Spring sunlight shone over the river valley. The snow line had only recently retreated, and the frozen ground underfoot still held a damp chill.
Various scents mingled in the air: the moist, grassy fragrance of freshly turned black earth, the faint acidity of bone fertilizer drifting on the wind, and the warmth of cooking smoke.
The carriage wheels creaked softly over the gravel before coming to a slow halt beside the main road.
After the meeting, Louis had not hurried back to Red Tide Main City. Instead, he had chosen to stay and see for himself whether the figures he had heard were real.
Some things could not be understood through a few pages of accounts and a single meeting.
Wheatwave Fief had now surpassed every other territory within Red Tide Fief in importance. It was the Northern Frontier's future granary, the place upon which hundreds of thousands of lives would depend.
So early the next morning, he had brought Green along and personally set out on an inspection.
Whether it was new cultivation techniques, Magical Beast breeding, or experimental fields still taking shape, only seeing them firsthand would set his mind at ease.
Louis stepped down from the carriage and narrowed his eyes as he looked out.
Thousands of farmers worked among the rows, their calls rising and falling amid the incessant clanging of iron plows and shovels.
Green walked beside Louis with a thick parchment ledger in his arms. Mick followed behind, wearing a proud smile he could not conceal.
"My lord, this is the core farming area. Most of the new varieties we tested last year are here," Green reported quietly as they walked. "Geothermal irrigation pipes have been installed in thirty percent of these fields. The emergence rate is twelve percentage points higher than expected."
"Mm."