Candlelight flickered, illuminating the letter spread across the desk. The content was written in neat handwriting, just like the cautious and steady character of old steward Bradley.
Duke Tudor's gaze fell on the letter's opening. He only had modest expectations for this son.
But as the words gradually unfolded, the duke's originally casual expression gradually tightened, his brow slowly furrowing.
"Performance far exceeding other pioneering territories?"
Agricultural breakthroughs, crops maturing ahead of schedule?
Housing problems solved more efficiently than mature territories?
Not only successful magical marrow mine extraction, but also scientific extraction planning?
Even slave management optimized to the point where no faults could be found?
Especially the part about grain production supporting an additional 1,500 slaves made him thoughtful.
He sat up straighter, glancing at Bradley's signature.
