laughed heartily, patting his shoulder: "You still need to pace yourself. I don't want you too exhausted to get up one day."
The surrounding farmers also laughed, instantly lightening the atmosphere.
From morning until now, in Siv's eyes, Vaerik had gradually transformed from a cunning nobleman into a caring, approachable, and respected leader of his domain.
Whether his concern was genuine or feigned, at least his people truly adored him.
She felt somewhat worried. If every domain in the Northern Province developed steadily like Crimson Tide Domain, the Cold Moon Tribe would face a significant threat.
But then she thought, what if there was a threat?
Those were traitors who had killed her family. Better they all died!
Siv pulled back her thoughts and looked at Vaerik in the distance.
The man stood in the fields, casually chatting with farmers and slaves, his tone relaxed, his eyes containing a hint of lazy amusement.
A breeze passed by, slightly lifting his black hair. Against the sunlight, the lines of his profile appeared particularly distinct.
Siv, for some reason, found herself staring absentmindedly.