The Greatest Estate Developer - Chapter 48: How to Create Land (3)

It hurt.

Not a punch, not a kick, not a beating with a club—yet it stung, an unrelenting, searing pain.

That’s what Viscount Lacona felt.

And it was no surprise.

At this very moment, in front of over a hundred witnesses, he was being mercilessly assaulted by a barrage of facts.

“Now, let’s summarize. Viscount, you claim that the southern half of the Marez Swamp belongs solely to your domain, correct?”

“Naturally.”

“And that the southern half of the newly reclaimed Marez farmland should also belong to you?”

“That’s only logical.”

“However, there’s a major flaw in your argument.”

“A flaw?”

“Yes. The flaw lies in the fact that the Marez Swamp was abandoned land for a long time.”

“And how does that constitute a flaw?”

“Because your claim directly contradicts the land laws of the kingdom, safeguarded by His Majesty the King.”

“…What?”

The viscount faltered.

Lloyd smirked.

“According to Article 321 of the Kingdom’s Land Law, also known as the Special Provisions for the Cultivation of Wasteland…”

“Land Law? Article 321?”

“Indeed. It’s the law that governs ownership of cultivated wasteland. Shall we go over it step by step?”

“What in the world…?”

“Article 1: Purpose. The purpose of this law is to promote the cultivation of long-abandoned wasteland and establish ownership of the cultivated land.”

“Listen to me…”

“Article 2: Definition. Wasteland refers to land that has been abandoned for more than 100 years, where no one has resided for over a year, nor any cultivation activities have occurred.”

“Wait, hold on. Just let me…”

“Article 3: Eligibility. For land to be considered cultivated, it must meet the following criteria: First, the land must be developed with clear intent, capital, and manpower. Second, it must be capable of supporting permanent residence. Third, it must be suitable for long-term agricultural use. Fourth, it must yield at least one harvest of crops specified by the law.”

“Now, wait a moment…”

The viscount stammered, trying to interject.

But his feeble protests were completely drowned out by Lloyd’s steady, unyielding monologue.

“Article 4: Ownership. Once land meets all the criteria in Article 3, it is deemed the property of the developer and can be registered in the kingdom’s land registry.”

“…”

“Article 5: Kingdom Regulations. Details necessary for the implementation of this law are defined under the kingdom’s regulations. That’s all. For a replay, press 1. For customer service, there isn’t any, so please quietly accept your defeat.”

“…”

Lloyd chuckled.

The viscount was at a loss for words.

*What kind of man is this?*

He stared at Lloyd, dumbfounded.

The eldest son of Baron Frontera.

The barony’s notorious troublemaker.

He’d heard the rumors: a young man who drowned in liquor and caused havoc daily.

Rumor also had it that he had recently undergone a sudden transformation.

Because of this, the viscount had underestimated him.

Even when this so-called scoundrel stood in his way, even when Lloyd began to counter his argument, he assumed the boy’s objections would amount to nothing.

He thought he’d shut the brat up and proceed to meet the baron without much trouble.

But now, it was clear he had miscalculated.

*This guy isn’t a pushover.*

No, calling him formidable was an understatement.

If one underestimated him just because of his youth?

They’d leave empty-handed, lucky if they managed to walk away at all.

The viscount swallowed nervously.

“Does the kingdom’s land law really have such provisions? I’ve never heard of this before. But the confidence with which he speaks… It doesn’t seem like he’s bluffing. Could it be that this guy anticipated my visit and prepared for it?”

Did he research the law ahead of time?

The thought sent a chill down the viscount’s spine.

If true, Lloyd wasn’t just competent—he was terrifyingly thorough.

*Where did this kind of person even come from?*

The viscount collected his thoughts.

He couldn’t back down.

The Marez Swamp was vast.

Its southern half represented a massive opportunity—a chance to gain fertile land without spending a penny on development.

He racked his brain for a counterargument.

*Think! Find a flaw in this brat’s argument. Strike back decisively… Wait, that’s it.*

A sudden idea brightened the viscount’s expression.

With newfound confidence, he looked down at Lloyd.

“So, the kingdom’s land law, is it? Fascinating story.”

“Isn’t it? The law is always fair.”

“Indeed, it is. Fair enough to grant someone like me a reasonable opportunity, don’t you think?”

“What exactly are you getting at?”

“Well, here’s the thing. You’ve developed the Marez Swamp, but it seems you’ve overlooked an important requirement.”

“And what requirement might that be?”

