Breeding Makes Money, Desu Wa!

"It's…… it's quite all right, Eliza. The Mountain King has the right to find his own mate. Besides, a creature as huge and powerful as he is would normally have been the leader of his own herd — I imagine it gets rather dull, being all alone."

"Still, I worry that Baron Trofimov may turn this to political advantage. He might, for instance, go about boasting that 'Trofimov Ranch is working in close cooperation with the Grand Duke's daughter on a cattle breeding project.'"

"Well…… that's……"

Strictly speaking, I wasn't personally assisting with his cattle breeding, but it was just possible that a pairing with the Mountain King — the largest and most massive of all the northern bison — might lend a hand. The fact that mating had even been possible despite such an enormous difference in size still struck me as a marvel. Earth's cattle breeds certainly varied in size among themselves, but the gap between a northern bison and a dairy cow felt like something from an entirely different dimension.

I decided to shelve my curiosity for the time being. So long as the Mountain King kept up his meetings (of a sort) with the cows, my relationship with Baron Trofimov would inevitably continue as well.

I didn't plan it this way, but… keeping ties with him alive like this isn't a bad thing at all.

I had no wish to entangle myself actively in the dispute between the Trofimov–Volkov and Dmitri–Sokolov camps, and I had made that much plain in front of the baron himself. That didn't mean I intended to make an enemy of him, either.

If I were honest about the reason, it was because I found Baron Trofimov's cattle breeding research rather tempting.

"If Baron Trofimov's breeding project truly succeeds, I believe we stand to gain a great deal, desu wa."

At my words, Eliza turned from the window.

"I hadn't realized you took an interest in ranching, my lady."

"Mm, interest isn't quite the word. I'm simply curious. What, generally, are cattle used for in these lands?"

Eliza began her explanation in her usual calm voice.

"Cattle are among the most precious livestock in the Eisenmark Grand Duchy, and indeed across the entire continent, the North included. If we speak of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their usefulness, farming comes first. They pull heavy plows through hard soil. Plowing by ox yields an efficiency human strength alone could never hope to match. They can haul freight wagons as well."

She folded down her fingers one by one as she continued.

"Then there are the various dairy products their milk provides — cheese, butter, cream, and so on. The North in particular suffers such bitter cold that grain cultivation is limited, so dairy serves as a vital source of nutrition here."

"Hmm…… and beef, desu wa?"

"Considering the full value of a cow, eating one in the everyday sense is difficult. Beef appears only at special banquets and ceremonies. If a head of cattle is slaughtered, the principal purpose is less the meat than the tools and armor made from its hide, bones, and sinews. The hide of the northern bison especially — thick and remarkably durable — is treated as a precious material."

"I see. I had no idea they had so many uses, desu wa."

So that's why Baron Trofimov pours such obsessive effort into developing new breeds. If he could produce cattle that were bigger, hardier against the cold, and more productive with milk, it would be the equivalent of striking a gold vein.

I folded my hands beneath my chin and sank into thought. What traits would the calves born between the Mountain King and the baron's improved-breed cows carry?

Ordinary northern bison are already larger than common cattle, and the Mountain King is an exceptional giant even among them. His offspring would surely have greater physiques than average cattle, and stronger resistance to the cold. And if they inherited the northern bison's muscle mass and endurance on top of that…?

I picked up the ledger lying on the desk — a record of our recent expenditures. The cost of the visit to Trofimov Barony and the construction of the Mountain King's private pen stood out immediately.

"Ugh…… that really was an enormous expense, desu wa."

The Mountain King's pen alone had cost more than five times what an ordinary stable would. That alone was a painful wound to the purse — and to make matters worse, the beast ate expensively, too. When grazing, he required the very highest grade of hay; and for the grain that maintained his bulk, he was fed oats, barley, and beans mixed with molasses and honey, then fermented on top of it all.

As a result, the Mountain King's feed commanded no less than five to ten times the price of an ordinary cow's rations, and given his size, he consumed over three times the volume besides. At the worst estimate, keeping a single Mountain King cost as much as maintaining thirty head of cattle.

I am the Grand Duke's daughter of Eisenmark. One bison won't bankrupt me… but I do need another source of income.

The Mountain King's existence would do wonders for my personal prestige, but economically it helped not at all. Frankly, keeping him was an outright luxury.

"Eliza. I will send a letter to Baron Trofimov, desu wa."

"Regarding what, if I may ask?"

"The calves that will be born between the Mountain King and his cows. The Mountain King went to them of his own accord, yes — but there is no reason the fruits of that union should belong entirely to Baron Trofimov."

