Chương 112: Chapter 2.49: Conserve Your Strength

During the last days of summer, the harvest was in full swing, yet for Favius it had become nothing more than background noise in their daily routine. He considered his last visit to the construction site and yesterday's final briefing with Hefnus on who would be arrested once Hesnia returned. All the siblings walked through the outer estate gardens: little Lia in Urania's arms while the nursemaid accompanied her, and Marius and Caliga in eager conversation about fighting.

Passing by a grove of trees, Favius stopped and stared.

"Never actually got close to those sheep, come to think of it," he murmured. Urania appeared beside him, Marius following hot on her heels.

"They look funny, don't they?" She pointed.

"Their curved horns are so smooth." She looked over at the shepherds taking care of the animals. The front halves of their bodies were pitch-black, while their rears were covered in pure white wool.

"And their wool feels really silky."

"Really?" Favius questioned. All the children walked towards the sheep. The shepherds and slaves, who were apparently collecting the sheep droppings so they did not contaminate the inner estate's grass, bowed at their hips. Soon, an elderly woman carrying a shepherd's staff stepped forward.

"Greetings, Young Aristocrats. Young Lady, have you returned to play with the sheep?" Caliga gave the woman a fond smile.

"I'm afraid we have different business today."

"Pet sheep!" proclaimed Lia loudly from Urania's arms. Even Marius stepped forward hesitantly, but it was Favius who broke the hesitation.

"Let's check them out," he said and stepped forward. The memories of bombarding the ordinary goats in the canyon with stones flashed through his mind, but he shook them off as he touched one of the sheep. The animal smell was intense, yet its curved horns, black head, and otherwise almost perfectly white and black, long, yet somehow not fully curly wool proved interesting.

"Feels strange," said Marius.

"So oily. Don't they wash enough?" Lia giggled as Urania placed her on the back of a ewe, never letting go of the little girl. The shepherd woman chuckled.

"That is indeed how wool feels before it has been properly processed, Young Lord." But Favius's thoughts were already elsewhere. He looked over the herd. We got how many, twenty to forty? They're kind of dispersed, so it's hard to tell.

"They look different from the sheep I've seen outside." The shepherd woman straightened and smiled with pride.

"Indeed, this is a rare eastern breed the Dominus's great-grandfather imported. And within the Republic, ours is the only estate that has managed to cultivate a herd successfully." Favius raised an eyebrow. An eastern breed of sheep. Well, I've always known that historically there was a much greater diversity of plants and animals in farming, but this? He shook his head and instead petted the sheep alongside his siblings.

At some point, Marius annoyed a ram and quickly escaped behind Favius, who himself barely jumped aside before the shepherds caught the animal. Understandably, Marius's enthusiasm waned, though he kept glaring at that particular ram while his older siblings continued chuckling and petting the ewes. After nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, Brutus cleared his throat.

"If you believe you now smell sufficiently of sheep after rubbing yourselves all over them, might we move on to the actual event of this afternoon?" Favius rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath. Well, I don't smell myself smelling like sheep, but maybe... He looked over the herd, the shepherds, and his siblings. I've gotten used to the smell. Well, I'm the young aristocrat, so nobody will dare comment on it. He winked at Brutus, and they marched farther towards their meeting.

As they approached the dining pavilion, Favius smiled and reflected. It's fun to see an old project paying off like this. And also a good thing that Sirrana isn't here. After all, she's getting her treatment and telling my grandmother everything about my sewage-treatment plans. If she had been here... Favius snickered. Well, I'm fairly certain she would have had a second important report to deliver. Finally, they walked around a hedge along a gravel path and entered a pavilion.

It was a simple construction of carved wood and clay shingles, and a table laden with snacks and drinks had already been prepared. Favius looked down the clearing and saw another large table with half a dozen slaves idling around it. I think one of them is a junior cook, unless I'm mistaken. His siblings were already taking their places around the table, and Urania narrowed her eyes as she looked between Doroth and Serran.

"Where's Antonius? I thought he would be here spying for Father." Serran chuckled.

"Oh, Young Lady, the Dominus has no need for a spy, for he is well apprised of this particular endeavor." Something glittered in the man's eyes.

