Chapter 22

In the Crawford family’s territory, the lowlands along the river were invariably submerged whenever there was a long spell of rain. Immersed in water up to their knees, sometimes more than half the fields would be ruined. Even so, no one tried to abandon this land. Once the water receded, the soil became rich. It took effort, but the quality of the crops was not bad. Above all, these were fields tilled since the time of their ancestors. “Water again?” Saying that, everyone would scrape out the mud, prepare the fields, and return to their lives as if nothing had happened. That was the norm for this land. That is exactly why. “We will make this place a retention basin.” At the words of the feudal lord—Lydia‘s father—the plaza buzzed. “Why bring this up now?” A man raised his voice. “Sure, the water comes. But, it’s not every year.” “Every time it does, we have rebuilt.” “Even so, we have lived here.” Another woman spoke. “We are already used to being soaked in water.” “Because we have the fields, we can live.” Her father started to say something but swallowed his words. His expression looked not like that of a feudal lord, but of a single human being. Lydia was watching the scene right beside him, but she couldn’t say anything. Because she learned for the first time that for them, it was not “damage.” It was a “life they had accepted.” Even so, reality does not change. This river will eventually, inevitably, flood massively. When that happens, these lowlands will be swallowed whole. “It has been okay until now” is not proof that “it will be okay from now on.” However—that talk of the future was far too distant for those living in the present. Lydia slowly exhaled. The atmosphere in the plaza remained stiff until the end. Persuasion, explanation, logic. None of them should be wrong, yet they didn’t reach anyone’s heart. Her father proposed clearing safe land away from the river and moving there. But the words suggesting they leave the fields tilled since their ancestors’ time did not reach their ears. “Let us think about it.” Saying that, the people of the territory scattered, and the day ended without a conclusion. Upon returning to the office, her father let out a deep sigh as soon as he sat in his chair. Lydia and the retainers were also at a loss for words. The necessity of the retention basin was clear to everyone’s eyes. But at the same time, it was also a fact that if that land were lost, there were families whose livelihoods would become unsustainable. “…I…” The words her father muttered fell onto the desk and vanished. His back looked smaller than usual. Lydia thought. …I thought a feudal lord was someone who could make decisions without hesitation. But now, her father’s back seemed to be saying that he felt no matter what he chose, he would hurt someone.

Even when night came, no answer was found. Lydia opened her desk drawer and took out stationery. After hesitating, she picked up a pen. The addressee was only one person. —His Highness the Third Prince. The tip of the pen stopped for a while, long enough for the ink to bleed. It wasn’t that she wanted him to save her. Nor did she want him to make the decision for her. However, she wanted someone to listen to this hesitation. Not as the next feudal lord, but as Lydia. Only the sound of rubbing paper echoed in the quiet room.

Today, I saw my father making a face “not of a feudal lord.” I am now merely watching my father beside him, wavering between what is right as a lord and protecting people’s lives. There is land that gets submerged every time the long rains continue. Everyone accepted it, rebuilt, and lived there. However, thinking of the massive flooding that might come eventually, my father judged that we should build a retention basin in that location now. But for them, that was not “damage,” but a “life they were used to.” My father also proposed preparing safe land away from the river. But the choice to leave the fields continuing from their ancestors did not reach anyone’s heart. I thought a feudal lord was someone who could decide without hesitation. But today, I learned the weight of that hesitation from my father’s back.

There, the pen stopped. After thinking for a while, Lydia added at the end.

Your Highness, what would you do in this moment?

The moment she finished writing, she felt that the things accumulated deep in her chest became just a little lighter.

…People hesitate. However, if one keeps that hesitation locked inside one’s heart, one might be crushed. Lydia learned for the first time this night that there are times when one is saved just a little simply by putting it into words for someone.