Eliza's eyes widened slightly. Perhaps because my remark sounded so unlike Katerina. Not that I had any obligation to explain myself to her.

"Politically speaking, I needn't take one side completely between Dmitri and Trofimov. But politics is politics, and money is money. On the economic front, I will claim my share, desu wa."

"A wise judgment, my lady."

Yes. Katerina — I — am a grand duke's daughter. There was nothing wrong with slyly devouring the fruit of another man's labor. That's what society was, wasn't it? Toil yourself to death, only to have your achievements plucked away by your betters.

That said, if I really did take nothing but profit from him, his motivation would dry up — he'd stop working, or start looking for other ways to block me.

Squeezing a man too hard was unsustainable. Baron Trofimov had to benefit as well.

I walked to the window and looked down over the panorama of the Eisenfels citadel.

"I intend to conclude a formal contract covering the Mountain King's breeding rights. A fixed percentage of the new cattle Baron Trofimov gains will come to me as my portion, desu wa."

The plan crystallized in my mind. This arrangement carried several advantages.

First, I could convert my relationship with Baron Trofimov into a business partnership — which would help avoid unnecessary conflict with the Dmitri–Sokolov camp.

Second, it would deliver real economic gain — returns great enough to offset the cost of building the Mountain King's pen and maintaining his magnificent bulk, and then some.

Third, by indirectly participating in the breeding process, I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be seen contributing to the development of the Grand Duchy's ranching and agriculture — an impression that would play well with both the nobility and the common folk.

"And if the cattle born from the Mountain King and the cows truly do prove useful, we can make use of them ourselves, desu wa. Whether for farming, or hauling wagons."

Just then, Bielka gave a light knock and entered the room.

"My lady. The Mountain King has returned. The keepers are escorting him to his pen now."

I looked out the window, and in the distance the Mountain King's colossal form came into view. He was striding along with all the bearing of a warrior returning from a completed mission.

Look at this bastard. Off rutting like a storm in his cow harem, and now he struts about like a triumphant general.

"And there is this as well, my lady. A letter that just arrived."

Bielka held out an envelope trimmed in gold leaf. It was the first sealed correspondence I had laid eyes on since possessing Katerina.

"And this would be…?"

"The crest of House Sokolov, my lady."

The moment I took the envelope in hand, the seal's distinctive design was the first thing to catch my eye. Upon a field of blue, a sharp-beaked falcon clutching a fish in its talons had been engraved with exquisite precision.

"House Sokolov……"

A thread of tension coiled up from somewhere deep in my chest. After the affair with Baron Trofimov, word from the Sokolov family could hardly be coincidence. I carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

The first thing I saw was the elegant, flowing hand. Each character seemed to dance as it connected to the next. Up close, the ink proved to be blue — evidently a taste of the sender's.

Count Sokolov's daughter, Milena… is coming to see me?

According to the letter, Milena planned to visit Eisenfels in seven days and ardently wished to meet with me, a daughter of the Grand Duke.

I set the letter down on the desk and recalled what I had learned in my tutoring lessons. Katerina had never studied properly, but I had been working hard to catch up ever since I possessed her.

Count Sokolov…

House Sokolov ruled the forests and coastline of the Grand Duchy's northwest. Its head, Count Grigori Sokolov, was the greatest shipbuilder in the Grand Duchy and held a monopoly on the timber trade.

The crucial point is that the Sokolovs control the maritime trade routes of the Northern Sea. That's why they don't lose ground even to the Volkovs.

"Eliza, I already know about the Volkov–Trofimov side, desu wa. But what is the relationship between Count Sokolov and Baron Dmitri?"

Folding her hands before her, Eliza began her explanation.

"Count Sokolov and Baron Dmitri have maintained a cooperative relationship for many years."

"And with House Volkov?"

"A long-standing rivalry. They have clashed particularly over trade routes and the securing of resources. Volkov's iron ore is needed by Sokolov's shipyards, and Sokolov's timber by Volkov's foundries — yet more often than not, they trade through middlemen rather than dealing with each other directly."

The situation was clear enough. After the events at Trofimov Barony, House Sokolov had presumably concluded that I had thrown in my lot with the Trofimov–Volkov camp.

They were not the sort to sit on their hands. Most likely Lady Milena Sokolov was visiting Eisenfels precisely to counter the unwelcome news that a daughter of the Grand Duke had joined the opposing faction.

"Milena Sokolov…… I find myself curious what sort of person she is, desu wa."

Looking over the letter once more, one final line caught my eye:

The political weight packed into that single sentence pressed down on me, heavy and unmistakable.

"There will be a great deal to prepare, desu wa."