Chapter 91: Spring Sowing Ceremony

When the dog-headed valley gave a thunderous crash, Ulyan was leading Leo and Olivia in the spring sowing rite.

The spring sowing festival on the banks of the Azeno River came a full month earlier than it did on the northern banks of the Ice River.

At this time of year, the Ice River region could be swept at any moment by a cold wave and plunged back into a world of ice and snow. Even after another month, the climate there would still not be as mild as it was in the river bend now.

So in the north, villagers could only sow rye and oats in early April, laying straw over the fields for warmth and praying that no great cold snap would come.

But in the river bend, the frigid winds from the northern snowfields were blocked by the many mountain ridges reaching out beneath the towering barrier. By the time they arrived, they were already weak, and at most could bring a light snow that would not freeze to death hardy grain seeds.

Even so, Ulyan was still tense. On unfamiliar land, planting was not something that could succeed merely because the weather was warm; timing mattered just as much.

For that reason, he had even hired several local old farmers to guide the villagers in their work.

According to those old farmers, in the villages near Isenport, people would sow barley, oats, and legumes in early March, harvest in September, and then plant wheat and rye.

Barley, oats, and legumes, planted in the warm season, offered reliable yields; wheat and rye, planted in the cold season, fluctuated greatly.

But that was not a major problem, because for the peasantry, barley, oats, and legumes were what they ate; wheat was what they sold for money; rye was what they fed to livestock.

Fine wheat from the southern frontier, once it crossed the Azeno River, suffered a sharp drop in yield, and for free farmers the risk of large-scale wheat cultivation was simply too great.

They would treat it only as a cash crop, planting a modest amount in winter and exchanging the harvest for necessities.

Only noble estates, unconcerned by famine, would grow large quantities of wheat in both seasons for market trade.

After all, only wheat, used to make soft white bread, was the staple food of townsfolk; the rest of the grains could not command a decent price.

Was wheat not delicious enough? Why eat barley? Was barley not for brewing?

Because of this difference in class-consciousness, the River Bend domain, through grain-for-ingot trade with the Petukhov family, had at least already reached the living standard of town dwellers in terms of diet.

The Petukhov steward would only sell the wheat produced on their own estate, and would not help River Bend purchase other, cheaper grains on the market.

For his own reasons, Ulyan had not altered that arrangement either.

But once he was planting his own fields, he could not take such risks. Ulyan decided to follow the experience of the local farmers and begin with barley and legumes.

This was River Bend’s first sowing. If anything went wrong here, it would be far more disheartening than ten bandit raids.

Under the guidance of several elders in the village, Ulyan took a handful of grain seeds, murmured prayers, and devoutly invoked Tire and the spirits of his ancestors, then prayed to the spirits of wind in the east, west, south, and north, and to the spirits of earth and nature.

He scattered the seeds into the soil, then took up a spade and carefully covered them over.

After that, as lord of River Bend, he bestowed his blessing upon the villagers, wishing them a bountiful harvest and healthy families in the coming year.

Originally, this was the village shaman’s task, but over time it had gradually been taken over by the lord or the village headman.

Leo and Olivia stood behind Ulyan, displaying their status as heirs.

This, too, was an important part of the ceremony. The people of the north valued bloodlines; the number and quality of one’s offspring signified the prosperity of the family.

One reason Rigorlav looked unfavorably upon his old subordinate becoming a frontier knight was that Ulyan had only one daughter.

During the time they had spent in River Bend, Leo had established sufficient prestige in the villagers’ hearts, and Olivia’s performance had also been convincing enough, so their standing behind Ulyan represented the fact that the villagers could rely not only on Ulyan alone, but on a longer-lasting shield of protection.

Yet not every villager, nor every refugee who came later, knew that Ulyan intended to marry Olivia to Leo. Having him stand behind him at important moments was also an implicit statement, proof that he had a successor.

Just then, a tremendous blast came from Dog-Head Valley. The roar echoed through the ravine like thunder.

The villagers taking part in the spring sowing all looked up at once, and some of the more timid ones showed fear.

Ulyan quickly ended the rite and said to Leo, “Go see what that blasted dog-headed thing has gotten up to this time!”

“Yes, sir.”

Leo did not even take his weapons or armor. He simply made for Dog-Head Valley by the shortest route, with only Ivan and Little Mouse following him.

Leo had long since grown used to the clever Fisha providing one surprise, or one scare, every day.

After spending so much time together, they were at least friends, and when an explosion occurred in Dog-Head Valley, Leo was still very concerned. He was afraid the clever Fisha might accidentally play herself to death.

Dog-Head Valley was still as chaotic as ever, and with the sudden surge in the number of dog-headed creatures, it looked even more disorderly.

Dog-headed young were rolling and crawling everywhere on the ground, while adult dog-headed creatures ran about in packs, no one knew what they were busy with.

Every time Leo saw a band of dog-headed creatures, he immediately thought of the little fiends in Journey to the West who captured Tang Sanzang; all they were missing was a song about how the Great King had sent them to patrol the mountain.

These nonhuman beings, with intelligence equal to that of a ten-year-old human child, lacked complex logic and emotion. When they were full, they were happy and at ease; when they were starving, they became angry and impulsive.

Toward strangers, they behaved like wild curs, baring their teeth at any moment and ready to attack; toward acquaintances, they were more like house dogs.

Some dog-headed creatures that were hostile to humans would bark twice at them, then slink away under the shoving of their companions.

Others, more friendly to humans, would stick out their tongues, wag their tails, and sit obediently to watch with bright, attentive eyes.

Although Fisha was far smarter than the rest of her kind, she often seemed childish as well.

That was Leo’s opinion, of course. In the eyes of the dog-headed creatures, Fisha’s might was without precedent or peer; she was the uncrowned queen of the dog-headed race.

At that moment, Fisha was wearing a crown of thorns and a feather cloak stolen from the dog-headed shaman—the useless old dog-headed creature no longer even had the strength to dance blessings for the smelting furnace.

Standing atop a huge rock, she grabbed at the feather cloak, spread her arms wide, and cried out in a loud voice, “I! The clever Fisha! King of the dog-headed people!”

Below the boulder, hundreds of dog-headed creatures faced Fisha, prostrated themselves, and barked ceaselessly, their eyes burning with fanatical devotion.

Behind them, the cliff, already riddled with holes, had collapsed by half. The remaining portion was still split by enormous cracks, in danger of a second cave-in at any moment.

More than a dozen dog-headed creatures lay scattered beneath the cliff, alive or dead, obviously caught in the blast.

Leo stepped forward and looked up at Fisha on the great rock, teasing her, “Starting a religion over here, are you?”

Fisha looked at Leo, stood on tiptoe with effort, spread her arms, made herself seem larger, and repeated, “I! The clever Fisha! King of the dog-headed people!”

“Get down here.”

Fisha jumped down from the boulder in low spirits, her black tail wagging furiously, and hugged a small wooden barrel as she said, “Clever Fisha invented boom-boom! Powerful! Invincible!”

Leo took the barrel, lifted the lid, and found it full to the brim with black powder.