After selling the silver and gold ingots at the blacksmith's store, Noah felt a surge of relief.

  "Finally," he muttered to himself, the heavy weight in his pouch replaced with the satisfying clink of coins.

  "I could buy up nearly every establishment in this sleepy village if I wanted." He eyed the bakery. "Sweet rolls..." Then the tailor.

  "Vibrant fabrics..." His gaze drifted to the dusty old bookstore. "Even that could be mine."

  But Noah was no fool. "True prosperity isn't about ownership," he reminded himself, "it's about sustainability." He considered the butcher shop.

  "Tempting, but..." He glanced at the surrounding forest. "No animals. Just goblin. Limited and, frankly, unappetizing." He shook his head.

  "Buying that shop would mean selling only goblin meat."

  "And that's a much bigger problem than just a lack of variety," he mused.

  "It would disrupt the entire food chain, impacting the kingdom of Arthur itself.

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  The kingdom relies on a diverse food supply. Cutting off traditional meat sources... shortages, unrest..."

  Noah knew he had to think bigger. "A long-term solution," he murmured. "A way to replenish the animal population." His thoughts turned to livestock.

  "If I could introduce and breed livestock... a sustainable food source for the goblins." He nodded slowly.

  "That would benefit the village and contribute to the stability of the kingdom." He patted his coin-filled pouch. "This isn't just about personal gain, it's a responsibility."

  As Noah journeyed out of the village, a convenience store caught his eye, its shelves stocked with chicken and duck eggs.

  "Eggs?" he said, surprised.

  "Goblins don't eat eggs."

  He'd never considered buying them before. But then, a novel idea sparked in his mind.

  "What if... what if I tried to hatch them?" He looked at the eggs with new interest.

  "Could I successfully incubate them and bring forth live chicks?" A small smile played on his lips.

  "Raising a small flock, independent of the goblin diet... intriguing." He wondered.

  "Are these store-bought eggs even fertile? Do I even know how to do this?" The thought lingered, a seed of possibility planted in his mind.

  "Chicken eggs," he recalled, "hatch in about three weeks, maybe sooner here." He considered the requirements.

  "Humid environment, 37 to 39 degrees Celsius... and I have to turn them every two or three days." He sighed.

  "Time-consuming, but..." He brightened. "A successful hatch would liberate the kingdom from reliance on the butcher!" He chuckled.

  "And though goblins disdain eggs, they love chicken meat! Doubly advantageous!" He nodded decisively.

  Arriving at Arthur's, Noah saw Arthur jesting with his wifes, and again wondered: who was the real goblin king?