Last week, a meeting concerning the harvest festival had been held. I’d explained my long-term outlook in broad strokes, and the merchants had taken a strong interest. However, the reaction of the farmers, the crux of a harvest festival, had been lackluster.
That had been within my expectations. Dramatically changing a yearly event and tradition wasn’t so easy. Furthermore, though I was the feudal lord, I was a newcomer to the people living in this land. It was normal that they would be displeased if an outsider swooped in and changed their customs. In my past life, I had seen news about conflicts arising between immigrants and locals about village revitalization efforts.
Fortunately, based on the farmers’ expressions, they seemed more confused than opposed. There was also a possibility that my presentation hadn’t been comprehensive enough in conveying my ideas. I should stay calm and start by getting to know them better. Thinking that, I decided to finish my routine tasks ahead of time and visit the farmers in the neighborhood.
Though Prelier could be painted in general terms, each area had its own characteristics. The medical facility and business district at the center of the city were full of lively hustle and bustle, but the scenery transformed with a short, one-hour carriage ride. I saw sprawling wheat fields, cows grazing on gently sloping hills, and nearby farmers working and cheerfully chatting beneath large trees.
I hadn’t grown up around such a serene landscape, but it felt nostalgic somehow. Oddly enough, it felt like I had entered one of Jean-François Millet’s paintings.
“The air is so nice and fresh,” I said. I alighted from the carriage with Sir Leonhart’s help and breathed in the smell of soil and grass as I stretched.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
“I’m fine. In fact, I feel invigorated.” During the period when I had been experiencing terrible morning sickness symptoms, traveling even short distances had been strenuous, but I was completely fine now. Sir Leonhart had taken such excellent care of me inside the carriage that I didn’t feel ill at all.
“Watch your step,” he said, offering me his arm.
“Thank you.” I wrapped my hand around his arm, and off we went.
Once you left the regularly maintained thoroughfares in the city, the paths became dirt trails formed purely by people frequently tamping down the earth as they walked on them. As areas of Prelier became more developed, the main roads in their direct vicinities had been paved with stone, but the narrow farm footpaths hadn’t been touched yet.
Cobblestone streets were sturdy, but in return, they cost money and time to repair. If they were ever damaged by a natural disaster or when they degraded over time, a mason would need to be dispatched. I figured that dirt paths were more optimal for rural areas since the villagers could handle the repairs themselves. However, if many residents near a road requested it, I would consider paving it. I wholeheartedly wanted to preserve this idyllic scenery, but the residents’ convenience was more important than my sentimental attachment.
While I was gazing at the scenery, lost in such thoughts, boisterous voices approached us. Children pushed their way through the tall grass and came onto the road. My eyes met with the boy—around five years old—at the front of the pack, and his large eyes grew even larger.
He blinked a few times and then mumbled, “A princess?”
“Huh? A princess?!”
“You’re right!”
Children around the boy’s age poured out from behind him. There were five healthy, sun-kissed boys and girls in total. They looked to be between five and eight years old.
“You’re wrong. Mama told me that she’s a feudal lord,” a precocious little girl said.
“‘Foo-dal lord’? She’s not a princess?”
“What’s a ‘foo-dough lord’?”
Watching the other children try to copy the little girl and garble the words was cuteness overload, and I broke into a smile.
“Hello. I’m Rosemary, a feudal lord.”
“See, I told you! She’s a feudal lord!” the girl said, puffing up with pride.
The other children gazed at her with admiration. “Wow, amazing!” they cried. It was such a precious sight that I almost writhed in pain.
Ah... So cuuute. I pressed my palm against my throbbing chest. Then, the adults working the fields noticed us. When they saw me and Leonhart, their eyes also widened.
“Duchess?!”
“Why is the duchess all the way out here?”
The children glanced at the panicked adults and buzzed with excitement.
“‘Duck-ess’?”
“They called her a ‘duck-ess.’”
They were like chirping chicks, and I was absolutely smitten. If that’s what you children call me, then from today forward I am a “foo-dough lord” and a “duck-ess.”
“Rose, your face,” Sir Leonhart pointed out in a hushed voice.
I’d been knocked out by how adorable the children were, and a sloppy grin had spread across my face before I knew it. I gasped and snapped back to my senses. When I frantically reined in my expression, his throat made a funny sound.
That was close. Very close. Luckily, the adults don’t seem to have noticed. I was this close to losing my dignity as their feudal lord.
“Please wait one moment. I’ll go call the village mayor,” said a middle-aged man as he wiped mud off his cheek. He was about to hurry off in the alleged direction of the mayor’s house, but I stopped him.
“No, that’s quite all right. I’m merely here to observe a little, and I’ll be leaving shortly. Everyone, please continue what you were doing,” I said.
“Huh? You don’t have any business with us?”
“Not at all. This isn’t a formal inspection. I notified the mayor in advance, but I’m partially here for personal reasons.”
“I see...”
The adults cocked their heads with bewildered expressions, but they returned to farming.
Now then, I think I’ll walk around their village. I was about to march in, but a small hand stopped me. Five pairs of expectant eyes twinkled up at me.
“Foo-dough lord, want to play?”
“Big sis, will you play with us?”
“I’ll make you a flower crown!”
“Hrgh...” Oh, what a charming invitation. I haven’t accomplished my main goal of observing the farmwork and listening to the villagers’ stories yet, but wouldn’t playing with the children and deepening our friendship also be important? Conflicted, I tried to convince myself with such excuses.
A woman who had been working under the tree stood up, unable to overlook my predicament. “Hey now! You lot! There’s a baby in the duchess’s belly, so don’t bother her!” she yelled.
“Awww, you can’t play?”
“You caaan’t?”
Watching the children wither despondently made my chest ache, and I couldn’t bear the sight. “Well, if it’s only for a little bit...”