Boundless Family Upgrades For The Deadbeat Lord

Two days after the first hundred hectares entered full spring planting, Raymond returned to the agricultural maps with a problem he never expected to enjoy having.

The transformed fields were enormous compared with the original basin, yet the Tier IV Land Upgrade Card still sat untouched inside his System inventory.

Turning barren ground fertile was valuable.

Turning the wrong ground fertile and later paving a road across it would be idiotic. Now Kael’s surveys had given him enough information.

Before dawn, Raymond rode beyond the active fields alone, stopped on a ridge overlooking several valleys and plains, activated The Lord’s Eye, and opened his inventory.

[ Tier IV Land Upgrade Card ]

[ Coverage: 1,000 Hectares ]

[ Effect: Permanently upgrades designated terrain-compatible land into premium agricultural soil. ]

[ Placement Mode: Continuous / Multi-Zone ]

[ Maximum Combined Coverage: 1,000 Hectares ]

[ Irrigation, labor, seed, livestock, tools, cultivation, harvesting, storage, and transportation not included. ]

Raymond stared at the number for several seconds. ”One thousand hectares.”

Ten square kilometers. The original fifteen-hectare miracle that had saved Althoff during winter was now almost insulting by comparison. He selected Multi-Zone Placement, and the Lord’s Eye changed immediately.

Suitable terrain across the surrounding territory glowed in separate patches rather than forcing him to create one absurd rectangular farm. Raymond spent nearly an hour adjusting the boundaries according to Ormond surveys and the development maps.

He avoided future roads, settlement corridors, woodland that should remain intact, flood-prone ground, industrial expansion areas, and the routes Edric had marked for major water infrastructure.

When he finished, the thousand hectares had been divided across several agricultural zones surrounding the city’s eastern and southern approaches, close enough to roads and future processing facilities to remain practical without wrapping farmland around every direction of urban growth.

He confirmed the placement.

[ Terrain Compatibility: Excellent ]

[ Total Selected Area: 1,000 Hectares ]

[ Activate Tier IV Land Upgrade Card? ]

[ YES / NO ]

”Yes.”

There was no thunder, pillar of light, or divine spectacle announcing what happened. The transformation moved quietly across kilometers of land. Through The Lord’s Eye, Raymond watched the selected zones change one after another, their pale overlays deepening as exhausted ground became rich agricultural soil. In reality, the difference was visible wherever he looked. Dry, compacted earth darkened. Hard ground softened.

Thin grasses bent as the soil beneath them changed composition. In distant zones beyond direct sight, the Lord’s Eye confirmed the same transformation spreading until every selected hectare registered as upgraded. Raymond turned on the ridge.

One hundred hectares had looked enormous from here. One thousand was difficult to comprehend because no single glance could contain it.

He waited until the transformation ended, dismissed the System interface, and rode back before anyone came looking for him. By midmorning, word had already reached the Department of Agriculture that more land had changed.

Harlan arrived at the eastern zone with Gideon, three agricultural specialists, Kael, and several clerks carrying survey maps. He stopped his horse before reaching Raymond and simply stared.

The fertile ground continued beyond the hundred-hectare section they were already cultivating, disappeared behind a rise, then reappeared in another designated zone farther south.

Harlan dismounted without speaking. Gideon unfolded the map Kael handed him, looked at the shaded areas representing upgraded land, then checked the landscape as though the parchment might be lying.

”How much?” Harlan finally asked.

”One thousand hectares,” Raymond answered.

Harlan looked at him. Then at the map. Then back at him. ”One thousand?”

”Yes. The new land from last week was one hundred.”

”I remain capable of basic multiplication, my Lord.”

Gideon laughed, but Harlan appeared incapable of participating. He walked several paces into the soil, crouched, grabbed a handful, and rubbed it between his fingers. ”My Lord, the old Althoff couldn’t reliably feed twelve hundred people.”

”I remember.”

Harlan looked across the field again. ”What exactly are we supposed to do with all this?”

Raymond smiled. ”Not plant it all tomorrow.”

That answer saved the Department of Agriculture from making the most predictable mistake possible.

Fertile land was not food. One thousand hectares did not magically place grain inside warehouses.

