Tearmoon Empire, Volume 7, page 12
Okay, I don’t know if we have different definitions of the word “obfuscation,” but it is not hard to tell that’s me in the sculpture. The academy is named after me, for crying out— Wait, for the love of the moon, there’s a plaque at the bottom! And it says “The Frolicking of Saint Mia and a Unicorn”!
So much for artistic liberty. There was definitely no obfuscation going on here whatsoever.
Ugh, I wonder if I can get this removed somehow...
It was clear from the sculpture’s rainbow-colored glitter that it shared an origin with the unicorn hairpin. Both were made from the trees of this forest whose wood, when debarked, exuded a simple, grounded beauty.
Galv, noticing the way she scrutinized the sculpture, said, “They carved it from an ancient tree that grew deep in the forest. It was likely centuries old. A priceless treasure, undoubtedly, especially considering the Lulus’ belief that trees are gifts from heaven. Nevertheless, they said they would be more than happy to provide us with the wood if it would be used for a sculpture of Your Highness.”
Hnnngh... I-It’s certainly true that the Lulus care a lot about the trees in their forest. I merely kicked one, and they almost put a bunch of holes in me for it. If that’s how they react to normal trees, then one that’s hundreds of years old... Gah, the sheer amount of goodwill! It’s too much!
“Once the Lulus carved the wood to shape,” Galv continued, “Viscount Berman arranged for its surface to be treated using the empire’s most advanced woodworking technology. This sculpture is truly an inspiring symbol of two parties overcoming past differences and uniting under their shared loyalty toward Your Highness.”
Augh! The backstory is too heartwarming! Why is there so much significance to this damn sculpture?! How am I supposed to ask for its removal now?!
It was becoming painfully apparent to Mia that this sculpture was here to stay. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath.
“W-Wow,” she said in the stiff monotone of an unengaged actor, “that is so wonderful. It is such an honor to be the model for a sculpture like this. I am so happy I could cry.”
And she almost did, but for the sake of propriety, she swallowed her tears of happiness.
Though her mental state had been reduced to shavings by the sight of her proud wooden effigy, Mia regathered herself as she entered the school building. Inside, a group of children had arranged themselves in lines to greet her. In the front row were a number of familiar faces.
“My, you’re...”
“It’s a pleasure...to see you again...Your Highness!”
“Wagul? Is that you? Moons, it’s been a while.”
The first to speak was the Lulu chieftain’s grandson. With his neatly trimmed hair and uniform, she almost didn’t recognize him.
“Have you been well?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes, I’ve been well... But schoolwork is a little tough...”
Ah, of course. I know what you mean, Wagul.
She smiled gently, feeling a profound sympathy for the boy. Schoolwork was pain. Necessary pain perhaps, but still pain. No one in their right mind would do it willing—
“And for me, I’ve kept up with all my studies as promised,” said the girl beside Wagul. “Thank you very much for giving me the chance to spend so much time in school.”
Mia’s smile began to twitch as she turned toward the prodigy of the orphanage, who greeted her with a deep bow. “Ah. That’s, uh, good to hear. I’m glad you’re working hard, Selia,” she replied as a sheen of cold sweat developed on the back of her neck.
This was, after all, the girl she’d vindictively enrolled in the academy by the principle of “if I’m going down, then you’re going down with me, buddy.” She’d even rubbed salt in the wound by assigning Selia to a special class that would receive Galv’s personal and rigorous instruction. And yet she’d completely forgotten all of this until this very moment.
She regarded the girl, wondering if her comment had been sarcastic. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell, so she opted for a cautious smile.
“But, uh... Do you feel okay, overall? Is anything stressing you out?” she asked, feeling a little guilty for sentencing the girl to Galv’s intensive educational torture. Back when she’d been a pupil, Ludwig the teacher had been bad enough. The teacher of Ludwig the teacher could only be worse. “If you ever feel like, you know, it’s all becoming a little much, then let me know, okay? I’ll do something about it.”
Mia was no stranger to the concept of reaping what you sow. Figuring she’d sowed a pretty mean seed here, she offered Selia a way out as a means of covering her own behind. By being extra nice, she was hoping to keep Selia from swinging the scythe of reprisal. The brave would simply accept the consequences of one’s actions, but Mia was a coward, so she was going to do whatever she could to attack Selia’s conscience and avoid said consequences.
And then Selia promptly teared up.
Eek! Wh-Why is she crying? Are Galv’s lessons that bad? Or does she hate me so much that it’s bringing her to tears?!
Just as panic began to set in...
“Thank you, Your Highness...but I’m fine. The teachers here are really nice to me, and I get to learn so much... It’s like a dream. I mean it,” Selia said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye before smiling once more.
“I-Is that so? Well, uh... Keep it up, then. But don’t hesitate to tell me if you feel like there’s too much on your plate, okay?”
Then, Mia turned to another boy.
“And... Greetings, Cyril. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said with as much courtesy as she could muster. Her expression all but blossomed. It was fake blossoming, of course, but Cyril played a key role in her plan, so she was bringing her A-game. The successful development of the new wheat strain could very well hinge on his whims. She needed to keep him happy and motivated.
