Arthur’s Cunning Plan… A Plan?

The day after the party, Erin sat across from Sloda, who had been in charge of the cooking, in the conference room.

“Sir Sloda, this isn’t what we agreed on, is it? The original plan was to serve Britannia’s standard dishes first, and then bring out rice afterward, correct?”

“Ah, but rice is the soul of our people. We cannot entrust its future to those who would eat it reluctantly.”

Erin rebuked him with an icy gaze, and Sloda met her stare without yielding an inch.

People with strong convictions are great when things click, but they’re a pain when opinions clash…

It was not, of course, merely to let him eat something tasty that Erin had asked her father, Kansas, to invite Arthur to the party.

It was to introduce him to rice as a potential replacement for wheat. She had even planned the order of courses for that purpose, and yet…

“As you know, Sir Sloda, at present the nobles monopolize the management of wheat. We merchants can import it through trade, but the taxes make it unprofitable. Which is precisely why we need a new staple—something to punch a hole in that monopoly. This was to be its unveiling. Failure was not an option!!”

Her father might have had a different idea, but Erin did not. What worried her was the wealth gap between nobles and everyone else.

So long as the nobles monopolized food, they would keep profiting. In that case, the wealth gap and their dominance would never be overturned.

Having attended a nobles’ academy, Erin had felt firsthand the divide between nobles and commoners. Being noble in name only, she had been treated roughly by nobles and had come to want to change this country.

That was why she had taken an interest in the noble–commoner disparity, and why she had planned all this—believing that Arthur, who had begun to employ commoners, would be interested in this matter.

“Ah, but Prince Arthur enjoyed our food, did he not?”

“That’s hindsight, isn’t it? Well, given Lord Arthur, he may have reacted that way precisely because he read our intentions…”

“There’s no way that was an act. He truly looked like he was enjoying himself.”

Watching Sloda refute her as if the alternative were impossible, Erin chuckled.

Sir Sloda didn’t understand Lord Arthur at all.

At the orphanage, in Dorf—every time, he had solved things in ways Erin never anticipated. For someone like him, putting on reactions that would please cooks would be easy as pie.

As proof, he had praised her dress.

In Britannia, the queen’s influence meant tradition was valued. Erin remembered the nobles snickering when she attended the party in a cutting-edge dress popular abroad. Britannia was the one behind the times, and yet…

But Lord Arthur praised it.

Of course, Erin knew it was flattery, so she felt no romantic interest. But he had implicitly told her: ‘I know the latest trends, and in the country I’m trying to build, things like this will be accepted.’

Prince Arthur never said everything aloud. Which was exactly why they must read his thoughts!! And those who could keep up with them were the ones fit for his faction—and she, for one, would be recognized… or so Erin convinced herself. She was completely off the mark, however…

“Very well. Several merchants witnessed Lord Arthur eating rice with great relish. Next, I’ll open a rice shop in the capital and spread it among the commoners. If we price it cheaply at first, they’ll get curious. Our firm will absorb the losses.”

“I don’t mind that, but… will the people of Britannia accept rice?”

“That is why we had Lord Arthur eat it. He’s very popular with commoners. If we ask him to drop by the shop a few times, the masses will surely take an interest.”

This was Erin’s plan: by having Arthur visit the rice shop regularly, rice would become semi-officially endorsed by him. Merchants at the party had already witnessed him eating it with gusto. Nobles and merchants who wanted his favor—and commoners who admired him—would all come.

In that case, since the taste itself wasn’t bad, rice would spread—gradually. It would take years, but as it did, the wealth gap would narrow a little, and even if wheat failed someday, a food crisis could be averted.

This was the method Erin and her father, Kansas, had devised to popularize rice. And though it looked roundabout, to them it was the shortest path.

“True enough. In your view, Erin, how far will rice spread?”

“Let’s see… In a few years, perhaps around twenty percent of people will consider eating rice. A few shops besides ours will likely open. But… that’s probably the ceiling.”

“I see… Well, even then, it’s better than having our traditional staple disappear.”

That was the limit. Food culture shifts when problems arise; it isn’t something that changes easily.

If someone could make it change, they’d have to be a master strategist—or someone who could foresee the future. As an exception, if the great nobles managing wheat approved, it would be different—but those nobles belonged to Rod’s tradition-loving faction, and they adored wheat so much they’d recently developed “Golden Wheat.” Securing their cooperation was impossible.

Just then, as the meeting was about to end, the door opened and an attendant entered.

“My apologies, Sir Sloda, Lady Erin. You have a visitor.”

“I thought we’d cleared the room for now…”

“Even so… I believe it concerns what you two were discussing.”

Chided by Erin, the attendant still spoke. Seeing that, Erin wavered; the attendant was no fool.

Who could it be…? She was about to ask when the person arrived.

“Lord Arthur!?”

“Ah, sorry to intrude when you’re busy. I had an idea and wanted to consult you two.”

At Arthur’s sudden visit, Sloda cried out in shock—and Erin felt the same. They had been talking about him, after all. No wonder.

Could he have seen through their attempt to use him as advertising—and come to warn them off…? No, if that were the case, he wouldn’t have eaten rice so deliciously in the first place.

“So, what is this consultation about?”

As she asked—sweating inwardly—Arthur spoke with pride.

“Right—could you serve that rice dish from before at the ‘Founding Festival’? As my presentation, of course.”

“‘Huh?’”

Erin and Sloda exclaimed at the unbelievable request.

“Lord Arthur… to think you like rice that much!! I, Sloda, will stake my life on creating this dish.”

Tears in his eyes, Sloda grasped Arthur’s hand as he understood what Arthur meant. It was only natural: the Founding Festival was Britannia’s signature gathering, and a prince’s presentation traditionally showcased what he was proudest of.

“Lord Arthur… what exactly are you thinking…?”

“Because we have to solve the food problem.”

In inverse proportion to Sloda’s elation, Erin was thrown into confusion. True, if the presentation at the Founding Festival succeeded, rice’s recognition would skyrocket—and spread far beyond what she had imagined.

But why the rush? What on earth was this man seeing…?

Of course, Arthur wasn’t thinking about anything at all—but Erin, knowing nothing of that, could only be bewildered.