Presentations Are No Joke, Desuwa!?
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"My apologies for summoning you all so suddenly in the middle of your busy schedules, everyone. But I had matters to report, and there was no help for it, desuwa."
"Eliza, the document."
Eliza drew out a paper bearing my father's official seal and spread it across the table.
"His Grace, Grand Duke Chadomir Gigant Eisenmark — my father — has granted me the authority to govern on his behalf, limited strictly to the directly administered territories, desuwa."
When I lifted the document and showed it to the assembled officials, a few eyes went wide while others wore expressions of open skepticism. An uneasy murmur rippled through the room once more.
Next, Eliza spread a map of the northern territories against the wall, and Bielka — wound tight as a drum — began serving tea to the attendees.
You can do this, Bielka... you can do it, desuwa. If the maid herself starts fumbling, we'll have fumbled the very first stitch of the whole endeavor.
I cheered her on from the bottom of my heart, but there was no way she could hear me. Her hands were still trembling ever so slightly, and at the sight of it Eliza's eyebrow rose a fraction.
Still, on this occasion alone I wanted to defend her. For Bielka, attending a council this important had to be a first — anyone would be nervous.
That said, I did notice that every time Bielka passed by, the gazes of certain gentlemen lingered on her abundantly generous chest.
Now, eyes wandering like that is simple human instinct, and there was nothing to be done about it — but I made a point of memorizing the faces of the men whose looks lingered far too long. Lowborn she may have been by birth, but Bielka was now my maid.
Daring to covet Bielka's magnificent bosom, when you're nothing but petty lesser nobles? Unforgivable. That treasure belongs to me, desuwa.
Yes, breast inflation in modern popular media has become a serious problem, but Bielka's K-cups were so vast that even the worst of inflationary shockwaves couldn't hope to reach them. Her figure was nothing short of a national treasure, desuwa.
Thanks to Bielka, my head had filled with idle thoughts and my nerves had loosened considerably. I looked around at the others and spoke again.
"The reason I have called all of you here today concerns a matter of grave importance to the security and future of the Grand Duchy — and above all, of our directly administered territories, desuwa."
I walked to the map and pointed at the Northern Sea region.
"For the past several years, abnormal climatic phenomena have been observed across the northern lands, desuwa. The winters are growing steadily longer, and the ice of the Northern Sea is expanding southward."
I paused for a moment to gauge the reactions of the attendees. Some were expressionless; others were knitting their brows slightly.
"More serious still is the fact that the Sergen pirates beyond the Northern Sea have resumed their activity, desuwa. Last winter, three coastal villages in the northwest were raided and plundered."
"Do you happen to have evidence, my lady?"
The one who asked was Oleg, the city treasurer. He was a veteran bureaucrat who had served the Grand Ducal house for decades. Like most northern men, who tend to lose about half their hair by middle age, he was nearly bald — but his eyes remained sharp as blades.
"There are reports from the domain of Lord Sokolov, desuwa."
"I see. However, my lady."
Oleg glanced carefully at my face before continuing, choosing his words with deliberate caution.
"I must question whether a few cold winters and scattered raids by savages truly warrant an emergency council convened with such urgency. Such things have happened before, and in most cases they resolved themselves in time."
I rose from my seat to answer Oleg's challenge. The other attendees were already half-siding with him, so I needed to crush this objection quickly.
"Ladies and gentlemen — history is warning us, desuwa. Do you remember the age of the Great Frigid?"
A small stir passed through the attendees at those words. The Great Frigid was the dark age, centuries past, that had toppled countless kingdoms.
"At first, the winters simply grew a little longer. Then the northern tribes began descending southward to raid.
Yes. The early warning signs of the Great Frigid era and the series of events now unfolding in the Grand Duchy match almost exactly. And we, ladies and gentlemen, are not prepared in the slightest, desuwa."
I turned around the table, meeting each attendee's eyes one by one.
"I do not mean to spread fear, desuwa. What I propose is that we make proper preparations while there is still time to act. Only proactive response will protect us, desuwa."
I could see the expressions of the seasoned nobles growing grave by degrees. The Great Frigid was a trial that had struck the entire continent — a period they all knew well from the old chronicles. It seemed the historical precedent had landed its blow.
Time to move to the next stage, desuwa.
