I found out that there wasn't much to the manor after all. Besides the four bedrooms on the side of the manor, there was the great room, which counted as the dining room, courtroom, entertainment room, and communal sleeping area for the serfs—no wonder the whole house got sick. There was a fire pit in the center to heat the room.

The steward's family had a two-bedroom suite. I imagine it was supposed to be a bedroom and a study, but for some reason, the Baron had the man using his personal study instead. Besides the kitchen and storage room, the only other room was the baron's personal study, used for the daily business of the steward. The manor had a garden and about two acres of fields within the walls. The perimeter walls were made of logs about ten feet tall. The manor wouldn't last a day against a military siege but would deter bandits. We also had our own well. That was nice—no need to walk down the hill to the river near the village.

There was a barrack that looked similar to the great hall with a storage shed and a stable behind it. Each member of the family had their own horse. In my opinion, those horses were the extent of our show of wealth.

I also thought it odd that there were no torches on the wall. Minecraft lied. Apparently, torches were completely inefficient lighting sources. Instead, we had small alcoves for oil lamps. Pieces of polished metal were placed at the back to help reflect the light into the halls. There was a chandelier in the great hall that I expect was only used for special occasions. Oil seemed to be cheaper than candles.

Since everyone else had already eaten, the tables in the great hall had been set aside, along with the benches, stools, and chairs. The chairs, of course, were used for my no longer living family and me. Servants got the stools and benches. I will say one thing, though: this place didn't stink as bad as I thought it would. You always hear of the powerful odors that were common in ancient societies. I could tell that the floors and tables of the great hall had already been washed, and the girl, Emily, was washing an alcove as we entered. Upon seeing us, she immediately left.

"Is it protocol to leave the room when nobility enters, or is that just people's natural reaction to me?" I asked Draves.

"It is so they aren't in your way."

In other words, out of sight, out of mind. Oh, well, one step at a time.

We had a meal of leftover broth and grainy bread. I asked for water rather than the diluted wine. A young lady about my age brought it out. She was pretty with long chestnut-colored hair but had a nervous look as she set down her meal. I almost gave her a charming smile to disarm her so she wouldn't be intimidated by my presence, but then I realized that due to my reputation, it would probably have the opposite effect. So, instead, I kept my face neutral, nodded, and gave a polite thank you. Making sure my eyes did not linger on her. It sucked that I had to maintain an air of complete indifference toward my female employees so they didn't think I was sexually harassing them.

Had the past owner of this body really been that bad, or was it just rumors that got out of control? Was I going to have any ladies knocking on my door asking for child support? I would see what the future holds and not worry about a past I couldn't control. I still wanted to know all of their names. Draves informed that the young lady was Carrie, and she was Marcus's sister. Maybe that is why Marcus didn't like me. Had I said or done something to his sister?

"Captain, Do you know if I have done anything… inappropriate to that girl?" I said, trying to keep the blush off my face. "She seemed uncomfortable in my presence."

"I was not in your presence often, my lord, but you were often drunk the last few years, leading you to say or do things considered unacceptable in polite society. If you are asking if you took any young ladies to your bed, they most likely are rumors."

"But did I umm…" And here, my face did go red, "touch them."

"Ah, my lord, may I refrain from answering that?"

"So I was a crude, handsy buffon that was kept in line by my father?"

"I would not recommend referring to yourself in such a way." Draves said.

"Just trying to get a clear picture of who I was. I am not that man anymore. Also, I refuse to drink any more alcohol. I will be drinking water only. We will probably want to boil the water to make sure I don't get dysentery or something like that. Can you even get dysentery from a well? Anyways, water for me from now on. I am the lord of the manor and have no wish to embarrass myself any further. Not that going alcohol-free will stop me from making a fool of myself, but here's hoping, right?"

I don't think Draves had a good response to that, so he just nodded.

After breakfast, we finished the tour of the manor compound, going everywhere he had already told me about.

I have to admit that the task of bringing my barony out of poverty was daunting. I would need art supplies. Some may laugh at that, but art was how I kept down my anxiety in my past life, and I would definitely need it here. I wonder what I could use for canvas. Probably linen would work. I always used cotton canvas, but I had no idea if we had access to cotton.

