Chapter 330: A Single Apple Tree
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 330: A Single Apple Tree
After taking the horse, she picked up one of the steel ingots lying on the ground. Through her torn sleeve, a dark red tattoo was visible, snaking down from her elbow. A pure white light traveled down the tattoo and seeped into the ingot. Geometric vertical lines were engraved onto the steel.
The woman focused her mana. A flash of light. In the blink of an eye, the steel ingot had transformed into a sturdy plow.
The power to change matter with mana. Alchemy. And a considerably high level of it, at that.
“A plow? Isn’t that something you use for farming?”
“…Yes.”
“That’s strange. I heard there are no fields in the Fallen Dominion, so why a plow?”
The woman, who was hitching the plow to the horse, glanced at me and asked curtly.
“…A wanderer?”
“Ah, yes. I arrived recently.”
“…There are fields. The Golden Lord is omnipotent.”
Her words grew longer at the mention of the Golden Lord. She continued with the passion of a defense attorney.
“…The Golden Lord often creates fields. Where he passes, vast croplands appear, teeming with produce. The scale is so large that the Golden Palace has its own Juggernauts just for harvesting…”
Oh? I see. The Fallen Dominion’s main source of income may be plunder, but that alone couldn’t possibly make them self-sufficient in food. I’d heard they had a food supply from somewhere… so it was the Golden Palace.
Everything in the Fallen Dominion was alchemized by the Golden Lord. It was unlikely that the Golden Lord, who could build fortresses by himself, wouldn't create more farmland if it was need—
Wait. As I followed that train of thought, I realized something and asked again.
“Hold on. You’re not saying you grow crops in the ‘fields’ the Golden Lord made… you’re saying the Golden Lord makes the ‘crops in the fields’?”
“…Yes.”
Huh, wait a minute.
The implications of this were huge. Having fields and supplying a trickle of crops from them—that was entirely plausible.
But… what if you could create the ‘crops’ themselves at will? What if you could ripen grain with alchemy…?
“Whoa. That’s cheating. If you can print food whenever you want, you don’t need supply lines or anything.”
“…Right.”
“It’s incredible, but why tell me all this?”
Meanwhile, the woman was struggling to attach the plow to the horse. Creating the plow with alchemy had been instantaneous, but the simple task of hitching it was taking twice as long. Wiping the sweat from her brow with her strap, she spoke in a low voice.
“…You should know, you from the Military State.”
I flinched.
The moment I showed a hint of caution, wondering how she knew I was from the Military State, she glanced briefly at my wrist.
The Bio-receptor, one of the Military State’s inventions. An ID card for the State, containing a condensation of a person’s biological information. To think she’d noticed it.
‘…You should know how magnificent the Golden Lord is, and what the Military State has picked a fight with. You people, who prop up a mere whelp like Maximilien as one of your Six Generals, couldn’t possibly comprehend even a fraction of it.’
Feigning surprise, I hastily covered my sleeve. Seeing my urgent movement, the woman…
‘…Trying to hide it now is like crying over spilled milk. You were foolish, man of the Military State.’
…is probably what she’s thinking.
Good. A natural reveal of my identity. Now we're even.
Because I know who you are, too.
The Fallen Dominion, with no settled lands, has no ruling class like lords. But that doesn’t mean it has no class system.
The Dholes are plunderers. But one cannot survive on plunder alone. Someone has to produce the things that are desperately needed.
Here, where the byproducts of the Golden Lord are scattered everywhere, one must learn alchemy to light a small bonfire to survive the day, using those byproducts as fuel. Thus, most citizens of the Fallen Dominion have mastered a fair amount of alchemy. Just as a farmer learns to farm and a hunter learns to hunt, alchemy is not a choice but a necessity for survival in the Fallen Dominion.
And among them, there are a few who are exceptional.
Chosen alchemists who can process the special byproducts of the Golden Lord—incomprehensible materials that cannot be broken down by either force or mana.
The woman before me is one of the strongest alchemists in the Fallen Dominion, someone who looks down on even Maximilien in the field of alchemy. Even if she is just farming here now.
“You have a sharp eye.”
“…You’re conspicuous. For a spy.”
To start a new conversation, we need to redefine the relationship. It would be strange for an ordinary Dhole to ask where the Golden Palace is or who the Golden Lord is.
But now that I’ve revealed I’m from the Military State, I can.
“I was wondering why the ground here was so soft and grassy. This land must have once been a field created by the Golden Lord.”
“…”
“Is that also why you set up camp here, instead of in a city? I see. No matter how great a skill alchemy is, food is still important.”
