After a while, Sienna led everyone back to the castle.
The excitement from the transformed field still clung to them like the scent of fresh rain.
Even as they crossed the stone courtyard and entered the old fortress, bits of dark, fertile soil remained on their boots and hems, as if the land itself had followed them home to remind them that what had happened was not a dream.
The living room, with its cold stone walls and high narrow windows, felt different now.
It was the same room as before, with worn chairs, faded tapestries, and the faint smell of old wood and dust, yet the atmosphere had changed.
Until this morning, this room had been a place where people discussed how to survive.
Now it had become a place where they could discuss how to build a future.
Sienna personally pulled a chair out for Mirella and helped the older woman sit down.
Mirella did not refuse.
A few days ago, she might have protested, insisting that she was merely a servant and had no right to accept such treatment.
But she had begun to grow accustomed to this new Sienna, the young miss who no longer spoke like a spoiled noble child, but like the true head of House Vale.
Tiara remained standing nearby.
This time, however, she did not lower her eyes.
Her gaze rested openly on Sienna, and although she tried to appear composed, there was still a faint flush on her cheeks from what had happened in the field.
Sienna noticed it.
And because she noticed it, her own heart, which had only just begun to calm, started beating faster once more.
That brief embrace still lingered in her mind like the afterglow of lightning.
She could still feel the softness of Tiara’s arms around her, the warmth of her body, the faint scent of soap and sun-dried cloth.
For a dangerous moment, Sienna’s thoughts threatened to drift back toward that memory.
She quickly pulled herself together.
“This is not the time,” she told herself firmly.
“When the granary is empty, even the sweetest song must wait until after the harvest.”
The future of House Vale stood before her like an uncultivated field.
If she made one wrong decision, everything could collapse.
So she forced her mind back to the matter at hand.
Mirella’s eyes shone with excitement.
Without realizing it, she had already begun looking to Sienna for direction.
“Young Miss,” she asked, leaning forward slightly, her voice still trembling with the emotion of what she had just witnessed, “what should we do now?”
Sienna folded her hands and thought for a moment before answering.
“Grandma Mirella, choose some slaves who have experience farming and let them take charge of the newly improved land.
Ask them what crops are most suitable for planting here.”
She paused, then looked up.
“Also, do we have seeds?”
Mirella nodded immediately.
“Yes, we prepared many seeds before coming here.
But they are all common grains and vegetables.
At the time, we thought they might be planted in the mountain soil.
If we use such ordinary seeds on land this fertile…” She hesitated, then shook her head with a rueful smile.
“It would be like serving coarse bread on a golden plate.”
Sienna rested her chin on her fingers.
Her thoughts turned.
Then she asked, “What do we use for cooking and for heating during winter?”
Mirella answered without hesitation.
“Firewood.”
Then she sighed softly.
“Or rather, what little firewood we can gather.
We cut dead branches and dry weeds from the mountain.
If we had enough money, we could purchase magical furnaces, but House Vale cannot afford such luxuries now.”
Her words caused Sienna’s expression to grow thoughtful.
The simplest things were often the easiest to overlook.
Firewood came first.
Without fire, there was no cooked food, no warmth, no comfort, and no life.
The grandest palace could become a frozen tomb if there was nothing to burn.
Harold and Mirella had prepared countless supplies before coming to the Black Soil Wasteland, but because they had spent their lives among nobles, there were certain things they had never learned to fear.
A starving noble worries about reputation.
A starving peasant worries about whether he can light a cooking fire.
And here, in this barren land where even weeds grew reluctantly, firewood was more precious than it seemed.
*
Mirella noticed that Sienna had fallen silent.
“Young Miss,” she asked gently, “what crop do you intend to plant?”
Sienna leaned back in her chair and let her thoughts drift through the contents of the Spatial Farm.
Wheat.
Bok choy.
Radishes.
Corn.
The first three were useful.
But useful was not enough.
House Vale needed a crop that could solve more than one problem at once.
Her eyes slowly brightened.
Corn.
In her previous life, corn had been everywhere.
It yielded heavily.
It fed people.
It fed animals.
And after the ears were harvested, the dried stalks could be used as fuel.
It was like a loyal soldier who not only fought on the battlefield, but also repaired the campfires after victory.
A single crop that could provide both food and firewood.
The more she thought about it, the more suitable it seemed.
The only problem was quantity.
She only had enough corn seeds to plant two acres.
The improved land outside was ten acres.
That was like having a hungry army of ten thousand men and only enough grain to feed two thousand.
Not enough.
Not yet.
*
Sienna reviewed her current assets.
In the Spatial Farm, she possessed:
* Two hundred gold coins.
* Six bags of hay seeds.
* Two bags of bok choy seeds.
* Two bags of wheat seeds.
* Two bags of corn seeds.
* A barn full of mature radishes that could be sold for five hundred gold coins.
And, perhaps most importantly, she could now unlock two additional acres of land.
Two acres.
That was not merely land.
That was an opportunity.
But unlocking it would cost all two hundred gold coins currently in her possession.
Once spent, she would be left with nothing.
Sienna frowned.
In business, there was an old principle.
When crossing a river, one should step carefully from stone to stone.
But there were also moments when hesitation itself became a danger.
A farmer who waits too long to sow seeds will only harvest regret.
*
Mirella remained silent.
She saw the deep crease between Sienna’s brows and understood that the Young Miss was wrestling with a difficult decision.
Words would not help.
At such times, even the wisest elder could only wait and trust.
Tiara, meanwhile, continued watching Sienna.
There was something mesmerizing about her when she was thinking.
The playful and reckless air that had once surrounded Sienna was gone.
In its place was a calm confidence, like a lake whose surface appeared still even while powerful currents moved beneath.
Tiara felt her heart stir again.
*
At last, Sienna brought her hands together with a soft clap.
Her decision had been made.
“Grandma Mirella,” she said, rising to her feet, “tomorrow I will go to the improved field myself.
For now, continue organizing the slaves and choose a few experienced farmers who can work closely with me.”
She drew a breath.
“I need to rest for a while.”
Without waiting for further questions, she turned and walked out.
Mirella watched her leave.
She did not know what Sienna intended to do.
But over the past few days, the Young Miss had created miracle after miracle.
The wise do not question the sun when it rises, she thought.
They simply prepare for daylight.
So she chose to trust.
Tiara followed Mirella to help organize the slaves.
There was much work to do, and Mirella could not manage it alone.
Wood and Stone, as steadfast as two guardians carved from the castle walls themselves, followed Sienna back to her room.
Once she entered, they took up their posts outside the door without being told.
Sienna exhaled deeply.
The moment she entered the Spatial Farm, relief washed over her.
The farm appeared unchanged.
The land remained fertile.
The spring flowed as before.
The Spatial Earth and Spatial Water showed no visible depletion.
A part of her had worried that improving 5000 sq.
meters outside would consume the foundation of the farm itself.
Fortunately, the farm seemed as inexhaustible as a hidden treasure house.
“If this continues,” she murmured, “then even if the heavens close one door, this place can open ten more.”
She turned to the ripening radishes.
Their leaves rustled gently in the breeze.
There was no more time to hesitate.
She had chosen her path.
“Sell the barn radishes.”
The system responded instantly.
[Are you sure you want to sell the crops in the barn?]