Chapter 106. Taste Test

North Gate, Lord’s Castle, Ironwood Viscounty

“Wow... that is a lot of dried Moringa,” Lana commented, strolling through the snowy courtyard of the castle.

Francesca stood leaning firmly on her cane, her golden eyes intently observing the massive spread of Moringa hanging from rows of wooden drying racks.

“Ah... Miss Lana,” Stella greeted, spotting the guest as she finished hanging a fresh bundle of smoked Moringa. Francesca turned to look. “Are you out for a walk? I thought you and Miss Motya were busy sorting documents for His Highness.”

“We just finished up, Your Ladyship,” Lana replied, walking closer to examine the extensive rows of drying stands. “So, what is going on out here?” she asked.

Francesca sighed, tapping the tip of her cane lightly against the frosty cobblestones. “I am trying to figure out a viable way to preserve the Moringa. I want to establish a method to mass produce it so it isn’t strictly an expensive luxury good anymore.”

“Will that even be possible?” Lana raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking over the racks. “I understand you want to increase the supply so the market costs drop... but smoked or dried Moringa loses its unique, rich flavor, right? Why would anyone buy it then?”

“That is exactly the dilemma,” Francesca nodded in agreement. “Salt drying, smoking, and even standard sun drying drain the natural flavor away. There is absolutely no reason why someone would buy dried Moringa at a higher price if they can just buy beef jerky or dried fish for much cheaper at that point.”

“Hmm...” Lana hummed thoughtfully, watching as Stella and a few other castle staff finished lining up the final wooden stands in the snow.

“We finished arranging them, My Lady!” Stella called out briskly, wiping her hands on her apron.

Francesca side-eyed at Lana and began explaining her setup. “I had the staff arrange the racks in a specific order. The methods that take the longest to dry the Moringa are on the right, and they are ordered by their overall shelf life toward the left. We are about to conduct a thorough taste test.”

Francesca offered a small, welcoming smile. “Would you mind joining us?” Lana nodded, returning the smile easily. “Of course, Your Ladyship. I would love to.”

That Night, The Viscount’s Bedroom, Ironwood Castle

“So... none of them were any good?” Miller murmured, gently kissing Francesca’s neck as they laid together in bed.

“Yeah... there is really no taste of the Moringa left after drying,” she replied, leaning in to kiss him back.

“It is good you ran into Miss Lana during the test, though. She used to be a fantastic cook in the Capital before she officially joined His Highness's entourage,” he added, softly caressing her side.

“She used to be a cook? Is that why she was so critical of the taste? I was just thinking that she was oddly invested in the whole subject during the test,” Francesca replied, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug.

“How did they come to meet?” she asked curiously.

Miller sighed, a heavy swallow catching in his throat before he answered. “During the war... we invaded several of the Jin Kingdom’s border villages and towns that hosted massive slave trade rings. Miss Motya and Lana were among the very first to be personally rescued by His Highness.”

As Francesca continued to linger, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, he continued. “Even after we safely sent them to the Capital to start new lives, they would always come back to visit our border camps during their breaks... It was only a matter of time before they got jealous of his constant flirting with others and confessed to him. Tsk... that womanizer.”

“Is that why he has two lovers?” Francesca mused aloud. “I only ever remember Miss Motya being present at his public appearances in my past life.”

Miller shifted, playfully pinning Francesca beneath him with a warm smile. “Well, Miss Lana doesn't really like big, crowded events.”

Francesca groaned, her hands sliding from his shoulders to the small of his back. She arched her spine, pulling him deeper, demanding more of the friction that was turning her insides. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in, refusing to let a single millimeter of space exist between them. The sound of their skin slapping together grew frantic, a raw, rhythmic thud that echoed in the room.

Miller leaned down, biting her lower lip just hard enough to draw a gasp. He shifted his hips, hitting the spot that made her shudder violently beneath him.

After a few rounds of their activities, the two of them lay side-by-side, looking up at the canopy ceiling and breathing heavily in the quiet, intimate comfort of the bed. Francesca turned her head toward him, seamlessly shifting gears. “So, what is your opinion on the rising unemployment rate?”

“Since hiring outside professionals to do anything will incur massive costs anyway thanks to the mutual trade embargo, I was thinking of setting up training camps,” Miller replied smoothly, tracing a gentle circle on her shoulder. “We can teach entirely new trade skills to the citizens who were left unemployed.”

“Hmm...” Francesca murmured thoughtfully.

Miller continued, “Since the cost of living for a commoner is significantly lower in Ironwood compared to other nearby territories, if our citizens learn these new skills, they can find high paying work outside our borders and return home with plenty of surplus Shella to spend here. That is what I was thinking.”

He is talking about purchasing power parity and outsourced labor systems... Francesca was genuinely surprised by his sharp economic foresight.

“That does sound like a brilliant idea,” she agreed aloud. “Furthermore, given Ironwood’s high safety, they won’t want to permanently relocate even after acquiring those new trades. There is no fear of them taking their newly learned skills and paying taxes to another lord after we trained them for free.”

“They pay lower taxes in Ironwood anyway, since our military mostly consists of mercenaries who are funded by the company contracts rather than civilian taxes,” Miller smiled.

He pulled her closer, wrapping her in a warm, secure hug. “Now, now. Enough talk. We have to get some actual sleep if we are going to leave for Hollowland first thing in the morning.”

“That is right... Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve,” Francesca sighed heavily. Leaning comfortably into his touch, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.