“Harvesting crops. Heh heh heh!”

The viscount grinned triumphantly, like a predator who had just found a weakness in its prey.

“You yourself mentioned that for wasteland to be recognized as cultivated, it must yield at least one harvest. Have you harvested any crops yet?”

He wore the smirk of someone certain of their victory.

*I’ve won, you little brat!*

He was thrilled.

This young upstart who had dared to use the law against him—he had just found a way to shut him up using that same law.

Or so he thought, until Lloyd let out a soft chuckle.

“How amusing. Crops, you say?”

Instead of panicking, Lloyd seemed genuinely entertained, as if savoring the sight of his opponent’s desperate struggle.

With a smile, Lloyd spoke.

“As it happens, there’s something I’d like to show you. Would you kindly move your horse a little to the side?”

“…What?”

“Just two steps, please.”

“What are you…? Oh, hey!”

Before the viscount could protest further, Lloyd reached out and gently patted the white horse on the head, leading it to step aside.

The horse, snorting softly, took two steps to the side under Lloyd’s coaxing.

“Stop this nonsense!”

“Yes, yes, just a moment.”

Ignoring the viscount’s protests, Lloyd crouched down, humming a tune as he reached toward the ground.

“Good thing this is still intact. I’ve been worried since you parked your horse here. I was afraid you might step on it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Here, look closely.”

Lloyd pointed to the ground.

The viscount followed his gaze—and froze.

“Weeds?”

“Wrong. Onion.”

Lloyd grabbed a green stalk protruding from the soil and carefully dug around it.

*Pop!*

A plump, reddish-brown onion emerged from the ground.

Lloyd’s face lit up with a satisfied smile.

“Well, congratulations! You’ve just witnessed the first harvest from the Marez farmland, live. No charge for the show—I’m generous like that. And look at this, a fine bulb, wouldn’t you say?”

“…”

The viscount’s face went blank.

Lloyd dusted off the onion and held it out to him.

“Now that we’ve fulfilled the legal requirement for harvesting, everything’s in order. Care to take this as a souvenir for your long journey? It feels impolite to send you off empty-handed.”

“…”

The viscount didn’t take the onion. He couldn’t.

All he could do was stare at Lloyd in disbelief.

The knights accompanying him were equally stunned, unable to even muster anger.

Lloyd smirked and tied the onion to the viscount’s saddle.

Lloyd sealed the matter as if hammering nails into a closing coffin.

“Well then, have a safe trip back. Javier?”

With a lively tone, he called for Javier.

“We have an esteemed guest here. Make sure they are escorted back properly.”

“Yes, I shall carry out your orders,” Javier replied swiftly.

Javier, the ever-perceptive silver-haired knight, stepped forward.

He knew better than anyone how meticulously Lloyd had orchestrated this situation—after all, he had been the one to grow the onions.

*Haa, growing onions wasn’t as easy as it looked.*

Javier let out a light sigh.

It had been during the early days of vertical drainage implementation. Just as he thought his role in the construction was over, Lloyd had called him.

And then, out of nowhere, Lloyd gave him a peculiar order:

“You’re going to grow onions from now on.”

At first, Javier thought it was some sort of code or metaphor, unsure if he had misunderstood Lloyd’s intentions.

But no—it turned out to be a literal order to grow onions.

It wasn’t until Lloyd handed him a hoe and fertilizer with great care that Javier understood.

Naturally, he felt resistance.

He had willingly participated in the construction work because it was for the development of the estate.

But farming onions? That was a job for farmers, not knights.

“Why would you assign me to such a task?” Javier asked, genuinely curious.

Lloyd chuckled as if it were no big deal and replied with something far more profound than expected:

“Because the onions you grow will protect the Marez farmland.”

“…”

The words carried an unmistakable weight.

Having heard such a statement, Javier couldn’t refuse the task.

Surely there must be a reason, a hidden purpose behind this odd request.

With that belief, he took up the hoe and fertilizer, planting onions in the soil.

The work was anything but easy—Javier had no experience with farming.

“I never realized how labor-intensive growing something from the ground could be,” he thought.

An orphan who had lost his parents in war at the age of five, Javier had survived thanks to the outstretched hand of Baron Frontera. Without the baron’s intervention, he would have starved to death in the streets.

In gratitude, he had devoted himself entirely to swordsmanship, vowing to become a blade that protected his lord. Farming had never been a part of his life.

