Chapter 396 - 385: French... Fries?

Chapter 396: Chapter 385: French... Fries?

Ola’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

He stared at Velin, his eyes filled with a uniquely Dwarven sort of bewilderment.

"Tame?"

Ola repeated the word. He suspected the sea breeze must have damaged his hearing.

"My Lord, could you say that again? You mean... tame that flock of Level 4 Magical Beasts?"

"To be more precise, we’ll establish a cooperative relationship," Velin corrected.

Ola’s great, reddish-brown beard trembled violently.

It wasn’t as if he’d never had fries before.

They were, in fact, a supreme pleasure when paired with ale.

But this was hardly the time for it!

The construction site was a wreck. A dozen workers were injured, one young man’s arm had nearly been torn off, and his blood stained half a cart wheel red.

And yet their lord—the trailblazer of the Grey Marsh Territory, the first man to be granted the title of Count in a century, the founder of the Pan-Gray Sea Alliance, Velin Klein—had just given his first order, and it was to... order takeout?

One hundred pounds of it!

"My Lord! I have absolutely no idea what you’re thinking!" Ola roared. "Those feathered fiends just attacked us! And now you want to treat them to a meal?"

He was reminded of the giant siege beasts he had faced at the sea fortress.

The Deepwater Siege Crab, another Level 4 Magical Beast, had raised a wall of water that nearly shattered Baron Kroo’s bones.

How could a few fried potatoes possibly make them submit?

"Did we kill one of their kin?" Velin countered.

"Er, no..."

"Did we destroy their nest?"

"Well, no..."

"We were merely building on their foraging grounds. They came to steal food, and they succeeded," Velin summarized. "From their perspective, it was a successful hunt. They will be back. We have three options."

He held up one finger.

"One: kill them all. The cost would be more dead and wounded soldiers, and for a long time to come, all our coastal projects and ships would face their endless retaliation."

He held up a second finger.

"Two: drive them away. This would require a permanent anti-air unit, which would be costly and not necessarily effective."

Finally, he held up a third finger.

"Three: make them understand that they can get more, and more stable, food by cooperating with us than by robbing us."

Ola listened, dumbfounded.

He was utterly unable to connect this line of reasoning with the beasts before him, creatures that only knew how to tear prey apart with their talons and beaks.

「Half an hour later」, a food delivery wagon from the town hall came racing up to Construction Site Three.

Two apprentice chefs carried down a massive wooden insulated chest wrapped in thick felt. The moment the lid was opened, an aroma so rich it was almost brutish—a blend of hot oil and salty sea air—exploded outward.

A mountain of golden, crispy fries, still steaming, was piled inside.

Forget the people; even the Worker Ants beside Ola, responsible for hauling building materials, shifted restlessly, their compound eyes swiveling as they let out low hisses.

The guards and workers at the scene were all dumbfounded.

They exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief, and finally settling into a silence tinged with a mixture of absurdity and awe. No one dared to speak, but everyone’s movements slowed as they stole glances at the chest of fries and their inscrutable lord.

Velin ignored all of it.

"Divide them onto five wooden platters," he instructed the two apprentice chefs. "Yes, use those large, shallow ones for hauling stone. Twenty pounds per platter. Set them out separately on that open ground down there."

He pointed to an open patch of sand below them. It was directly under the Big Thief Gulls’ circling flight path and offered no cover whatsoever.

"My Lord..." one of the guards couldn’t help but speak up. "Isn’t this too dangerous? If they dive..."

"Fall back fifty meters, form a defensive perimeter, and protect yourselves and the remaining supplies," Velin gave his second command. "No one is to attack without my order."

Five enormous wooden platters were placed on the sand. The golden fries glittered in the June sun, their tempting aroma drifting up to the sky on the sea breeze.

A clear commotion rippled through the flock of Big Thief Gulls in the sky.

"Kree? Kree!" (What smells so good? Boss, looks like there’s something tasty down there!)

A few young gulls let out questioning cries. They lowered their altitude, circling over the fries. The downdraft from their massive wings sent slight ripples across the sand below.

The aroma was overwhelming, far more potent than the bit of flour and salted fish they had just stolen.

Just as one daring young gull could no longer resist and tucked its wings to dive...

"GYAAAAAAR!" (Abort! You rookie! It’s a trap!)

A sharp, drawn-out cry, heavy with warning, pierced the air.

The young gull froze mid-motion. It frantically flapped its wings to regain altitude, not daring to make another move.

The flock parted, and a giant white bird of particularly majestic build slowly descended, hovering before all the others.

’This must be their leader.’

The great bird’s golden eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s. It ignored the fatally tempting fries, instead fixing its gaze on the tiny humans below, especially the one standing at the forefront.

It scrutinized the suspicious offering, full of caution.

It remembered this biped.

He was the one who brought his flock to occupy this coast.

’A trap.’

