Chapter 401 - 275: Multi-pronged Attack

Exhausted after a long day, Claude dragged his weary body and pushed open the door to Henry's study, a thick stack of contracts in his hands.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Henry sitting at his desk with a fragrant roasted chicken set before him.

Henry was enthusiastically tearing into the chicken. He only looked up when he heard the door open, his mouth still full. "Ah, Claude," he mumbled indistinctly, "you're finally back!

I just finished up myself. There's just been so much to do every single day, I'm so tired I can barely stand up straight. Once we're through this busy spell, everyone needs to take a good, long rest. Otherwise, we're all going to collapse."

As he spoke, Henry wiped his mouth carelessly with his sleeve, a smudge of grease still visible at the corner of his lips.

He continued to complain to himself, all the while awkwardly glancing at Claude's expression out of the corner of his eye.

Claude couldn't help but chuckle at Henry's disheveled state, but he quickly composed himself and resumed his serious expression.

The two were so familiar with each other. In Henry's eyes, what was the difference between Claude and Fu? It was like watching a child feast away while an elder is bone-tired from work—wouldn't you feel mortified?

Claude slowly placed the thick stack of contracts on the desk, careful not to stir up any dust that might settle on the food.

The pile of documents was so high it nearly reached Henry's chin, a testament to the sheer intensity of Claude's work that day.

For Claude, such an intense workload—especially since it involved signing a large number of profitable partnership deals—was a kind of bittersweet exhaustion. He naturally wanted nothing more than for Henry to prosper.

Claude looked up, about to speak, but was instantly captivated by the aroma of the roasted chicken.

The scent of the roasted chicken filled the room—a rich, savory aroma of sauce blended with perfectly cooked meat that went straight to his nostrils.

Good heavens, how could anyone who had been run off their feet all day resist drooling at the smell of food? Claude's stomach let out a traitorous GROWL. His eyes were glued to the roasted chicken, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his throat bobbed as he fought the urge to pounce on it.

Henry finally noticed Claude's strange behavior. Following his gaze, he saw the roasted chicken in front of him.

He let out a hearty laugh and patted the chair beside him. "Claude, you must be starving after working all day. Come on, eat something first. We can talk business after you've filled your stomach."

Claude's eyes lit up at Henry's invitation, and he sat down almost impatiently.

Henry handed him a clean plate. He picked up a knife and fork, expertly carved off a piece of chicken, and gently placed it on Claude's plate. Then he casually poured a glass of deep red wine and passed it to him.

Claude didn't hold back. He picked up his knife and fork and began to eat with large, hearty bites. It was as if he was trying to swallow the day's exhaustion along with his meal.

The chicken skin was roasted to a perfect crisp, while the meat inside was tender and juicy. The sauce burst with flavor in his mouth, and every bite seemed to inject new energy into his weary body and soul.

He ate and drank in large gulps, the rich wine sliding down his throat and mingling with the flavor of the chicken. He couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum.

In no time, Claude had devoured the chicken on his plate, leaving behind nothing but a few bare bones.

He set down his knife and fork, picked up his wine glass, and drained it in one go, as if to trap every last trace of flavor in his stomach.

As the food settled in his stomach, a warmth began to radiate from it. The heat, like the midday sun, slowly spread from his core throughout his entire body.

Claude leaned back comfortably in his chair and closed his eyes, savoring the long-awaited feeling of satisfaction.

'If I could just have a good soak in a hot bath tonight and then fall into a soft bed for a deep sleep, that would be absolute bliss,' he thought, a contented smile creeping onto his lips.

Just as Claude was about to drift further into his fantasy, he caught sight of Henry out of the corner of his eye. The lord was casually flipping through the contracts, his fingers sliding absently across the pages, his brow slightly furrowed in thought.

Claude was instantly pulled back to reality. He shot upright in his seat, the contented smile vanishing from his face to be replaced by a serious, focused expression.

This was his nature: work was work, and life was life. As soon as it was time to work, he became the diligent and conscientious Minister of State Affairs.

He cleared his throat, his gaze falling upon the tall stack of documents. Those papers represented the wealth Henry was about to acquire.

Claude stood and moved to Henry's side. He gently picked up the top contract, opened it to the first page, and pointed a finger at the paper. "My lord," he said, "these trade contracts are no simple matter. After careful planning and negotiation, our profit margins are exceptionally high."

Henry looked up, his gaze focused on Claude, and gestured for him to continue.

Claude took a deep breath and began to explain in detail. "First, these contracts are primarily divided into three categories: agricultural trade, handicraft exports, and the mining and sale of mineral resources."

He gestured with his hands as he spoke, painting a blueprint of their trade operations in both their minds.

"The agricultural trade is primarily with several neighboring fiefdoms. We're trading our fief's abundant grain and fruit for their resources, such as cloth, ironware, and lumber.