IMYL 4

Chapter 4

“Alright. The Potato Squad, assemble in the rear garden.”

Brisa had given the knights led by Philip the name Potato Squad.

Philip felt a surge of deep humiliation. Giving knights a nickname like potato—what a remarkably creative form of contempt.

Sure, I do look a bit like a potato in particular, but isn’t this going too far?

She’s not going to tell us to roll around like potatoes in the garden, is she?

What’s the use of being a prodigy who mastered five languages at seven? What’s the use of memorizing imperial law by heart? What’s the use of being summoned to the Empress Dowager’s banquets from the age of ten just because I perfectly understood aristocratic etiquette!

Philip panted as he recalled the maids’ praises.

And yet, to a noble young lady who would believe potatoes grow on trees…

Naturally, she was their superior.

Before leaving, Alphius had even instructed them, “In my absence, your master in this marquisate is Brisa.”

But even so—was it acceptable to turn people into objects of ridicule like this?

Philip resolved to lodge a proper protest when he met Brisa again in the rear garden. Yet when she appeared shortly after, she issued her command with a serious expression.

“Go to Jejel Street and buy as many seed potatoes as you can. For early harvesting.”

Everyone blinked slowly, unable to grasp the situation.

Was this a joke?

Or some new form of mockery?

Philip, already cursed with a potato-like appearance, was seized by anxiety.

She’s not going to tell us to buy seed potatoes and then order us to call them her sons, is she?

To the dazed Philip, the girl held out a rather large box.

“Choose ones that are well-balanced and oval, with no wounds or rot. About the size of an egg.”

…Huh?

Philip, who had actually farmed potatoes before, was genuinely startled.

It was spring now.

A bit late, perhaps—but not an impossible time to acquire seed potatoes and plant them.

“Pick ones that are firm, with well-dried skins, and eyes that are fairly numerous and evenly distributed.”

She knew what she was talking about.

“No one in the marquisate has ever grown potatoes before. So put your heads together and buy good ones. As for the money… sell this.”

Brisa held out the box to Philip.

The maids screamed the moment they saw it.

“Kyaaaah! No, my lady!”

“That’s your jewelry! If you sell it, you’ll have to wear the same accessories at least once a week! How dreadful!”

Was wearing the same earrings twice in a week truly such a tragedy?

And these maids weren’t even young. They all looked to be in their late thirties or forties.

Dumbfounded, Philip nevertheless accepted the box.

Brisa then turned to one of the maids.

“You go with them. Help them make sure they get a fair price.”

“No, my lady!”

The maid refused violently.

“Even if a blade were at my throat, I could never sell my lady’s jewels!”

“Very well.”

Brisa generously respected her opinion.

“I was torn between practicality and curiosity anyway. I was wondering how badly a jeweler would try to lowball the Potato Squad if they went in to sell that.”

She continued in an utterly serious tone.

“Be sure to bring back a receipt, Philip. It’ll make an excellent example of market prices and price gouging. Let’s include it in Sears’s history book.”

The maid shrieked in horror.

“Kyaaaah! No! I’ll go! I’ll go with them!”

Once again, the mistress graciously accepted the change of heart.

“Very well.”

With that, Brisa finished giving her instructions.

The remaining maids collapsed as if they had lost the entire domain, sobbing uncontrollably.

“We couldn’t even stop the late marquis from selling off Her Highness the Princess’s jewelry…”

“How are we to face Her Highness in the afterlife… We were supposed to pass every single piece down to Lady Brisa…”

Amid the chaos, Brisa stood calmly, her expression detached.

Was buying seed potatoes really such a dramatic affair?

Feeling the limits of his ability to judge the situation, Philip cautiously spoke up.

“My… my lady?”

“Yes?”

“Why… why are you ordering us to do this?”

“That’s because I’m not in my right mind.”

Brisa answered with utmost seriousness.

“I’ve been trying to come to my senses for the past three days, and I failed.”

Philip froze. Though, in truth, he had been frozen for quite some time already. Unsure how to react, he asked carefully,

“Um… this is, well… one of those idle jokes nobles make, isn’t it, my lady?”

Brisa’s face hardened.

“Remember this, Philip. Since we don’t know each other well yet, I’ll tell you in advance—I do not make idle jokes.”

Philip flinched at the gravity of her declaration.

Come to think of it, setting Alphius aside—since he had been thought a commoner all this time—this was his first real order from a true noble.

It was far stranger than he had imagined.

“My lady, may I ask just one question?”

After a brief hesitation, Philip finally voiced the question that had been circling on his tongue.

“Do you… do you actually see us as human beings?”

Just hours ago, he would have sworn she did not see them as people.

But now that he had faced her directly, she was odd, yes—but not quite like that.

Had they misunderstood something all along?

Brisa’s reply was flat, yet without the slightest hesitation.

“I am fully aware that you are humans, the same as I am.”

Philip and the rest of the knights were taken aback. They had not expected the words the same as I am to be added.

Brisa continued, her expression serious.

“You need to eat three meals a day.”

…Wait. Was that really the point of the conversation?

Just then, the gatekeeper came running in a panic.

“My lady! My lady! Th-th-this is terrible!”

He panted as if on the verge of collapse.

“T-the head of the Western Grain Merchants’ Guild is here! He’s demanding immediate repayment of the d-debt… says he’s already been far too lenient!”

Philip couldn’t understand what that meant.

But behind Brisa, the maids who had been collapsed in grief suddenly snorted with laughter.

“Looks like the rookie messed something up. We always paid our debts late.”

“Sure, we technically missed the contract date every year, but they always let it slide.”

“Calm down. Marang fish are in season in early winter. There must be some misunderstanding.”

Marang fish—a type of freshwater fish—were the main source of income for the Marquisate of Sears. What little prime land the domain possessed lay along the river.

After reassuring the gatekeeper, the maids resumed their wailing.

Brisa, too, seemed unperturbed. After muttering, Looks like it was a good idea to go mad, she replied,

“Very well. For now, I’ll meet the guildmaster in the reception room.”

After answering curtly, she turned her head back toward Philip—and then, very elegantly, placed her hand firmly on his arm.

“I’ll leave things here to the others… you should depart at once.”

Her voice was solemn.

“The lives of our people rest on the Potato Squad.”

…Suddenly?

Philip felt as though he were heading off to war.

Brisa’s gaze fixed on him, deadly serious.

“It’s a difficult situation, but do your utmost in the mission entrusted to you.”

The small hand gripping his arm tightened.

“The future forged by the Potato Squad’s struggle will surely return as glory.”

After speaking with dignity, she stepped back.

“Go. I’m counting on you for the seed potatoes.”

Philip felt as though he had received an order to march out to decide life and death.

The maids’ sobs behind him only reinforced the feeling.

Is this what it’s normally like to receive orders from a ‘true noble’?

Philip took a deep breath and bowed his head.

“Yes, my lady. Leave it to us. And… I sincerely apologize for earlier.”

There was no doubt now—his belief that she had been looking down on them had been a misunderstanding.

She was even issuing commands in such a solemn, aristocratic manner.

Pride welled up within him.

“I am honored to receive such a venerable command. This is my first time, so I feel overwhelmed with emotion—”

Wait. That sounded far too undignified.

Catching himself mid-ramble, he hastily lowered his voice and whispered,

“P-please keep what I just said a secret from others.”

“I don’t want to.”

Brisa answered instantly.

“I’ll record it in the history books.”

Then she turned and spoke to the gatekeeper.

“Show me the way.”

With cool eyes, she declared,

“I am heading to another battlefield.”

The girl walked away, posture straight and unyielding.