Oh, and I can't forget to see if we had a silversmith or something that could make a calligraphy set.

"Draves, Do we have anyone who can do detailed metal work, like a jeweler or a silversmith?"

"My lord, we do not employ a wide variety of tradesmen. If you need something like that done, you may be able to have Jorb, the smith, do it.

By the time we had walked around the manor, I was exhausted. I was too heavy to walk this far. I must be around 350 pounds, if not more. At least, that is the way it felt. I really wanted to walk down the hill to the village, but there was no way I could make it even halfway down. I felt ridiculous. But fortunately, I knew how to work out. There were even times in my past life when I did it religiously. After the cancer, I was constantly reminded of the importance of exercise and a good diet. I understood its importance, but I wasn't going to change overnight. Today, I requested a carriage readied while waiting on a stool in the great hall.

Like the rest of the manor, the carriage was not very impressive. More a box with doors on two axles. It was a chore to get up and into it. And once we were on our way, I wished I hadn't. No shocks meant we felt every single bump on the road. The padding on the seats and padding on my butt was not enough to keep me from bruising.

By the time I was done, I was ready to head to the carpenter and blacksmith and get some basic springs made for my carriage. I could do it, too. In Middle School, I had to do a shoebox diorama after reading Charles Dickens's "Great Expectations." I decided I would do a street view of the Satis House. Unfortunately, I had a crush on my 8th-grade English teacher. She was tall, at least compared to a scrawny 14-year-old. She was blonde and had beautiful green eyes.

So, what do you do when you have a crush on your teacher? You try to impress her by coercing your dad into helping you make the most accurate model possible. That includes making cobbled streets with a carriage that was 100% accurate for the period, including carving stupid pieces of wood to make dual axel leaf-springs like I saw on the internet. Topping it off, you buy extra paint and brushes so you can draw gold patterns on the outside of the carriage. Two weeks of work, and she didn't even invite me out on a date. I was crushed—stupid teenage hormones.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Do we have a bowyer in town?"

"We do, my lord," Draves said with a confused expression.

"Do you think he would be available to speak with me?" I asked.

The good captain's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. He seemed to be trying not to laugh. "My lord, there isn't a person within any of your lands that doesn't have time to speak with you whenever you ask."

I just rolled my eyes. Being the top dog was going to be hard to get used to. I wish I had the respect of people to go along with it.

"Could you let the driver know?"

"Certainly," He pulled back the cloth curtain and spoke with the driver. "Take us to Samuel the Boyer's place."

"How do I pay the boyer if I want something made?" I didn't have any coins on me, and I didn't know if he would refuse to do the work before he was paid. I probably had credit or something. I was utterly wrong.

"He's a serf, my lord." He said as if that explained everything. It didn't, so I had to embarrass myself by asking the next question.

"So, how do I pay serfs?"

I could tell he wanted to sigh. "Serfs owe you their labor in exchange for their food and clothing, Lord. You don't pay them, and they do the work."

"That doesn't seem to promote a good work ethic," I said offhandedly.

"Work ethic?"

"You know, what drives him to do his best if he isn't compensated?"

"You feed him and cloth him, and you make sure he has somewhere to sleep. You allow his children to marry when the time comes. If he doesn't do the task to your satisfaction, then you beat him."

I must admit, on the inside, I was screaming about human rights, liberty, and justice for all. But outwardly, I just nodded. I couldn't bite off more than I could chew for right now. "Are all of the people in the village serfs?"

"All but the miller and the blacksmith. They are peasants and can be paid in extra grain or linen that they will then use to trade for what they need with other villagers."

"How do serfs get things that I don't provide?"

"Serfs usually set aside a small amount of their food that you provide as trade between themselves."

"I see. I appreciate your patience."

"You're welcome."

We arrived at the bowyer's place shortly afterward. Stepping out, I got my first look at the village. It was exactly what I expected to see. Ok, not exactly, but close enough.

The houses were poorly constructed cottages with sticks and thatch. They looked like large tents. Some had doors, and some had thick hides hanging over the doorways. Each was no bigger than my hospital room.