“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Your Highness.” Cyril bowed. The motion was perfectly respectful, but she couldn’t help but notice some stiffness.
“Hm? Is something the matter?”
“...No. Nothing at all.”
His words were at odds with the pout of his lips. Mia frowned in confusion, but Selia promptly leaned over and whispered in a voice that wasn’t particularly soft.
“Apparently, he feels like you’re very friendly with me and Wagul, but you’re always very formal with him, and he’s jealous about it.”
“S-Selia! That’s none of your business!” exclaimed a flustered Cyril.
He tried to pull her away from Mia, only for the motion to expose his flushed cheeks.
My! How terribly adorable!
The subtle emotional turbulence of his puerile soul strummed a rapturous chord across her heartstrings. She loved this kind of thing. Mia, at a technical twenty-two years of age, was super into young boys and their insecurities. Now, one should never judge another on their tastes and predilections, but Mia could probably afford to recalibrate her preferred age-range up a tad.
Huh, I remember Abel saying something like that a long time ago too. I guess boys really are all the same!
A fond smile crept across her lips, and she giggled a little. “Looks like someone feels a little left out, doesn’t he?” she said, trading her usual courtesy for affability. “Let’s fix that.”
“Huh?”
She patted a gaping Cyril on the head and gave his hair a good rub. “I was worried you’d feel lonely here, you know? Or get sick. I’m glad you’re healthy. And that you seem to have made a very good friend who pays attention to you,” she said, nodding toward Selia.
Cyril’s cheeks deepened in hue.
“Th-Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”
He averted his gaze downward. The innocent gesture delighted Mia.
Oho ho, if a pat on the head is all it takes to cheer him up, then I’ll do it all day. I need him in top-form, after all, or we’ll never get our new wheat strain. I’m counting on you, boy. She smiled, entertaining thoughts that were decidedly less innocent.
Then, she looked past them toward the rest of the children.
“And who are the children behind you?”
There were about a dozen of them, all of whom tensed when they caught Mia’s gaze.
“Most of them were enrolled on a recommendation from the priest in the Newmoon District,” Galv explained. “A few from Outcount Rudolvon, and a couple more from other outland nobles nearby. Unfortunately, with many of our facilities still under construction and anti-agriculturalist beliefs circulating through their ranks, not a single child from the central nobility has applied.”
Mia arched an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Is that so? Forget about them, then. If they don’t want to come, then they won’t come.” She honestly couldn’t care less. The primary purpose of this academy was to facilitate Cyril Rudolvon’s development of cold-resistant wheat. She didn’t want a bunch of stuck-up noble children prancing around. At best, they’d be useless; at worst, they’d be an active distraction. Then, deciding that her statement was too dismissive, she qualified it with an additional remark. “Besides, once the academy makes a name for itself from its high standard of education, people will start flocking to it naturally.”
The purpose of this remark was twofold. Firstly, it was flattery directed at Galv; any success on the educational front would obviously be his doing. At the same time, it was also dissociating herself from the academy’s performance, allowing her to avoid taking any responsibility if the project happened to flop.
The reasoning went as follows.
Clause: if the academy performed well and became famous, people would flock to it.
Corollary: if people didn’t flock to it, it was because the academy didn’t perform well.
Conclusion: people not flocking to the academy was by no means her fault.
Just as she began to secretly gloat over her skillful—and entirely selfish—execution of defensive logicking, a woman approached her.
“Greetings, Princess Mia. Thank you for coming all this way to see us.”
“Ah, greetings to you too, Princess Arshia,” said Mia before promptly doing a double take at Arshia’s attire.
“Yes, I know. I apologize for my appearance.” Arshia grimaced as she looked down at her own clothes. They were made of a thickly-layered, cheap-looking fabric that resembled the kind commoners usually wore. “They’re work clothes. Perujin farmers always wear things like these. I can’t head to the fields in a dress, after all...”
“My, how fascinating. Can I...touch it? Hm... I see. Presentation aside, this is some pretty good fabric. It feels nice and durable. The next time I go mushroom hunting, I should look into getting some...”
Mia’s inquisitive mind was constantly on the lookout for new and interesting information. When it was relevant to her mushroom addiction, anyway.
Chapter 5: Cowards Win through Sheer Numbers
“This is some really impressive work for such a short time,” said Mia.
Accompanied by Arshia and Cyril, Mia headed out to take a look at the surrounding fields that had recently been tilled for farming. But not before requesting a set of the same work clothes as Arshia and changing into them. When it came to her own protection, Mia spared no expense.
Hmm... It feels a little stuffy in these, but I guess that’s part of the package. They certainly look like they can stand some wear and tear. Honestly, it’s probably better to wear these when going into the forest...
While privately assessing the quality of her attire, she scanned the fields.
“The land in Tearmoon has always been suited to farming,” Arshia stated, “so it only took a little bit of work to get the soil ready for use. Headmaster Galv also managed to convince some of the Lulus to give us a hand.”
