Chapter 863 — New Shoots

"In the end, I've 'inherited the family trade' after all," the lady knight from Kant murmured suddenly with a laugh, the waves of the distant wheat fields reflected in her eyes. "It should be a good harvest..."

...

There should be a good harvest this year.

A young civil administration official with slightly dusky skin, sturdy hands and feet, and short brown hair crouched at the edge of a field and carefully pulled up a sheaf of wheat. He examined the health of the plant, then, as he placed it into a specially made crystal-glass tube, gave a slight nod.

Several others were busy around him: some collecting soil samples, some recording and compiling data, others administering alchemical agents to test the land and the plants on the spot.

"Things are looking good," the young brown-haired civil official said to those beside him. "These seeds appear to be growing well."

"The No. II wheat seed used in the western district is reportedly in poor shape—not disastrous, but well short of expectations," another civil official said with a shake of his head. "Fortunately, apart from No. II, the follow-up results for all the new seeds have met expectations, so the production plan won't be affected."

"Soil purification is the most successful part—all the purification plans were overfulfilled," said the one in charge of collecting soil samples, standing up with a touch of feeling. "I never thought it'd turn out that the alchemy factories of Holy Sunil would make the biggest difference, filling the gap in purification agents..."

"Back then the nobles of the old royal capital launched their 'New Policy Reforms' and built a great pile of factories, then abandoned most of them before long for various reasons. But even abandoned, the equipment inside was at least good stuff bought from the Southern Region—tune it up and it all works. A pity that some of the machinery in those factories was stripped out during the war to cast weapons and reinforce the city defenses."

"Nothing to be done about it, Romlyn. At least where defending the old royal capital is concerned, we can't fault those nobles who chose to hold their ground," his colleague said with a shake of the head, then looked at the wheat sample in the brown-haired young man's hands. "Best get the samples back for Minister Norris to see—he's waiting."

The young civil official called Romlyn glanced down at the transparent container in his hands, in which the vigorous plant lay quietly, brimming with green life.

...

As a breeze blew through the open window into the room, Norris slowly opened his eyes. He saw figures nearby, and the fresh scent of plants drifted through the room.

"Time for the blossoms..." the old man murmured softly, as though speaking to himself. "How quickly it's come..."

A rustling of creeping vines came from beside him, and a mass of moving flower-vines drew up to Norris's bedside. Beiyila, amid a throng of blossoms and vines, looked down at the old man in the bed, and even her rigid features could not help but betray a hint of helplessness. "This is no time to be worrying about such things—resting properly is your work at present."

"Aren't I resting right now?" Norris looked at the woman wreathed in flower-vines, and a faint smile appeared on his deeply lined face. "I've never rested the way I have these past few days in all my life."

Beiyila frowned and glanced at Norris. A gust of wind, a little stronger than before, blew into the room, setting the string of shell wind chimes hanging by the window clattering.

A vine suddenly crept along the floor, up the wall, and across the windowsill, swiftly and silently closing the window.

Norris gave Beiyila a helpless look. "The druids say fresh air is good for me."

"Fresh air doesn't mean a draft blowing twenty-four hours a day—and it depends on how strong the wind is," Beiyila said coldly. "And can those druids even compare to me? When I first picked up my oak staff, their grandfathers' grandfathers hadn't been born yet."

Norris was taken aback for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing—but perhaps he laughed too hard, for his laughter quickly turned into a fit of coughing.

The coughing was stopped by Beiyila's healing spell.

"Is this really worth laughing at?" said the former hierarch of the All-Things-End Society, the former Holy Maiden of the Pioneers, the former Princess of Typhon, frowning with a trace of displeasure.

"I was just thinking of His Majesty—he would say similar things," Norris said, catching his breath, his voice low and slow. "It suddenly occurs to me—do people like you who have lived so long all enjoy joking about age and seniority..."

"We are merely stating facts—it's just that the facts themselves sound like jokes," Beiyila said offhandedly. "Rather than that, why not think about your own affairs—well? Will you accept my proposal? Though aging is one of the most irreversible laws of life, we still have ways. I can refine the method I once used to be as harmless as possible, and among your younger successors, I believe there is more than one who would be willing to devote a small part of themselves to you..."

"Lady Beiyila, I know you mean well," Norris interrupted, "but you know my answer.

"I cannot accept prolonging my life at the cost of another's health.

"Though I know this is already the result of your refining the forbidden art as far as possible, we both know that even this degree of refinement still does not conform to the Empire's laws... even with volunteers.

"The Empire's law and order... were won at great cost. I do not wish to see them damaged, and least of all do I wish to set a precedent from my own case.

"Because... I love all of this."