Chapter 28: Famine

"Ah! This hammock is really uncomfortable to sleep on!" Rynar groaned as he twisted his tired waist, just waking up in the early morning. 

"Come on, I can't believe I'm so young and feeling this worn out... " With no one around, Rynar began to contemplate the happiness of his later years.

"Lord, it's time for breakfast!" Caslow suddenly pushed the door open, the creaky wooden door groaning under the strain.

"Just put it on the table!" Rynar casually replied, glancing at the table still showing fresh-cut marks.

"Very well, enjoy your meal, Lord." Caslow respectfully placed the breakfast on the table and then stepped back out.

"Hmm, not bad at all, quite exquisite!" Rynar remarked, eyeing the breakfast in front of him—a bowl of oatmeal, three slices of white bread, and two palm-sized grilled fish. 

He couldn't help but be surprised. Were these old men really this skilled? Their cooking could only be described as edible but unremarkable…

Thinking about this, Rynar pushed the door open, only for it to crash down with a loud bang. 

The door finally gave way, and he winced, helplessly ordering the two knights standing guard to clean it up.

"Caslow, who made today's breakfast?" Rynar curiously asked the knight who was devouring his meal.

"Um... it was the wife of that group of refugees who arrived yesterday. After all, we're not exactly cooking experts, and Aivy is someone who can only eat! Not very womanly at all," Caslow muttered.

As he spoke, Rynar noticed the black bread and water pouch in Caslow's hands and frowned. "Is this what you're eating?"

Rynar was taken aback, unable to believe that the noble Dragon Knight had resorted to eating black bread. He felt a surge of anger. 

How could these commoners feed the soldiers protecting them such poor food? Rynar quickened his pace toward the refugees' home from the day before.

At that moment, one family was busy preparing breakfast for the soldiers. They carefully mixed the ground flour with bran to bake black bread, distributing it to the already famished soldiers. 

Nearby, a large pot simmered with mushroom and wild vegetable soup. 

The family's wife diligently served a bowl to each soldier on guard, while several young children looked on longingly, their bright eyes fixated on the steaming bread and soup, but they remained huddled behind their parents, trying to absorb the enticing aroma.

"Time to eat!" the mother smiled as she served the children their breakfast—a bowl of thin porridge mixed with bran, vegetable roots, and a small amount of grain.

The children rushed over, eagerly devouring their portions, finding the hard-to-swallow bran and roots tasting like rare delicacies in their mouths.

Rynar, who had just leaned in, was met with this heartbreaking scene. 

His anger dissipated instantly as he glanced at the bowls behind the couple, which contained the food they had saved for themselves—a thin broth with a few vegetable leaves floating in it.

Helplessly, Rynar looked at everything before him, unable to understand why it had come to this. Behind him, Caslow, now aware of the situation, quickly pulled Rynar aside.

"Lord, our food supplies are running low; we have to conserve what little we have..." Caslow explained quietly.

"I just want to know why the people under my rule are eating scraps! Why are my soldiers gnawing on black bread?" Rynar's voice was low but filled with rage.

"It's winter now! We have no supplies..." Caslow hung his head, saddened. 

This was the sorrow of a force without foundation… 

A harsh winter could spell disaster. 

Besides the food rewards he had received from the system, he had no other means to replenish supplies, leading to the greatest crisis facing Riverguard—famine!

Rynar rubbed his nose helplessly; all his lofty ambitions crumbled into dust. How could he hope to restore the glory of Zaltarion when he couldn't even survive this winter?

"Let's organize some archers to go hunting!" Rynar decided to rely on hunting to solve the immediate problem.

"Reynard has already taken some men out! This place is a wasteland… there won't be much," Caslow said, reluctantly pouring cold water on his hopes.

"Didn't we organize anyone to fish? The River Running is less than two kilometers away! There are plenty of fish we can eat!" Rynar asked again.

"We have no fishing boats or nets... Fishing with a rod is just a matter of luck; the yield would be laughable..." Caslow explained.

Suddenly, the air grew silent, and Rynar and Caslow exchanged bewildered glances.

"Wait! What did you say we were missing?" Rynar's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Fishing boats and nets!" Caslow repeated, confused.

"Hahaha! Problem solved!" Rynar burst into laughter.

Caslow was startled, thinking his lord had gone mad.

"We have boats! Did you forget about the galleons we used to sail to Long-Lake?" Rynar felt his previous decision to keep those ships was incredibly wise.

"What about the nets?" Caslow quickly followed up. Even if they had boats, without nets, how could they catch fish?

"Why not check the ruins of Long-Lake? There were plenty of fishing boats left behind by the archers when they fled! 

There must be a full set of fishing gear there. You can fly along the lake on your dragon and take a good look!" Rynar eagerly suggested a plan.

"You're right! Lord, you truly are wise!" Caslow ran off to an open space to summon his dragon, soaring into the sky.

"Come here!" Rynar called out.

"Lord!" A few patrolling knights hurried over at his command, as the skilled archers had all gone hunting.

"Gather the idle knights! We're going fishing by the river!" Rynar ordered.

After assembling a group of knights, Rynar headed straight for Radir's house.

"Radir, we need to solve the food shortage in the city, keep an eye on things here," Rynar instructed.

"Hahaha, Your Majesty, go ahead and don't worry. As long as this old bone of mine is still alive, Riverguard will remain safe," Radir assured him with a smile.

...

"Boom!" The heavy dragon body thudded against the grassy bank of the river, producing a dull sound.

Seeing the bundles on the dragon's back, Rynar couldn't help but smile; it seemed Caslow had done well, with a glimpse of dried fish peeking out from one of the bags.

"How did it go, Caslow?" Rynar asked about his findings.

"An abundant harvest! I thought they had taken everything with them before we drove them off, but it seems they left quite a bit behind!" Caslow beamed, showing off his spoils.

"How many fishing nets did you find?" Rynar inquired about his most pressing concern.

"Oh! The fishing nets! There are 17 of them here! Plus 8 damaged ones, which can be repaired later," Caslow replied, untying the nets from the dragon's back. 

The young wind dragon let out an impatient huff, clearly unhappy about being used to carry cargo.

"Hahaha! Soldiers! We're going fishing!" Rynar joyfully announced as he released the galleon ship from the system's storage.

...

By evening, watching everyone gathered around the campfire roasting the plump white fish, Rynar smiled happily, fulfilling his duty as a lord and ensuring his subjects were well-fed. 

However, as he looked at the joyful, beaming faces of the townsfolk, a pang of sadness struck him. 

The arms holding the roasted fish were merely clad in a single layer of linen cloth, shivering in the cold evening breeze…

"Lord, another 11 refugees have arrived today; they are three families..." Aivy, who had stayed in the city, informed Rynar about the new arrivals.

"It looks like I need to make a trip to Erebor..." Rynar sighed, looking at the similarly scantily clad new subjects.

"Caslow, accompany me to Erebor tomorrow. Reynard, you lead the others to continue fishing!" 

After giving everyone their orders, Rynar turned and left, not wanting to witness the heart-wrenching scene.

"System! You really are a piece of trash! You can't even spare a few extra clothes for the refugees!" Rynar silently cursed the system in his heart.