Question: How much food is needed to feed three hundred thousand people for one year?
Answer: It depends.
Upon receiving such a flippant answer,
Rikuson
wasn't even angry anymore — just dumbfounded.
He had wanted a concrete answer, so he'd asked several officials. They were all well-versed in distribution and logistics, and he'd expected them to give him something more useful.
"I can't say for certain. The vegetation around the Western Capital differs from that of Kaō Province. Rice is a luxury good here compared to the Central Capital."
When they explained the reasoning, he understood. He understood, but he'd heard it countless times already.
What he wanted was a calculation: if rice wasn't viable, what about wheat? If wheat wasn't viable, what about buckwheat? Take the substitute grains that could fill in and estimate how much of each might be secured.
However, among the officials of the Western Capital, frankly, none were willing to go that far for Rikuson. In the end, he was either brushed aside as an outsider, or blocked from above, or simply too busy for anyone to spare the time.
"Lord Tsukimi must have always felt like this, huh."
He exhaled and let the words slip out before he could stop himself.
Rakan
— that nobleman, who had repeatedly suffered interference from Rakan, had done remarkably well for his young age. But simply working hard wasn't enough to earn recognition. As a member of the imperial family, nothing short of being ranked above all others would be deemed acceptable.
Footsteps sounded, followed by a knock on the door.
"A letter from Kaō Province."
Rikuson received the box. Calling it a letter was a stretch — it was a box bound with cord, arranged in a decorative fashion. He'd often received documents like this back in the capital. The way the cord was knotted followed a particular pattern, and once untied, it couldn't easily be retied the same way.
There was a trick to untying it, but frankly, Rikuson didn't have the energy for that right now. He cut the cord with a small knife and opened the box.
A bundle of documents. On the top page was written "Meishi-sui." It was a playful cipher — just a scrambled version of the character for "Ra,"
Rahan
— which Rahan particularly liked to use in their correspondence.
Rahan was Rakan's nephew, and because of that connection, they often worked together. Rikuson had considered him more of a friend than a colleague, but reflecting on it now, they'd never really talked about anything other than work.
"As expected of you."
Rahan, who had a strong head for numbers, had clearly provided what Rikuson had wanted
The documents
he had given to Rikuson.
In the case of rice, one tan of farmland
would yield one koku,
and that was considered one person's rice consumption. Of course, the ratio changed depending on what other foodstuffs were mixed in. There were detailed figures for how much it would amount to if rice was replaced with wheat, beans, or potatoes. There were also notes on how well each kept, how easily it could be distributed, and current market prices.
"I thought he'd push potatoes, but I was wrong."
Rahan's biological father grew potatoes, but they didn't keep as well as rice or wheat and didn't last long.
Of course, Rahan had probably done his research properly.
Rows upon rows of numbers were listed out, and Rikuson felt his head spinning. For Rahan, this was no doubt well-organized writing, but the ability to grasp things at a glance from numbers was a rare one. Rikuson had learned to do it as the need arose, but in general, most people only thought of numbers as something useful enough to shop at a market stall.
He read through the documents—which were nothing but numbers—with bleary eyes. Only on the last sheet did something other than numerical explanations finally appear.
He had heard that the Lord of the Moon and Rakan would be coming to Seito. If things went according to schedule, it would be about ten more days.
Since members of the imperial family would be aboard, apparently three sailing ships had been prepared. And more ships would be added after that.
They would arrive at major ports along the way, and each time, more ships would join the convoy.
The sea route to Seito was known to attract pirates. Ships carrying imperial family members were no different from warships. By having others follow behind, they intended to use them as a deterrent against pirates.
Of course, they wouldn't just follow along without any permission. Various permissions would have been obtained, with conditions attached. And of course, no permission would ever be granted to suspicious merchant vessels.
Now he understood why they had deliberately taken the sea route.
"Whose idea was this, I wonder?"
Rikuson smiled, then placed the documents back in the box as they had been. He picked up the string he had cut earlier.
"Hmm."
Even though he had cut it himself, he regretted having done so. Was there a new string somewhere?
He rummaged through the drawers,
and upon finding a hemp cord, wrapped it around the box.
He placed the box inside the traveling case stored beneath the shelf, then gave himself a good stretch.
"Maybe I'll go for a little walk."
He really was talking to himself more and more these days.
He stepped out of the office and decided to take a light stroll around the courtyard. Today,
the pavilion
did not have
Gyokuō.
It was a relief that she wasn't there — he wouldn't have to be on his guard — but in exchange, it seemed the front was rather noisy.
Changing course, he headed toward the source of the noise, where a group of brawny men were shouting at the top of their lungs.
He wondered if it was a fight. At the center of the crowd, two men were locked in a grapple. No — that wasn't it.
They were
wrestling.
The rowdy men were laughing with delight. They were all military officers, Rikuson recalled. The fabric
wound around their heads
was all the same — blue.
Rikuson had been about to show his face, but he pulled back. The one who emerged victorious from the grapple had a clearly familiar face. It was Gyokuō.
Laughing with subordinates, drenched in sweat — she hardly looked like the ruler of Seito. To the people around her, Gyokuō must have seemed like a warm, approachable lord who genuinely cared for those beneath her.
Rikuson swallowed hard.
He couldn't imagine Gyokuō was wrestling with subordinates just to score points. Besides, she was clearly enjoying herself.
"...Hmph."
It wouldn't do to let Gyokuō spot him. If she challenged him to a wrestling match, he'd be done for.
Rikuson decided to return to his office. Throwing himself into work seemed like a better plan than trying to clear his head. He had come to Seito to support Gyokuō — to make up for the parts where her efforts fell short.
The burden on Rikuson was immense, but it wasn't as though Gyokuō wasn't working either. Even this festival-like revelry seemed to be serving its purpose — winning people's hearts.
He let out one more long breath.
"She really is necessary for Seito, isn't she,"
he muttered, as he—