Jack was just a small-time seed merchant from the south, scraping by selling grain and fruit seeds. His life wasn't wealthy, but it was enough to get by.

That changed a few months ago when he overheard fellow merchants bragging in a tavern: with the Northlands Colonization Edict issued, nobles were flooding north to settle new lands, and the demand for seeds was exploding. Supply couldn't keep up.

That tip set his heart racing. In the south, seed merchants were as common as horse dung on the road—hundreds of people fighting over a single pie. Making real money was nearly impossible.

But the Northlands? Word was the place was barren and desperate. If you could just get goods there, they'd sell.

"This is my chance to strike it rich!"

Jack poured his entire life savings into seeds, loaded up his little cart, and rushed north, dreaming of overnight wealth.

The moment he stepped into Frostspear City, his jaw dropped. "This… this is supposed to be the Northlands' biggest city?"

The streets were crumbling, with mud and slush everywhere. Passersby wore tattered clothes and tired expressions. This was nothing like the bustling commercial paradise he had imagined.

A sinking feeling hit his gut. *I'm going to lose everything.*

But he'd come all this way. He couldn't go back empty-handed. So he gritted his teeth, found an open spot on the east side of the market, and set up his modest stall.

"Are you Jack? The seed merchant?"

Before he'd even finished arranging his wares, three knights rode up to him, travel-worn, armor caked in mud, expressions urgent.

Jack's heart hammered. *How do they know my name? Has my reputation as the Seed Prince already spread from the central provinces all the way to the Northlands?!*

But customers were customers. He straightened his back and cleared his throat, ready to launch into his sales pitch. "Good sirs, what can I interest you in? I have rye, oats, wheat—"

The lead knight cut him off. "We'll take all of it."

"Wh-what?" Jack stared, certain he'd misheard.

"All of it. How much?"

Jack's brain short-circuited. *Are Northlanders this reckless with money?!*

His mind raced, calculating what his entire stock was worth. Finally, he put on a show of hesitation and held up five fingers. "Since you're buying everything… I'll give you a deal. Five Gold Coins."

Five Gold Coins! In the south, a sack of potato seeds went for two Iron Coins. His entire cart's inventory had cost less than one Gold Coin. He braced himself for haggling—ready to drop the price if needed.

"Fine."

The lead knight didn't even blink. He pulled five Gold Coins from his pouch and tossed them over. Then he and his two companions swiftly packed up every last seed and disappeared as fast as they'd come.

Jack stood there, clutching five heavy Gold Coins, utterly dumbfounded.

A cold breeze snapped him back to reality. His stall was completely empty. He frantically inspected the coins, one by one. Real. All of them. Real.

"I'M RICH!!!" he shrieked.

His entire stock, plus travel expenses, had cost less than one Gold Coin. He'd just netted four Gold Coins of pure profit—for almost no work at all.

*Is business in the Northlands really this easy?!*

Clutching his coins, Jack's mind was already furiously sketching his next move. This was only the beginning. If he went back south and hauled up hundreds of bags of seeds, he'd make hundreds of Gold Coins!

His grin stretched from ear to ear. The Northlands was a gold mine! He was going to take out a loan and become the greatest seed merchant the Northlands had ever seen.

What he didn't know, of course, was that hidden among the seeds he'd just sold were Frostblood Berry seeds—worth over a thousand Gold Coins. If he ever found out, he'd regret it so hard his guts would turn green.

As for his later story of going completely bankrupt… well, that's a tale for another time.

…

While Lambert was racing back to Crimson Tide Territory with the seeds, Louis was riding through the fields, inspecting the sowing progress.

Farmers busied themselves across the land, scattering seeds, the sound of hoes turning soil rising and falling in rhythm.

Everywhere Louis rode, the farmers paused their work and bowed respectfully. But unlike in other noble domains, there was no groveling fear in their eyes—only genuine, heartfelt respect.

The former slaves among them looked at Louis with a particularly fierce light. They craved his notice, hoping their efforts would earn them a chance at freedom.

Louis saw it all but kept his expression neutral. In his view, there wasn't much difference between slave and freeman. Both were workers for Crimson Tide Territory. And the current system motivated these people to work harder—he wasn't in a rush to change it.

When the time was right, he'd consider more measured steps toward emancipation. But for now, they needed to prove their worth.

Just then, Mick came over, leaning on his hoe, his face beaming with joy.

"My lord!" Mick wiped the sweat from his brow, his wrinkles creasing into a grin. "This fertilizer is incredible! We're going to have a fantastic harvest this year!"

Louis scanned the tilled fields. The soil was indeed moist and soft, dark in color, clearly having absorbed the nutrients well. He nodded. "What's the first crop?"

"Rye, turnips, and potatoes," Mick answered immediately. "Cold-resistant, fast-maturing. Barring any disasters, we'll see the first harvest in three months!"

Louis nodded in approval.

Rye could be ground into coarse meal. Turnips worked as both vegetables and livestock feed. And potatoes were easy to plant, easy to harvest, and stored well—the ideal emergency crop.

With geothermal support, parts of Crimson Tide Territory were better than most Northlands soil, but not all the land could support intensive agriculture. Starting with these hardy crops was the most sensible approach.

But it was nowhere near enough to satisfy Louis's ambition.

Once greenhouse cultivation was perfected, he'd grow a far wider variety of crops and solve Crimson Tide Territory's food problem entirely.

Louis stood quietly on the ridge, gazing across the fields. The dark, fertile soil gleamed faintly under the sun. Farmers wove through the rows, scattering the seeds of Crimson Tide Territory's future.

This barren, frozen land was coming to life under his design. A profound sense of accomplishment swelled in Louis's chest.