Chapter 6
Some time later.
Brisa summoned the knights to the training grounds once again.
All the knights except the Potato Squad shuffled in, dragging their feet.
They had no choice. Alphius’s order—“While I’m gone, follow Brisa’s commands”—still stood.
Brisa mounted the platform again and asked,
“Is there anyone here who’s good at using sword aura?”
At the mention of sword aura, the knights straightened at once. Clearly, this meant they would be drawing their blades.
This is different from the Potato Squad!
This time, it’s something truly dangerous!
They had thought that now the war was over, there might be no more fighting.
Could it be that the domain war people only spoke of in rumors was about to break out?
Everyone tensed, muscles bulging with anticipation.
“I’m the best among us.”
A large-built knight strode forward and raised his hand. His expression was already resolute.
“I’ll take the vanguard.”
Seeing the girl look worried, others stepped forward as well.
Just like not long ago on the battlefield, they were all ready to risk their lives.
“To have another chance to draw our swords! I’ll charge at the very front!”
Only then did Brisa look relieved.
“Thanks to you, it seems our domain may yet escape this crisis.”
With solemn expressions, they all followed after Brisa in a great mass.
Behind her, the maids were sniffling and crying again.
At Brisa’s warning glance, they kept their mouths shut, but they couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down as though the world were ending. There was no doubt—an enormous crisis had arrived.
No matter what enemy appeared, they intended to leave it no mercy.
But after following Brisa’s brisk steps for quite some distance—
What spread out before their eyes was not a mysterious enemy force, but olive trees.
“Now.”
Brisa declared solemnly.
“Cut them all down. As quickly as possible.”
At that, the maids all collapsed, wailing.
“No, my lady…”
“This truly must not be done…”
Brisa stood among them, arms crossed with grim resolve.
The head maid sobbed as she spoke.
“The First Marquis of Sears planted these olive trees on this land to express his love for his wife. As you know, the First Marchioness of Sears was named Olive Sears…”
“Yes. That’s why he planted olive trees on the plain closest to the marquis’s residence.”
Brisa replied indifferently.
“On land that originally grew carrots and corn.”
She then turned to the guildmaster who had followed her.
“If I give you this much timber, that will cover the outstanding payments so far—and also pay for two months’ worth of grain, correct?”
In the end, she intended to cut down the olive trees to repay the debt.
She had at least raised it from one month’s grain to two months’ grain. Even then, with the number of mouths in the marquisate increasing, supplies would probably run dry in about a month.
The head maid continued to sob.
Unable to voice outright opposition to her mistress, she muttered only words that carried no judgment of right or wrong.
“It was such a beautiful expression of love…”
But the merciless mistress did not let it pass.
“That’s an incorrect expression.”
“A warmth of feeling that nothing else could replace…”
“A misguided sentiment.”
“These olive trees feel like a symbol of Sears’s tranquility…”
“An erroneous feeling.”
Lancy, however, hesitated for an entirely different reason.
Isn’t this just pissing on a frozen foot?
The idea itself wasn’t bad, but when would they possibly harvest olives again after this?
“My… my lady.”
Lancy spoke cautiously.
“Shouldn’t we… think this through a bit? How long it’ll take for olive trees to grow back to this extent…”
Brisa answered immediately.
“On average, three hundred years.”
As Lancy jumped in shock, she continued.
“The youngest trees are around two hundred years old, and those large ones over there are more than five hundred.”
He urgently advised her that cutting them down was far too short-term a solution.
“Then the next Sears olives would only be edible in three hundred years?”
Even as he said it, he had no expectation she would listen.
In every crisis so far, whenever Lancy had voiced strong objections, they had all been ignored.
Often, no one even replied.
But Brisa answered him seriously.
“That’s not quite it. It takes about twenty years for production to stabilize. Harvesting is most active between fifty and one hundred fifty years. By that measure, we’re already past the prime.”
…Huh?
The steady stream of knowledge left both Lancy and the guildmaster speechless.
“So it’s better to cut them down and plant a more suitable crop on this land.”
“A more… suitable… crop?”
Lancy echoed dumbly, then realized something.
At some point, he had completely stopped thinking of Brisa as the leader of nonsense-spouting maids.
The guildmaster seemed to feel the same.
“Most lords don’t really know the crops of their own domains. At best, they know the prices.”
The guildmaster whispered.
“But this young lady is impressive. Based on my own knowledge, the ages of those olive trees sound about right.”
Brisa continued coolly.
“The choice of crops should be made based on knowledge, not sentiment. Why do you think Sears olives were always such poor quality? Long ago, the farmers probably learned through experience what truly grew best on this land.”
She then pulled a small rod from her pocket.
“Olive trees grow best in neutral to slightly alkaline soil.”
She stuck the rod into the ground and went on.
“Of course, other factors could be at play, but considering this used to be carrot and corn fields…”
She murmured a short spell at the rod. It turned red.
“Just as I thought.”
Brisa nodded.
“The soil here is slightly acidic.”
Lancy couldn’t understand a word of what that meant.
But the guildmaster’s eyes widened.
“Knowing that different soils suit different crops is basic agriculture! But what in the world is that rod?”
“A magical tool for measuring acidity and alkalinity. We used it in potion-making practice at the academy. It’s rather expensive—hard to get your hands on.”
Lancy understood at once.
That had to be one of the supplies purchased with the massive loan Brisa had taken out when she went to the capital academy two years ago.
“Anyway, I think a crop other than olive trees would grow better here. For example—”
At that moment, Brisa narrowed her eyes.
Beyond the hill, at the end of the winding road, a group of people was approaching.
It was Philip and the Potato Squad.
They were pulling a cart.
The cart was piled high with seed potatoes.
“Potatoes… you’re saying you’ll plant them here?”
Philip looked utterly bewildered. Even he hadn’t expected the perfectly fine olive plain to be plowed under.
“I assumed you’d plant these seed potatoes in the rear garden or the main garden…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence.
The maids had already begun to glare daggers and protest.
“Plant potatoes in the rear garden?”
“My goodness, potato flowers blooming in the marquis’s garden? Instead of pansies? Do you think that makes any sense?”
“Absolutely not! The garden is the face of the estate! It’s no place for something like potatoes!”
From afar, the Sword Aura Squad, who were busy chopping down trees, caught only a few words and chimed in.
“Exactly! The Potato Squad cannot be the face of the knight order!”
“They look far too much like potatoes!”
The Potato Squad, dumbfounded, nodded along.
“Ah—ah—okay… o-okay then…”
Brisa didn’t side with the Potato Squad either.
“The rear garden has another use.”
With that, Brisa efficiently pushed forward the felling of the olive trees.
And the Potato Squad began loading the timber onto the carts that had brought the seed potatoes.