The onion cultivation was a challenge that required guidance from experienced farmers. He listened to advice, endured scolding, and poured his effort into the unfamiliar task.

And today, one of those onions had indeed safeguarded the Marez farmland from the viscount.

*Did Lloyd foresee this entire scenario from the start?*

The thought gave Javier pause. The more he considered it, the more impressed he became.

But admiration would have to wait. Now was the time to match Lloyd’s bold and strategic moves with his own finesse.

“I am Javier Asrahan, knight of the Baron of Frontera. I will escort you safely back to your territory,” he declared with perfect courtesy.

He stepped forward promptly, taking control of the situation while the viscount stammered incoherently. Before the viscount could even begin to object, Javier smoothly led the group away.

“This way, please,” he said, gesturing with impeccable politeness.

“Urgh…”

Realizing the full weight of his defeat, the viscount trembled with frustration.

But it was too late.

With countless eyes and ears on him—from the barony’s engineers to the craftsmen and laborers—he had been utterly crushed by Lloyd’s unassailable logic.

If he continued to resist or show anger, it would only tarnish his own honor further.

*One solid blow,* he thought bitterly.

Gritting his teeth, the viscount shot one last glare at Lloyd before turning his horse around.

Grinding his teeth the entire way, he allowed Javier to escort him out.

As the viscount departed, the engineers and workers erupted in quiet but joyous chatter.

“Did you see that? Did you hear it?”

“Of course! Did you catch the look on Viscount Lacona’s face?”

“He was seething, totally at a loss for words. Hahaha!”

“Serves him right.”

“Seriously. Do you know how hard we worked to reclaim this place from a useless swamp?”

“Exactly. He was trying to take this land for free after all the work we put into it!”

“What a shameless guy. But Lloyd took him down brilliantly.”

“Ah, it was so satisfying to watch. My chest feels so light now.”

The workers laughed and cheered.

This land had once been a worthless swamp, abandoned and unusable.

But through their hard work—digging, sweating under the sun—they had transformed it into something valuable.

The idea of giving half of it away for free to a viscount who had done nothing angered them deeply.

That was why they had silently rooted for Lloyd during his confrontation with the viscount.

Naturally, Lloyd’s victory felt like their own.

*Our young lord is the best!*

With pride swelling in their hearts, the workers clenched their fists triumphantly.

As for Lloyd, he frowned at the attention.

“What are you all staring at? Something entertaining to see?” he snapped.

At his sharp reprimand, the workers scattered, resuming their shoveling at lightning speed as if nothing had happened.

Though Lloyd’s tone was curt, they all knew him well.

*”He always nags us to work, but he actually cares about us,”* they thought.

*”And he always ensures we have proper breaks and rewards us generously after big projects.”*
Chapter 49 : A Perfect Completion Ceremony (1)

“What’s your problem?!”

Whoosh.

Viscount Lacona swung his arm with great force. His muscular fingers gripped an onion tightly, and with a swift motion, he hurled it with all his strength.

**Thud!**

As he threw the onion, friction developed between his fingers and the vegetable, causing a thin layer of its skin to peel away, sticking to the tips of his index and middle fingers. The motion resembled that of a two-seam fastball, making the onion spin as it soared through the air, following a precise trajectory before smashing against the office wall.

**Crunch!**

The onion splattered, leaving an avant-garde mess on the wall—an unintentional artwork etched by Sir Javier Asrahan’s blood, sweat, and tears from his meticulous cultivation of the vegetable.

Viscount Lacona, however, paid no attention to this. Instead, he glared at the unfortunate administrator with a fiery gaze.

“Repeat what you just said!”

“Ah, yes, My Lord…”

The administrator hesitantly straightened the leaflet in his hand. It was a document issued by the Barony of Frontera.

“As I mentioned earlier, My Lord, the Frontera Barony has circulated these flyers promoting their policy to encourage migration to the reclaimed Maritz Wetlands. However, the details of this policy are…”

“Get to the point.”

“Ah, y-yes, My Lord.” Clearing his throat, the administrator began to read. “Residents migrating to the reclaimed lands will enjoy various benefits for three years. They will receive seeds to plant free of charge and will be exempt from all taxes. Additionally, in the event of a poor harvest, one meal per day will be provided per household.”

The administrator paused, squinting at the text.

“Furthermore, residents who migrate to Maritz will be required to stay there for the next five years, as any migration to other areas will be restricted. Um, this part is written in very small print at the bottom of the leaflet.”