“…”
“But I’m curious. The Golden Lord can create grain… so why aren’t there any crops growing in this field?”
I tapped the field with my foot and looked around.
There was no water source nearby. The only thing watering her field was the water from a small watering can. She had put up a small wire fence, but it looked too low and flimsy to stop anything trying to get at the crops.
Even if she overcame all those hardships and her crops bore fruit, passing Dholes would likely pick them clean before they ripened.
Or, before that, the Golden Lord might pass by again and turn the farmland into something else entirely.
And yet, she was plowing the field.
“This land… its vitality is depleted. It makes sense that a field forced upon unsuitable soil wouldn’t last long.”
“…”
“So the Golden Lord isn’t omnipotent after all? Is it just an imitation?”
“…You.”
“No, I might be wrong. Perhaps the Golden Lord can do it, but chooses not to? With enough time and effort, he could even change the soil itself… It seems he’s not particularly interested in the Fallen Dominion, is he?”
Crack.
The terrified horse whinnied and bolted forward. Behind it, the steel that was once a plow scattered and fell, crumbling into black dust as if it were a kicked-over pile of ash.
The steel, which should have remained unchanged for a thousand years, had rusted away in an instant in the woman’s hand. No, ‘rusted’ wasn’t a strong enough word.
Disintegration. The very structure that made the steel steel had collapsed.
Having destroyed the plow in an instant, the woman glared at me with cold eyes.
“…Creation is harder than destruction.”
“Of course. I know from building card towers. It’s a pain to build, but it all comes down with a single tap.”
“…The Golden Lord is continuously engaged in that difficult work. I don’t know what you people from the Military State think of him, but…”
‘…Compared to me, who only knows how to break things, he who creates all things is magnificent. A supreme being who could create the world itself, given enough time.’
Some people are like this. They react more sensitively to attacks on someone they like or respect than to attacks on themselves.
In times like these, poking that nerve brings out an honest reaction, which is nice.
“…I don’t really care. Whatever you people do.”
‘…Whether you wage war or attempt an assassination. It’s none of my business. Whatever the Military State does, it won’t cause the slightest harm to the Golden Lord.’
She’s not great with words. If I couldn't read her mind, communication would be a real struggle.
“…But, if you try to insult the Golden Lord.”
‘…I’ll melt you down myself.’
It wasn’t a bluff.
Just by releasing her mana, the ground began to sink. It wasn’t Earth Art or Gon Qi Art. The land that had once been made into a field, the soil and gravel where seeds breathed, simply crumbled and collapsed. Like an antlion’s pit, the crumbled sand flowed down around her. One wrong step and I felt I would slide right in.
The Unique Magic of Disintegration. What a troublesome ability. It’s useless even if I take it. Since its only function is to accelerate corrosion and decay, it’s of no benefit to me, as I rely heavily on tools.
In that case, let’s set aside the conflict and try to build some rapport.
“It seems you’re misunderstanding something. I have no intention of insulting the Golden Lord.”
“…Then?”
“It’s just that you kept talking as if your side had the upper hand, so I was just pointing out your disadvantages to gain an edge in our negotiations.”
The mana that had been gnawing at the surroundings vanished. The woman retracted her unique magic and asked.
“…Negotiations?”
“Yes. We are peace envoys dispatched from the Military State’s Chief Command.”
The woman replied with a skeptical look.
“…Not spies?”
“If we were spies, we wouldn’t be parading around so openly on a Military State vehicle. As you said, what kind of spy would show off their Bio-receptor?”
‘…I just thought you were an idiot.’
That’s harsh. Azzy’s a dog, so she might be an idiot, but not me.
Hmm. I’ve read a lot of her thoughts, but I still haven’t found the location of the Golden Palace or how to find it. Even a high-ranking official doesn’t know? What in the world is wrong with this country?
Still, she’s a Primarch of the Fallen Dominion who has been to the Golden Palace herself. She seems to know more than we do. Might as well ask.
“Anyway, this is great. We were having a lot of trouble finding our way in a foreign land, and now we’ve met someone who knows the Golden Lord. How about it? Won’t you help us contribute to world peace?”
“…World peace?”
“It sounds grand, but it’s nothing much. You just need to arrange a negotiation for us.”
“…Negotiate? With whom?”
“The Golden Lord, of course. Who else rules the Fallen Dominion?”
“…Are you serious?”
“Why are you making me nervous? Is there a problem?”
‘…An audience with the Golden Lord for direct negotiations? Is he fearless, or just clueless?’
The woman shook her head and answered.
“…Do as you please.”
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
“…No.”
