“Wow! Potatoes, potatoes! We can finally eat our fill today!”
The knights beamed as they eagerly tossed dirt-covered potatoes into their baskets.
“And now…”
At this point, I knew the one magical sentence that could instantly raise their morale to the highest level.
“We’ll slaughter a chicken every other day and eat it.”
The chicks that had arrived at our marquisate a month and a half ago had now grown into young chickens.
Since it would still take another five months before they started laying eggs, there was no reason to keep all of them. Once they were large enough to eat, it was more practical to butcher them immediately.
Besides, we had raised so many chicks that the population was becoming difficult to manage.
New chicks were constantly hatching from fertilized eggs, and we also had to keep track of our stock of bran and rice husks used as feed.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
Of course, we would be eating chickens far faster than they could reproduce, but that was fine. We only needed to hold out for another month and a half.
“In other words…”
I declared solemnly,
“Two days from now, we shall hold a banquet to celebrate the slaughter of our first chicken.”
It would be the dinner to which Baron Foreman had been invited.
“We’ll use every ingredient we have.”
Besides chicken, eggs, potatoes, and lettuce, we had many other foods available now. I intended to put all of them on the table.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
Everyone except Wendy erupted into cheers.
Wendy was too busy with other work to join in the excitement.
“U-Um, my lady!”
A knight who had been standing guard in the distance came running over.
“The old man you described has crossed into our territory!”
Just as I expected.
It had to be Baron Foreman.
He probably wanted to see for himself whether he could really accept the dinner invitation. At least he has some sense of propriety.
I had already described the baron’s appearance to the knights and instructed them that if such an old man appeared, they were not to stop him. They were to let him wander freely and report to me afterward.
The former intelligence officer was unknowingly revealing everything to me.
“Good.”
I answered casually.
“Don’t bother him. Let him look around as much as he likes.”
Baron Foreman crossed the border of the territory with ease. Realistically speaking, the knights could not guard every inch of it.
Is it really alright for me to accept this banquet invitation? At a time when food shortages have made everyone so desperate...
Thinking of the atmosphere in the Hawyn Barony, he suppressed a sigh.
Food shortages had made people increasingly irritable.
These days, almost no one in Hawyn managed to eat three meals a day.
Foreman assumed Sayers Territory would be no different.
In fact, he expected conditions there to be even worse.
He wandered near the village and soon noticed a child carrying a basket toward the river.
“Hm? That is…”
The child gathered armfuls of mushrooms from logs stacked along the riverside.
Only then did Foreman notice the long row of rotting logs lining the riverbank.
“My child, what are those?”
The boy answered casually.
“Mushrooms. A month and a half ago, milady had the knights set this up and taught us how to grow them.”
After collecting mushrooms, the child crouched beside the river and cut bunches of green plants, placing them into the basket.
“And what are those?”
“Water parsley. Milady told us to cut the stems and plant them again, and now there’s tons of it.”
The child then pulled up a fish trap from the water.
Several small fish wriggled inside.
“The fish lay their eggs among the water parsley stems, so their numbers keep increasing. We catch this many every day.”
Foreman’s jaw dropped.
Having a river is certainly a huge advantage, but can people really obtain this much food from it?
The child’s relaxed expression, his easygoing manner, the sense of abundance surrounding him—
None of it existed in Hawyn.
“So you survive on fish, mushrooms, and water parsley?”
“There’s plenty more. Milady taught us over ten different things.”
The cheerful child stared at him for a moment.
Then he shrugged.
“You’re from Hawyn, aren’t you, Grandpa?”
The child took a handful of oyster mushrooms from the basket and offered them to him.
“Take these home and eat them. Giving away this much for free should be fine.”
Foreman stared at the mushrooms in his hand.
Now that the child had explained things, he could see it clearly.
The riverside was completely different from what it had been before.
Everything had been carefully organized into a system designed to produce food endlessly.
The image of Brisa Sayers presenting him with an invitation resurfaced in his mind.
That perfectly mannered young lady, dressed as though she had stepped straight out of the imperial capital into this peaceful riverside village.
She did... all of this...? A twelve-year-old girl...?
The child looked at him with something resembling pity.
“Next time, bring something proper to trade. You can exchange it for eggs.”
Apparently everyone except Hawyn’s baron already knew what was happening.
“The people from Hawyn really like Sayers eggs. They say the yolks are huge and taste amazing.”
And so, several days later, Baron Foreman disguised himself once again and returned to Sayers Territory.
As he waited nervously, the doors of the marquis residence opened.
A maid who looked anything but hungry greeted him with refined elegance.
Since I’m pretending to be an ignorant old villager, it’ll be natural if I eat like I’ve never seen food before.
Dressed in a worn, fuzzy vest, he steeled himself.
He certainly eats well.
I watched Baron Foreman devour potatoes, lotus root, and water parsley.
As far as I knew, leaving a little food behind was considered polite in the western regions.
Yet the baron eventually began scraping the bottom of his plate.
“You’re eating lotus root already?”
“It’s normally in season during autumn, but you can eat it now too. It has less starch, though it’s more tender.”
Lotus root was an excellent source of carbohydrates because it was easy to propagate.
You simply cut a section of the root and plant it again.
That form of reproduction was called vegetative propagation, and I had expanded our supply extensively a month ago.
“But then... how are you getting salt...?”
The baron hesitated as he asked.
Immediately, a maid barked at him.
“Our lady kindly answers the questions of a mere commoner, and now you think you’re speaking to a teacher? Stop pestering her during her meal and ask more appropriately!”
Foreman flinched.
As for salt...
The people of Hawyn had practically offered it up themselves in exchange for water.
Salt had become the most common item received through barter.
The moment I learned that Hawyn possessed abundant salt reserves, I stopped worrying about obtaining it.
Barter was not something rulers could simply prohibit.
Especially when the traders were people who had lived as neighbors until recently.
Foreman thoroughly cleaned off the plates of mushrooms, lettuce, and radish-sprout salad.
Then the main course arrived.
“Roasted chicken leg served with fried fish. Enjoy it with perilla-seed sauce.”
The perilla seeds also came from Hawyn.
The Baron had seized the Veron region from us, and Veron happened to be covered in perilla fields.
Perilla was not a common crop in the Empire.
Veron was unusual.
It was the result of Father’s strangely inspired judgment that, in the crowded and trade-oriented central provinces, growing small quantities of unique crops might be profitable.
Thus, after salt, the people of Hawyn most frequently brought perilla seeds.
The leftover meal from pressing the seeds was also fed to the chickens.
It helped them lay eggs more efficiently.
Watching Foreman reluctantly lick his fork clean, I asked,
“Would you like more fried fish?”
“Yes! Though... the radish sprouts and lettuce...”
“Most villagers grow autumn radishes. We save the seeds and cultivate them. Would you like more potatoes?”
“Yes!”
At this point, it was impossible not to keep asking if he wanted more.
When plum-topped egg pudding was served for dessert, Foreman looked close to tears.
“Plums? These are remarkably fresh...”
“They grow by the river.”
Certain fruits ripened along the riverbanks in early summer.
Fruit was not particularly productive, but we treasured every tree.
Sugar was scarce, so even small amounts of fruit greatly improved our meals.
I watched as Foreman scraped the last traces of pudding from the bowl.
Then I asked once more.
“...Would you like some more?”
Foreman immediately replied,
“My lady, would you consider marrying my grandson? It’s the finest reward I can possibly offer in return.”
