Aelfric didn't expect that he would be able to see Darien, a good-natured nobleman, again, in the new house he just bought.
It was a coincidence that Darien met Aelfric's son Bart on the street, the thin young man who had led the carriage.
Hearing that the nobleman was looking for his father, Aelfric, Bart didn't dare to neglect, and hurriedly brought Darien to their new home.
Bart was very grateful to Darien. If he hadn't given his father a piece of "noble food," their family would not have owned a property within Brindlemark.
Although this house was not much bigger than the previous one outside the town, its significance was entirely different—it represented status and social standing.
From now on, they were town folk.
After Darien informed him of his reason for coming, Aelfric quickly put down his work and gave Darien a suggestion seriously.
"M'lord, if you are willing to give those greedy merchants some sweetness, they will gladly sell you a nice dwelling."
Then Aelfric explained, a little embarrassed. He had sold the biscuits given by Darien to a Brindlemark merchant, and exchanged them for this rather good property.
To be honest, Aelfric had no real understanding of what Darien meant by a place that was clean, tidy, and had no peculiar smell—he had never seen such a place.
Especially a house that didn't share its roof with livestock. He couldn't think of anywhere besides the castle that didn't keep animals.
He even imagined that more than half the castle might be livestock—if he were the baron, he'd have ten cows, ten horses, and thirty sheep inside!
However, although he couldn't comprehend it, that didn't stop Aelfric from offering ideas. The easiest way was to buy a property.
Darien could hire someone to decorate the house however he liked.
Darien was taken aback by Aelfric's words—they sounded quite reasonable.
Before, his thinking hadn't shifted; he was still stuck in his old worldview. But now he realized: in this world, in Brindlemark, with the contents of his backpack, he was already a rich man.
He could absolutely afford a house.
"That's a good idea, but I'm not very familiar with this place..."
"M'lord, you can completely entrust me with the task—I won't disappoint you!" Aelfric knew this was his chance to shine. He immediately gave his word.
Darien had been waiting for just this. He thought of Aelfric '60-square-meter house for a single biscuit' deal, and after a moment of consideration, he said:
"Alright, I'm happy to leave it to you. But I have one requirement. The house must be clean and tidy, with no foul smell. As for the location, it doesn't matter, but if it's far from the crowds, it must still be within Brindlemark's protection. That's priority number one. Ideally, it should be a place that hasn't been lived in for a long time—without much 'dirt' left in it. And most importantly... it needs to be big. The bigger, the better."
As Darien spoke, Aelfric's mouth slowly dropped open in astonishment.
Seeing Aelfric gradually freeze up, Darien quickly gave up.
"Never mind, forget what I said earlier. Just the last part: the bigger the better."
Now Aelfric understood and immediately patted his chest, promising that he would complete the task before dark.
Darien's thinking was simple: as long as his house was big enough, no stench could creep within!"
Worst-case scenario, he could just hire more people to clean it. He could afford it now.
Aelfric did not disappoint Darien, though the man he brought with him did surprise him.
"Greetings, m'lord! I go by Pansy, and I manage the affairs of Brindlemark's Town Hall."
The visitor was a massive middle-aged man, like a moving mountain. As he trotted over, Darien felt the ground shake.
His face was as bloated as his body. Darien had to squint to find the man's eyes among the folds.
Seeing him frantically wiping away sweat, Darien almost felt bad that the man had run to meet him.
This was the first time Darien had seen such a fat person in Brindlemark.
So much for "people in other worlds live in hardship"—clearly, some were living quite well.
"Greetings, Sir Pansy," Darien greeted politely.
Through the introductions, Darien learned that Pansy was not the big merchant Aelfric had mentioned, but a representative from Brindlemark's Town Hall—in short, an official.
Pansy didn't waste words. After expressing admiration for Darien, he pulled out a sheepskin scroll and unrolled it.
"I understand your needs. There are still many tradable properties in Brindlemark. Take a look at this map—if something suits you, you can decide today."
At first glance, Pansy knew this was going to be a big transaction.
From Darien's clothing, skin, and demeanor, he was clearly nobility—perhaps even more refined than Baron Charles. Pansy had never seen such fine fabric or delicate features, not even on the baron. This man was no ordinary visitor.
Darien was tall, with finely chiseled features and a commanding presence. His looks were remarkable by any measure.
Darien looked down at the hand-drawn map. The entire barony of Brindlemark was roughly circular, with the castle at its center, and districts radiating outward. Churches, squares, workshops, docks, markets, and residences were all present. Though small by his previous-world standards, the barony was compact and complete—like a miniature civilization.
Of course, it would all be better if sanitation wasn't a disaster.
Based on the map's markings, it was clear that property values dropped the farther from the center one went. The core was the most expensive.
Darien thought for a moment, then took several items from his backpack and laid them before Pansy.
"Sir Pansy, how many gold coins would these be worth? Or rather, what kind of property could I exchange them for?"
Darien didn't have any gold coins, but his backpack was still full of travel-prepped food. Based on Aelfric's trade of one biscuit for a house, he figured these would fetch a good price.
Pansy's squinting eyes widened as he saw the items, and Darien thought he even saw a glint—maybe it was just his imagination.
There were three items: four paper-wrapped compressed biscuits, a can of beer, and an entire loaf of pane Toscano. He had removed the packaging, but even if he hadn't, the difference in writing would've made it hard to trace.
When he saw the biscuits and beer, Pansy remained composed—part of doing business was hiding one's emotions.
But when he laid eyes on the loaf of pane Toscano, Pansy's mask shattered. His hands trembled.
"m'lord… may I examine this bread more closely?"
"Of course," Darien said, curious. Judging from Pansy's reaction, had he seen something like this before?
Pansy lifted the bread reverently, first giving it a gentle squeeze, then inhaling its sweet scent.
"Sir Pansy?"
Darien had to interrupt the man, who was practically entranced.
"M-My apologies, m'lord… I'm overwhelmed. I never imagined I'd see the legendary Queen's Bread in my lifetime!"
"Queen's Bread?" Darien blinked. This had cost him $0.69 at the supermarket. What legend?
"It's said that in the royal palace, a type of white bread is made using the finest flour—sifted by a dozen hands—mixed with eggs, milk, vanilla, and honey, then baked by the kingdom's top chefs. If anything goes wrong in the process, the whole batch is ruined. Even the king can't eat it regularly."
Pansy recited every detail he could remember.
Truth be told, he'd never tasted Queen's Bread himself. But the texture, softness, scent—it all lined up. This had to be it.
"Er… So what kind of property would this bread be worth?" Darien asked. That was the real question.
"Are you sure you want to trade it?" Pansy asked cautiously. In his mind, Darien had to be a prince or high noble to possess such a thing.
"Absolutely," Darien nodded.
With that, Pansy lit up like a sun. He whipped out a quill, circled a section of the map, and declared:
"M'lord, as of today, the entire central residential district of Brindlemark—is yours!"
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🔍 Did you know?
- In medieval times, white bread was considered a luxury, often reserved for royalty and the wealthy. A single loaf could be more valuable than everyday goods—sometimes even worth trading for property!
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