Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 297: Chapter 292: Which of Us Said That?

Early the next morning, the mist over Light City had yet to lift, but the castle’s side hall was already as warm as spring.

As Velin had suggested, Diana had summoned her vassals for a small agricultural salon.

The long table had been removed, replaced by dozens of single, backed chairs.

The nobles were no longer seated according to their factions, but had gathered in a casual circle.

Velin sat near the center, speaking with eloquence to the assembled group.

"The key isn’t planting a variety of crops, but rotating them. Plant oats in one field, alfalfa in another, and let the third lie fallow. The root nodules of alfalfa fix nutrients from the air into the soil. If you plant wheat there the following year, the yield will increase by thirty percent."

The elderly Baron Ansel sat in the front row, a notebook in hand, scribbling furiously.

A Knight beside him was more concerned with livestock.

"Your Lordship, once the alfalfa is harvested, can it be fed directly to cattle and sheep?"

"It can. Dried and stored, it makes the best fodder for winter. It’s far better than the sand-laced hay you buy from Count Philippe."

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.

The faces of a few minor nobles who depended on Philippe and profited from reselling grain turned pale.

"My land is clay and suffers from severe waterlogging. What can be done?"

"Dig drainage ditches and mix in sand and wood ash. Alternatively, you could switch to growing watercress and reed roots. Those vegetables fetch a higher price than grain."

Velin’s answers flowed effortlessly, each one a practical solution that could be implemented quickly.

It made him seem more like a seasoned old farmer or a shrewd estate manager than a baron.

Regardless of their previous allegiances, every noble present was listening with rapt attention.

Their wealth was rooted in the land, and the knowledge Velin possessed was directly tied to the weight of their purses.

The atmosphere was congenial when a servant peeked in through the door. He hurried to Diana’s side and whispered a few words in her ear.

Diana feigned surprise, drawing the attention of many in the room.

"What is it? Is Count Philippe preparing to leave?"

The servant’s face immediately flushed red.

All eyes in the room turned to the doorway.

Philippe had no choice but to step inside.

He had changed into a tight-fitting riding jacket. His hair was a mess, and the collar of his magnificent silk shirt was askew.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he forced a smile.

"Yes, my lady Countess. I’m terribly sorry, but an urgent message has arrived from my territory. A dispute has arisen over an important trade deal, and I must return at once to deal with it."

He spoke quickly, a stark contrast to the calm, elegant demeanor he had displayed in the preceding days.

Diana’s face showed the perfect blend of surprise and regret.

"So sudden? Count Philippe, we were just about to discuss the finer details of the three-field system. Baron Velin was also going to explain how to use lime to improve acidic soil, which directly affects the sweetness of our grapes. Are you certain you can’t stay to listen?"

Every word was delivered as if it were a sincere plea for him to stay.

A muscle in Philippe’s cheek twitched.

"It’s a great shame, Diana. Next time. Next time, I will be sure to seek the Baron’s counsel."

With that, he gave the assembly a hasty nod, turned, and strode away, cutting a wretched figure as he departed.

The moment he was gone, several of the minor nobles who had been his close associates grew restless.

They exchanged glances. One of them, a young Knight named Green, had mortgaged half the land of his fief to Philippe in exchange for a loan.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he shot to his feet and also asked Diana to be excused.

"My apologies, my lady Countess. I’ve just remembered that my armor needs maintenance."

He gave a flimsy excuse and hurried out after him.

In the corridor leading to the courtyard, Knight Green blocked Philippe’s path.

"My lord Count! You’re just leaving? What about us? We had an agreement! You were going to help me annex that land to the east, and I would repay you with my territory’s tax revenue..."

Before Philippe could speak, one of his expressionless guards stepped forward and shoved Green against the wall as if he were a piece of trash.

"The Count has urgent business," the guard said curtly.

Green slammed into the stone wall and slid to the floor.

Without so much as a glance in his direction, Philippe continued on his way, his figure quickly disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall.

This scene was witnessed by several nobles who had just stepped out of the side hall for a breath of fresh air.

They saw Knight Green sprawled on the floor, his face a mask of astonishment, and recalled Philippe’s decisive retreat. They all silently withdrew back into the side hall, pretending to have seen nothing.

The discussion in the side hall continued, but many minds were now elsewhere.

Less than half an hour later, the doors to the side hall were thrown open once more.

Viscount Valerius stormed in, clad in full battle dress.

"My lady Countess!" His voice boomed like thunder. "The border scouts have just reported back. They’ve found tracks of a wyvern near the old Red-toothed Pigmen lair! That thing will destroy villages! I must lead my Knight Order to eliminate it at once!"

Several of the Knights in the salon looked puzzled.

One of them couldn’t help but speak up.

"But my lord Viscount, this morning’s patrol reported that all was quiet..."

Valerius whipped his head around and glared at the man.

"Are you questioning my judgment?"

The Knight immediately fell silent.

Ignoring everyone else, Valerius offered Diana a curt salute by way of farewell, then turned and left.

His loyal followers, left in his wake, could only stare at each other in bewilderment.

The two men, who had been at each other’s throats at the banquet just the day before, had now, overnight, each publicly staged their own grand drama of abandoning their allies.

The gates of Light City swung open.

Two parties, one after the other, galloped off in different directions.

「Lunchtime.」

In a small dining room, Diana dismissed the servants.

Only she and Velin remained in the warm room.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Leaning against a desk, she laughed until her whole body trembled and tears streamed down her face, completely devoid of her usual dignity as a countess.

"My men... they were convincing, weren’t they?" She finally caught her breath, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes, her face beaming with triumph.

"They really looked the part, dressed as knights of the church. But the timing of that farmer’s fall, and Priest Fabian’s Healing Skill... Velin, did you account for all of that, too?"

Velin stood by the window, admiring a potted Moonlight Flower. Despite the long winter, a single withered leaf still clung to a branch.

He plucked the leaf and held it up to the light.

"Accidents are necessary. Controllable accidents, that is."

Diana’s laughter slowly subsided. She sat up straight, regaining some of her noble bearing.

"Alright, enough of that. They’re all gone now, but this isn’t over."

"Everyone out there is waiting for my explanation. A church party ’on a mission’ suddenly appears, then just as suddenly leaves. I need a story."

She looked to Velin. This was her real concern.

"How are you going to explain the ’itinerant tribunal’ everyone is buzzing about? We can’t just tell them it was a lie, can we?"

Velin walked over to her, picked up an apple from the table, and polished it on a handkerchief.

"Why explain?"

He took a bite of the apple with a loud CRUNCH.

"Fabian is a Priest from the church in the Grey Marsh Territory. He heard I was coming to Light City and, on behalf of his teacher, decided to stop by and visit an old classmate. It’s perfectly reasonable."

Diana stared, nonplussed.

"Just... that’s it?"

"That’s it," Velin said, continuing to eat his apple.

"As for the itinerant tribunal... who ever said anything about that? They’re the ones who ’overheard’ it and chose to believe it. Does a lord really need to invent excuses for a nobleman who flees out of guilt?"

Diana stared at Velin for a few seconds, then her expression cleared with sudden understanding.

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