Looking at the circle on the map, Darien asked in disbelief for a while:
"Sir Pansy, are you saying that the entire residential area in the central area is mine?"
"Yes, m'lord, as long as you sign the agreement now, these are yours."
Although Pansy liked this piece of "Queen's Bread" very much, he had not forgotten his professionalism. He took out a thick stack of parchment paper from his bag and handed it to Darien respectfully.
Darien was afraid that there was something tricky, so he asked Aelfric, who was already stunned, to help him.
"That's right, the contract is similar to what I had before."
The contract was not complicated. To put it simply, after signing the contract, as long as Darien did not do anything that harms Brindlemark and Baron Charles, then he would permanently enjoy the right to use these dwellings, including the land.
"The contract is fine, but are you sure you only want this piece of bread?"
Darien pointed to the can of beer and a few compressed biscuits.
It was only then that Pansy remembered that Darien had taken out three items, which could be put together with "Queen's Bread"—even if they weren't a treasure, they wouldn't be too bad.
"M'lord, forgive my shallow knowledge. Can you introduce these two items?"
"These are compressed biscuits. They are delicious and nutritious. One piece a day can ward off hunger. You can try it first. I don't mind."
Darien had something to say.
Pansy carefully took out a compressed biscuit, then pulled off a leftover with all his might, and put it into his mouth impatiently.
"Hmm! This smell..."
Pansy's eyes widened suddenly, his face full of shock and surprise.
"It's so fragrant! It's so crisp! It smells like fresh milk, and vanilla, honey, coarse salt..."
Looking at Pansy who had fallen into self-intoxication, if Darien hadn't eaten it himself, he might have believed it.
Wasn't it just some puffed powder with sugar, salt, oil, etc.? How could it be as good as he said?
"This must be a delicacy that only the palace can have! It's my lifetime honor to eat such a piece!"
Pansy closed his eyes and looked happy.
Pansy's exaggerated actions made Aelfric beside him a little itchy. He was also someone who once owned a biscuit.
Although he didn't keep it long, he didn't regret it. After all, real estate in Brindlemark was far more important than satisfying one's appetite.
"Sir Pansy, you can try the beer too. I believe you won't be disappointed."
Pansy opened his eyes with some reluctance, as if still immersed in the aftertaste. But when he heard Darien's words, he immediately calmed down and asked curiously:
"Is the beer in the palace different from what we commoners drink?"
He had already assumed Darien had ties to the royal family, and Darien didn't explain. He personally helped him open the can.
This novel way of opening it made both Pansy and Aelfric widen their eyes.
Ssshh—
Aelfric brought a somewhat cracked pottery bowl, but Pansy didn't care. He took the bowl and respectfully handed it to Darien.
Darien poured about a mouthful into it, then motioned for Pansy to taste it.
Beer in this world was only lightly fermented, with low alcohol content, often sour and without hops—though safer than water.
But this beer was completely different from the norm. Although Darien didn't know the specifics, he could guess that modern industry produced something far superior.
When Pansy saw this golden transparent liquid flowing out of the strange bottle, he knew immediately: this was no ordinary beer!
It didn't smell like beer—it had a faint fragrance. As someone who had grown up drinking beer like water, Pansy could clearly feel this was something else.
Gulp—
Without hesitation, Pansy drank it in one gulp.
The full aroma of barley filled his mouth. At first, a slight bitterness, then a burst of richness and sweetness. This sensation had never occurred in his decades of life.
"Cool!"
A faint pink appeared on Pansy's face. It was unclear whether it was the alcohol or sheer excitement.
"Sir Pansy, how much do you think this beer and these biscuits are worth?"
"This..."
Pansy reluctantly put down the bowl, then frowned in thought.
Representing Town Hall, he would have to turn over most of what he received. But if he gave these to the right people, he'd gain powerful allies.
For himself, obtaining the Queen's Bread was already a windfall. It wasn't just about appetite—it was a symbol of power. A noble who wasn't short on gold would pay dearly for it.
So Pansy made up his mind and said:
"M'lord, how about this? I want all three items. In return, I will divide the business district and residential district in the center of Brindlemark to you. You will have permanent rights of use, and I'll add 10 gold coins as compensation. How does that sound?"
After speaking, Pansy looked at Darien with hope, afraid he'd decline.
Darien was surprised. Though Brindlemark seemed small—more like a village to him—it housed over 1,000 people. The price of land in the center was surely high.
And Pansy added 10 gold coins!
For an average family of three, a year's expenses were about 1 gold coin. Ten gold coins was a small fortune.
And Pansy had offered gold coins, not 1,000 silver coins—a significant distinction.
Gold coins were rare. One gold = 100 silver = 10,000 copper. Most people never saw one in their lives.
Darien felt there had to be more to this. Pansy was acting far too politely and had too much authority. Could he buy the entire town if he offered a few more modern items?
Still, he didn't want to be too high-profile.
Sensing hesitation, Pansy quickly brought out another stack of thick parchment—the contract and title deed for the business district.
Then he shouted toward the door. A young man with short hair trotted over.
Pansy gave some instructions, and the young man soon returned with a small box.
He opened it with a key. Inside was a pile of glittering gold coins.
"M'lord, what do you think?"
"I have a few questions I hope Sir Pansy can answer."
Darien quickly continued before being refused.
"You sold me the residential and commercial area—what happens to the people living there now? Also, wouldn't Baron Charles object? Isn't all this under his name?"
"M'lord, rest assured. Our transaction is entirely legal. The seller is not me personally, but Town Hall and the Lord's Mansion. I don't have that much power—and I would never dare deceive a great noble. If I did, I'd be hanged!"
"As for the current residents, don't worry. They're all on lease contracts. I can terminate them anytime. By tomorrow morning, all of them will be vacated from both the residential and commercial zones."
"And Baron Charles will not trouble you. I represent his will. I am willing to vouch with my life!"
Hearing the vow, Darien thought a moment, then dipped his brush in ink. After confirming there were no tricks in the contract, he happily signed it. After all, he had spent nothing. If anything went wrong, he'd just walk away.
"You don't have to evict everyone. I can't live in all those houses. Just have them pay rent to me."
Wouldn't being a landlord in another world be a nice career?
"Of course! Thank you, M'lord, for your trust. From now on, the residential and commercial districts of Brindlemark belong to you! You may move in anytime!"
Pansy beamed with pride at his decision.
Baron Charles was dead. Without his reputation or ability, no one wanted to invest in a town without safety.
And with Brindlemark so remote, many officials were preparing to abandon it. The town might not survive winter.
To Pansy, this was a win: no cost, big gain. The only expense was 10 gold coins—but they were well worth it.
Watching Pansy leave, Darien didn't think too hard about it. He planned to pick a cleaner, larger home as his new base in this world.
Before leaving, he gave Aelfric another compressed biscuit, a gesture that deeply moved him.
...
"Looking at the map... aside from the castle, I now own half of the best part of Brindlemark. Should I rename it to Darienmark?"
Darien grinned, only half-joking.