CH 389

Sidestory: Why is that Flower?

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Author’s Note: This time, it’s a story that slightly deviates from the timeline within the work… It’s just a tiny glimpse into the future, so consider it as an extra episode. Since the timeline may become unclear due to the shifting of events, I thought I should mention it just in case…

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Young Cyril Rudolvon had a passion for gardening and plants.

Why is this flower red?

Why does this one become fuzzy when it spreads seeds?

Why is this grass tall, and that one short?

He enjoyed dwelling on such questions while quietly observing the surrounding grasses, trees, and flowers. He adored reading books and discovering new information about uncommon flora. There were many unusual and magnificent flora in the world. There were flowers that bloom only in the morning; flowers that only show up at night. Grass that could feed itself insects. Trees that tower over castles. The exotic floral beauties never ceased to pique his interest.

His interest in plants changed over time from conceptual to practical. He used to be pleased to read about them, but now he was driven by a strong desire to develop them himself. To experience their distinctive qualities with his own senses.

The most rare flora were out of his reach, but that didn’t matter. He could locate marvels and miracles in his own backyard because they were everywhere. Even though they belonged to the same species, each individual blossom was different, and he enjoyed identifying each one. He soon found that his favorite activity was growing the flowers he loved in his own garden.

He was expected to behave correctly as a noble because he was a nobleman’s son. He needed to develop skills in leadership, horsemanship, and swordplay. He was under a great deal of stress as a result of them. Fortunately, nobles enjoyed gardening just as much as everybody else. Additionally, the Rudolvon family had a long history of farming. Given these facts, he believed he could continue engaging in horticulture, at the very least as a pastime.

He had no idea that his encounter with Mia Luna Tearmoon, the Great Wisdom of the Empire, would alter the course of his entire existence.

—

Rattle, rattle… rattle, rattle.

As it moved along the road, the carriage swayed back and forth. The same rural landscape stretched as far as the eye could see here at the empire’s outskirts, with shoddy roads that frequently fell into disrepair.

Cyril was traveling with Arshia toward the north, where they would eventually arrive at Outcount Gilden’s territory. Wheat harvesting season had arrived in the empire at the start of the summer. A trickle of unsettling news that had started out little was now turning into a torrent of anxiety.

“How is the yield on the Rudolvon lands doing, Cyril?”

Grimness was the reply to Arshia’s query.

“I’ve heard bad things. Evidently worse than previous year.

“I see… The same is true in Perujin. And the reason…”

Arshia’s eyes were squinted as she looked up towards the sky.

“…is very likely up there. The blessings from the sun wasn’t as abundant.”

“The sun.” Cyril followed her look skyward, where, as usual, a dazzling sphere of light hung, dripping an endless stream of light into the ground. It didn’t feel any cooler with its light. And yet…

“A cold-resistant wheat.”The sun had been sparing in bestowing its favor. That indicated that temperatures had been lower. Like the previous year, this one was looking cool. Crop yields would undoubtedly decline.

“Princess Mia anticipated this. That must be the reason she sent us here,” Arshia muttered, drawing Cyril’s nod.

Numerous courses were available at Saint Mia Academy. Cyril had decided to become Arshia’s apprentice while concentrating on botany. He had gained a considerable lot of knowledge about Perujin farming practices during the process, many of which were far superior to Tearmoon’s methods. The process of “selective breeding,” which allowed different aspects of a crop to be, well, selectively improved, was the result of years and years of assiduous research and development. He wouldn’t soon forget his awe at the enormous diversity of wheat they had managed to create, each of which was suitable for a different use. But nevertheless…

“None of them worked.” Arshia bemoaned the fact that Perujin lacked any wheat varieties that could thrive in the cold temperatures.

She had tested various strains in the fields near the academy, but the outcomes weren’t particularly promising. The grown wheat was weak and readily bent by the wind. The ears were empty and emaciated; hollow kernels are common. These were well-known effects of not having the sun’s blessing. They were getting worse than they were last year. The fields around the academy appeared from a distance to be just another year’s agriculture, with endless rows of stalks. However, the astute eye recognized them as empty husks—withering remnants of wheat that had died but had not yet fallen. It was actually quite morbid.

Cyril attempted to uplift Arshia by saying, “But that’s to be expected, right? Who has ever heard of wheat that can grow in the cold, after all?”

Mia’s fascination with cold-resistant wheat was logical given the current weather patterns. It was even necessary. But necessity did not give rise to inevitable outcomes. He had been conducting research with Arshia the entire time, but he was still unsure of whether such a thing existed or even how to find it swiftly.

