Free Web NovelChapter 84: Operation: Bread
Mirabelle stood in the middle of the training courtyard and smiled.
Not because she had somehow accidentally acquired a Territory Development System.
No.
Today she was smiling because of grain.
Lots of grain.
Golden Thorn-grass covered nearly every available patch of stone.
Bundles of harvested stalks lay in neat piles beneath the warm afternoon sun. The scent of dried grass filled the air, mixing with the smell of heated stone and dust.
The courtyard itself was rectangular and usually reserved for training.
Weapon racks lined one wall.
Practice dummies occupied another.
Over the last few days, however, the soldiers had effectively been evicted in favor of agriculture.
Sunlight poured down from above.
Around the courtyard ran a covered walkway supported by pale stone columns and graceful arches. Cool shadows pooled beneath the roof while the center remained bathed in light.
Exactly what she needed.
A few servants waited nearby.
Owen stood closest to her.
Several others lingered behind him.
Among them was a squirrel Beastman whose affinity allowed him to manipulate stone. The male stood patiently near one of the arches, waiting for instructions.
And leaning casually against one of the columns stood Kaelith.
Watching.
Mirabelle ignored him.
Mostly.
The fact that she could feel his gaze from halfway across the courtyard was completely irrelevant.
Absolutely irrelevant.
A warm breeze brushed through her hair and stirred the tips of her ears.
She turned back toward the grain.
"So," she said.
Owen immediately straightened: "We’ve already dried it."
Mirabelle nodded: "Good."
Her eyes swept across the piles.
"This is where the real work begins."
Confused expressions appeared.
Mirabelle pointed toward one of the bundles.
"Inside those heads are the actual grains we want." Mirabelle crouched and picked up one of the stalks. She shook it lightly.
A few loose grains rattled softly against the dry husks.
"We want these."
Her finger pointed toward the seeds.
Realization slowly spread across several faces.
Owen rubbed his chin: "So we remove them?"
"Exactly."
The wolf nodded thoughtfully. That part at least seemed understandable.
Mirabelle continued:
"After that we’ll separate the grain from the lighter plant material."
The confusion immediately returned.
She sighed.
Right.
No one here had ever processed wheat before.
Or Thorn-grass.
Or whatever the Beast Goddess had decided to call wheat in this world.
"Imagine tossing a handful of leaves and pebbles into the air."
Owen nodded.
"The pebbles fall first. The leaves drift away."
Understanding flashed in his eyes: "The grain is the pebble."
"Exactly."
A grin spread across Owen’s face.
He looked ridiculously pleased with himself.
"We’ll need wind."
Mirabelle nodded: "A steady one. We need to find someone with a wind affinity."
Several servants exchanged glances.
Wind affinities weren’t particularly rare.
Finding one wouldn’t be difficult.
"Once the grain is thrown into the air, the wind will carry away the lighter material."
She picked up a handful of chaff and let it drift from her fingers. "But before that happens, we need to separate the grain."
Owen immediately turned toward the servants. He clapped his hands.
"Come on, move!"
The servants quickly got to work.
Bundles of Thorn-grass were dragged toward the center of the courtyard.
Some workers beat the stalks against flat stones while others struck them with wooden rods.
The dry heads cracked apart under the repeated impacts. Golden grains began raining onto the stone floor.
At first it seemed painfully inefficient.
Then Mirabelle reminded herself that humanity had spent thousands of years doing exactly this before machines existed.
One step at a time.
The sound of cracking stalks filled the courtyard.
Servants laughed, talked, and occasionally cursed whenever grains flew somewhere unexpected.
Dust floated through the warm sunlight.
Slowly, small golden piles began forming.
Mirabelle smiled.
This was working.
A strange sensation prickled at the back of her neck. Her smile immediately faltered.
She could feel him.
Watching.
Again.
The awareness was almost physical.
Like sunlight on exposed skin.
Or being slowly undressed with someone’s eyes.
Mirabelle stubbornly refused to turn around.
No.
She was not looking.
She was busy.
She was a Duchess.
A responsible ruler.
A mature adult.
The fact that Kaelith was currently leaning somewhere behind her wearing the smug expression of a male who knew exactly what she looked like beneath her clothes was irrelevant.
Completely irrelevant.
Her ears twitched.
She turned around anyway.
Immediately regretted it.
The hyena was exactly where she expected him to be. Leaning against one of the columns. The corner of his mouth lifted.
Mirabelle quickly looked away.
This was going to become a problem.
A very large problem.
Preferably one she could throw into a river.
"Your Grace."
Mirabelle looked up.