Althoff had barely more than five thousand people, limited draft animals, finite seed reserves, a growing but still modest tool supply, incomplete irrigation, and hundreds of workers already committed to construction, forestry, quarrying, transport, workshops, and public works.

Trying to cultivate every hectare immediately would spread labor so thin that fields would be planted badly, watered inconsistently, harvested late, and potentially wasted. Raymond ordered Harlan to treat the upgraded territory as agricultural capacity, not an instruction to use every meter at once.

They spent the afternoon walking the nearest zone while the specialists began dividing the future agricultural system by purpose. The largest portions were reserved for grain: wheat and other staple crops capable of feeding Althoff directly while also building strategic reserves.

Better-watered areas closer to transport routes were marked for vegetables and legumes, where frequent harvesting and quicker movement to market mattered. Broad sections unsuitable for intensive cropping but excellent for grasses were reserved as livestock pasture.

Adjacent fields would grow fodder crops so expanding herds would not compete directly with people for stored grain during winter. South-facing slopes with suitable drainage were marked for future orchards.

Nobody intended to plant hundreds of fruit trees immediately, but Talia’s city plan assumed Althoff would still exist decades from now, and agriculture needed the same attitude.

The final category remained deliberately vague: specialty crops. One agricultural specialist proposed flax for textiles once acreage and labor allowed.

Another mentioned medicinal herbs, oil-producing crops, brewing grains, and higher-value produce that merchants might eventually export. Raymond liked the possibilities but refused to let enthusiasm outrun necessities. ”Food security first.

Animal feed second. Processing capacity with both. Then we start getting clever.” Harlan nodded, still staring at the map as if someone had replaced his territory while he was asleep.

Gideon began marking which zones could enter production this year, which should remain prepared but uncultivated, and which required irrigation or road access before serious use.

Edric arrived the next morning and immediately ruined everyone’s optimism with water calculations.

The nearest zones could be served by expanded channels and planned reservoirs, but the southern agricultural areas would require additional wells, pumping capacity, storage ponds, and properly graded distribution channels.

Corvin followed by pointing out that harvesting ten times more land someday meant moving ten times more produce somewhere. Roads had to reach the fields. Wagons had to exist. Draft animals had to pull them.

Grain needed drying, processing, storage, and protection from pests and moisture.

Vegetables needed faster transport. Livestock required fencing, shelters, veterinary care, winter feed, and breeding management. Orchards would take years before meaningful production. Every answer created another list.

Raymond loved it. Not because the problems were small, but because they were problems created by abundance rather than starvation.

Six months earlier, the central question had been whether Althoff could produce enough food to keep twelve hundred people alive.

Now Harlan was standing over maps discussing how many hectares should remain intentionally unused because the territory lacked enough people to cultivate them efficiently. That was a problem Raymond was willing to have.

Over the following week, survey stakes spread across the new zones. The Department did not allocate permanent ownership.

As with the hundred-hectare expansion, the land remained government property while Raymond’s future lease and sale system was still being designed. Instead, Harlan issued additional seasonal cultivation rights where labor and equipment justified them.

Farming cooperatives formed around shared oxen and plows. Refugee households with agricultural experience were added to field groups. Seed inventories were counted before new acreage was approved.

The government purchased additional animals and tools where prices made sense, while local smiths received orders for more plow components, hoes, repair parts, and harness fittings.

From the ridge, the agricultural transformation became visible alongside the city. Nearer fields were already lined with spring furrows.

Beyond them, survey stakes divided future grain zones. Farther south, pasture boundaries crossed green-brown plains.

Wagons carried seed toward active fields while workers dug irrigation channels beside them. In the distance, new residential roofs rose beside the roads Raymond had watched being excavated only weeks earlier.

Harlan joined him there one evening, silent for a long time. ”Still trying to understand one thousand hectares?” Raymond asked.

Harlan shook his head. ”Trying to understand what happens when we can actually use all of it.”

Raymond looked toward Althoff. If properly cultivated, processed, stored, and transported, those fields could feed far more people than currently lived under House Althoff.

They could create reserves, support livestock, supply workshops, feed soldiers, attract settlers, and eventually produce surpluses for trade. But none of that existed yet. The land was potential.

Turning potential into food would require years of people, infrastructure, knowledge, and work.

For once, Raymond had more land than farmers. He intended to make that problem temporary.