A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 838: The Pigs that Eat Acorns and the People that Eat Acorns

The speed of the Silver Dragon Express was indeed extraordinary.

The original plan of the council was to take an entire night to navigate the long fjord outside Nevis City and reach the open sea. Then, it would take a whole day to dock at the northern port of Eoran Island.

After that, they would take a carriage arranged by the wizard tower at the port, traveling two days by land. Changing horses along the way, with rest stops for the people but not for the carriage, speeding up the journey. It was estimated that by the morning of the third day, they would arrive at the Rosscon Territory—

Usually, mid-level wizards traveling on their own wouldn't be faster than this arrangement by the council. And dispatching an airship specifically for this task seemed unnecessary.

But Garrett directly rode the Silver Dragon! A Silver Dragon! An adult Silver Dragon! The flying speed of an adult dragon was several levels faster than the council's plan of changing boats and then carriages, with people resting while the carriage did not!

"By the way, did we forget something just now..."

Watching the beautiful figure of the Silver Dragon disappear into the clouds, Mage Norwood and Aurora stood shoulder to shoulder, mesmerized. After a while, Aurora slapped her forehead and murmured, "I feel like we forgot something..."

"Right! The review committee! Notify the review committee!" Mage Norwood came to his senses even later. Although he recovered later, his rich social experience made him realize what had happened earlier:

"The boss went there on a Silver Dragon! He will arrive tonight, at the latest by tomorrow morning! We need to notify the wizard tower over there to guide them and show them the destination!"

"Yes, we mustn't let them fly too far..."

The two hurriedly contacted Archmage Carlisle to notify the review committee, quickly spreading the news!

Don’t let the people here arrive without the other side knowing who the council sent!

Garrett arrived at the Rosscon Territory early the next morning. Indeed, most of the time was spent correcting the direction.

Landing, finding a wizard tower, asking for directions;flying a bit and feeling off, landing again, finding another wizard tower, asking for directions...

And when it was really too late, finding a place to open a [Sanctuary Hut] to sleep, and flying again the next day.

It was only possible to find the place thanks to the distinctive shape and obvious magical fluctuations of the wizard towers in this world.

The wizard tower in the Rosscon Territory had clearly received the urgent message from the council. Three bonfires were lit outside the tower, with red, blue, and white smoke rising straight up, guiding the way for the distant guests.

As Cirilla folded her wings and gradually descended, the master of the wizard tower, an 8th-level mage, was already waiting outside with four or five disciples, eagerly anticipating.

"You finally arrived!" As the wind from the dragon wings subsided, the 8th-level mage hurried forward, speaking urgently:

"Thank you for the support sent by the council! We have communicated with the Earl of Rosscon many times, but he has always refused. We cannot interfere excessively either..."

His hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot, whether from the stress of the negotiations or from sleepless nights of experiments. Garrett stepped forward quickly and bowed slightly:

"Yes, I represent the council. Where is the Earl? Can we see him immediately?"

"The Earl..." The master of the wizard tower looked embarrassed. His gaze swept over the transformed Cirilla, Bernard, and Appa, quickly greeting them with his eyes. Then he half-turned and raised his hand towards the wizard tower:

"The Earl is a devout believer and should be praying at the Temple of the Goddess of Springs at this time. Moreover, according to noble etiquette, an advance notice should be sent, and we should wait for a response before visiting..."

Garrett almost wanted to say, "At this time, who cares about etiquette." But thinking about it, barging in unannounced seemed like causing trouble;

When he visited his hometown, the Viscount sent people to invite him to a banquet, disturbing his time with family. He was extremely annoyed then;

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If they have to wait, they will wait, and if a notice is needed, they will send one.

He reluctantly nodded, following the archmage into the wizard tower. As they chatted and reviewed the council's information, Garrett realized the situation was both simpler and more complicated than he thought:

First, the Rosscon County was vast and sparsely populated—almost 2500 square kilometers of land, with only about 200,000 people. Excluding nobles, temples, wizards, warriors, the common farmers numbered around...

About 180,000?

"Eighteen thousand people can't sustain themselves?"

Garrett asked in shock. With 2500 square kilometers, that’s only 80 people per square kilometer!

Eighty people per square kilometer, even if they were hunting birds or fishing, eating roots and bark, they should survive the famine!

How could there be refugees, disaster victims, and displaced people that required the council’s intervention?!

"This..."

The wizard tower master smiled awkwardly:

"It's a bit complicated... In short, you'll understand when you meet the Earl..."

Garrett indeed felt something was off. Not only was the county sparsely populated, but it was also poor—normally, the head of a county wizard tower should be at least level 10. This one was only level 8?

Even in Hartland City, Garrett’s poor and remote birthplace, where sea fish were rarely seen, the head of the Newman's county wizard tower was above level 10. This one was level 8?

