"Your Highness, you’ve just recovered from a serious illness; you should be resting in bed."

An urgent set of footsteps approached. Simon looked up to see an elderly man with a round face and large ears, dressed in a grey round-collared robe, hurrying toward him. The man bowed deeply before speaking.

This was Roland Shephard, the steward of the prince’s residence. In reality, he managed nearly all affairs within the castle.

Simon trusted Roland completely. Before he was sent to his domain, Roland had been Consort Isolde’s most trusted guard. She had sent him to accompany Simon so he would have someone reliable by his side.

"It’s fine, I’m fine." Simon waved a hand dismissively. "Prepare a carriage. I want to take a trip into the city."

"This..." Roland hesitated but knew that his master had always been stubborn and temperamental. Not daring to disobey, he called for servants to ready the carriage.

At the main gate of the castle, a somewhat worn-out carriage was already waiting. The carriage was small, little more than a wooden box on wheels.

It was embarrassingly shabby for a prince of his status, but Simon understood. This was the best the castle’s finances could afford.

His domain consisted of six provinces: Brambleford, where the Grand Governor’s Office was located, Oakridge and Ashenford – on the eastern peninsula, Greybrook – to the south, Dunmere – to the north, West Hollow – to the west.

On paper, six provinces seemed like a lot, but in reality, his territory was quite small. For comparison, the Fifth Prince, Edmund Ashbourne, governed sixteen villages in Sylvaris. Simon was practically a poor farmer in comparison. To make things worse, none of his six provinces was wealthy.

According to the Eldorian Empire’s classification, Upper Provinces were equivalent to modern-day direct-controlled municipalities, Middle Provinces were like regional cities, and Lower Provinces were like county-level towns.

Of his six provinces, only Brambleford was considered a ’Middle Province’; the rest were all ’Lower Provinces.’

The situation in Dunmere was particularly dire. Every year, Reavers from the northern grasslands raided the land.

Three years ago, their cavalry had pillaged all the way to Ashenford before finally retreating.

With peasants too poor and fearful to farm, tax revenue was abysmal.

Yet, Simon still had an army and government officials to support. His domain’s financial situation was bleak.

Even the previous Simon, despite being reckless, understood the struggles of his domain.

If not for the occasional silver sent by Consort Isolde, he would have starved long ago.

As the carriage left the prince’s residence, it travelled slowly along the streets of Brambleford. Simon lifted the curtain, carefully observing his domain.

The city spanned 10 km north to south and 10 km east to west. It had four city gates and was divided into 36 residential districts.

On both the east and west sides, there were two marketplaces: East Market and West Market.

The residential districts resembled modern housing districts; each district was enclosed by a wall, with houses scattered inside, all uniform in size, resembling a grid of building blocks.

As his carriage passed one of the residential districts, three young men basking in the sun suddenly bolted, disappearing inside.

"Prince Simon is coming! Run! Run!"

Simon bitterly smiled. Clearly, these were people who had been bullied by his past self.

However, his focus was not on their fear but on their tattered, patchwork clothing. From the perspective of a modern man, these commoners looked no different from beggars.

Reaching East Market, Simon stepped out of the carriage and strolled into the bazaar. Roland hurried after him, his eyes constantly scanning for potential dangers.

The East Market and West Market were equivalent to modern-day farmers’ markets. Yet, as Simon walked through East Market, he found very few goods for sale.

Most stalls only had wheat, soybeans, millet, clay pots, fabric, and woven baskets. Compared to the bustling markets of Eldora, this was pitifully underwhelming.

After browsing the East Market, Simon visited the West Market, which was no different. Overall, Brambleford City was economically devastated.

And this was supposed to be the wealthiest city in his entire domain.

After spending the entire morning touring the city, Simon’s stomach growled.

It was time to return for lunch.

"Your Highness, this humble servant personally prepared vinegar-fried celery and steamed white bread for you!"

After starving all morning, Simon finally had a meal. According to his inherited memories, this was considered a luxurious meal.

Roland rubbed his hands eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at the food hungrily. This was the reality of his domain. Severe material shortages.

It wasn’t a matter of money; even if he had silver, there was nothing to buy. Just being able to eat a full meal was already a blessing. Eating this kind of meal once in a while was tolerable, but having it every day was unbearable.

Despite his title as a prince, his standard of living was worse than that of a modern wage slave.

If he were hungry, he could only eat boiled amaranth or boiled spinach. There was no cooking oil for stir-frying.

The vinegar-fried celery today was a rare treat, which explained why Roland had proudly presented it like a treasure.

"How rare, how rare." Simon forced a smile, taking a bite of the steamed bread and celery with tears in his eyes.

Back in the modern world, vinegar-fried celery was his most hated dish. Now, it had become a luxury.

He had thought being transmigrated meant enjoying a good life, but even a landlord’s house had no surplus grain.

Over the next three days, Simon visited several county towns near Brambleford. What he saw was even worse; most towns were just mud-brick walls enclosing a few straw huts.

The peasants were barely surviving, and hunger was rampant. Compared to them, he was already living in luxury, eating steamed bread.

Along the roads, he often saw villagers digging wild vegetables to stave off hunger. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

In one night, he had arrived in the Eldorian Empire with no grand ambitions. But seeing his domain in such a sorry state, even worse than modern slums, was infuriating.

Back in school, his favourite games were territory-building simulations; watching a barren land develop into a thriving city was immensely satisfying.

Now, he had a real domain, and it was in shambles. How could he tolerate this?

Besides, the local noble families ran unchecked, and northern Reavers constantly threatened the land.

Kicking out the reavers was impossible for now, but developing his land, fortifying cities, training soldiers, and making the people prosper, he could do.

If not for defeating the noble families, then at least for a steady supply of eggs and occasional grilled meat.

Otherwise, what was the point of being transmigrated if he was just here to suffer?

His first challenge was clear. Agriculture.

If the peasants stopped working for the aristocrats, they could weaken noble power and rally behind him.