**“Hah!”**

Viscount Lacona furrowed his brow deeply. Even hearing this a second time caused his blood pressure to spike.

‘What a cunning ploy.’

At first glance, the policies seemed generous, perhaps even overly so. But Lacona was no fool; the devil lay in the details—especially in the fine print.

‘They’re required to stay for five years.’

Migrants could freely come to the reclaimed land, but leaving was a different story. For at least five years, they’d be tied to the area.

And those generous benefits?

‘They’re only offered for the first three years. That’s the catch.’

For the last two years of their mandatory stay, migrants would receive no support.

‘If harvests fail repeatedly, they’ll starve.’

This was the sinister aspect of the Barony of Frontera’s migration policy—an aspect that most people wouldn’t immediately grasp.

Was the Viscount worried about the fate of these migrants?

Of course not.

What concerned him was the policy’s effect on his own standing.

‘People will only focus on the immediate benefits promised for three years. They’ll think they can tough out the final two years with the resources they’ve saved. It’s human nature.’

Even when faced with examples of others failing, people always believed they’d succeed. Lacona scowled at the cunning simplicity of the strategy.

‘The Frontera Barony knows exactly what it’s doing.’

The enticing benefits masked the heavy burden that would come later. The migrants wouldn’t realize the harsh reality until it was too late.

And by then?

‘They’ll be forced to toil relentlessly to survive.’

This was the Barony’s real objective: using the promise of short-term benefits to bind the migrants to the land, ensuring that they would pour their labor into transforming the wetlands into fertile farmland.

By the time the five-year term was up, Maritz would be a productive, thriving land.

Viscount Lacona clenched his teeth, seething with envy. Half of the reclaimed land had once been his territory.

‘I can’t let this slide.’

That land was far too valuable for him to back down now.

Determined, the Viscount bit his nails as he devised a plan. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

‘That’s it. I’ll do that.’

Turning to the administrator, he ordered, “Summon the dye workshop supervisors immediately.”

A smug grin spread across his face, a clear sign of his confidence in his new scheme.

—

Days passed, and in the meantime, Lloyd Frontera’s plans progressed steadily.

The reclamation of the Maritz Wetlands was nearing its final stages. The migration support policies were widely publicized, drawing more applicants than Lloyd had anticipated.

However, a few applicants voiced concerns—not about the end of the three-year protection period, but about something else.

“What if the water doesn’t drain properly when it rains?”

Their worries weren’t unfounded. Maritz had been a wetland for as long as anyone could remember. The area was prone to flooding due to its low-lying terrain and proximity to a river. Even though embankments and drainage systems were being built, people remained skeptical.

To address these concerns, Lloyd came up with a plan.

“Alright, everyone, line up!” Lloyd shouted cheerfully.

On that day, six screw pumps were completed, and a public demonstration was arranged.

The Baron and Baroness, the construction team, and most of the residents gathered by the embankments.

As if on cue, rain began to fall, soaking the reclaimed land almost instantly. Water flowed into the meticulously designed drainage system, gathering at the basin where a large water wheel awaited.

The water was channeled through the system efficiently, showcasing the success of the engineering effort.

The newly crafted waterwheel, its wooden structure still fresh and fragrant, began turning with a strong and steady motion. This activated the screw pumps, which worked to lift water from the drainage basin. Defying gravity, the water was transported through the drainage pipes, eventually flowing out into the river tributaries beyond the embankment.

**Shwaaa.**

The drainage pipes discharged the excess water with remarkable efficiency, quickly lowering the water levels within the embankment and the drainage basin. The entire system worked flawlessly, visibly demonstrating its effectiveness.

And then, as if on cue, the rain stopped.

Lloyd, ever the showman, took the opportunity to guide the Baron couple and the territory’s residents on a tour of the reclaimed land.

The land was barren, its soil a yellowish ochre hue. Weeds were scattered across the expanse, the only vegetation visible. Yet, for the peasants who walked the fields, this land was more than just dirt—it was a symbol of hope and prosperity.

For them, filling this empty land with thriving crops was a dream they had long desired to fulfill.

“Darling, doesn’t this land look better than we imagined?”

“I agree. The rain just poured heavily, but…”

“There’s not even a puddle left, let alone stagnant water.”

“That must be because of the drainage channels on both sides.”

“Seems so. But look at this—this soil is still moist!”

“Yes, the drains seem to remove only the excess water, leaving enough moisture in the soil.”

“Exactly. And just feel this soil. It’s so fertile.”

