Published: February 1, 2026
In any country, agriculture plays an important role.
Of course, this is true in Partedar as well, but you won’t find farmland within the Capital City (Parteda). Most of the farmland is scattered across the national territories, surrounded by the three major cities: Capital City (Parteda), Commerce Nation (Malcaid), and Demon Ore Nation (Kavana).
The scale varies, but these are agricultural villages where people who make their living from farming can live comfortably.
“Jill, are you from a farming village?”
“No, more from the mountains. We made firewood and crafts and such.”
Rizel and the others swayed gently in the cart, leisurely advancing across the plains.
The sky was blue. The horse-drawn cart carrying vegetables had no roof or anything, and the wind, mixed with the scent of earth, passed by pleasantly.
“Hey, Big Brother, can you make anything?”
“Nope. Just wasn’t suited for it.”
“Jill isn’t that patient, after all.”
Though he never spared effort in maintaining his sword, Jill found delicate, detailed work bothersome.
It’s not that he’s clumsy, but everyone has things they’re good or bad at. Rizel smiled as she looked at the faint wheel tracks extending on the ground from the cart bed she was sitting on.
“Wasn’t the place you went with Stud-kun also a farming village?”
“Ah, the place where Big Brother got left behind? There was a huge wheat field, right?”
“So that’s why the souvenir was ale.”
“We wanted something specialty, since it was a special occasion.”
The natural path, trampled down by carts traveling frequently, sometimes jolted, shaking the legs Rizel had resting down.
Thanks to the Phantom Wolf Fur she was sitting on, the cart’s shaking didn’t hurt her back. The clip-clop of horse hooves was soothingly peaceful.
“There was a military police presence in such a prosperous place.”
Rizel suddenly glanced back.
She tucked the hair flowing in the wind behind her ear and looked toward the direction the cart was moving. Behind the coachman wearing a well-worn hunting cap was an old man driving the horses. She smiled at the slow pace of the horse’s steps and opened her lips.
“The lord of the territory has taken countermeasures, hasn’t he?”
“Huh!? Sorry for the uncomfortable seat, noble lady!”
“No, it’s very comfortable.”
In the gentle exchange between Rizel and the old coachman, Eleven let out a yawn and muttered,
“Are you losing it, old man…”
“Who’s losing it, huh!?”
“Why can you hear this!!”
Jill leaned on the cart and sighed, exasperated by the back-and-forth shouting between Eleven and the coachman.
It had been an hour’s ride from the Capital City in the cart. The old coachman still thought Rizel was a noble, and conversations often didn’t quite mesh. You’d think they’d pick someone else to talk to adventurers, but oh well.
“We’ll arrive in about another hour, so please hang in there a bit longer, noble lady.”
“Yes. But I’m actually an adventurer.”
The old man’s village passed on a two-hour one-way route several times to deliver their crops every few days.
Since they can’t just wait indefinitely for an adventurer to accept a request, meeting the adventurer upon an early morning delivery is the best timing. It just so happened to be the old man’s turn.
“We’ve hired adventurers before to deal with crop raiders, but you folks are the first of your kind we’ve seen.”
The coachman laughed heartily, the sound carried by the wind.
“Does this happen often?”
“Well, not too often. But when they come, there’s nothing you can do.”
His voice was cheerful, without any hint of seriousness.
Farming and crop raiding go hand in hand. For them, whether it’s a storm or monsters coming is the same—they just feel unlucky and move on.
“What kind of countermeasures do you usually take?”
Rizel asked, steadying herself on the cart as it bounced over a small stone.
“The leader likes this kind of stuff.”
“It’s more like a hobby or occupational hazard.”