After her sharp refusal, the woman turned completely to look at the ground beneath her feet. Looking at the land that now seemed more suited for construction than farming, she let out a bitter sigh.
Is she planning to farm again? Tsk, not very cooperative.
“Then at least tell us where the Golden Palace is.”
“…I don’t know.”
“Wait! At least a way to find it!”
“…The normal way.”
“What do you mean, the normal way?! How can it be normal if I don’t know what it is?!”
‘…Normally. By reading the traces on the land and asking for directions. There’s no other way.’
The people of this country don’t even know where their own palace is! Even if it moves, you’d think at least one person would know!
If it were a hidden secret location, I could have found it by reading minds. But since it roams the land, nobody knows. Tsk, is legwork really the only way?
“Seeing as you’re farming, you don’t seem to have much else to do. How about being our guide?”
“…Not really.”
“Hey, I told you we’re peace envoys! Blood, flames, war! We need your help to break this terrible chain of tragedy and live in harmony!”
“…Not my problem.”
‘…You people call this land the Fallen Dominion, lumping it all together, but in reality, it’s just a bunch of Dholes scavenging the byproducts left by the Golden Lord. The Juggernauts move on their own, and the companies pursue their own profits. No one listens to anyone else’s orders… unless the Golden Lord himself commands it.’
This person is skeptical not of ‘peace,’ but of ‘negotiation.’ It’s not that she dislikes peace; she just thinks a meaningful negotiation is impossible.
Ugh. What a shame.
I need to read the Golden Lord’s mind. But if the Golden Palace is hostile from the start, it won’t be easy. Even with mind-reading, it takes time to read the past, and more importantly, I need an opportunity to get close. I don’t know what I’ll do at the Golden Palace, but I need to approach it amicably until then.
This woman, a follower of the Golden Lord and the master of a Juggernaut, would be a great help…
If I can’t persuade her right now, maybe I should lay some groundwork.
“Well, it’s a shame, but it can’t be helped. As thanks for the good information, shall I tell you something in return?”
“…Don’t need it.”
“It’s a method for successful farming that nomads wouldn’t know. But if you don’t need it, then fine.”
The woman stopped in her tracks. Her emotions don’t show on her face or in her words, but her actions are honest. At her glance that said, ‘go on,’ I smiled lightly and dropped a piece of bait.
“Now, listen carefully. The most important thing in farming is…”
“…The most important thing is?”
“An unbreakable heart! Don’t give up, and keep trying!”
“…”
“Ah, sorry. Don’t glare at me like that. Can’t even take a joke.”
Actually, that wasn’t a joke; it really is the most important thing. I shrugged and added a bit more explanation.
“All crops were once wild plants without a single grain. Humans selected the more edible ones and, through repeated crossbreeding, created better varieties. If you do that with humans, they call it a Type 3 Anathema and a mob comes to throw stones at you, but with plants, it’s widely practiced under the name of selective breeding.”
“…Even with a good variety?”
“You’ll have to find one! But you can only know through trial and error. No matter how good a variety is, you won’t know if it grows well here until you plant it and it bears fruit, right? You don’t know if you’ll succeed or fail, so you have to plant as many different kinds of seeds as possible and see.”
She’s probably not farming because she’s short on food. As a Primarch of the Fallen Dominion, she wouldn’t be lacking for money.
For her, the fact that she bore fruit is likely more important than the fruit itself.
“…How do I get them?”
“The Fallen Dominion doesn’t have such varieties, so you could get them from a nearby country… like the Military State, for example! The Military State even has companies that specialize in selective breeding! All we need is a ceasefire agreement!”
The conversation circled back to the peace treaty, and the woman’s interest waned.
“…In the end, the same words.”
“Well, what can you do? You’re not the only one planting seeds, you know? You never know what will take, so you have to sow as many as you can.”
How’s that for a persuasive build-up?
But it seemed even such a desperate build-up couldn’t change the woman’s mind. She completely ignored me and created another plow. She called the horse, took the reins, and slowly began to drive it forward again.
Tsk, can’t be helped. How can you change the mind of someone who’s returned to the farm?
“Tsk. Fine, have it your way. Azzy, let’s go.”
Azzy hopped over to me.
“Woof! Meat side dish!”
“I didn’t even catch the horse, what meat side dish? There’s none. It’s bean porridge today.”
“Woof?! Liar!”
“Whose fault is it for jumping off without waiting? If you had just stayed put, I might have thrown in a piece of meat. Nothing! Don’t even dream of meat from now on!”
“Woooooof!”
“Hey! I’m not meat! Don’t bite me!”