The Magic Harvester Arrives

Perhaps the rain had been holding back for too long. Once it started, it fell on and off for nearly half a month before finally stopping.

When the sky cleared completely and the sun showed its long-hidden face, blazing down for an entire day, people were surprised to find the weather was no longer so hot they wanted to peel off their own skin.

It was late August, after all, the last stretch of summer.

The excessive rain had spurred the wheat in the fields outside Bunta City through one final burst of growth. After just two clear days, every field had turned from green and yellow to solid gold. Golden waves rippled in the wind as far as the eye could see, a magnificent sight.

On the Sains Continent, where production was still underdeveloped and even basic food and shelter could not be guaranteed for everyone, each year's grain harvest was of utmost importance. In every country, people set everything aside on harvest days and threw themselves into the work.

The Lampas Kingdom lay slightly southwest of the center of the Sains Continent and had two harvest seasons each year. The autumn harvest was the more important of the two, so when the wheat ripened, the entire kingdom set to work. Bunta City was no exception.

This year, however, something seemed a little different.

A vast stretch of land west of Bunta City belonged to Viscount Leslie. Because he had planted a little early, the wheat in nearly half his fields was fully ripe, and the harvest was already under way.

In previous years, Viscount Leslie would have sent every slave he owned into the fields at this point. He would have mobilized all his guards to help, too, and often even the children joined in.

The harvest depended entirely on human labor. Every extra pair of hands meant it would finish that much sooner.

At times like this, everyone prayed the heavens would not unleash another stretch of torrential rain. If they did, the year's crop might be ruined.

But this year was different. Viscount Leslie led the servants of his residence in the customary offering to the heavens, but he did not order the slaves and servants into the fields. Nor did he cut the first stalk of wheat himself, as tradition demanded. Instead, he stepped aside and settled in to watch.

The nobles of Bunta City gathered nearby grew even more puzzled.

It was strange enough that Viscount Leslie had invited them to watch the harvest ceremony. Now he was acting like this... What was he up to?

As they wondered, a roar suddenly sounded behind Viscount Leslie, drawing every eye.

A peculiar machine emerged from behind him, driven by a burly man.

At its front was a huge rectangular iron box with an opening that revealed something like an iron rake spinning inside. With the machine roaring around it, the thing looked vicious.

The middle was a massive iron frame covered in sheet metal. It rumbled constantly, as though something inside were shaking.

Beneath the frame sat two thick iron wheels, each half as tall as a person. They had clearly been modified: each wheel was as wide as a child's arm and scored with grooves, apparently for better traction.

To many of the onlookers, though, that seemed entirely unnecessary.

The wheels sank a hand's breadth into the soil with ease. The machine had to weigh several hundred pounds at least.

The rear was simpler: just two handles for the burly man to grip and steer the machine where he wanted it to go.

"Viscount Leslie, what in the world does that thing do?" a noble standing beside him could not help asking.

Viscount Leslie smiled. "Where's the fun in telling you? Watch and you'll see."

At that, the nobles who wanted an answer had no choice but to turn their attention back to the machine.

The burly man carefully guided it into the field. He glanced back at Viscount Leslie, and after receiving a nod, took a piece of white cloth from his pocket and covered his mouth and nose. He fitted a grain sack over an opening at the back of the machine, then pressed something on the handle that looked like a switch. With another roar, the machine crept into the wheat.

The watching nobles were startled. If something that vicious charged through the field, wouldn't it flatten all that hard-won ripe wheat?

Viscount Leslie might have a large estate, but he could only grow so much wheat. Surely he would not waste it like this.

Before their astonished eyes, the iron box at the machine's front swept up the outermost row of wheat.

The rapidly spinning iron rake swallowed the stalks without mercy, and they vanished into the machine.

Strange rumbling came from its enormous body. Soon, several sharp-eyed nobles noticed something spraying from the opening at the back, beginning to fill the empty sack.

As the machine advanced through the field, the opening kept spraying and the sack grew steadily fuller.

After the burly man had guided the machine through two passes of the field, the sack was bulging. He stopped.

With a wave from Viscount Leslie, two slaves rushed forward, removed the sack and fitted a new one in its place.

The burly man resumed harvesting while the slaves carried the full sack over to Viscount Leslie.

Before he could say a word, the nobles crowded around it.

One noble peered inside and cried out in surprise. He reached in and pulled out a fistful of dark red wheat grains!

The others could no longer hold back. They reached into the sack and each came away with a handful of wheat grains.

They stared at the grains in their hands, almost entirely free of husks, hardly able to believe their eyes.

"How... how is that possible? It was wheat standing in the field a moment ago. How did it turn into grain so quickly?" one noble muttered.

"Exactly. How did you do it? Viscount Leslie, don't tell me you filled a sack of grain beforehand just to fool us," another said, even less willing to believe it.

Viscount Leslie did not bother explaining. He merely pointed to the machine still working in the field.

They looked over and saw that it had already filled the replacement sack.

When the two slaves carried it over, the nobles gathered around again. Sure enough, it too was full of wheat grains.

None of them truly believed Viscount Leslie was playing a trick.

For one thing, he had no reason to. For another, the nobles knew enough about farming to recognize freshly harvested wheat. He could not have passed off old grain as this year's crop.

But... how had he done it?

A moment ago, the wheat had been standing in the field. That strange machine swallowed it as it went, then spat out grain?

"Viscount Leslie... this isn't some kind of magic, is it?" one noble asked.

Viscount Leslie laughed. "You're right that magic has something to do with it. But it isn't all magic. Have you ever heard of a spell this convenient?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"All right, I'll tell you. This is called a Magic Harvester. It's made to harvest wheat. Now that you've seen it, what do you think?" Viscount Leslie asked, surveying them with interest.

The nobles exchanged glances. One of them stepped up to Viscount Leslie with a broad smile. "We're old friends, aren't we? Tell me, do you have any more of these machines? Could you lend me two?"

The other nobles immediately caught on.

"Right! Lend me a couple, too. The wheat on my estate is ready to harvest. That machine of yours is incredible!"

"Exactly! We're all old friends. Let me borrow one as well."

"Borrow? You freeloaders. Viscount Leslie, I don't need a loan. If you have extras, name your price. I'll buy two."

"Yes, sell me some! Harvesting wheat would be so much easier with these. At that speed, it could clear this whole field in an hour, couldn't it?"

"I doubt it would even take an hour. That settles it—the thing's too useful to pass up. Viscount Leslie, if you have more, name your price. I'll buy every machine you've got!"

"Baron Rover, your estate is tiny. What do you need so many for? Besides, a machine this remarkable can't be plentiful. Viscount Leslie, you must sell to me first! Don't forget, I lent you a hundred slaves to help with the spring harvest."

Viscount Leslie grinned at the nobles' eagerness and turned to point at the man behind him.

"If you want to buy one, don't come to me. Talk to him. He's the one who sold me this machine."

The nobles turned in surprise and saw Xu Yi smiling at them.

His smile was that of a tiger that had gone hungry for three days and found a heap of fat meat delivered right to its mouth.