The Agricultural Race of Elves #2
Just because something suits my palate doesn't mean it has to suit anyone else's. But I could hardly go around selling something that didn't even suit mine.
I fretted over this untimely dilemma as I chewed on a grape, then sought out the household elder who might give me an answer—Chess.
Ordinarily I would have reported to Helena first, of course, but I couldn't quite bring myself to trust a palate already thoroughly trained on my own cooking.
"Taste the grapes. The ones grown by the dark elves, no less…"
Wherever Chess was, Is was sure to be as well. I broke out in a cold sweat as I suddenly remembered a fact I had somehow let slip my mind.
That fiercely loyal Chess was not the sort of man who would come just because I called for him, so in a way this was inevitable.
"Yes. I have already tasted them myself… and I believe they are more than competitive."
Chess and Is both stared at the grapes on the plate with distinctly dubious expressions.
They were broad-minded enough in their way, but prejudices that had sunk into the bone were another matter entirely; their reaction was only natural.
If anything, it would have been stranger if they had drawn a firm line and declared that dark elves made no difference to them.
"You tasted them yourself… I see."
Is seemed to dwell on the fact that I had taken the lead, murmuring it over several times before steeling himself and popping a grape into his mouth whole.
"I-Is, my lord!"
Chess nearly fainted on the spot. Anyone watching would have thought the man had knowingly swallowed poison.
I knew the reaction was perfectly normal for the people here, yet it still left a faintly sour taste in my mouth.
He really can be a bit of a clown sometimes…
Chew, chew. In the silence, the only sound was Is working the grape between his teeth.
It was just a grape, yet I felt as though my breath had stopped; I even had the absurd illusion that the air itself had grown heavy.
"It's… good."
Is's expression brightened considerably as he swallowed. The flavor seemed to have won him over.
"Is it truly that good?"
"Mm. There's no need for empty flattery over something like this. If you still can't believe it, try one yourself. You'll change your mind just as I did."
"Understood."
The moment Is's invitation left his lips, Chess swallowed a grape.
The face that had been furrowed to the extreme smoothed out as cleanly as a freshly pressed shirt, and the way he carefully assessed the flavor afterward was almost eerie.
I half-suspected he might have a dual personality.
"It is certainly… superior to any grape I have known. I cannot claim to have sampled every variety on the continent, so I will not swear to it absolutely, but among those I have tasted, this is the finest by far."
Chess's assessment was nothing if not clinical.
The content alone sounded like pure praise, yet the expression and voice delivering it were so grave that he might as well have been a professional grape appraiser.
"Indeed. If you think so as well… then it is worth considering as a future flagship product. Will the Altram Trading Company handle the sales?"
"If that is your command, my lord, I will obey… but this time I believe Lady Helena's permission will be required. The idea of having the dark elves cultivate the crop and then selling it originated with her attendant, Zion."
Chess made it clear that any achievement of mine was an achievement of Helena's, declining with considerable politeness.
There was not the slightest hint that he was unwilling to take on grapes grown by "unclean" hands; he simply wanted the proper procedures observed.
"Mm… You have a point. The girl agreed with Zion's idea and put it into action, so the fruits of that labor rightly belong to her as well."
"Zion, did you hear? Since Lord Is has spoken thus, settle the future business plans only after reporting to Lady Helena."
"Yes. I'll do as you say."
In short, the conclusion was that Helena would handle everything herself—but securing the endorsement of two nobles was already more than enough to count as a success.
These were men who had eaten their share of fine things; their judgment could be trusted.
I offered a light bow and headed for Helena's chambers with the grapes in hand.
There was no reason to put it off, so I intended to seek her permission at once.
"…You're finally here?"
After a light knock I opened the door, and the first thing that met my eyes was Helena's sulky face.
The pout of her lips and the discontent swimming in her gaze made it look as though a complaint was about to fly at me any second.
"Ah… sorry I'm late."
"You should be sorry! I'm already forcing myself to endure sending you off to where the dark elves are, and the least you could do is show your face to me first the moment you get back! And another thing…"
Helena's nagging sounded uncannily like a wife scolding her husband for playing games too much.
I'd never been married myself, but it was extremely similar to all the stories that used to float around the internet.
Back then we called them "tales"… I wasn't sure if people still put it that way.
"So what you're saying is, pay a little more attention to you?"
"Yes! Exactly!"
Only after I skimmed past the torrent and stated the point did the machine-gun stream of complaints cut off at once.
The way she spoke made her seem like a child, yet I could understand her feelings well enough.
Helena did not treat dark elves like filth, so she could appraise their looks with cool objectivity—and from there she had arrived at the conclusion that my eyes might start wandering.
But I felt no need to do any such thing, and had no intention of it either.
That dark elves were attractive was hard to deny, yet the biggest reason was simply that I had no desire to cheat on Helena.
Whether it was dangerous or not came second.
"Then let's talk after you try these grapes first. I had to go see Lord Is because of this first harvest."
"Father…? Ah, I see."
Helena nodded as if she understood perfectly, took the plate I held out, and popped a grape into her mouth without a word of protest.
