Arthur’s Great Deed

After the Founding Festival ended, Morgan, buried in paperwork, stretched her body while sipping tea.

“Just what is Prince Arthur thinking? The food problem is important, yes, but to abandon his post at the Founding Festival… even I can’t read him this time.”

She sighed, thinking of her fiancé, who was probably lying in bed now, drained of mana. The Founding Festival was not only a chance for each prince to display his specialty, but also an opportunity to mingle with foreign guests and provincial nobles rarely seen otherwise.

In that regard, Prince Rod, who had introduced “Golden Wheat,” had seen his reputation rise. Arthur countered with “rice,” which made for a strong showing, but his abrupt departure from the venue had been a serious misstep.

Though Morgan had stood in as his proxy, many visitors had come specifically seeking his healing. Disappointed, they had left. She could hardly call his attempt at networking a success.

And yet, Morgan felt no resentment. Rather, she thought more fondly of him.

As a prince, he may be lacking, but… his concern for the people has never wavered.

Arthur had gone himself to the battlefield. Rural nobles whose livelihoods depended on agriculture, and military officers who valued courage, all respected that.

“But… spreading rice… that will be the hard part.”

The events had raised rice’s profile. Merchants Arthur had courted would surely begin selling it. But broad adoption would be another matter. Few had knowledge of how to prepare it, and fewer still would take the trouble to learn if they doubted it would spread.

Merchants and commoners might try it out of curiosity, but without regular opportunities, rice risked being dismissed as an oddity eaten by only a handful.

Particularly troubling was the lack of noble support. If Arthur had remained at the festival, perhaps more nobles would have taken interest.

“Well… at least as a measure against food crisis, it has reached a practical level. Even if wheat fails, rice can hold out for a while.”

“Excuse me, Lady Morgan. You have a visitor.”

“Show them in.”

At that moment, when her thoughts were settling, she straightened her posture. Such sudden visits were often urgent and troublesome.

Would it be a request for Arthur’s healing? Or a complaint aimed at her? Instead, an unexpected figure appeared.

“My apologies for coming unannounced, Lady Morgan.”

“Think nothing of it… What brings you here, Lord Hervé?”

Her brow furrowed. A great noble, of a higher rank, and aligned with a rival faction, had come in person. Arthur had earned some credit from recent events, but what was he after? Surely not thanks.

“Ah, Lord Arthur is still asleep, isn’t he?”

“Yes… it seems he overused his healing magic. He went through quite an ordeal. I see you’re in good health, Lord Hervé.”

“Heh, you’re as severe as ever with everyone except Lord Arthur.”

Her words, laced with warning—Arthur suffered because of you; don’t say anything foolish—earned only a wry smile from him.

“Of course, I understand. I would never stoop to exploiting this situation against reason. On the contrary, I wish to be of help to Lord Arthur.”

“You jest. Your house is aligned with Lord Rod’s faction. Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Indeed. I am of Prince Rod’s faction, and my family will support him to the end. I cannot defect. But… we can still cooperate on the food problem.”

Morgan looked puzzled as Hervé presented her with a well-shaped loaf of bread. Its fragrant aroma was familiar.

“This is bread made from Golden Wheat… I tasted it at the festival…”

But Hervé shook his head.

“No. This is different. This wheat sprouted after Lord Arthur and Lady Elaine poured their healing magic into the land when they defeated the Army of Death. We haven’t studied it fully, but its taste rivals our Golden Wheat—and it resists frost and pests.”

“What…”

That had been wheat’s great weakness. If those flaws were removed, food supplies would stabilize, and Morgan’s worries about famine might vanish.

“And when my mages examined the battlefield, they found a strange mana lingering in the land. This Golden Wheat will grow there again.”

“I see… so it was the Army of Death’s magic stone bursting and releasing mana…”

“Yes, but this was largely thanks to Lord Arthur and Lady Elaine. I almost wonder—did Lord Arthur anticipate this?”

“Surely not…”

But then Morgan paused. She remembered: the only nation to defeat the Army of Death had been a magical kingdom. Yet the land where they cast destructive magic had become barren, infused with ruin. And Arthur had only recently learned of this.

If, instead of destruction, he had imbued the land with healing…

Had he tested that at once?

“Heh, truly, you surpass my expectations every time.”

“Lady Morgan…?”

Her sudden smile was so sharp even Hervé broke into cold sweat.

But she, oblivious, spoke with pride and satisfaction.

“That must be it. After all, what prince would go to the battlefield—during the Founding Festival, no less—unless he had reason?”

“I see… To foresee the Army of Death’s arrival and turn it into a step toward solving the food problem… terrifying indeed, even as an enemy.”

Together, Morgan and Hervé felt a respect verging on awe. Then Hervé cleared his throat and continued.

“By the way… about the rice Prince Arthur presented at the festival. Would you allow me to aid in spreading it? The Gluttony family once brought wheat into circulation across Britannia. I could be of use.”

“Truly? But wouldn’t that be hostile to Lord Rod? And if wheat sales fall, won’t you suffer?”

Morgan hesitated. Hervé, after all, was practically a food magnate, with wheat fields near the capital. Why would he push rice? But he only smiled sheepishly.

“When I saw Lord Arthur protect the very Golden Wheat that should have been rice’s rival, I realized something. He truly cares for Britannia’s food supply, beyond factional politics. And… he even praised the Golden Wheat we created. Meanwhile, I had been blinded by faction and power, dismissing new crops. I was ashamed.”

“I see…”

Morgan recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same respect she had seen in Marianne, in Kei, in so many others toward Arthur. Though Arthur only wanted good food, to them he inspired devotion.

And seeing that, Morgan decided she could trust him.

“Very well. I was just puzzling over distribution. Please lend me your aid.”

Agreements quickly followed between Morgan and Hervé. When their talk drew to a close, he murmured quietly:

“This is only an idle thought… but if I were free of all ties, seeing Lord Arthur’s deeds, I would support him as the next king without hesitation.”

“…Between us, I too believe Britannia would be far better under his rule. And I am proud to be his fiancée.”

That was the highest praise. For Morgan could not have done what he did: defeat one of the Five Great Calamities with little loss of crops, strike at the food crisis itself, or even win over the head of a rival faction.

And so, while Arthur slept, the food problem in Britannia drew closer to resolution.