“You’re right. I don’t think we’ll even need manure.”

“It’s incredible. This land will grow anything we plant.”

“…”

“Darling, we can’t keep farming someone else’s land forever, can we?”

“…”

“Our children are growing up. Our eldest wants to go to school, but sending him to the city will cost money…”

“…I understand. I’ll think about it.”

The peasants, captivated by the land’s fertility and the ingenious drainage system, couldn’t help but dream. The drainage channels, meticulously designed and positioned by Lloyd, covered the reclaimed land like a spiderweb. These ensured that even during heavy rains, flooding would be impossible.

The soil, enriched by centuries of decayed organic matter from the wetland’s past, was the pinnacle of fertility. There was no need for additional manure—this land was a farmer’s paradise.

Standing amidst the excited murmurs, Lloyd seized the moment.

At the edge of the reclaimed land, he set up a neatly arranged table, complete with contracts. Greeting the gathered residents with a friendly smile, he waved them over.

“Everyone, come and take a seat! Did you enjoy your tour of the land?”

“Ah, yes, Young Master. It was wonderful.”

“What do you think of the land? Would you like some water while we talk?”

“Th-thank you, Young Master.”

“You’re welcome. It’s quite hot today, isn’t it?”

“Not really, Young Master. Actually, I didn’t feel the heat while looking around the land.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“My mind was too busy imagining all the crops I could plant here!”

“Hoho, sounds like you’re impressed with the reclaimed land.”

“Yes, Young Master, I am.”

“Then, have you considered migrating here?”

“Well, I would love to, but…”

“But?”

“I currently farm on Mr. Hans’s land, and…”

“Ah, Hans—the orchard owner?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“Are you worried he won’t let you leave?”

“Well… perhaps…”

“Don’t worry, there’s a solution for that. Have you heard about our migration policy?”

“Yes, I have, Young Master.”

“It’s officially supported by the territory. No one can stop a tenant farmer from migrating if they choose to.”

“But what about the land I’m farming now?”

“Well, you won’t be migrating tomorrow, will you? You can finish your work there first. Or do you plan to spend your whole life working someone else’s land?”

“No, of course not, Young Master.”

“Good. Then this is your chance—your opportunity to own your own land.”

“….”

“It won’t be easy, though. You’ll have to work hard for the next five years.”

“I-I know that.”

“Great. Are you ready for the challenge?”

“….”

“If not, no problem. You don’t have to do it.”

“N-no, Young Master! I want to do it.”

“Are you certain? Don’t back out later—this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

“Yes, Young Master. I’m sure.”

“Alright, then. Let’s make it official.”

Lloyd pulled out a contract from under the table, laying it before the peasant. He pointed to various sections.

“Sign here, here, and here. Just your name will do.”

“Ah… I don’t know how to write…”

“No problem. Use your thumbprint. Here, give me your hand.”

“Y-yes, Young Master.”

“Press here. Perfect. Now, one more time. Good job.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Starting next year, this plot of land will be yours to farm. Work hard!”

“I will, Young Master.”

“Great. Be safe on your way back. Next!”

As the first peasant left, others eagerly lined up to sign their contracts. Most were tenant farmers who had long yearned for land of their own.

Lloyd’s plan was a resounding success. By the end of the day, every contract for migration to Maritz had been signed.

With the completion ceremony concluded, Lloyd stood, a sly grin on his face.

—

**Ding Dong.**

[A monumental achievement in construction has been attained.]
[You have reclaimed land that had been a swamp for countless years. Through your efforts, Maritz has transformed into fertile land that promises abundant harvests.]
[Your accomplishment marks a significant milestone in civil engineering on the Loracian Continent.]
[Your achievements will be recorded in the kingdom’s architectural history.]
[A special reward will be granted for this monumental success.]
Excited by the thought of their impending bonuses, the workers cheerfully returned to their tasks.

In the remote eastern corner of the kingdom, the Frontera Barony was on the verge of completing its largest construction project to date.

Unbeknownst to most, this was only the beginning.

The reclamation marked the end of one phase. What lay ahead was a far more ambitious plan.

The time of reclamation had passed. Now, it was time for true development.

Lloyd, ever the visionary, proposed a bold initiative to the baron, who gladly approved.

The next day, the barony announced its “Marez Farmland Settlement Encouragement Policy.”

When the viscount heard of the policy, he hurled the onion he had been fiddling with across his office, smashing it against the wall.