It was a world away from the ordinary reactions Is and Chess had shown.
One might conclude from that that she lacked ordinary sensibilities—but with Helena, I thought, it was possible.
This was a woman capable of starting a continental war just to escape the pressure of expectations, after all.
"It's delicious! Really delicious! The flavor is so good you could just eat the grapes as they are. With something this fine, is there even any need to turn them into wine?"
Helena and I had spent long years eating the same cooking, so our tastes had naturally grown similar.
Her delight was only to be expected, yet I still felt a quiet surge of relief.
"I think so too… but if we want to sell them widely, wine is still the better option. The farther they travel, the more the quality will inevitably drop, but that also means we can expect all sorts of other effects."
"That's true. Processed wine keeps longer than grapes, and building a cold-storage warehouse with magic items the way they do in Varkan County is also a concern."
Helena seemed to muse that a warehouse might make it worth trying, but even if we used cold storage I doubted the effect would be all that great.
The roads were reasonably well maintained, yet so long as transport was limited to wagons, the constraints would be many.
And even if we did sell them, the market would be limited to within the duchy or the very nearest places.
"In the end, wine is the answer, just as I first thought."
"Can't be helped. I've already got a wine-maker standing by in the mansion, so I'll send him at once. The oak barrels are ready too, so we can send those along."
Helena's decisiveness was swift and thorough.
With wine-making the goal, preparing the groundwork in advance was only natural, yet watching her summon a servant and issue orders left me thinking nothing more than how quick she was.
"Now that all that's left is waiting for the finished product… we should finish our business, shouldn't we?"
Helena, who had briefly been distracted, began to cast those alluring eyes at me again.
Her anger had clearly subsided compared to a moment ago, yet she still seemed determined to see things through to the end.
In response, I pretended complete ignorance and asked,
"Isn't there still work left to do?"
"There isn't. And even if there were, it wouldn't matter. Scolding Zion comes first."
So the excuse of work as an escape route had failed.
It had been the most plausible pretext both in justification and in practicality, but if she said there was no work left, I had nothing more to say.
Had there been remaining duties, I might have soothed her somehow—but even that possibility was gone.
In the end, the only path left to me was the same as always: to train Helena until she obeyed.
"Helena… have you already forgotten?"
"F-forgotten what?!"
I narrowed my eyes, gave a soft chuckle, and closed the distance.
One step, then another… like a snake coiled around a body, slowly tightening around the throat.
Even then I worried I might be overdoing it, but the flustered look on her face told me the effect was working.
"That day, at the Count of Varkan's mansion… don't you remember what you said?"
Even now, just recalling it made heat rise to my face.
The time we had spent in that dark bathroom had been such a stimulating night, and I knew full well that Helena had been thoroughly worked up and that we had lingered a long while.
"That was…"
"You remember, don't you? I'd be sad if you said you didn't."
I rested a finger on Helena's chin—now so close—and put on a deliberately sorrowful air.
Even I thought the act was loathsome and disgusting, but I forced myself to rationalize it as just another means to an end.
And this pure-hearted Helena fell for the performance completely.
The woman who moments ago had been trying to corner me vanished without a trace; instead she clung to my sleeve and tried her best to console me.
"N-no! I remember! I remember all of it!"
"Then tell me what Helena said that time. You don't have to say it loudly. I'm the only one listening."
When I pressed her with eyes that demanded an immediate answer, Helena slowly parted her lips in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
She managed to spit out words that were truly shameful to speak in broad daylight.
"Good girl. You said it well."
Whether it counted as a reward was debatable, but I stroked Helena's soft cheek and praised her in a slightly lowered voice.
I was every bit as embarrassed, yet it was a necessary choice if I was going to soothe this childlike woman.
"Ah…! I'm happy to be praised."
In this moment, the master-servant relationship was completely inverted. I was the master, and Helena the servant.
No—calling her a servant was understating it; she was no different from a puppy.
She was always fond of acting spoiled, but the degree to which she lowered herself now was something else entirely.
I could clearly feel the difference between the coquetry of a master and the coquetry of one being dominated.
"Yes. Helena is such a good girl. You're so quick to accept what I say—it makes me proud."
"Master…"
She seemed determined to go thoroughly servile now that their positions had flipped.
Calling me "Master," the way she flirted with flushed cheeks—every little gesture was enough to shake a man's heart.
I didn't need to guess at her intent, but it was still too early in the day.
If I were half-retired and did nothing but eat and sleep, it might be different, but I could hardly exhaust myself on that during proper working hours.
Besides, raising a pet also required the self-control to feed it only in moderation.
Spoil it too much just because it's cute and you end up ruining its health—and my present situation was much the same.
"So wait until today's duties are finished. You can manage that much, can't you?"
"B-but… I already miss Master's arms right now."
"You still have to endure. Understood? Helena is a good girl, so if you hold out properly, I'll give you a reward to match."
Helena's eyes sparkled at the word "reward," and she nodded again and again. She looked exactly like a child who had been hooked by the promise of sweets.