A fraud? Or is the Rosscon County too poor to sustain people and wizards? Or maybe, it’s not the land's poverty but man-made disasters?

Garrett's suspicion leaned towards man-made disasters when the Earl's mansion invited him to a banquet. The Earl of Rosscon was very enthusiastic, sending an invitation immediately upon receiving the notice from the wizard tower—and sending the best carriage from the Earl's mansion.

Dark walnut wood, intricate gold and silver patterns forming magical arrays, smooth to the touch like a mirror. Once inside the carriage, the temperature was entirely different from the outside, apparently always enhanced with [Temperature Resistance].

Garrett sighed softly. Such a carriage was common in Nevis, affordable for fifth-level wizards—that was because Nevis concentrated many low-level wizards, wizard apprentices, and craftsmen.

But here?

A county with only 200,000 people, supporting nobles, wizard towers, temples, and the military while maintaining such high consumption levels? How?

Garrett soon understood. Rosscon County had a famous specialty—

At the banquet in the Earl’s mansion, servants in embroidered uniforms pushed a small cart with a specially crafted silver tray, presenting a ham to the guests one by one.

The head chef, wearing a white tall hat—by his attire, he should also be a noble, perhaps the head steward—stood up with a smile:

"Dear guests, this ham’s hoof is pure black, proof of Rosscon's specialty, the black-footed pig. These pigs grow in oak pastures, eating wild herbs and olives, and during acorn season, they almost exclusively eat acorns..."

Garrett lowered his eyes, expressionless, but inwardly frowned. Growing in oak pastures? Exclusively eating acorns?

Oaks are sacred trees to the Church of the God of Nature. Do they know about these black-footed pigs occupying large oak pastures?

—Of course, there were no priests of the God of Nature at the banquet. Perhaps they were busy rescuing refugees or couldn’t get along with the Earl’s mansion.

The head chef continued with a proud smile:

"The hind leg meat of these pigs is cured with pure rock salt, hanging in quiet, almost constant-temperature cellars, periodically oiled and adjusted by the best artisans, slowly maturing in the natural environment—"

He raised his voice slightly:

"The finest ham requires four years to mature in such an environment."

It sounded like something from "A Bite of **" or "Flavors of **" ... Garrett showed a socially appropriate smile, quickly calculating:

Exclusively eating acorns, how many acorns does a pig need to fatten up? How much forest does that occupy?

These forests clearly can't be farmed, so how much land is left for farming besides pig grazing in Rosscon County?

Damn, too little data, can’t calculate. If only I knew the annual ham production here...

While Garrett was calculating, the chef took a sharp knife from the attendant, lightly slicing the surface of the ham. The blade entered the meat smoothly, cutting a thin slice with a wax-yellow crust, then changing to another sharp knife, horizontally slicing—

Holding the knife in his right hand, a special square silver tweezers in his left, he pinched the sliced ham. The thin slice was almost transparent, slightly translucent, unbroken, showing the slicer’s strong and stable hand.

Might be a knight?

Garrett thought indifferently.

"The black-footed pigs, eating herbs, olives, and acorns, with carefully cured and matured meat, range in color from pink to rose red, interspersed with white fat, showing beautiful marbling."

The Earl's second son continued the introduction, smiling at the guests:

"The meat is light and soft, mixed with the unique aroma of acorns, with a delicate texture. Tasted directly, it offers its unique flavor. Everyone, please."

At this point, the chef had sliced an inch-wide, half-foot-long, nearly transparent piece of ham, which curled around the slicing knife with a slight shake. Under the host’s signal, it was presented to the distinguished guest from afar—Garrett.

The chef

bowed slightly, holding the ham three inches from Garrett’s face, smiling and signaling with his eyes:

Smell it, then eat it.

Garrett, under the protection of his wizard armor, didn’t change his expression as he bit into the ham. Chewing, it was indeed good, very tender, very tasty, but didn’t seem as great as they claimed.

Olive aroma?

Acorn aroma?

Rich and delicate flavor?

What was that?

"This taste can't be what they’re boasting about, right?"

Cirilla’s thin voice transmitted magically into Garrett's ear. He almost laughed. To truly confirm the special flavor or just self-praise, a blind taste test should be conducted...

Gathering Jinhua ham, Yunnan Xuanwei ham, and this ham, adjusting the preparation to raw tasting. Then, blindfold, no seeing, only tasting, identifying which ham is which?

Looking sideways, he saw Cirilla frowning, chewing slowly, pausing, then chewing again, puzzled. Chewing again...

Oh, it’s gone!

I haven't figured it out yet!

"Ah, is the elf lady interested in our specialty?" The host raised his voice with a smile: 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"Anda, bring another slice for the beautiful elf lady!"

Special treatment for ladies from afar seemed natural to everyone. Bernard wasn’t so lucky: one slice per person, just enough for one bite, whether savored or swallowed.

