Chapter 115: Sow Today, Reap Tomorrow~

For a few hours, the carriage followed the road through fields that were only just beginning to change since the first time Freya had seen them, on her way into Evangel beside Aldric.

Frelja, her elbow propped on the window ledge, watched them go by for a while before speaking up.

"Looks like things are starting to move with the fields around here."

"That’s Marquis Paydragon," Arthur replied, leaning toward the window as well. "He got all this going not long ago, right after he took over the baron’s lands. He wants to be done with fallow fields."

For now, there were still plenty of them. Entire plots lay abandoned, overgrown with weeds, with a few animals grazing peacefully on them, exactly as they had the first time.

But here and there, the soil had been freshly turned, and on a few plots, young shoots were barely poking out of the ground in neat, straight rows.

"They’re sowing a kind of grass instead," Zoyra added. "Yatiar. Nobody used to bother with it, it was just left for the goats. Now they’re planting it everywhere they can."

The clover Freya had in mind didn’t exist in this world, but it wasn’t the clover itself that mattered. What mattered were the small nodules that formed on its roots, home to bacteria capable of drawing nitrogen from the air and fixing it in the soil. And nitrogen was exactly what grain crops drained year after year, which was why the land had to be left fallow.

So all they needed was a local plant that worked the same way. Aria, drawing on her knowledge, had identified one: yatiar, a low-growing plant with small round leaves and pale purple flowers, whose roots bore the same nodules.

Sown between two harvests, yatiar would feed the livestock, and once plowed under, it would give back to the soil the nitrogen the wheat had taken from it. Not a single plot would go to waste anymore, and the livestock, more numerous once there was enough to feed them, would in turn give back to the land what it had given them, through the manure spread across it.

It was the circle Freya had described to Aldric, the one that fed itself.

It was only just getting started, but it was underway.

"An interesting method," Arielle said from the back of the carriage. "Whoever came up with it must be a remarkably intelligent person."

Stop showering me with compliments in front of them, I’m going to end up blushing and we’ll get caught!

Frelja gave her a small, discreet kick in the ankle without taking her eyes off the window.

All over the place, farmers were turning the soil, digging ditches, or marking out the furrows of the next plots with string. A few of them handled brand-new tools somewhat clumsily, stopping now and then to listen to a foreman’s advice.

"And look how many people there are!" Jin exclaimed, pointing at a group of workers bent over a furrow. "They say the marquis pays way better than the baron ever did. People are starting to come from all over to work his lands."

The new methods needed hands, and word of better wages had spread fast. Aldric had raised them as soon as he was named marquis, and the money coming into the coffers from taxes, trade, and the dungeon no longer ended up in the vaults of a few nobles.

It was starting to go toward repairing roads, digging canals, buying tools, and paying the people who worked. It was only the beginning, but for the first time in a long while, the people of the region were seeing money come back to them instead of flowing off to the castle.

And Evangel was the first to benefit. The city no longer fit within its ramparts: new houses were going up at the foot of the walls and along the roads leading out of it, and whole streets were being laid out where there had been nothing but meadows not long before.

Little by little, the movement was spreading to the surrounding area. Inns were opening along the roadsides, forgotten hamlets were seeing people move back in, and the roads being repaired were gradually linking these new places to the city.

"For once, the money’s going to the people doing the work," Arthur said quietly.

Frelja didn’t answer, but a faint smile spread across her lips.

Looks like even ordinary adventurers are noticing! Rumors sure travel fast in Evangel~

The sun was starting to go down when the carriage began to slow.

The group climbed out one by one. Arielle held out the flat of her hand to help Frelja down, and Frelja took it without even thinking.

It was a habit so deeply ingrained in her that she didn’t even notice it gave her role away. Zoyra, on the other hand, noticed it perfectly well, and immediately looked away, blushing, no doubt getting the wrong idea about why the two women were holding hands like that.

They had stopped where the village of Veille used to stand.

The half-destroyed, burned-out buildings had been razed, and in their place, tents stretched as far as the eye could see, over an area about ten times larger than the old village, all the way to the edge of the forest.

The camp had been put up in a hurry, and it showed. The tents weren’t all lined up, some of the paths were still just packed dirt trampled by passing feet, and stakes tied with orange ribbons marked the spots for things that didn’t exist yet.

All that remained of the old village was the well, in the middle of the camp. Its stones were still blackened in places, but it had been given a new pulley and a fresh bucket, and a line of adventurers stood waiting to fill their flasks.

The well of Veille... It’s the one remnant I absolutely wanted to keep, so the girls would have at least a little something left of their village.

Here and there among the tents, Paydragon Enterprise’s first buildings were beginning to rise. Most were still just trenches and stone foundations, and only the furthest along had its first walls, barely head-high, with a wooden sign nailed in front bearing the painted logo of the two orange wings.