“Oh? The Lulus? That’s very nice of them. I suppose I’ll have to figure out a way to thank them somehow...” said Mia as she put a contemplative finger to her chin.
Cyril smiled at her. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. The Lulus are a hunting tribe that lives off the forest, but recently, with my family’s help, they’ve started making use of the fields. Interest in farming is growing among the tribe members, so they’re starting to place a great deal of hope in Wagul.”
“I see. Well, if that’s the case, then...”
Geographically, Saint Mia Academy was in close proximity to the Lulus’ village, so it was important for the tribe to be supportive of the project.
After going on a narrated tour of the fields, Mia was deeply pleased by their beauty. The land was well-tilled, and plots were neatly arranged. There was also a lot of it. The care that had gone into their cultivation was readily apparent.
She grew increasingly confident as she took in the impressive sight. Look at all these fields! There are so many! With this much farmland, we’ll have no problem dealing with the famine!
“So, how’s the cold-resistant wheat research coming along?” she asked Arshia. “Have you had any breakthroughs recently?”
Arshia tensed at the question. “We don’t really know yet. Last fall, we looked into a lot of possible options and planted a number of seed types that had potential, but we’ll have to wait until they can be harvested to know for sure, and that won’t be until a little later. We’re still researching in the meantime, looking through literature and such, but...”
“I see. Well, no surprises there, I suppose. That’s how farming works, after all.”
Wheat took a good deal of time to grow. Mia was certainly aware of this fact. She just hadn’t until this moment fully considered the implications.
Hold on a second. Does this mean that if there’s a single failed attempt, we’ll all be in serious trouble?!
Her concern, though belated, was valid. Research relied on trial and error, but when it came to farming, trial attempts were extremely limited. Each attempt had to proceed through the necessary seasons, and there was only one cycle of seasons a year. Her inner chicken immediately began to stir. Suddenly, the vast stretches of farmland that had until then seemed almost excessive...now felt worryingly inadequate.
If we can only run one trial a year, we’ll need more land. Much more. So we can test more each time!
That was the coward in her talking. Said coward’s understanding of the situation was also...completely correct! They only had one shot at this. No retries, no excuses. In other words, it was similar to taking an exam at Saint-Noel.
Which means our approach should be the same.
Mia, proud princess of Tearmoon, approached tests in a fashion that reflected the enormous size and capacity of her empire—overwhelming the foe through sheer numbers. Sheer number of answers memorized, in this case. Before each exam, she’d commit the entire scope of testable material to memory. That way she’d be ready for whatever the exam threw at her. It was an invincible test-taking tactic!
The same concept can surely be applied to developing new wheat strains.
If they only had one chance to get it right, they had to cram as many experiments into it as possible. Breadth was the name of the game. If there were a hundred cakes and only a single cake was delicious, how would you find the delicious one? Mia’s answer: eat all of them!
She would win through sheer numbers.
We’ll need an even larger area of land for that. This isn’t nearly enough. I need to look for people who can help... Outcount Rudolvon for sure. Then, hm... The central nobility will almost certainly refuse. Who else can I ask— Ah!
A scene from her summer vacation flashed across her mind. She’d been on her way back from Ganudos when she’d briefly stopped there.
“Yes, maybe I can ask him for help. Outcount Gilden...”
She pursed her lips. The geographical opposite of Outcount Rudolvon’s domain, Outcount Gilden’s lay on the northern fringe of the empire. Unlike the central nobility, he might readily agree to lending her his farmland.
“Hm? Is something the matter?” asked Arshia. She frowned at Mia, who’d been muttering under her breath.
“Huh? Oh, I was just thinking that I might know someone who could help us with our wheat problem. There’s an Outcount Gilden whose domain is up north...”
Admittedly, they could probably develop cold-resistant wheat if they spent a couple of years experimenting on the academy’s fields, but Mia didn’t want to wait. Every unsuccessful year would eat away at their stockpile, as well as her sanity.
Ludwig did say we should be fine, but still...
In general, Mia believed everything Ludwig told her, but the thought of a steadily diminishing food supply evoked visions of a steadily approaching guillotine. If she had to be reminded of that every day...
I don’t need to be a prophet to know I definitely don’t want to be in a situation like that. It’s way too stressful!
She needed cold-resistant wheat. To feed the empire, yes, but also to make sure she didn’t lose her mind. It was therefore imperative that she secured more land to conduct more expansive experiments.
With that said, I have no idea how the experiments are actually done, so I should probably have them go there directly and take a look at the land for themselves.
With her mind made up, she nodded to herself and said, “It’s a place with some good farmland. I’d appreciate it if you could go there and take a look.”
That was how Arshia Tafrif Perujin and Cyril Rudolvon beheld for the first time a host of agricultural techniques alien to their experience in the southern warmth, invented and refined by the people who farmed the harsh lands of the frigid north.
Side Chapter: Why Is That Flower...
Cyril Rudolvon was a young boy who loved plants.
Why is this flower red?
Why does this one become fuzzy when it spreads seeds?