After a round of plain tasting, Garrett experienced various ways of eating ham: with melon (the melon wasn’t great this year, but eatable);with red wine;with bread.

Still the same feeling. Good, but the legendary ham with fat slowly melting in the mouth, rich and layered flavors blossoming like flowers, with unique fruit wood fragrance, Garrett didn’t taste it at all.

Seeing the guest dissatisfied, the Earl’s second son whispered a few words. Soon, another small cart was brought out. This time, the Earl’s second son personally took the slicing knife:

"Of course, Rosscon’s delicacy, a gem among gems, worthy of a queen’s feast and a divine offering, is only this. Respected guest, please taste."

Another thin slice of ham wrapped around the knife tip, presented to Garrett. This time, Garrett lightly sniffed and immediately caught a familiar strange fragrance.

He looked up sharply. The middle-aged, overseeing the family industry for over twenty years, Earl’s second son, nodded and smiled:

"This is carefully selected magic piglets from our family’s ancestral land’s oak forest. From childhood, they drink magical spring water and eat acorns from over a hundred-year-old trees with unique power."

Garrett chewed the ham, closing his eyes. One, two, three times. Fresh natural scent filled his mouth, even he, an almost fake priest of the God of Nature, couldn’t mistake that power—

Ancestral land?

Your family's ancestral land?

Magic spring water, trees with unique power?

He opened his eyes, masking the coldness in them with a polite smile:

"A very impressive taste."

"Yes, indeed." The Earl’s second son beamed with pride:

"Every year, Rosscon County produces forty thousand hams—only carefully made hind legs can be called Rosscon ham, while the front legs are just black-footed pig ham. These magic pig hams number less than a hundred annually."

"I’m honored to taste it. I think I’ll remember this taste."

Apart from the acorn ham, the banquet’s other dishes were mediocre. Garrett found the food unpalatable, while the others seemed to enjoy it. After the meal, everyone moved to the parlor, and Garrett couldn’t wait to ask:

"I’ve been entrusted by the Magic Council to come from Nevis, handling the relocation of refugees. How many people here are unable to survive, and when can we start relocating?"

"This..."

The host, the Earl’s second son, Knight Penia, froze. Seeking help from the left, the Archbishop of the Temple of the War God stared straight ahead, ignoring him;

Looking to the right, the Archbishop of the Temple of the Goddess of Springs gave a helpless look.

The local wizard tower master, standing by the council envoy, coldly stared at him. Clearly, he harbored resentment, only refraining from immediate complaints.

"This is...complicated..."

Penia struggled, deflecting:

"Most locals are tenant farmers, and as you know, tenant farmers aren’t allowed to leave the land... According to the kingdom's laws and customs, tenants belong to the lord... As you see, I’m just the Earl’s second son, I can’t decide..."

"Yes! Freeing tenants or letting them migrate can only be decided by the head of the family. Penia can’t overstep!" Another guest chimed in.

Garrett remembered introductions before the banquet;this was the third son of a local viscount. Others nodding or agreeing were also not the primary heirs, just second or younger sons.

"What about the Earl himself?" Garrett ignored the guest, staring at Penia:

"Or his eldest son, the heir?"

"Father and brother are in the capital." Seeing no pressure to decide, Penia’s confidence grew, meeting Garrett’s gaze:

"As nobles, they fulfill their duties, spending most of the year in the capital. Not just father and brother, nearly all nobles in this region stay in Eoran Island all year."

Garrett frowned. Looking around, seeing noble offspring and two archbishops nodding, he knew it was true. Thinking, he asked with a glimmer of hope:

"What about freemen? Any freemen in distress needing relocation?"

"Wizard, you must be joking. If they’re freemen, how could they not survive? Those who can’t survive have already become tenant farmers and can’t migrate freely."

Garrett choked on his words. He scanned the room, faces one by one, raising a cold smile:

"If so, I won’t force you beyond your limits. Knight, everyone, I hope you don’t mind if I explore Rosscon County?"

"Of course, of course! We’ll arrange a guide—"

"No need. Rosscon County isn’t so big I’ll get lost."

Garrett stormed out. Summoning two phantom horses, riding with Cirilla, Bernard following on Appa, they sped off. Riding through sparse oak woods for a long time, Cirilla suddenly perked up, stopping her horse:

"Garrett, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"There—"

Following her direction, Garrett heard it too. In the wind, screams, curses, pleas, and whip cracks echoed, chilling.

Riding forward, a village entrance revealed a wooden frame with a bloodied, barely breathing man tied to it. Garrett frowned slightly, casting a healing spell, asking the whipping man:

"Why is this man being beaten?"

"Priest!" The whip wielder—whether village head, warrior, or someone else—quickly bowed. Hearing Garrett's question, he subtly moved to block the frame:

"This guy doesn’t deserve your sympathy! He’s a thief! He dared enter the lord’s land, stealing acorns to eat, a grave crime!"