The third day since nightfall. Kenji walked down the corridor, turning over in his mind the agricultural reform plan he had written the night before. The introduction of three-field crop rotation, soil improvement through lime, the utilization of compost—theoretically, it was flawless. The problem was who to tell and how to tell them. Erik had said, "You have no particular engagements today." Then he needed to see with his own eyes what needed to be seen. The western wing of the royal palace—where the Royal Guardians, the knights of the king's personal guard, had their quarters and training grounds. The complement was eight. One of them was the silver-haired knight who had stood silently behind Kenji during the coronation ceremony. He had heard her name: Reina Ester, seventeen years old. As he walked along the stone corridor, he heard the sound of sand underfoot and the dull thud of wood striking wood. Kenji peered into the training grounds from the edge of the corridor. Three knights surrounded a single girl in the middle of the sandy field. Her long silver hair was tied back, and she held a training wooden sword of near-combat weight in her right hand. Her height was around 172 centimeters—slightly shorter than "Alexis's body" at sixteen, but her stance was different. Her center of gravity was low, her posture ready to move in any direction. The three moved as one. A diagonal slash from the left. Reina didn't retreat; instead, she stepped forward. She slipped inside the sword's trajectory, sealed the right arm, and used the collapsing body as a shield to invite the thrust from behind. The moment the second wooden sword grazed the first knight's shoulder, Reina had already moved to the side. The third came with a horizontal sweep. She dropped her hips and stepped half a pace inward, driving the pommel into the solar plexus. All three knights tumbled across the sand. Ten seconds, if that. Not a single wasted motion. It was pure rationality, stripped of emotion. Reina turned toward him. Odd eyes. Left gold, right deep purple—those two-colored irises fixed directly on Kenji. A small ornament hung from her right ear. After a moment's pause, Reina set down the wooden sword in the sand, dropped to one knee, and placed her fist against her chest. [serious] "Your Majesty. The blade bestowed upon me by the previous king, I now offer to the new king. I understand my duty." Kenji entered the training grounds and stood before Reina. He looked directly into Reina's eyes as she knelt facing forward. What he saw there was not the color of submission. It was appraisal. Observation. Eyes quietly measuring whether this new king was worthy of trust. Different from the cold mockery the courtiers had directed at him. Those eyes had given up from the start. But Reina's eyes—had not yet reached a conclusion. Kenji intuited: this person cannot be deceived. "I have a question." [serious] "Yes." "I want to see the farmland. Can you guide me to Ferden Village?" Reina's expression shifted slightly. Not surprise, exactly—more like something unexpected. [serious] "You wish to verify directly rather than rely on the council report?" "The actual site is more accurate than numbers." A brief silence. Reina stood and brushed off the sand. [serious] "I will have horses prepared. Would an hour hence be acceptable for departure?" "That's fine." --- Half an hour south of Weltheim by horse. At the northern edge of the Millennia Plain lay Ferden Village. The council report stated it was a "typical farming village" bearing sixty percent of the kingdom's food production. As Kenji rode alongside the horses, he considered what that word—typical—actually encompassed. The moment they crossed into the village entrance, the smell hit first. A mixture of rotted straw and thin broth. Steam rose from a large pot set in the village square, and when he drew closer, it contained only weeds and a few root vegetables swaying in the liquid. The children lined up had thin arms. Kenji had anticipated this. When he saw the figure "deaths from malnutrition" in the council report, he had braced himself for this sight to some degree. But the actual thinness of the children's arms before his eyes carried a weight separate from any number. A seven or eight-year-old child receiving a clay bowl of weed porridge looked up at Kenji. The child seemed frightened but did not flee. In the shadow of a house, an old man leaned against an earthen wall, motionless. When a stout man who appeared to be the village headman rushed over and called out, the old man barely opened his eyes. Reina stood beside Kenji and spoke quietly. [sad] "According to Village Headman Bert Hofer, this year's wheat yielded barely half. The same occurred last year." Two consecutive years of poor harvest. That number connected to the thinness of the old man's body before them. Kenji input keywords in his mind. —Acidic soil. Lime. Neutralization. Agricultural improvement. Search results deployed. Limestone powder for soil pH adjustment, the relationship between appropriate pH and yield, calculation formulas for application rates, the timeframe for results to appear—all existed as precise data. —Potatoes. Suitable cultivation regions. Soil conditions. Yield. The history of potato introduction in Europe and the resolution of food shortages that followed. Compatibility conditions between climate and soil type. This kingdom's climate resembled northern Europe—compatible. —Simple driven well. Drilling procedure. Required tools. Kenji closed the search bar and walked to the edge of the field. He grabbed soil and crumbled it in his palm. Hard. Organic matter was extremely scarce. The particles were scattered, the structure unable to retain water. [serious] "Hofer, is there a place in the northern hills where limestone can be quarried?" Village Headman Bert Hofer—fifty-five years old, his sun-darkened face etched with exhaustion—looked