’It’s definitely a trap.’

’Bipeds were incredibly cunning. They used nets, poisoned chunks of meat, all sorts of despicable tricks to hunt his soldiers.’

Stuka let out another series of short, sharp cries.

"SKRA! SKRA! KOW!" (Maintain distance! Spread into tactical formation! Watch for ground reflections, look for archers!)

The flock of gulls immediately carried out the order. Their once-dense formation loosened, and they began observing the "dinner plates" below from various altitudes and angles.

Velin made no move to either drive them away or entice them. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

He simply retreated behind the shield wall formed by Ola and the guards, raised a spyglass, and observed them calmly.

He was muttering something under his breath.

"...Confirmed. The alpha bird has absolute authority. The calls have varying frequencies and lengths... Their level of socialization is higher than anticipated."

He even had Tristan, who was beside him, fetch a pen and paper to quickly jot down these observations.

He seemed less like a lord managing a crisis and more like a naturalist conducting fieldwork.

Beside him, Ola looked like he was about to explode from sheer anxiety.

He tightened and loosened his grip on his battle-axe over and over.

’He couldn’t understand it at all.’

’What was going on?’

’Academic research?’

’Those feathered fiends are about to crap on our heads, and you’re taking lecture notes?’

"My Lord! Do you see? They don’t dare come down! They’re mocking us!" Ola felt that his own dignity, along with that of the Count and the territory, was evaporating into thin air along with the steam from the fries.

"Quiet, Ola," Velin said without turning his head. "You’re disturbing my observations."

"I..."

Ola choked, his face turning a deep, liverish red.

A long standoff began.

The minutes ticked by. The sun slowly arced west, stretching their shadows longer and longer.

The fries on the sand gradually cooled, their aroma fading on the wind, no longer so tempting.

The workers had stopped their chatter. They simply sat numbly in the distance, watching the bizarre farce unfold.

Some even started to yawn.

An hour passed.

The flock of gulls in the sky seemed to be losing patience as well.

The gulls circled one last time. The leader, the great bird, took one last, deep look at Velin below, as if trying to etch the image of this strange biped into its memory.

Then, it let out another long, high-pitched cry.

"GYAAA-OOO-ROO!" (Mission suspended! Full retreat to headquarters! Memorize these coordinates and this scent!)

The entire flock moved as one. They stopped circling, swiftly gathered into a V-formation, changed course, and flew off toward their cliffside nests on the distant coastline.

Their injured companion was protected in the center of the formation. The entire process was orderly, without a hint of chaos.

They had abandoned the suspicious feast.

They were gone.

Gone just like that.

On the construction site, the silence was broken by a rising murmur of whispers.

"...It’s over? Just like that?"

"A hundred pounds of fries, and they just fed them to the sand?"

"Did the Lord... get it wrong this time?"

The words, carried on the wind, stabbed into Ola’s ears.

He felt everyone’s eyes on him, their gazes filled with sympathy, confusion, and even a hint of mockery.

"Dammit!"

Ola finally snapped. He slammed his battle-axe onto the ground with a dull THUD and strode toward the crowd.

Seeing the furious look on Ola’s face as he approached, the workers snapped their mouths shut and lowered their heads, not daring to make a peep.

THUMP!

Ola slammed the butt of his axe onto the ground. The dull impact made everyone’s heart skip a beat.

"Heads up, all of you!" he roared. "Did I just hear someone questioning the Lord? Saying the Lord’s plan was a mistake?"

His glare cut across each of them like a knife. No one dared to meet his gaze.

"I’m asking you!" Ola’s voice boomed. "Are those feathered fiends still in the sky? Are they still diving down to hurt people and steal things?!"

Dead silence.

"No, they’re not! Are they!" Ola answered his own question, pointing his axe at the five distant platters of cold fries. "They saw what the Lord laid out for them, and they tucked their tails and flew back to their nest! That’s what you call results! You get it?!"

He took a step forward, and the workers in the front row flinched back.

"Don’t you worry about what it was or what it was for! You just need to remember one thing!" Ola roared at the top of his lungs. "The Lord’s methods work! Now, every last one of you, get back to work! If I catch anyone else wagging their tongue, I’ll rip it out and feed it to the gulls myself!"

The workers, stunned by his crude but direct tirade, seemed to snap out of a daze. They scrambled to grab their tools and scattered like a kicked anthill. The construction site returned to its previous bustling state, perhaps with even more vigor than before.

And at that moment, Velin’s face showed not a trace of frustration or anger. On the contrary...

...he was smiling.

It wasn’t a mocking smile, nor was it a wry one born of helplessness. It was the playful smile of someone whose plan was about to come to fruition.

He had seen the flock’s final hesitation, their reluctant backward glances, and most importantly, the hidden eagerness to try within the lead bird’s seemingly decisive retreat.

The bait had been cast. The fish were wary, but they had already memorized the scent.