In the meantime, services were run under large canvases stretched between posts, with plank counters set on trestles.

All around, stacks of planks and beams were piled under tarps, next to sacks of mortar and crates of tools. The workers were in the middle of packing everything up, gathering their tools and covering the materials, most likely because night would soon fall.

At the far end of the camp, where the tents stopped against the first trees, a simple wooden sign stuck in the ground pointed to a path that led into the forest. It was the one that went to the dungeon.

Between the tents, adventurers came and went or had already settled around large communal fires, plates in hand.

There was laughter, conversations drifting from one group to the next, someone telling a story out loud while the others listened as they ate, and a little farther off, two men good-naturedly arguing over the last helping of a dish.

"Hey, have you seen my new blade? They fixed it up in no time!"

"Tomorrow we go down, and this time I swear I’m bringing something back!"

Under the repair canvas, however, the mood was less cheerful. A man in ornate armor, clearly used to being served first, was stuck in line behind a row of young adventurers with chipped blades.

"We’re rank A, and we have to wait behind a bunch of beginners? I’ll pay double if I have to, just let me through!"

"I’m very sorry, sir," the attendant replied with a polite smile. "The V. I. P. card is the same for everyone."

The man went back to the end of the line, grumbling, under the amused looks of those waiting ahead of him.

That was when a party came out of the forest path. They walked slowly, covered in dust and dried blood, without a word. One of them carried two packs on his back, one of which clearly wasn’t his.

The nearest conversations dropped for a moment while they passed, then picked back up.

An attendant wearing the orange wings made his way over to them without hurrying, a form in hand, and spoke to them quietly, very gently.

Everyone looked relaxed, even though most of the people here were heading toward their deaths.

The group decided to do the same, to rest and make use of the facilities before entering the dungeon. It was the wisest choice, after all, since it was better to be well rested, both physically and mentally, before starting their expedition.

Of course, neither Frelja nor Arielle needed the rest, but they had to play along, so they stopped with the others.

They went to get their evening meal under one of the orange-winged canvases, where all they had to do was show their V. I. P. card to be handed a plate.

They were served a thick layer of browned mashed potatoes over a bed of ground meat cooked with onions, still steaming, its smell drifting across the whole camp.

It was a simple dish that only needed cheap ingredients, but it was hot, filling, and enough to satisfy an adventurer’s stomach after a day on the road.

Jin took a first bite and his eyes went wide.

"What is this stuff? It’s amazing!"

This shepherd’s pie is actually pretty good... Looks like they followed the recipe properly!

They settled around a fire a little apart from the others. Arthur ate in silence, his eyes on the path leading into the forest, and after a while, Zoyra set down her spoon.

"Um, Frelja... Since you’re rank S, would you have any advice for us, for tomorrow?"

Jin and Arthur turned toward her as well, just as serious.

Frelja took her time swallowing her mouthful, holding back a smile.

Asking the owner of the place for advice... How ironic.

"I know this can be stressful, but the best thing you can do right now is simply rest and clear your heads."

The three youngsters didn’t follow at first and tilted their heads to one side.

"We’ll figure things out tomorrow, in the dungeon. Don’t forget you’re with Arielle and me, so what’s the point in preparing or worrying more than you need to?"

She swallowed her last mouthful, slipping the spoon under her helm without revealing anything more of her face, then stood up, with Arielle right behind her.

"Try to get a good night’s sleep. We’ll meet back here tomorrow at dawn."

The two women then headed to the tent they had taken together. Once inside, they found it rather spacious: it was a large round tent built on a wooden frame, tall enough for them to stand upright, with two beds set up on either side and a thick rug laid right on the ground.

Arielle raised a hand, and a sound barrier closed around the tent. Sheltered from everyone, the two women could finally be themselves again.

Aria stepped behind Freya and began removing her armor with care. She first undid the straps of the pauldrons, one by one, then lifted off the helm and set it gently on the bed.

Next she unfastened the breastplate, slid the vambraces down her arms, and knelt to undo the greaves, putting each piece in its place without making a sound.

Soon all Freya had left on was a light silk garment that fell softly over her figure.

As Aria rose to remove the last fastening, Freya laid her hand over hers and stopped her for a moment.

"Looks like everything’s going according to plan."

"Yes. On top of all the groundwork we’re laying, the frustration of high-ranked adventurers, who are used to being granted privileges, is growing little by little. The higher-tier subscriptions will be all the better received when we introduce them."

"Mhmm..."

Freya stroked Aria’s gloved hand with her fingertips as she listened.

They stayed like that for a few moments, pressed against each other, despite the armor Aria still wore.

"You know we need to talk, Aria... We have a lot to say to each other."

"I know, Freya."

Of course you know...