Free Web NovelThe County Governor's council meeting had just concluded, and the cold wind had not yet fully dispelled the lingering warmth in the room.
A timid figure quietly appeared at the study door.
It was Lady Grant.
She hung her head, like a withered leaf that could be blown away by the wind at any moment, hesitating for a moment in front of the heavy oak door before raising her hand and gently knocking twice.
"Lord Louis, may I—may I speak with you?" Her voice was as soft as a feather falling, with a slight tremor.
The door opened, and Louis was sitting behind his desk, reviewing documents. freewёbnoνel.com
Louis looked up at the doorway, not surprised, as his attendant had already announced her, and offered a gentle smile.
"Of course, please come in."
Lady Grant's formal dress was clearly no longer in season; the tight bodice left slightly red marks, and the sheer skirt was a bit worn.
As she walked in, she clutched a crumpled handkerchief, as if it were the only thing that could bring her calm.
She hesitated by the chair before gently sitting down, her legs together, her expression as nervous as a handmaiden newly entered into court.
Grant spoke in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something: "I truly don't know what I should do."
Then she spoke of her family's predicament, of the barren land that couldn't grow wheat, and of how she tried to manage it according to the ledgers her father left behind, yet couldn't even keep track of the most basic income and expenses.
Her voice was intermittent, her gaze unfocused, and she never once looked up at Louis.
"I tried to ask for advice from the previous liege lord and my husband's family, but no one was willing to help me.
Those men—they think I'm just a—a temporary useless person, and that territory isn't worth much either."
By the end, Grant was almost in tears, biting her lip to keep them from falling.
Louis listened quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, like a conductor controlling the entire rhythm.
When Grant finished speaking, he finally spoke, his tone steady: "I can see, My Lady. You have been working hard for your territory, but you lack direction and resources."
These words were like a drop of water falling on frozen ground in early spring, gently seeping in, yet causing her eyes to well up immediately.
"Are you willing to help me?" Grant's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, as if asking this question had exhausted all her courage.
Louis smiled, as if responding to a long-awaited plea for help: "Of course, I am willing."
Louis leaned slightly forward behind the desk, his gaze fixed on her, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ his voice devoid of any coercion, yet possessing an undeniable power.
"Do you think your territory has any resources or industries worth developing?"
Grant paused, as if something had dawned on her. She opened her mouth, intending to deny it, but then suddenly, as if making a decision, she slowly nodded.
"Actually, I've done some homework." Her voice no longer trembled, and a glimmer of uneasy light appeared in her eyes.
"I had people try several crops—we have a piece of land near the old riverbed. Although it's always been considered barren, several crops survived during trial planting."
At this point, she quietly clutched her handkerchief, but continued: "There are also foxes and minks in the mountains.
In the past, no one managed them, and no one systematically hunted them—only occasionally did hunters catch a few. The furs didn't sell for much."
She paused, seemingly recalling something, "By the stream, the ice forms late in winter, and the village elders say that water used to raise fish. Although not many—but I think, perhaps it could—."
She lowered her head as she spoke, as if afraid she had said too much, or something foolish.
"Very good."
Louis's two words were spoken softly, yet they seemed to ignite a spark in the quiet night.
He pulled out a notebook from a pile of documents, quickly jotting down the three directions she mentioned, then looked up, his gaze now holding a hint of certainty.
"Special crop cultivation, winter stream cold-water fish farming, plus small-scale fur trapping—while these three are not large-scale individually, if they can be designed and coordinated, they will form a stable, suitable small-scale integrated economic system for your territory."
He paused, then smiled gently, "And most importantly, it doesn't rely on any external noble networks."
Watching Louis so earnestly plan for her, Grant was stunned.
For years, she had grown accustomed to being ignored, excluded, and treated with cold indifference. But this man before her not only listened to her words but genuinely analyzed and planned her future.
"Are you saying I can really succeed?"
"It's not 'can you,' but 'how to succeed.'" Louis's pen shifted, drawing a few rough sketches, "The Foundation will allocate suitable seeds for you, and agricultural officials from the Red Tide Territory will be stationed there initially to assist."
"I will send a group of experienced old farmers. For furs, we will provide primary processing tools and curing facilities, and the Red Tide Territory will centrally collect them to prevent you from being undervalued by merchant caravans."
He pointed to the three points on the drawing and summarized softly: "Farming as the foundation, fish as a supplement, and furs for circulation. Steady and solid, this should be enough for your territory to thrive."
Grant at first just stared blankly at the sketch, as if she couldn't believe what she had heard.
"I—can I really do it?" Her voice trembled, as if even she couldn't believe it.
Louis, however, simply nodded, his tone gentle: "You can, but I will also send people to conduct an on-site inspection."
He paused, his voice steady and clear: "Don't worry, once conditions are confirmed, the Foundation will arrange everything.
Including seeds, technology, channels, exchange points—everything you can't handle alone, we will."
Grant's eyes widened, and she quickly bowed repeatedly, her voice choked:
"Thank you, truly. Thank you, I don't know how to—"
Her eyes were already red, and tears welled up, dampening her eyelashes.
In that moment, she was no longer the marginalized figure in noble circles who lacked even the right to speak, no longer the helpless lady who worried daily about debts and couldn't sleep at night.
For what felt like the first time, she was treated as a true noble.
Possessing land, possessing responsibility, and possessing the right to be trusted.
He quietly watched Grant, whose expression was a mix of gratitude and shame, yet his own heart remained calm.
She was indeed not strong enough, soft-natured, and had almost no governance experience.
But precisely because of this, she was the ideal template.
A low-ranking noblewoman, despised, marginalized, and deprived, yet regaining vitality with the support of the Red Tide Territory.
As long as she could stand up, even if only barely, it would be enough to sway those peripheral nobles who were still watching, those with meager family fortunes but unwilling to bow their heads.
They would begin to think:
"Perhaps—I can be like her too."
"Perhaps—I can also give up some power in exchange for a way to survive."
This was the first nail in trading resources for control.
Grant was also the first "person willing to be changed" that Louis intended to establish in this land.
