Is my demand too high?

Or did I or my brother make a mistake from the very beginning? Or perhaps there is actually a better way…

I hope your wisdom can give me an answer, and it would be even better if you can tell me what to do next.

Sorry, I have only you to rely on.

Thank you for listening to my many complaints, writing to you is my only remaining comfort.

—Your admirer, Erin Campbell.

]

...

[Dear Princess Erin Campbell,

I have returned safely to my homeland and received your letter. Your kindness and tenderness, as well as your care for the citizens of the Duchy, moved me. I wish I could return to your side immediately to comfort you.

Caring for the citizens is the duty of the Royal Family. I wholeheartedly agree with your view, which is not only the teaching of Saint Sith to the first kings in the Holy Word Book, but also the ancestral instruction of the Colin family.

However, I do not believe your brother is wrong.

As a king, he needs to focus not on whether an individual citizen of the Campbell Duchy is happy, but on making the Campbell Duchy more prosperous, which is also not disappointing the sacrifices made by the previous king.

Likewise, you are not wrong either; it's just that you are in different positions and see different landscapes.

The Campbell Duchy is becoming wealthy, with the industrial tide in full swing, the ports growing busier, people's wallets bulging, and the Royal Family's lands becoming more valuable... these are facts visible to the naked eye. And what you see in the refugee camp is also true, for where in this world exists a machine that does not need fuel?

I, like you, sympathize with their plight. I do not wish to call them fuel, but in fact, they have indeed burned something for the Campbell Duchy, such as life, tradition, dreams, and even youth and soul.

This process will be painful, but the result will certainly be happy. I believe that Grand Duke Edward and the nobles he leads will have a satisfied day, and by that time they will certainly voluntarily share some of their wealth with those poor people.

When those farmers who have lost their land grow old and see their children not having to toil like themselves for the nobles but live dignified lives like the citizens of Thunder City, embracing the morning sun at eight, enjoying a relaxing cup of tea at noon, and returning home before sunset to be with their family.

By then, I believe they will surely be grateful for today's hardships, for they have not burned themselves in vain. Thanks to their contributions, their children will be so happy.

Please understand your brother.

On a happier note, thanks to your and His Majesty's support, the Colin Duchy is opening new territories.

Meanwhile, we have discovered something called fertilizer, which can increase land productivity. Combined with the Imperial steam engines and advanced cultivation tools, I will do my best to help you cope with the impact of reduced farmland on the Campbell Duchy.

—Your loyal, Roxey Colin.

]

(Note on the memo: Please pass this letter to Princess Erin Campbell for me after a month.)

...

The dawn sunlight spilled across the horizon, with the farmland outside Silver Pine Town shrouded in a thin mist.

The fragrance of the soil permeated the moist air, yet the tenant farmers familiar with all this had no time to enjoy this moment of tranquility.

A week had passed since Baron Ges issued the eviction order, yet the progress of the relocation was not smooth.

Almost no tenant farmers cooperated voluntarily with the relocation; they intentionally delayed time or even carried out acts of revenge.

The fence recently built by the baron's hired craftsmen was torn down by them under the dark cover of night.

Aside from these fierce acts of resistance, there were also some relatively mild "protests."

Some hopeful individuals secretly sowed hidden seeds, unwilling to miss the spring plowing opportunity.

These lands were cultivated by their ancestors' own hands, perhaps using rudimentary stone tools.

The nobles have their ancestral instructions, and these farmers also have their traditions, just without surnames or genealogies.

They believe that once lush green wheat seedlings cover the fertile land, Lord Ges, for the sake of money, would also postpone the relocation for another year.

However, they did not know that their moderate or fierce resistance had completely enraged the self-perceived benevolent Lord Ges.

Especially when other nobles intentionally or unintentionally mocked Baron Ges' inefficiency, the matter escalated to the level of noble honor, forcing him to take action for the sake of his reputation.

"This is quite troubling, who would have thought that clown would go all out."

Atop the town's watchtower, Sheriff Adela squinted through the telescope, peering at the mist's edge, with a cold smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Beyond the thin mist, two orderly lines of soldiers advanced along the muddy path.

They wore light armor, their spears reflecting the morning light, their eyes as cold as winter.

Although Baron Ges' manor housed a few Fine Steel Level masters, they were good at dueling rather than real battlefield prowess.

These individuals were clearly not house servants from the manor but mercenaries who worked for money.

"Shield Dropper" Hephael stood trembling beside Adela, his legs shaking, his face etched with fear.

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