On the other side, Ralph shook hands with the judge and priests to bid farewell, then walked into the fields like a victorious general and shouted at Frey who was frolicking in the distance.
"Frey! What are you still doing there? Co back, we're going ho!"
Hearing his father's call, Frey turned his horse excitedly and galloped over, his eyes shining with excitent and anticipation.
"Father, have you finished the negotiations? Is this farm really ours?"
Another hundred acres!
In just a few days, the Devor family's land was expanding at a pace visible to the naked eye!
As the future master of the Devor family, he was very satisfied with his father's performance.
Old Deng, though usually quiet, proved to be quite capable when it mattered!
Ralph laughed heartily, unable to hide the pride in his eyes, and started boasting in front of his son.
"Of course, from now on this will be our vineyard! I plan to plant it full of grapes!"
The Baroness, standing beside them, glanced at him with a smile and teased.
"Are you really willing to plant grapes here?"
Ralph replied animatedly.
"It doesn't necessarily have to be grapes. It depends on what Prince Colin likes."
Selling directly to Prince Colin would be the best option, but it wouldn't matter if he didn't fancy this land.
He was more than willing to be neighbors with that esteed gentleman, and anyway, when the investnt of over a million gold coins ca in, the price of this land would surely soar.
At worst, he could sell it to those citizens he had driven away earlier, clearly, he wasn't the only one who wanted to be neighbors with Prince Colin.
Frey couldn't contain his joy at his father's words and couldn't help but cheer.
"Why not turn it into grassland? I could practice my horsemanship here!"
"Haha, you little rascal! You want to waste such good land on grass, you spendthrift!" Ralph teased with a laugh.
Just as the father and son were excitedly envisioning future wealth and glory, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the farm.
In the distance, clouds of dust kicked up as a convoy of carriages adorned with silver insignias rushed in.
The leading man was impeccably dressed, his expression anxious and gloomy.
It was none other than their old neighbor, Baron Wilson Lud... A vulture who would eat you alive, more tight-fisted even than the Devor family.
As soon as he reached the farm gate, he sensed sothing was off, especially when he saw the contract in Steward Ralph's hand, his face imdiately darkening.
"Ralph, you're quick to act," Wilson forced a smile, but his tone was indisputably cold, "I only heard yesterday that this farm was up for sale, and today you've already secured it?"
Ralph leisurely took the contract from the steward's hand, gave it a shake, then tossed it back to the steward, wearing a fake, proud smile.
"Mr. Lud, opportunities always belong to those with a keen eye and swift action. It's a pity you always seem one step behind."
Wilson gave him a long, hard look, neither erupting in anger nor arguing, simply stating coldly.
"Very well, Ralph, it seems you've won again. Let's hope this investnt is worth it."
Saying that, Wilson waved his hand and left with his entourage, leaving only the rolling dust in their wake.
Seine stared in astonishnt at the brief yet sharp confrontation unfolding before him, montarily speechless.
Three groups of buyers had co in one day, the first two nearly ca to blows... His farm had never been so lively!
It's a pity he didn't have his own steward, one who could promptly bring the latest newspaper from the city to the distant outskirts 50 kiloters away every breakfast and dinner ti, carefully cutting out useful information to place on his dining table or desk.
The last ti he read a newspaper was last month—the issue on Prince Colin's return to the Holy City to hold a funeral for his father.
He hadn't heard anything about the recent happenings in the White Dew District, even though he lived right there.
At this mont, he finally realized he had lost big ti.
Unfortunately, the piece of land beneath his feet no longer had anything to do with him...
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