No living thing could avoid dying. Fish cannot survive on land. No person could survive without food. Perhaps no wheat could grow healthily without sufficient blessing of the sun, much like these immutable principles. Some things were merely universal constants that could not be changed by human volition.

Cyril felt like he was walking in the dark despite his reassuring remarks. There was nothing to guide him—no beacon, no sign. He had absolutely no sense of direction and was lost and roaming. What was his goal? Even so, was it reachable? Or will the looming doom and his increasing fear always be his entire reality?

He muttered helplessly, “Does cold-resistant wheat…really exist?”

Arshia gave him a glance. She surprised him with a comforting smile.

“Cyril, I understand that you feel lost, but I want you to keep in mind something. We have a challenging issue to address, but the most crucial thing is that we are aware of it. The issue itself will direct us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once the issue has been located, we may move on to devising a solution. We will hone our methods along the process. That’s how the Perujin people improved their farming methods, and that’s how we’ll advance as well,” Arshia stated before her tone changed to one of reflection. “I nearly gave up. I nearly gave up moving forward. But once I met Princess Mia, I was brought back to a long-forgotten dream. My ideal world is one in which nobody goes hungry. She gave me this duty to encourage me to move forward. I’ll take the first step toward achieving my dream by finishing this. Because of this, I’ll never give up. Never. That is my dream.”

Cyril couldn’t stop staring at Arshia as she exuded a hardened resolve that transfixed his attention. It had the firm conviction of a monk seeking the truth, or even the unwavering focus of a knight mounted for combat.

“Arshia-sama…”

The road crested a rise just as he mouthed her name, revealing wide tracts of countryside on each side.

“Is that Outcount Gilden’s territory.”

“Exactly as she stated, these fields are really large. Let’s go see them now.”

Arshia halted the carriage and disembarked. Cyril hurried after her as she entered the fields.

“It looks like they are in the same situation. The crops are also sickly and undersized,” she sighed as her eyes shifted away. “It must be as a result of the sun’s blessing also being in little supply here.”

Cyril also regarded the plants with alarm. He casually touched a nearby ear of wheat and then frowned.

“Hm? The kernels…are developing normally. Why is that?”

He heard his own voice in his head.

Why is one grass tall while the other is short?

His interest piqued. The wheat was so short, why? Why was it generating grains despite having a sickly appearance?

“Do shorter ones thrive better in the colder climates? No, hold on.”

He kept staring at it with wide, unwavering eyes. Arshia walked over after noticing that he had entirely stopped moving.

“Cyril? What’s the matter? Have you discovered anything on that wheat stalk?”

“I don’t believe that this is the same wheat that we cultivate in Tearmoon, Arshia-sama. It belongs to another species.”

“…What?”

The wheat in this area appeared identical at first glance, albeit unhealthy. The differences in appearance were hardly noticeable. These crooked specimens of wheat would have been written off as a bad crop compared to the other wheats grown well throughout the empire. However, there were variations, and thanks to his years of regular observation, Cyril’s eyes did not fail to detect them. Neither did they resemble any of the Perujin strains nor were they the same variety of wheat that the Rudolvons had planted. He knew it for a fact.

“Could this wheat variety be the one Her Highness was hoping we would find? Is that the reason she sent us to this frigid location?”

Flowers because being red was helpful in their habitat.

Because they benefited more from the sun’s light, trees were tall.

The fact that this wheat flourished in frigid climates made it resistant to the cold.

The physical characteristics of living organisms were adapted to the environment in which they developed. On that basis…

“I-It’s so obvious… I’m shocked that I didn’t consider it earlier. We need to look for wheat that is already flourishing in cold climates if we want it to be cold-resistant.”

The land and climate of Perujin and the Rudolvon area were both ideal for agriculture. Naturally, they were unaware of wheats that could withstand chilly conditions and shoot roots deep into cool soil. They never had to think about such things.

Cyril came to this conclusion while trembling subtly. He might in fact be useful to Mia. The useless information he had acquired from his excessive reading—a mere curiosity-sating pastime that no one had ever found interesting, save for his sister—was somehow…helpful?

He murmured in startling comprehension, “So that’s why Her Highness… She believed it would be beneficial. She had assumed as much from the beginning. She sent me here for that reason. She was demonstrating for me how to utilize what I already knew.”

He recalled the day she complimented him after seeing one of the flowers he had grown. She had recognized his potential through that flower, and now she was giving him the chance to realize it.

The road at his feet was illuminated by a ray of light that cut through the night. It moved ahead. There was only one thing left to do… walk it.

“Let’s obtain some samples of this wheat, Arshia-sama.” His eyes, like those of his Perujin guru, shone with the same hardened resolve as he said those words.