"After recent events, I was questioned in detail about which projects and ideas of yours I came to support." Favius chuckled alongside his siblings, and soon the usual game of convincing Lia that your favorite snack was the one she should take first began. Favius's offering of a mild cheese was graciously accepted by the little princess, and the conversation washed around him while he simply enjoyed the presence of his siblings and tried each of the five teas that had been prepared for him.

"So," Favius heard Brutus say, "how does the spiritual food agree with you, Serran?" Favius raised an eyebrow.

"Spiritual food?" The Majordomo chuckled.

"Indeed, Young Master. The Dominus has decided that, given the nature of our endeavors, he will invest some money and..." He gestured across the table.

"Some of your protector's time into training those he deems capable of becoming cultivators." Favius raised an eyebrow.

"Really? That's the first time I'm hearing of that." Serran chuckled.

"Believe me, Young Dominus, despite the snowstorm of activities you have kicked up, there is much..." He looked aside at the scrawny and wiry figure of Doroth Cerul.

"Much more going on at this estate that you are not involved with." Favius chuckled and shrugged with both hands.

"Fair enough, I guess. So who's getting the food apart from you?"

"The majority is going to people who prove themselves worthy among your workshops. Five people in each," he said and smiled.

"Your father wanted to communicate that to you once he was back. Yet, I believe you might have some interesting ideas about how that might help you with proper incentives, as you call them." Favius chuckled.

"I might."

"Who else? Who else?" demanded Marius.

"Oh, the food they are getting is of much lesser quality than what the Young Lord is being fed. Several functionaries, Antonius among them. Out of the workshop personnel..." He looked over at Caliga and smiled.

"The twins are the only ones who have been assigned their portions yet." Favius nodded. Yes, they would have been on the shortlist. Arryn... He paused. Well, he is a talented woodcarver, so he could probably do interesting things with cultivation, but who knows. Caliga, meanwhile, furrowed her brow.

"You don't seem too enthused, Serran." The Majordomo sighed.

"This old man appreciates the generosity of his Dominus, yet the odds that I might truly come to cultivate, they are—" Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Nonsense," interrupted Brutus, raising a hand.

"Your Dominus has granted you a boon, Majordomo, and it might in fact be your belief that you're not worthy and too old that keeps you from cultivating properly, and thus from serving your Dominus better and..." He paused significantly.

"Longer than you otherwise could have." Serran swallowed hard, and something tightened in Favius's chest. Right. I'm going to have to go through this entire thing with my agelessness for over two hundred and fifty years. But all of them... His eyes fell upon Brutus. Maybe with the exception of Brutus. Favius shook his head, and Serran spoke up.

"That is a disquieting thought, Lord Cultivator. I..." He paused and looked deep into the cup of watered-down wine before him.

"I shall consider that and meditate on my failings." Brutus nodded curtly and gulped down another cup of undiluted wine. Favius narrowed his eyes and gestured towards the slaves idling beside the other table.

"I must admit the idea of this picnic is interesting, but if we are opening potentially spoiled food here—" But Doroth shook his head, his sharp musteline incisors glinting in the sun.

"Young Master, I arranged for the table to be placed so that it is downwind of the pavilion." Favius laughed.

"Well, that's a wise precaution. And considering the distance..." He clicked his tongue.

"I guess it will work out. We haven't talked about this, but I assume you kept records of when you opened the food in fall, winter, and spring?"

"Indeed I have." The Master of Provisions nodded his too-fast nod.

"The first two times, all food items were still of excellent quality, though in winter the pure-water preserves showed some signs of spoilage. By spring..." He shrugged.

"Few of them remained edible, so..." He shivered.

"I took the liberty of ordering the slaves to open them last, lest they spoil our appetite."

"Well, that was to be expected. After all, they were nothing but another control group in the end."

"As for spring?" Favius rotated his hand.

"Indeed. The traditionally preserved ones showed the first signs of spoilage, and the ones where we followed traditional practices in addition to your instructions on hygiene proved slightly better. And boiling plus the traditional method... They look best so far, Young Lord." Well, that might already be telling me everything I need to know, but still, what if food spoilage isn't as linear as I'm thinking. But before his thoughts could continue, Serran cleared his throat.

"By the way, Young Master, I've heard rumors that you were seen in the gardens working on what some say might be another book of yours." Favius furrowed his brow. How did he infer that? I haven't talked to anyone about the economics book. Favius shook his head.