up in surprise. He seemed unable to comprehend why a sixteen-year-old king was handling field soil. [surprised] "...There is a quarry in the northern hills where some limestone is extracted. However, it requires money, and transporting it—" [serious] "I'll arrange it. And someone—lend me a hoe." Reina moved to act beside him. Kenji stopped her with a gesture. He took the hoe and entered the field. With the first swing, the soil's hardness transmitted through his arm. A sixteen-year-old body lacked the muscle strength of an adult man. But that could be compensated with angle. The blade's entry, the use of the hips—the theory was all in his head. "Lime is mixed into the soil to change its properties. It neutralizes soil that is too acidic, making it easier for wheat to root." The farmers watched from a distance. No one approached. "This is how you mix it. Raise the ridges first, then spread it evenly on the surface, then mix it in again with the hoe. A depth of about two fingers is sufficient." He continued working as he spoke. The children gradually drew closer. A boy of about seven followed the hoe's movements with his eyes, tilting his head in wonder. After a while, one of the old farmers approached Kenji hesitantly. With deep wrinkles etched into his face, his voice trembling slightly, he spoke. [gentle] "...Your Majesty, we could obtain limestone from the quarry downstream, but it requires money, and I hesitate to mention..." Kenji stopped the hoe. That single statement changed something within him. It was not a petition to the king. It was a practical remark from one human to another facing the same problem. It was the first moment the farmer had seen Kenji as a person trying to solve the problem. "I understand. The money will come from the royal treasury. And one more thing—where in this area is water most easily found?" The farmers stirred. Hofer answered hesitantly, "In the low ground to the northwest..." Kenji recorded the location in his mind. It could serve as a well-drilling point. Reina watched the entire exchange from beside the horse, arms crossed. Her expression was blank. But when Kenji turned back, he noticed the probing quality in her eyes had diminished ever so slightly. --- On the return journey, the two rode their horses side by side over the hills along the Servis Road. Dusk was approaching, and the grass of the Millennia Plain was dyed orange. The wind was cold. Kenji adjusted his cloak while organizing the day's tasks in his mind: arranging for lime, securing personnel for well-drilling, establishing a supply route for potato seedlings— Reina spoke quietly. [serious] "Your Majesty. If what you did today reaches the Chancellor's ears, it will become a problem." Kenji did not slow the horse's pace. "Because agricultural policy falls under the Chancellor's purview, it would be overstepping authority?" [serious] "It would be. It takes the form of a recommendation at the Noble Convent—the council of nobles. It has no legal binding force, but—" "In practice, it can stop a royal order." Reina paused. [cold] "By precedent, yes. The Chancellor also serves as council chairman, and nearly half of the twelve houses belong to his faction—those called the Iron Crown. Even the previous king could not overturn the Chancellor's recommendations in his later years." Kenji, facing forward, constructed the structure in his mind. The design for agricultural reform existed in his head. He understood the supply routes for materials. But the very act of moving was caught in a legal net. As an engineer, he could complete the design, but the pathways to obtain materials themselves were sealed—that was the situation. As he suppressed his frustration, Reina continued. [whispers] "...There is one more thing I must tell you, Your Majesty." The tone of her voice changed. Different from the reporting tone of before—a suppressed tension. Kenji stopped his horse. He looked at Reina. "I harbor doubts about the official record of the previous king's death." "...Continue." [serious] "The day before his passing, the previous king was writing something in his study. He called only me—not the civil officials, not the attendants—and said: if anything happens, you must protect the king. That is all he said before dismissing me." The previous King Werner—officially, death by heart attack at age forty-eight. Testimony existed that he had been in good health the day before. The sealed documents and talismans left in the study. The sensation of inexplicable pain when Kenji had tried to touch those documents the night after his coronation— These now connected for the first time with another person's testimony. The father king had anticipated his own death. That is why he left instructions with his guard. "I am aware of the documents in the study that you attempted to touch, Your Majesty." Kenji looked at Reina. "You saw it?" [serious] "It is part of my duty as a guard." A brief silence. Reina offered nothing more. Whether she could not speak or lacked the material to speak of, Kenji could not determine. The two continued toward the palace in heavy silence. --- That night, Kenji sat in his study, writing out the agricultural reform plan in a notebook. Application rates for lime, the plot for potato trial cultivation, the procedure for well-drilling—by writing it on paper, the search results in his mind took on more concrete form. As his pen moved, he recalled the face of the old farmer in Ferden when he said, "It requires money." The door opened quietly. Without a knock. Kenji knew it was Reina before he looked up. The attendants always knocked. Reina entered, and her face bore a tension different from her usual blankness. [serious] "Your Majesty. Between the palace gates and our return from the road, the same person followed us three times, concealed naturally within the crowds." Kenji set down his pen. "The Chancellor's spy?" [serious] "Like