"A locust plague, seriously?"
A villager's voice dripped with disbelief.
Maomao had asked the village head to assemble the farmers. The meeting hall was packed nearly to the point of suffocation.
Maomao 's desperate voice was dismissed with a snort.
"Sure, there were some bugs last year, but this year's going to be a bumper crop. We'll be fine, right?"
"Yeah, and it's still sunny for a while yet—no need to rush."
"That kind of attitude is going to be too late!"
From among the easygoing villagers, one furious voice rang out.
"
Nenshin ."
He was a one-eyed old man. Having once endured a locust plague so horrific that people resorted to cannibalism, he now glared with open fury at the villagers who lacked any sense of urgency.
"Ignore them. I'm starting the harvest right now."
"Nenshin..."
Though a former farmhand, Nenshin was the longest-tenured resident in a village of newcomers. Even the village head couldn't afford to treat him lightly.
Maomao too concluded that talking was pointless.
As she agonized over what to do, Rikuson stepped forward.
"I'll buy your wheat. At double the market price."
With a gentle tone, he set a bag that clinked with the sound of metal onto the table.
"R-Really?"
"You're not joking, are you?"
The villagers' eyes suddenly changed, taking on a bestial gleam.
"Yes, but only from the surplus that would go to the state. And the deadline is three days."
He spoke outrageous things in that gentle tone of his. Yet the fire blazing in the villagers' eyes did not dim.
(So this is the power of money.)
The villagers sprang into action, hurrying home and even placing sickles in the hands of their wives and children.
"Are you sure about this? Making such an offhand guarantee..."
In the meeting hall, now completely empty, Maomao asked Rikuson.
"If a locust plague hits, prices won't merely double. If the insects come, we profit. If they don't, that's peace of mind. Is there a problem?"
"No, it's fine."
He had mentioned that his mother was in the trading business, and more importantly, he'd always been close with Rahan, so that sort of calculation probably came naturally to him.
"Shall we get moving too? I'm planning to help Nenshin-san with the harvest — what about you, Maomao?"
"I think I'll... start preparing food for a communal kitchen."
Maomao was almost certain the locust plague was coming. She simply didn't know when.
(The last place Brother Rahan had been) It was the westernmost part of Jūseishū. There, he must have spotted a vast swarm of flying locusts and urgently released the pigeons before they could attack.
The locust plague had already begun. It would move eastward from here, devouring every crop in its path.
(Once it starts, there's nothing to be done.)
The question was how to bring it to an end, and what to do afterward.
They had to harvest quickly, stash everything in the storehouse, and seal it so tight that not a single insect could get in.
(I'm worried about spoilage.)
Normally, wheat needed to dry outside for several days, but what could they do? And above all, they'd need somewhere to store it.
Maomao borrowed a stove and began making soup in a large pot. She would have preferred a lighter flavor with soy sauce, but it might taste strange to the villagers. She stir-fried root vegetables in oil, seasoned them well with salt, then simmered everything in a broth made from cow's milk and dried meat.
(Then again, to people from the capital, it was livestock milk that had the stronger taste.)
To eliminate the gaminess, she added herbs. Once she thickened it with wheat, she thought it turned out rather palatable.
(She wanted to add dumplings too, but decided against it.)
The bread had been baked separately, so that was fine.
Maomao ladled the soup into bowls, set them on a tray, and kept handing them out to everyone working hard.
"Maomao, Maomao! Give some to Suzume too!"
The ever-energetic Suzume had completely blended in with the villagers. A small knife in her right hand, a foraging bag in her left. Inside the bag were wheat stalks with only the grain heads cut off.
Maomao handed her the last bowl.
"You're only cutting off the grain heads?"
"It was Nianzhen's suggestion. She said if you're just harvesting, cutting only the heads is faster."
That was true — no need to bend down and cut each stalk.
Maomao and Suzume sat down on a nearby fence for the time being and decided to eat milk broth.
Maomao didn't have a portion, so she gnawed on bread instead.
"There probably isn't time to dry them, and you can't bring straw bundles indoors."
"I see."
Wheat straw was used as livestock feed and as material for everyday goods such as straw mats.
It was a form of extra income, but for now other things took priority.
"Man, the power of money really is something. All it took was a whispered 'You should leave the straw for later' and..."
The people who had been wielding sickles had switched to small knives. Children dragged bags filled with grain heads toward their homes.
"It seems they're drying them inside, because if you dry them outside the grain heads blow away."
"Sparrow, you're really good at guiding people, aren't you?"
"Well, that's right, you see. When the master isn't in the mood at night, I can get him interested— I'm a professional, after all—"
Maomao thought that Sparrow could probably handle even those brothel jokes that had been falling flat all this time, but unfortunately she didn't have any material to share right now.
Maomao was already thinking she ought to start collecting jokes she could perform for Sparrow going forward.
Ritson's judgment to set a three-day deadline had been correct. Once a deadline was imposed, everyone started thinking about how to harvest the wheat most efficiently. After just two days, more than half the wheat had been cut.
Bakaryoku's horse-like speed was a tremendous help. He'd carry bags full of wheat in both hands and store them away, doing the work of several adults all by himself.
But he was still hopeless at anything requiring a delicate touch.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
When he tried to repair a house, he ended up breaking it instead. Sparrow was teasing him about it again.
(It would be a problem if the storage shed was riddled with gaps.)
She stuffed clay into the gaps in the walls. Wood was precious in this region, so they had to do what they could.
"The timing seems to have been rather good, too, doesn't it?"
It was Ritson who looked up at the sky. Maomao looked up as well. Beyond the hill, a small dark cloud was visible.
"Isn't it still too early for the rainy season?"
"Yes, it is."
Ritson wore an indescribable expression.
"Clouds during this season are a bit dangerous."
He said something cryptic.
"Clouds?"
Maosen walks by, carrying two large sacks of barley with a perfectly composed expression.
"I was just saying it's not a good sign to see rain clouds at this time of year."
Ritsuson points to the eastern sky as he speaks.
"I see. There are clouds over that way too—are those bad as well?"
"That way?"
Maosen looks in the direction Ritsuson indicated. It's the opposite side of the sky.
"I don't see anything."
"Hehe, my brother-in-law has unnecessarily sharp eyes,"
Suzume chimes in with a quick explanation.
"For times like these, a spyglass would really come in handy, wouldn't it?"
Even Suzume apparently doesn't own a spyglass—she leans forward and squints.
"That cloud is..."
Suzume's movements stop.
Maomao also narrows her eyes and looks toward the western sky.
She thought she heard a faint buzzing.
Black specks came into view, though they seemed to waver strangely.
They were definitely not clouds.
"Maomao, Maomao!"
"Suzume, Suzume!"
The two faced each other and nodded.
Maomao grabbed a pot and pestle from nearby and began clanging them together.
"Bugs! The bugs are here!"
Sparrow slapped the backs of the middle-aged men who were leisurely sipping their tea.
"Locusts! The locusts are coming!"
She raised her voice relentlessly, goading the villagers who showed no sense of urgency.
Panicking wouldn't help anything, but right now, all they could do was charge forward in reckless desperation.