"I have a few ideas, but ultimately..." Well, reinventing Adam Smith isn't too complicated, but really, with my ideas for making this more ethical... Even with what I remember from Earth, I need practical experience with workshops so I can provide strong precedent. Who knows, maybe that will change how this world handles factories in the long run. Or maybe...

"I do not intend to write another book before our current printing functions. Well, after all, two are quite enough to begin with." The others chuckled, but before the conversation about the books could continue, Marius cleared his throat. He held up a copper quarter. The wedge was freshly polished and glinted earthy orange in the low sunlight.

"So..." began the youngest one with a mischievous grin. Oh my Gods. What is it now?

"I have an idea for a game."

"A game?" Caliga leaned forward with a grin.

"Exactly." The soon-to-be six-year-old grinned broadly at everyone.

"As I understand it, we'll be trying food, and a bunch of it will be spoiled, right?"

"Right," drawled Favius. I really don't like where this is going.

"So I say we all pay a quarter senati, and the person who eats the most spoiled piece of food without throwing up gets all of—""Yuck!" screamed Urania and threw an olive at her younger brother. Marius yelped as it hit him directly in the forehead.

"That's disgusting!" cried Favius and Caliga at the same time. Lia paused briefly, an olive in her fingers.

"Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting," she parroted. The adults burst into laughter, followed by the children's shouts. Marius deflated and let the copper quarter drop onto the table.

"You don't think it would be fun?"

"No!" screamed Urania in an almost hysterical voice.

"What about that could possibly be fun?" Before the situation could deteriorate further, Brutus cleared his throat.

"Firstly..." He gestured down a path through the forest.

"I believe the first batch of amphorae of preserved food is coming. And secondly..." He gave Marius and then the entire table a vicious grin and raised a quarter senati.

"Do you believe you want to bet against my constitution, youngest cousin?" Marius swallowed visibly and shoved his copper quarter into his pocket with almost indecent haste. Another round of giggles ensued. Soon, dozens of amphorae were piled up near the table. Favius clicked his tongue, remembering again. Apples in wine, beans in vinegar, cucumbers in salty brine. They all walked over, though at Doroth's instructions they remained a good distance away and upwind of the food.

The amphorae were cracked open one by one, and the children moved ever closer, smelling the scents, while the junior cook handed them all samples. They chewed through them one by one, but Favius kept track of the results that one of Doroth's scribes was clearly recording. In the end, the tally spoke for itself as Favius read over it. Traditional preservation: thirty-three percent spoiled, forty-seven percent questionable, twenty percent of good quality.

Improved hygiene: twenty-three percent spoiled, thirty-seven percent questionable, forty percent good. Then came that which had driven them all back towards the pavilion. Favius swallowed in disgust at the memory. Of the water-only preserves, eighty-seven percent had spoiled. The remaining thirteen percent were questionable. Not one amphora contained good quality food. And finally, boiling plus hygiene had come through. Ninety-three percent of the amphorae had remained not only acceptable but of excellent quality.

Two of them, or seven percent, had failed. Favius had braved the stench and investigated, and in both cases there was an obvious flaw, a crack and a hole in the seal respectively, that was to blame for the spoilage. They all sat back in the pavilion, exclusively eating the sour beans, wine-sweetened apples, and salty cucumbers from the hygienically boiled and traditionally preserved food. Favius bit down on the cucumber, which was still crisp.

"Well," he began and looked at Serran, "the experiment is far from over, but I guess the results so far are promising." The Majordomo nodded.

"Indeed, indeed. I have already decided that I shall establish a preservation workshop on the estate. After all..." The Majordomo grinned broadly.

"This particular method might allow us to sell food that tastes as if it's fresh far out of season." Favius grinned broadly.

"What did I say?" He looked at Urania, who rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes. Seasonal arbitrage can make a lot of money." Then Caliga pounced.

"So, Serran, if you're establishing another workshop, what percentage are we getting from that? How many shares?" she asked with an expectant smile. But the Majordomo merely shook his head.

"Unless the Young Dominus insists, my position is going to be that this innovation was freely given to me and will be managed for the familia as a whole." Favius tilted his head to the side and quickly considered. He clearly wants it for the estate. And really... He looked over at the thick earthenware with the failures. Hell, even if they use one of Urania's stone basins, which is probably Serran's plan... No, good preservation probably won't become viable for anything except a luxury market before we have glass.

