Episode-252

Words : 1737 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

Chapter : 503 Joynab sat beside her, taking her daughter’s hand, her touch firm, reassuring. “And yet,” she prompted gently, “he is also brilliant? Unconventional? He saved your life, and the hope of your brother. He treated you not as a pretty ornament, but as an equal, a colleague whose talent he respected and challenged. And he, a man everyone dismissed as a failure, has a fire in him, a vision, that you find... compelling.” It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Faria stared at her mother, stunned. “How... how did you know all that?” Joynab’s smile was a masterpiece of maternal wisdom and political acumen. “My dear, your letters, while ostensibly about your progress with the painting, were filled with him. Every other sentence was ‘Lloyd says...’, ‘Lloyd believes...’, ‘Lloyd and I debated...’. You wrote more about the economics of soap branding than you did about your own brushstrokes. A mother learns to read between the lines.” She fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting out towards the sea. The gentle, maternal expression faded, replaced by the cool, pragmatic assessment of the Marquess-Consort, a woman who had navigated the treacherous waters of court politics her entire life. “The situation is... complicated, of course,” Joynab said, her voice becoming more thoughtful, more strategic. “He is the Ferrum heir. He is married to the Siddik girl. An alliance forged by two great houses, blessed by the King himself. It is a powerful, unshakeable bond. On the surface.” Faria winced at the mention of Rosa. The Ice Princess. The beautiful, cold, and entirely suitable, wife. A woman she could never hope to compete with, not in terms of power, or political suitability. But Joynab was not finished. She turned back to her daughter, her hazel eyes sharp, analytical. “But you are forgetting the nature of the world we live in, my love. You are thinking with the heart of an artist. You must learn to think with the mind of a Marquess’s daughter.” She paused, then delivered the statement that was so brutally, shockingly, pragmatic that it took Faria’s breath away. “For a man like Lloyd Ferrum,” Joynab stated, her voice a calm, level assessment of political reality, “a man of his rapidly ascending power, his immense future wealth, his proven, almost supernatural, brilliance... a single wife is not a political reality. It is a starting point.” She met her daughter’s shocked, disbelieving gaze without flinching. “Polygamy, my dear, is not just a possibility for a man of his stature. It is an expectation. It is a tool. A way to forge new alliances, to consolidate power, to secure his legacy with multiple heirs from multiple powerful bloodlines.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand gently. “The Siddik girl is his primary wife, yes. The one who will give him his primary heir. That is a political fact, sealed by the Arch Duke and the King. It cannot be changed. But a secondary wife? A consort? A powerful, beloved partner who holds his heart, who shares his passions, who stands beside him not as a political necessity but as a chosen companion?” Her eyes held a new, calculating gleam. “That position, my dearest Faria... that position is very much... open for applications.” Faria stared at her mother, her mind reeling. Secondary wife? A consort? The idea was... it was scandalous. It was... it was the accepted, if rarely spoken of, reality of their world. Great lords, kings, emperors—they often took multiple wives, multiple concubines, to secure their power, to ensure their lineage. It was a practice as old as the kingdoms themselves. She had just never, not once, considered it in the context of herself. “You... you are suggesting that I...?” Faria stammered, the very thought making her face flush a brilliant crimson again, but this time, it was not a blush of embarrassment, but of a new, shocking, and deeply, profoundly, unsettling possibility. “I am suggesting,” Joynab said, her voice a low, careful, strategic murmur, “that you are the daughter of House Kruts. A house that now owes Lord Ferrum an immeasurable debt. A debt he has, as yet, refused to name a price for. I am suggesting that you are a beautiful, intelligent, and powerful young woman who has clearly, undeniably, captured the fascination, the respect, and perhaps even the affection, of the single most promising young man in this entire kingdom.” She stood up, walking to the edge of the pavilion, her gaze fixed on the distant, powerful horizon. “His marriage to the Siddik girl is a cage of ice. Cold. Political. Necessary. But a man of fire, a dragon like the one he is becoming... he will not be content to live in a cage of ice forever. He will seek warmth. He will seek a fire that matches his own.” She turned back to her stunned, speechless daughter. “I am not telling you what to do, Faria. I am merely advising you to... consider the possibilities. To understand the game as it is truly played. Our house has been powerful, yes. But an alliance with this new, ascendant House Ferrum, a personal, intimate alliance, not just a political one... it would secure our future for a thousand years.” Her