A familiar Beastman was approaching.
Recognition immediately clicked.
The wind-affinity user.
The same male who had reinforced her windows against nighttime break-ins by overly enthusiastic males.
He bowed: "You requested my assistance."
"Perfect timing."
Mirabelle beckoned him closer.
A few minutes later she found herself explaining grain processing to a man capable of controlling the weather.
Life had become very strange.
"I can do that."
Excellent.
Before Mirabelle could continue, movement caught her attention.
Three males now occupied the shaded walkway. Kaelith remained where he had been. Beside him stood Silas. And Lucien.
Mirabelle immediately looked away before she could accidentally make eye contact with all three.
Absolutely not.
Nope.
Not happening.
She had grain.
Grain was safe.
Grain did not flirt.
And grain certainly wasn’t interested in discussing recent decisions or her current relationship status.
Fine.
She would admit it.
Right now she was absolutely using Thorn-grass as an excuse to avoid facing the other two.
She hadn’t planned this far ahead, okay?
At the time, agreeing to three mates had seemed like a much simpler problem.
Now she had to actually talk to them about it.
A horrifying development.
So instead, Mirabelle focused very intensely on agriculture.
And hoped that eventually watching grain processing would become boring enough for them to leave.
Unfortunately, the males seemed perfectly content to watch.
Silas folded his arms across his chest.
A warm breeze stirred the loose strands of his hair as his gaze settled on Kaelith.
Then lingered.
Slowly.
Evaluating.
The prince frowned slightly. Something had changed. He couldn’t quite put it into words.
The hyena carried himself differently today.
Not more confident. That had never been an issue.
Grounded.
Settled.
As though some long-standing tension had finally left his body. As though something inside him had clicked into place.
Lucien noticed it too.
The fox’s ears twitched as he studied Kaelith for several moments. Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Silas chose to ignore both of them.
Instead, his attention shifted toward the courtyard. Toward the growing mountains of Thorn-grass.
The dry scent of grain drifted through the warm afternoon air.
Silas: "So that’s it."
Kaelith followed his gaze and nodded:
"Apparently."
Silas stared at the piles.
"It doesn’t look particularly impressive."
"That’s because you’re looking at grass",
Lucien’s ears perked forward. "What exactly is she trying to accomplish?"
Kaelith shrugged: "I only understood about half of it."
The fox waited.
The hyena waited.
Eventually, Lucien sighed.
"Well?"
Kaelith pointed toward the grain:
"Those little things."
Lucien: "The seeds?" freewebnovёl.ƈom
Kealith: "Apparently they’re edible."
The fox blinked.
Silas blinked. Unlike the others, he already knew that part. Mirabelle had explained it in the plains.
That didn’t stop one irritating thought from surfacing: Why exactly would apex predators spend so much effort cultivating the food of prey animals?
Kaelith looked offended at Lucien.
"Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t invent it."
Lucien’s gaze returned to the growing piles of grain.
"Edible?"
"More than that." Kaelith rubbed his chin.
"From what I understood, the grains can be stored for long periods without being processed."
Lucien: "A preserved food?"
Kealith: "Something like that."
Lucien: "And it lasts?"
Kaelith glanced toward Mirabelle:
"For twenty years, according to her."
Now Lucien went still.
Completely still. His tail stopped moving.
The fox’s interest sharpened instantly.
Stored food.
Transportable food.
Reliable food.
Food that could survive winter.
Food that could be stockpiled before droughts.
Food that armies could carry.
Food that merchants could transport.
Around them, the sounds of cracking stalks echoed through the courtyard.
Servants laughed. Workers shouted instructions.
Golden grain continued accumulating beneath the afternoon sun.
And suddenly Lucien understood exactly why Mirabelle looked so excited.
The implications were enormous.
His gaze returned to the young Duchess.
Somehow, she had taken something as ordinary as grass and found a way to turn it into a weapon against a status quo every other ruler seemed perfectly content to accept.
Lucien found that deeply attractive.
Meanwhile, the separated grain was gathered. Servants carried filled baskets toward the center of the courtyard.
The wind-affinity user stepped forward.
A servant tossed the first basketful into the air. The male raised his hand.
Wind rushed through the courtyard.
Loose husks and dry fragments immediately lifted into the air, swirling like golden dust in the sunlight.
The grain fell straight downward. The courtyard erupted into excited shouting.
Another basket followed.
And another.
Again the wind swept away the useless material while the heavier grain remained behind. Golden piles grew larger with every pass.
Mirabelle stared.
Then grinned.
Then laughed.
It worked.
It actually worked.
The sound escaped her before she could stop it.