In the days since Milena's visit, I had been poring over the Grand Ducal library, sketching out countermeasures against an age of Great Frigid cold.
Back then, my plan had been to present the results to Father for approval...
Perhaps I should call it a stroke of heaven's fortune — my proposals could now be put into execution directly, without routing through my father at all.
"To prepare against these threats, I have drawn up several concrete measures, desuwa."
At my signal, Eliza brought over a stack of documents and spread them across the table.
"First, we require a new system for the management of our food supplies, desuwa."
The eyes of the attendees turned to the papers. Recorded there in detail was the food management framework I had organized based on my modern knowledge.
"On the basis of an accurate census of Eisenfels and the surrounding villages, we will set quotas by social class and by district, desuwa."
I pointed to the table drawn on the page. There, the required quantities of food had been calculated for adult men, women, children, and the elderly alike.
"Second — the principle of 'first in, first out' to keep our stores from spoiling, desuwa. The food stored earliest is used first, while newly arriving provisions are placed at the back. A continuous cycle, you see."
"Simple, but an efficient method. I confess we have never applied such a thing to the management of large granaries."
The answer came from Oleg. I had expected him to remain skeptical throughout, yet to my surprise his eyes were gleaming.
"In addition, to preserve food over the long term, we will build storage pits deep underground, desuwa. Beneath the earth, the temperature holds steady regardless of the season — ideal for keeping provisions."
The truth was, I had no concrete blueprints for these food vaults yet, but somehow or other it would work out. Underground storage had existed on Earth since ancient Rome, after all — surely the people of this world understood the principle well enough from experience.
"And lastly, sanitary measures to prevent illness during the deadly cold, desuwa. When the chill deepens, people crowd together into cramped quarters — and in such conditions, foul air and miasma spread with terrible ease."
This was my theory of disease from the modern era, loosely reinterpreted to fit the knowledge level of the pre-modern people of this world.
The people here believed in the miasma theory — that bad air causes sickness — and the humoral theory, that an imbalance of the body's fluids brings disease. Some even attributed illness to divine punishment or the work of curses.
Sure enough, I could see several of the nobles nodding along at my words.
"Moreover, according to the records of the ancient healers I discovered while researching the Great Frigid era in the old chronicles, there are several methods for maintaining the balance of the humors and purifying foul air, desuwa."
Eliza wore a briefly startled expression — but she quickly grasped my intent and allowed herself a small smile.
"First, we shall establish communal kitchens so that food is properly cooked, and purify the air at regular intervals by burning spices and herbs and ventilating thoroughly.
According to my father's war chronicles, this practice reduced sickness among the soldiers in winter camps during the cold months, desuwa."
"I also found records stating that water must always be boiled before drinking, and that washing the body and clothing regularly is vital to keeping the humors in balance, desuwa.
This, I am told, is the secret by which the barbarian tribes beyond the Northern Sea survive even the deadly cold."
Of course, that last part was not entirely the truth either. It was an embellishment I had racked my brain to devise, so that I could explain things in a way these people could understand.
"In particular, I have also recorded in the documents a northern method of purification using snow and ice, desuwa. Melt clean-gathered snow into water, and the miasma within it is slight; boil it together with certain herbs, and its healing power grows stronger, or so the records claim."
"Ohh, to organize the wisdom of the ancients so systematically...!"
One young lesser noble nodded in admiration at my explanation. But before his words had even finished, High Chamberlain Polonsky cleared his throat.
"Forgive my impertinence, Grand Duchess. It is truly astonishing for you to display such erudition so abruptly."
His voice dripped with doubt beneath its veneer of courtesy.
"But I do recall, my lady... that you had never shown much interest in the study of old chronicles before."
In an instant, the air in the council chamber pulled taut. The other nobles and officials exchanged glances, seeming to agree with Polonsky's remark. Doubt was written across every face.
My mouth went dry. Polonsky's observation was painfully accurate. And when the truth lands a blow, it hurts like hell.
Katerina had never been one to go near a book, even as a joke — a sudden transformation like this was bound to arouse suspicion.
Damn that degenerate desuwa lady. This is why she should have at least pretended to study now and then, desuwa.
I cursed her inwardly several times over, but cursing the Katerina of the past was useless now. What mattered was refuting the doubt Polonsky had laid before me.