mother’s words, so cold, so pragmatic, so utterly, shockingly, strategic, hung in the warm, jasmine-scented air of the pavilion. She had not just acknowledged Faria’s feelings; she had reframed them, transformed them from a foolish, impossible infatuation into a potential political masterstroke. She had given her daughter not a scolding, but a strategy. Faria was left sitting on the stone bench, her heart hammering, her mind a chaotic, brilliant, terrifying storm of new, and deeply, profoundly, dangerous, possibilities. The ghost of Lloyd Ferrum was no longer just a distraction. He was now, impossibly, a destiny. Chapter : 504 The Soul Farm was a world of stark, almost beautiful simplicity. To the left, the endless, serene, and now blessedly empty, Slime Plains, their impossibly green grass still bearing the faint, ghostly scorch marks of his recent, industrial-scale harvest. To the right, a dark, jagged line on the horizon, a wall of shadow and menace: the Shadowfen Forest. Lloyd stood at the crossroads of these two realities, the clean, neutral air of the Farm a welcome respite after the complex, cloying atmosphere of politics and betrayal he had left behind in the real world. He took a deep, centering breath. The weight of his dual life, the constant, draining performance of being Lord Ferrum and Professor Ferrum, seemed to lift from his shoulders the moment he stepped through the shimmering, translucent gate into this private dimension. Here, the rules were simple. The objectives were clear. There were no hidden motives, no veiled threats, no ghosts with his dead wife’s face. There were only monsters. And a quota. His recent, brutal grind on the Slime Plains had been a resounding success. He had cleared the first foundational quest, accumulated a respectable starting balance of 200 Farming Coins, and, most importantly, had discovered the staggering, game-changing secret of the Farm’s time-dilation effect. The knowledge was a potent, intoxicating drug. Every minute he spent in the real world now felt like a wasted opportunity, a moment he could have spent here, in his private temporal accelerator, grinding, training, and exponentially widening the gap between himself and his enemies. He had returned to his suite at the Royal Palace after the harrowing encounter with Airin and the subsequent confrontation with Princess Isabella, his mind a chaotic storm. But he had not allowed himself to dwell on it. He had eaten a simple, nourishing meal brought by a silent royal servant, had endured a few hours of fitful, dream-haunted sleep, and then, at the first hint of pre-dawn light, he had retreated here. To his true work. To the grind. He looked at the new quest glowing in his System interface, a clear, direct, and wonderfully straightforward, directive. [Foundational Quest: Goblin Suppression] [Objective: A tribe of feral Goblins has established a foothold in the Shadowfen Forest. Their presence is a blight on the Farm’s integrity. Eradicate all goblin encampments and eliminate their chieftain.] Goblins. The word itself was a welcome change from the gurgling, jiggly reality of the slimes. Goblins were a proper enemy. They were cunning, they were vicious, they used weapons and tactics. They would bleed when cut. They would scream when burned. They would provide a far more satisfying, far more engaging, challenge. And, according to the System’s internal logic, a more challenging enemy meant a greater reward. More Farming Coins per kill. A more efficient path to the 500 FC he needed for his first, crucial System Upgrade. “Alright, Fang Fairy,” he murmured, his voice a low, determined hum in the stillness. “The age of jelly is over. The age of the goblin begins.” She materialized beside him, not with a flash of light, but with a silent, fluid ripple in the air, her Transcended form a stunning, ethereal presence against the stark backdrop of the Farm. Her silver-grey hair, a river of liquid moonlight, flowed around her, and her golden eyes, now holding a profound, sentient wisdom, surveyed the dark, menacing line of the forest with a calm, analytical curiosity. They are a tribal, primitive species, Master, her voice was a melodic, resonant chord in his mind, a silent, perfect communication that still sent a thrill of awe through him. Their strength is in their numbers and their low cunning. They favor ambushes, pit traps, and overwhelming their prey with sheer, vicious ferocity. They are... an upgrade from the puddles, at least. There was a faint, almost imperceptible, note of dry, divine sarcasm in her tone. Lloyd grinned. “My thoughts exactly. More challenging. More profitable. And significantly less... sticky.” He began to walk towards the forest, his stride confident, purposeful. Fang Fairy glided silently at his side, a guardian of storm and starlight. “The plan remains the same. Efficiency is key. We do not engage in prolonged, honorable duels. We engage in swift, ruthless, and overwhelming, extermination. We are not heroes, Fang Fairy. We are harvesters.” A role I am beginning to find... surprisingly cathartic, Master, she replied, a flicker of what might have been amusement in her golden eyes.

Episode-252

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