Chapter 87

Alongside my duties as a lord, I had also set my hands on another task.

—Grapes.

Hot springs and universities gather people. However, there are other ways to give value to the land itself. I am already having them use the arable land as much as possible. But even so, land that cannot be fully utilized remains.

It is not that it “cannot be used.” It is merely that “how to use it has not yet been decided.”

I looked down at the slope of the hill.

It is a rough, untended field.

“We will use this place.”

A farmer beside me raises his face in bewilderment.

“…Your Highness, the soil here is too light. Water drains too easily as well. It is not suited for crops.”

“That is exactly why it is good. Water does not pool, and the roots will not rot. It is suited for grapes.”

The farmer was at a loss for words. I continue.

“Besides, heat rises from beneath the ground, so this land is warm.”

A faint warmth peculiar to lands with hot springs. That prevents the soil from completely cooling even in winter.

“It is strong against frost, and the growth will be stable. It is worth doing.”

---

I looked down at another slope of the hill. Vineyards that are already in use are also dotted about.

“…That is,”

I pointed to the existing field. The farmer answers.

“It is from the old days. We harvest fruit every year, but…”

He trails off. I approached and took a branch in my hand. The young fruit is small. I look at other vines. The bunches are sparse. The way they ripen is not uniform either.

“You are mixing and planting them, aren’t you.”

“…Yes. Several varieties.”

I returned the branch.

“It is not a bad method.”

The farmer raises his face slightly.

“However—you cannot create a targeted flavor.”

…Mixing them is likely to diversify the risks of climate and pests. There is logic to it.

The farmers fell silent. I survey the field.

“First, we will put our hands in starting from here. We will not change everything. But, select them.”

I direct my gaze.

“Leave only the vines that yield well. Cut the rest.”

A stir runs through.

“…Cut them, you mean?”

“Yeah. Do not harbor things that are not worth leaving. However, we will not leave the remaining vines as they are.”

The farmers raise their faces.

“Realign them by section. Gather the same ones in the same place.”

I say quietly.

“…Replant them, you mean?”

I nodded.

“Select the good ones, and increase them. A field is something to be created.”

I continue further.

“Align the harvests as well. Do not take them all at once. Select only the ripe ones.”

One of the farmers muttered low.

“…The method is different from what we have done until now.”

“It is different. But I will have you change it.”

I nodded.

Keeping the branch in my hand, I suddenly muttered.

“It’s not enough.”

Marc raises his face.

“…What is, sir?”

“The varieties. With just this land, the breadth of what we can test is narrow. Send letters to the church and monasteries, and have them share the branches of the grapes they are growing in various regions.”

I continue further.

“To the merchants as well. If there are saplings entering circulation, buy them up.”

The farmers looked at each other’s faces.

“…You will go that far?”

“I will.”

There was no hesitation.

“To select, numbers are needed.”

The wind blew through the field. No one moved immediately.

---

A few days later. I was standing in front of the planted saplings.

“Graft them.”

When I said so, the farmers looked at each other.

“…Grafting, is it?”

“That’s right. However, we will change the method.”

One of the farmers furrows his brow slightly.

“…The method?”

I brought the branches together.

“There are vines with strong roots but bad taste. Conversely, there are vines with good fruit but that are weak. We will—intentionally combine them.”

Silence.

“…Until now, we had not thought that far.”

“I imagine so. That is why we will test it.”

“…Can such a thing…”

“It can be done.”

I declared flatly.

“It will take time, but results will appear.”

The farmers stared at their hands, remaining half-in-doubt.

Furthermore, I conveyed instructions regarding the barrels. It is still early to prepare them, but.

“Wash them.”

“…Wash them, you mean?”

“Thoroughly. Remove all the remaining dregs, and the smells. And, fumigate them with smoke.”

“Smoke…”

“To prevent rotting.”

The farmers looked at each other. It is too different from their methods up until now.

I quietly surveyed the field.

There is nothing yet. Neither results nor proof. However.

“…They will understand eventually.”

I mutter softly.

Medicine is the same. Record, test, and accumulate. There are places that can be reached not by prayer, but by accumulation. Grapes were also the same.

“I will make what can be made.”

I say quietly.

“In this land.”

The wind swayed the still-young branches.

…Things I only knew from books become reality.

“To think it would be useful in this form.”

I gave a small laugh.

Wine is profound. From light ones to those that sink deeply. To the point where you wouldn’t think they are from the same fruit.

“…Not bad. It’s a romantic tale.”

…The things that can be obtained in this land will still increase.

Not just wealth.

Even things that can be called supreme bliss.

---

Farmer’s Perspective

After His Highness left, for a while, only the sound of the wind remained in the field.

Eventually, one farmer let out a small breath.

“…Cut them, he says.”

He mutters to no one in particular. To that voice, another man responds.

“All the vines with poor yields, huh.”

“They’re things we spent years growing.”

Low voices continue bit by bit.

“What do we do if it fails?”

“If this year’s harvest decreases, we won’t be able to survive the winter.”

No one raises their voice. But anxiety was clearly there.

“Replanting, aligning them…”

“We’ve never done such things.”

One lightly kicks the dirt with his shoe.

“The higher-ups say things easily.”

No one denied those words.

Silence falls. Eventually, an older farmer slowly opened his mouth.

“…But, it’s that Highness.”

Gazes gather.

“He got the medicine right. He also settled the uproar at the gate.”

He says shortly.

“If he misses the mark, there’ll be a heavy price to pay, but still…”

A bitter laugh leaked out slightly.

Anxiety, resignation, and slight expectation mix.

“…Guess we have no choice but to do it.”

Someone said. With that, the talk ended. A short distance away, Marc was listening to that exchange.

---

Marc’s Perspective

…Naturally.

He quietly mutters in his heart. Making them cut the vines. Making them swallow the possibility of reducing the harvest. Moreover, the reason is a future prospect of “it should get better.”

For those living in the present, it is tantamount to a gamble.

He directs his gaze to the field. The young branches of the vines are swaying in the wind.

…His Highness understands.

That backlash will arise, and that anxiety will spread. Knowing that, he does not stop. Rather, he is making them choose. Obey, or leave. In exchange, he will absolutely produce results.

Marc slowly exhaled.

“…He has prepared an escape route.”

He mutters softly.

Just like he created jobs outside the gates, it is the same here. If they become unable to eat from the fields, he will likely pick them up in another place. He raised his gaze.

“…He is enclosing them.”

Soldiers, merchants, and farmers too. All of them, with the same method.

Marc quietly turned on his heel.

He knew what needed to be done.

---

The wind blew through the field. The young branches are still thin.

The wine of this land will eventually become a specialty product, and nobles will compete to buy it.

—However, that time has not yet come.