They all had a garden out front. Some women were weeding theirs and getting ready for planting. There were a few gardens that had women already planting. Little children were running around mostly naked in the chill spring weather. I saw some older boys and girls bringing water in buckets from the river nearby to a communal stone water reservoir. The kids looked happy but malnourished. The women and young adults looked nervous. It was time for my PR campaign.

After breakfast, I had the kitchen staff make loaves of bread as I toured the rest of the manor. By the time we left, I had enough loaves to hand out to every household in the village. Draves held the bag while I reached in and pulled out the still-warm bread one loaf at a time. Kids saw the bread and immediately ran to me while the women stopped their chores and looked nervously at what was happening.

The first child to approach was a boy of about ten. He had dirty black hair and wore clothes of some sort of rough material.

I knelt down next to the boy and asked, “Would you like a loaf of bread?”

Of course, he eagerly accepted it. He was about to run off when I said, “Wait just a minute, young man. What do you say when you are given a gift?”

“Ah- thank you?”

“You are welcome. I want you to go straight home and give this to your mother. Which home is yours?”

He pointed it out and then took off. Probably eager to devour the loaf.

I continued until there were no more children to hand out loaves to. I noticed a few homes that didn't receive bread due to a lack of children.

To those, I went up and either handed it to the woman of the house or knocked on the door frame. Some places looked so poorly built that I just called out.

The women weren't much for conversation. All I got were single-word answers. It was as if they were afraid that at any moment, I would order Draves to chop off their heads.

Some homes had no one in them. One of the women explained that the children had lost their parents and were living with neighbors.

I then walked over to the bowyer's house. His daughter had been carrying water when I handed out bread and brought the loaf into the house. This caused the bowyer to leave his shop from behind and come to watch what was going on. I greeted him as I approached. "Samuel Bowyer, I presume?"

He was a tall man with what I assumed were the things my big sister used to call sleeper muscles. They didn't bulge like a weightlifter's, but you knew they were there. Sis used to drool over those guys. I uses to mock her.

"Uh...forgive me, my lord. It is just Samuel. I am one of your loyal serfs. Not a Freeman. How may I help you, my lord?"

I hoped there weren't too many serfs with the same name, or this would get confusing fast. "I understand you both make bows and do carpentry projects around the village."

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent, I'll get straight to the point. Due to my obese nature and delicate butt, I need unique springs for my carriage." Draves did not look happy about my self-deprecating statement; if Marsh were here, she probably would have throttled me.

"Springs?"

"Springs for my carriage. Yes, let me explain. Do you have parchment and quill?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, but I can charcoal a stick and get some cloth."

"Not necessary. I can use a stick and the dirt, for starters. I will draw it out in more detail and have it run down to you later.” I had him follow me to the carriage, and I picked up a stick from the side of the road. I proceeded to explain how the bowed wood was layered and fit under the carriage.

"This is a good idea, my lord. I will complete it to the best of my abilities. If you will beg my pardon, my lord," He said nervously, "I have never attempted something like this, and it may take a while for me to get it right."

"Samuel, I don't want you to make it exactly how I showed you. I want you to take the idea and make improvements as best you can. You are the expert, not me. If it doesn't work, then I designed it wrong. The worst that can happen is you fail, and we try something else. Because this is a unique request, I will give your family five loaves of bread upon completion, whether you succeed or fail. If you find a way to make it work, I will give your family a bag of grain."

His eyes went wide in shock. "Thank you, my lord," He said with an awkward bow. Still, he pulled it off better than I could.

"Make sure to get with the blacksmith about the fittings. I will stop by his shop sometime to let him measure the carriage. I want to offer him the same deal as well."

"No need, my lord. Give me a moment to get my rope, and I will make the measurements and share them with him. I will let him know of your generosity."

"Thank you, Samuel." I really hoped this worked. I don't think the ones in the 1800s were made of wood.

After he got all the specifications, it was time to head out to the fields. I wanted to see if I could figure out a way to help, but I highly doubted it. I was a city boy, and the closest I had ever been to a farm was a 65-inch flat screen in my house.