“An Agricultural ☆ Typhoon, flying across the world! Welcome to the Farming Paradise, Jiou!”
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“……”
I had never heard a worse slogan in all my life. It immediately made visitors want to turn around and leave.
This was the new Jiou.
The political revolution was playing second fiddle to the agricultural one.
Jiou central command had been pouring the bulk of their resources into the military budget, and with their removal, the man Azami sent to fix things had turned the entire country on its head.
According to him, “Removing imperial rule and converting to democracy is merely a start. To prevent upheaval, we need a steady food supply. In other words—farms.”
I’m sure you know who I mean. As I walked through the sea of wheat, I had to admit his love for fieldwork paid dividends.
They had definitely managed to create amber waves.
Soon, my eyes found a strange sight.
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“Hoo! Ha! Hoo! Ha! Thank the wheat and the soil! On one…”
“““Agricultural! Typhoon!”””
“Yes! Spin her up! The horticultural hurricane!”
“……Wish I hadn’t looked.”
Keep your eyes straight ahead. You’ll regret looking back.
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Merthophan was out there, harvesting with the youth of Jiou.
His tanned skin and now-standard loincloth looked slightly less out of place since everyone around him was dressed the same.
“Hoo! Ha… Hm?”
Mopping the sweat from his brow with a towel, Merthophan spotted me and smiled breezily.
“Oh, is that you, Asako?”
His handsome face was charming and stalwart. If only he were wearing clothes, he’d be a catch.
“It’s been a while, Ex-Colonel Merthophan.”
He waggled a finger at that. “Sorry, Asako—that title isn’t wrong, but I’m going by another here.”
“Yeah?”
He’d changed roles? Did an Azami military title work against him in Jiou? That was my assumption.
“Yes, these days, I’m—” He summoned a hoe and scythe from somewhere, brandishing both dramatically. “Agricultural Meister ☆ Merthophan Dextro!”
That title needs shortening.
I elected not to inquire how this had come to pass.
“That’s so long. Can I just call you Merthophan?”
“Mm, sans title? Suits me fine.”
My goal was not to be disrespectful, but…I mean, I do respect a lot of what he does.
For now, I just changed the subject.
“Ah-ha-ha…is it time to harvest already?”
It was spring, so this harvest was entirely out of season. I wasn’t sure why these young men were out here battling with the ripened wheat.
Merthophan’s smile was positively dazzling. “Indeed! Thanks to the special breeds provided by Kunlun and my own research into farming techniques—at last we can go from seed to harvest in three months even outside the Last Dungeon boonies! The goal is to one day reach the one-month rotation Kunlun itself has.”
“Three is plenty crazy.”
Yup—the cold war between Azami and Jiou had not yet thawed, but they’d welcomed the ex-colonel here—and were functionally worshipping the ground he walked on—because of this three-month wheat.
If he labored in the fields to keep them from starving—well, given the way the government had poured money into the army, they’d flock to him, enemy or not.
Smiling broadly, Merthophan ran his fingers across the freshly harvested wheat. Did it not prick his hand?
“Proof again of the power of farming! Azami—and I—had plenty of hard feelings toward Jiou, but those are things of the past.”
“Huh…”
His eyes had turned into hearts, and I abstained from comment.
“And Jiou is gradually—or rapidly, I should say—turning into a breadbasket. How could I not be impressed? I never imagined I’d harbor such love for our former enemies. Wheat cures all ills. Viva la…agriculture…”
He choked up on the last phrase.
The young men around him were wiping tears from their eyes.
“I’m right there with you, Meister Merthophan!”
Watching the flapping loincloths and streaming tears, it occurred to me that the average citizen must have been very short on provisions here. Food, clothing, and shelter are all necessary. They had the first one all squared away, so hopefully they’d remember the second soon.
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“Right on, comrade! On one!”
“““Agricultural typhoon!”””
“Yes, the horticultural hurricane!”