Or good ceramics, though I'm not certain how to make those.

"That's acceptable. After all, I already have enough to do."

"And many more ideas," murmured Brutus so low that only Favius could hear it. The side of his mouth twitched as Serran nodded.

"I thank the Young Lord." Doroth cleared his throat, and his high-pitched voice filled the pavilion.

"While clearly the time it takes for the boiling and the rigorous standards of scrubbing would not allow for smooth processing of the entire harvest..." He scratched his chin.

"I believe I shall see what I can do to tighten the standards of cleanliness and purity in the stores and in the regular preservation process." Serran nodded.

"Do so, old friend." He picked up another spoonful of sour beans, but Favius raised two fingers.

"Oh, Serran, if you're already building something on the estate, I have another request."

"Another request?" asked the Majordomo, his voice somewhere between mistrustful and resigned. Favius grinned.

"Oh yes." He looked around the table.

"It's nothing complicated, really. A simple woodshed would do. But you're all going to love it, I promise. It's—" Before he could continue, three guards clad in heavy bronze and iron helmets stormed into the clearing.

"Lord Ovinius Kestrelo!" cried out Centurii Hefnus. Favius was on his feet before he could think, and Brutus stood ready between him and the captain of the guard. I didn't see him move. Favius's heart began beating. What's happening? He looked around the blue-gray darkness and noted distantly that the sun had set maybe half an hour ago over the Rhexar Mountains. Suddenly it feels so chilly. Centurii Hefnus slammed his fist into his chestplate.

"My scouts report that cultivators are approaching the estate. They refused to identify themselves and evaded capture when we tried to approach them." Favius's hands raised to his forehead as his sisters gasped.

"How many?" asked Brutus. The Praecultor guard captain snarled.

"Unknown, though I presume there's less than a dozen." Brutus grinned.

"Well, as long as there's less than a hundred men..." Yet Favius noted the tension in the man's shoulders. Fuck. He's trying to reassure us.

"Follow." He gestured, and the kids fell in between the guards. They all jogged back to the estate, the nursemaid doing her best to keep Lia from crying. Favius grabbed Marius and put the young boy onto his back.

"Is everything going to be all right?" Favius squeezed his legs.

"Don't worry. Uncle Brutus got this." Hopefully, Favius added in the silence of his own thoughts. Soon they reached the estate wall and the gatehouse. Brutus looked first deep into Favius's eyes, then over the entire family.

"Stay with the Centurii. Everything..." His eyes lingered on Favius, and the look in Brutus's eyes told Favius everything he needed to know.

"... will be fine." The cultivator had his axe at the ready, and with an almost unconscious gesture, his free hand checked the status of all the daggers strapped to his armor. Hefnus stepped close to them and gestured at a Decurii of guards waiting behind another Decurii of gate guards. Favius noted their iron helmets.

"If it looks as if the Lord is losing the battle, our elites will take you into the mountains."

"If you would be so kind..." He gestured at the two youngest children and then at two soldiers.

"They are more suitable to carry the youngest ones." Favius again swallowed hard. Fuck. What the fuck is happening? How? Never mind that. Who? Serpens? But Aelia made him swear not to seek any revenge. Or maybe it's a raid from the city Sirrana fought against in the south. But no... The map of the Republic flashed before his eyes. Has someone learned of what I'm doing? Favius felt a wave of static-charged, violent bloodthirst wash over him as Brutus flared his aura.

Out there in the darkness of the night, in the olive orchards and vineyards that had framed the entrance to the estate so nicely, three flashes responded. Favius narrowed his eyes, but Hefnus's gasp next to him told him everything he needed to know. He and his sisters stared at the man as he spoke the verdict.

"Those... Those are two Alticultors. And one..." He swallowed.

"One Magnicultor." Favius's blood ran cold. A Magnicultor. Surely Brutus can defeat a single Magnicultor. He was so confident against the mages when I got here, but this... His eyes darted around, assessing his sisters. He and his sisters accepted small packs from the guards, likely containing emergency rations and water, while they all prepared. Brutus's chuckle rang out from twenty meters down the road in the darkness.

"Those fucking bastards," he growled and fell into a relaxed stance, his axe at the ready.