Mission:021 Devil Hunter

Mission:02-1 Devil Hunter

"Miss Beatrice, can doing this really increase the wheat yield?"

"Yeah, exactly! Farmland is farmland, and pasture is pasture. Saying mixing them together can increase the yield is way too far-fetched, isn't it?"

In the farmland outside Rattvench Town, a group of men in coarse hemp tunics, dressed like serfs, were gathered around a girl of thirteen or fourteen in a goose-yellow long dress, with short rose-red hair, chattering about something.

The girl's name was Beatrice. She was the daughter of Rattvench Town's lord—a noble baron. She liked reading and studying all kinds of strange knowledge, and this visit to the farm seemed to be nothing more than another sudden whim of hers.

"Uncle Brudo, it isn't mixing them together," Beatrice corrected him seriously. "It's crop rotation. Our land has been farmed continuously for more than ten years, and its fertility is already very thin, so now we need to plant the wheat in the pasture and grassland nourished by plant ash and animal manure, where the soil is more fertile."

"Then what will the cattle and sheep eat?" another person asked.

"Pasture grass doesn't need too much fertility, so we plant it the other way around, in the current paddy field."

This was an idea that had suddenly come to Beatrice while she was reading recently. If this method really worked, it should be able to improve the current situation of the territory's farmland producing less year after year.

"Wouldn't that be very troublesome?"

"It would be troublesome, but as long as we do it, our grain harvest next year will definitely increase!"

The girl stood on a rock, took out a parchment scroll, and unrolled it in front of everyone. "Look, I've already calculated it. If we replan our pasture, grassland, and farmland according to this diagram, the area of all three won't decrease, and we'll be able to make more effective use of the land's fertility!"

The farmers looked at one another. They were not well educated and could not understand many things, but at least they knew that plant ash and animal manure could indeed enrich the soil. If there was nothing wrong with Miss Beatrice's allocation, then it was probably true that the territory's harvest would increase.

The only problem was—

"But... will Lord agree?"

As soon as those words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

It was not that they wanted to say Lord was unreasonable, but he was indeed overly bound by convention. Even though he was usually approachable, devout, and kind, persuading him to redraw the plans for the fields would likely be harder than hard.

Beatrice lowered the scroll in her hand and forced a smile at everyone. "It's... it's all right, everyone. I'll persuade Father."

But even she did not quite believe those words. Beatrice's father had always felt that as the second daughter, Beatrice was neglecting proper business by learning this and that, and that she would be better off thinking of ways to build good relations with the daughters of counts in the big cities. Getting him to support the reforms Beatrice had proposed was obviously even more of a fantasy.

This year's round of wheat had already ripened, and not long after the harvest, preparations for winter wheat would begin. And if they waited until then, even if she persuaded her father, it would be too late.

"Sorry for taking up everyone's time." She lowered her head slightly and said, "I should go back too."

The farmers drifted away in twos and threes, and soon Beatrice was the only one left nearby. She put away the scroll, patted her cheeks, and jumped down from the rock.

Then she raised her head, just as she was about to go back, only to see a curious figure not far away.

It was a girl slightly older than Beatrice. Her bright golden hair was as soft as silk, and her lake-blue eyes shimmered like stars. On her lower body was a pair of black trousers, while her upper body looked like the "robe" dress Beatrice had once seen. Both had a V-shaped deep neckline trimmed with lace and embroidery, as well as a cinched waist.

The only difference was that the sleeves of a robe were not as long or as narrow as those of this bright red top. At the cuffs, however, both flared open in the same way, decorated inside with layers upon layers of lace, exceptionally gorgeous.

The girl stood not far away and seemed to have been watching this side for a while. Beatrice instinctively felt that the other girl was waiting for her, but at the same time, she felt it was unlikely.

Although the style of the other girl's clothes was somewhat strange, the delicate fabric and vivid colors could not be faked, not to mention that she seemed to be wearing a pure gold feather carving on her chest. From this alone, Beatrice could tell that the other girl's social status was definitely far higher than her own, perhaps even her father's.

Why would someone like this suddenly come to such a remote little town?

She swallowed, tried hard to make herself stand straighter, and walked toward the other girl with proper bearing.

Then, at an appropriate distance, she stopped and performed a skirt-lifting bow.

This was etiquette toward someone of high rank. Although Beatrice still did not know the other girl's identity, she felt that her guess could not be wrong.

"Greetings."

"There's really no need for you to be so formal."

Who would have thought that this young lady, who looked so noble, would smile and say, "I'm only an orphan. You, on the other hand, should be a noble lady, shouldn't you?"

But even though the other girl said so, Beatrice still did not quite believe it. An orphan? Illegitimate children often claimed to be orphans. Words like that could not be taken as certain.

"My name is Nero," she said. "And you?"

"Beatrice. My father is the Baron of Rattvench."

The girl who called herself Nero looked around, her gaze falling on the small town not far away. "Then this is Rattvench Town?"

"That's right."

Was she lost? Beatrice was a little puzzled.

Nero was silent for a while, then spoke again. "All right, although this question is a little strange...

"I'd like to ask, what year is it now?"

The year? Beatrice was completely dumbfounded this time. If she had asked the date, then perhaps she had been lost in the mountains and forests for too long and fallen into confusion—though someone lost in the mountains should not be dressed this cleanly. But the year?

Could this person be a vampire who had slept for hundreds of years or something?

Beatrice glanced at the sun, which was slanting westward but had not yet set, and replied, "This year is AD 1348, August."

Nero covered her forehead and sighed. "All right, I knew it."

Knew it? If you knew, why did you ask? Beatrice looked at the person in front of her and felt she was becoming stranger and stranger.

A moment later, Nero lowered her hand and tossed her head, her long golden hair swaying behind her. She looked at Beatrice and said, "Are you especially curious about who I am right now?"

That was indeed the case. Beatrice nodded.

"Then I'll tell you." Nero bent at the waist, leaned close to Beatrice's face, and said softly, "I'm a Devil May Cry."

"Devil? So things like that really exist?"

"I chased a devil here. Right now, it's probably still nearby."

Nero's words made a sense of panic rise in Beatrice. She could tell that Nero was indeed extraordinary. If what she said was true...

Nero straightened, closed her eyes, and sensed for a while before saying, "That's right. There's still the scent of a devil here. You'd better go back early. After nightfall, this place will become very dangerous."