"I want twenty of these snakes," Luciel said casually, as if discussing the weather.
In truth, he only needed a few. A single beast species could only be domesticated once—if it were otherwise, he would've already turned a dozen rock tortoises into a living, mobile fortress by now.
The remaining nineteen snakes were meant for something else entirely: his future forests. To restore a living ecosystem, trees alone weren't enough—animals were indispensable.
Waldo frowned. "Only twenty?" He had expected far more.
He raised hundreds of the little white snakes himself, feeding them fresh meat daily. They were rare, delicate creatures, his pride and livelihood. Most of the time, he traded them to other landlords for supplies.
"I'm collecting animals," Luciel explained evenly, "to enrich the variety in my plantation."
"Ah." Waldo's expression softened with understanding. "Then what do you plan to trade for them?"
