TMDWS 6

Chapter: 6

Some time later.

Brisa summoned the knights back to the training grounds once again.

Excluding the Potato Squad, the knights gathered again, dragging their feet.

They had no choice. Alphiers had given clear instructions: “When I’m not here, follow Brisa’s orders.”

Standing on the platform once more, Brisa asked,

“Is there anyone here who’s particularly good at using sword aura?”

At the mention of sword aura, the knights immediately straightened their postures. Clearly, this meant they’d be drawing their swords again.

This is different from the Potato Squad!

This time it’s really dangerous!

They’d thought that with the war over, they might never see battle again.

Could it be that the rumored territorial war was about to break out?

Everyone tensed up, muscles bulging with anticipation.

“I’m the best among us.”

A large knight stepped forward confidently, raising his hand. His expression was already resolute.

“I’ll take the lead.”

Seeing the worry on the young lady’s face, others rushed to volunteer as well.

Just like not long ago on the battlefield, they were all willing to stake their lives.

“To have another chance to draw my sword! I’ll charge at the very front!”

Only then did Brisa’s face soften in relief.

“Thanks to you all, it seems our territory will be able to escape this crisis.”

With solemn expressions, the knights surged forward, following Brisa.

Behind her, the maids were sniffling and crying again.

Brisa shot them a warning look, so they kept their mouths shut—but they couldn’t stop the tears streaming down their faces as if the world were ending. Surely, a terrible crisis had come.

No matter what enemy appeared, they had no intention of letting it go unchallenged.

However, after walking quite a distance following Brisa’s brisk steps—

What unfolded before their eyes was not a mysterious enemy force, but an olive grove.

“Now.”

Brisa declared solemnly,

“Cut them all down. As quickly as possible.”

At that, the maids collapsed to the ground, wailing.

“No, my lady…!”

“You can’t mean this…!”

Brisa stood among them, arms crossed, looking grim and resolute.

The head maid cried out through her sobs,

“The founding Marquis Sears planted these olive trees on this land to express his love for his wife! As you know, the founding marchioness’s name was Olive Sears…!”

“Yes. That’s why he planted olive trees on the plain closest to the Marquisate of Sears.”

Brisa replied indifferently.

“On land that used to grow carrots and corn.”

Turning to the guild master who had followed her, she asked,

“If we provide this much lumber, it’ll cover our outstanding debt—and pay for two months’ worth of grain, right?”

In other words, she intended to repay their debts by cutting down the olive trees.

At least she had increased it from “one month’s worth of grain” to “two months’ worth.” Even then, with more mouths to feed in the marquisate, supplies would probably run dry within a month.

The head maid continued to sob.

Unable to openly oppose her mistress, she muttered only words that had “no right or wrong” in them.

“It’s such a beautiful expression of love…”

But the merciless mistress was not swayed.

“That’s an incorrect expression.”

“A warmth of feeling that nothing else can replace…”

“A misguided sentiment.”

“These olive trees symbolize the peace and comfort of Sears…”

“A mistaken symbolism.”

Langsi, however, hesitated for a different reason.

Isn’t this just a temporary fix? Like peeing on a frozen foot?

The idea itself wasn’t bad—but when would they ever be able to harvest olives again?

“U-um, my lady.”

Langsi 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.”

Langsi practically jumped in shock, but Brisa continued,

“The youngest trees here are around two hundred years old. Those larger ones over there are more than five hundred.”

Panicked, he tried to argue that cutting them down was far too short-term a solution.

“Then… does that mean we won’t be eating Sears olives again for three hundred years?”

Even as he said it, he had little hope his words would be accepted.

Whenever Langsi voiced strong opinions in times of crisis, everyone usually ignored him.

Often, they didn’t even bother replying.

But Brisa answered seriously.

“No. It takes about twenty years for production to stabilize. The most active harvest period is between fifty and a hundred and fifty years. By that standard, we’ve already passed their prime.”

…Huh?

Faced with the flood of knowledge, Langsi and the guild master were left speechless.

“That’s why it’s better to cut them down and plant crops more suited to this land.”

“M-more… suited… crops?”

Repeating the words dumbly, Langsi realized something.

At some point, he had completely stopped thinking of Brisa as ‘the leader of a bunch of nonsense-spouting maids.’

The guild master seemed to feel the same.

“Most lords don’t know much about the crops in their territory,” he whispered.
“At best, they know the prices.”

“But this young lady is remarkable. Even based on my own knowledge, those olive tree ages sound about right.”

Brisa continued coolly,

“Choosing crops shouldn’t be based on sentiment, but on knowledge. Why do you think Sears olives were always such mediocre quality? Long ago, the crops farmers planted here through experience were probably the correct answer.”

Then she pulled a small rod from her pocket.

“Olive trees grow best in neutral to slightly alkaline soil.”

As she stuck the rod into the ground, she went on,

“Of course, there could be other factors—but considering this land used to be carrot and corn fields…”

She quietly murmured a spell at the rod, and it turned red.

“Just as I thought.”

Brisa nodded.

“The soil here is slightly acidic.”

Langsi didn’t understand a single word of what that meant.

But the guild master’s eyes widened.

“That different soils suit different crops is basic agricultural knowledge! But what in the world is that rod?”

“A magical tool that measures acidity and alkalinity. It’s used in potion-making classes at the Academy. It’s rather expensive, and hard to come by.”

Langsi suddenly understood.

That had to be one of the “supplies” Brisa had gone deeply into debt to buy when she left for the Royal Academy two years ago.

“In any case, I believe crops other than olive trees will 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 the Potato Squad, led by Philip.

They were pulling carts loaded full of seed potatoes.

“Potatoes… you’re saying you’ll plant them here?”

Philip looked utterly bewildered. Even he hadn’t expected her to plow up a perfectly good olive plain.

“I just assumed you’d plant these seed potatoes in the backyard or the garden…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

The maids had begun glaring fiercely and protesting.

“Plant potatoes in the backyard?”

“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 potatoes!”

From afar, the ‘Sword Aura Squad’—currently chopping down trees—caught a few words and chimed in.

“Hear, hear! The Potato Squad can’t be the face of the knight order!”

“They look way too much like potatoes!”

The Potato Squad nodded blankly, dumbfounded.

“O-oh… okay… I-I get it…”

Brisa didn’t side with the Potato Squad either.

“The backyard has another use.”

And so, Brisa methodically continued the logging of the olive trees.

Meanwhile, the Potato Squad began loading the freshly cut lumber onto the carts that had carried the seed potatoes.