Chapter 507: The Problem with the Soil

The next morning unfolded just as planned. Guided by the village chief, we began our tour of the settlement.
Everywhere we went, villagers greeted us with bright, welcoming smiles—but behind those smiles, I sensed something else. A faint weariness lingered in their expressions, the kind that comes from long days of toil and short nights of rest. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who noticed; Fabienne, walking gracefully at my side, wore a faint frown of concern.
“Everyone seems rather tired,” she murmured, her tone soft but worried.
“I’m guessing it’s the daily water hauling,” I replied. “That has to be exhausting.”
Even as we spoke, several villagers passed before us, balancing long poles across their shoulders. At either end of the poles hung large clay jars, swaying heavily with the unmistakable weight of water. The rhythmic creak of wood and the splash of sloshing liquid filled the air.
Just beyond them, I caught sight of a few horse-drawn carts, each loaded with barrels that must also have been filled at the river. Yet there were so few of them—certainly not enough to ease everyone’s burden.
It made sense, though. Those carts were likely needed for transporting crops to market. Carrying goods by hand all the way to the city would be nearly impossible, so the carts had to be reserved for trade.
“This here,” the village chief announced proudly, “is the field where we applied your universal plant nutrient. There isn’t much difference yet, but I’m confident the crops will flourish soon.”
He gestured toward a wide stretch of farmland. But when I compared the treated plot with the neighboring one, the difference was nearly invisible. The same dull green hue, the same stunted growth.
Fabienne tilted her head, her golden curls catching the sunlight. A faint wrinkle of doubt appeared between her brows. Perhaps she thought the fertilizer hadn’t worked at all.
But my conclusion was different.
No, the problem wasn’t the fertilizer. It was the soil. From what I could tell, this land had already reached its natural limit for growth. No matter how much you tried to “boost” it, there would be little visible effect. For the fertilizer to truly work, the soil itself needed improvement.
I knelt and scooped up a handful of earth. Just as Lionel had told me yesterday, the soil was dense and heavy—poor drainage. Too much clay content, perhaps. The areas chosen for cultivation were probably the driest patches available, but even those weren’t ideal.
“Yes,” I said after a moment, letting the dirt crumble through my fingers, “it looks like the soil’s the problem.”
“The soil?” Fabienne echoed, blinking.
“Exactly. When water doesn’t drain well, crops don’t grow properly. The nutrients can’t reach the roots easily, and the roots themselves are prone to rot.”
“I see… I never knew that,” she admitted, her voice tinged with surprise.
Her innocence drew a faint smile from me. It wasn’t her fault—after all, the lands surrounding the domain capital were blessed with rich, loamy soil, perfect for cultivation. It was one of the key reasons the city had prospered in the first place.
But that same fertility was what made these outer lands so sparsely populated. Few could make a living here. Something about that didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to change it, somehow.
“Oniisan,” Rosalia suddenly spoke up, her eyes gleaming, “can’t we do something to help them?”
“Kyuu?” came a curious chirp from Mira, who stood beside her.
Both of them were gazing up at me with eyes that sparkled like twin gemstones. And when I glanced at Fabienne for support, she, too, was staring with the same pleading brilliance.
I sighed. “You’re all giving me that look again… I’m not some miracle worker, you know.”
Still… perhaps there was something simple we could try.
“What if we try making raised beds?” I suggested. “That should help improve the drainage.”
“Raised… beds?” Fabienne repeated, tilting her head.
“Right. Like this—small ridges of soil shaped into long, flat mounds down the center of the field.”
Borrowing a hoe from the chief, I began working. Ssh, ssh, ssh! The rhythmic sound of metal biting into earth echoed as I shaped a neat ridge. The work was harder than I expected; sweat quickly gathered at my temples. I was tempted to use magic to speed things up, but if I did, the villagers wouldn’t be able to imitate it later.
So instead, I cast a subtle strengthening spell on myself—nothing flashy, just enough to keep my arms from giving out. If no one noticed, it wasn’t cheating… right?
“Like this,” I said, stepping back to show them.
Fabienne’s eyes widened. “I’ve never seen a field shaped this way before.”
“And what effect does it have, exactly?” asked the village chief, stroking his beard as he crouched beside the mound.
Rosalia and Mira leaned forward with fascination, while Nero and the other attendants stared in disbelief. Well, I couldn’t blame them—seeing a nobleman’s son performing farm labor with practiced ease must have been quite a shock. Maybe I’d gotten carried away again.
“You plant the crops along the top of this ridge,” I explained, pointing to the raised surface. “Since the base slopes downward, excess water drains away easily. The taller the ridge, the better the drainage. Of course, for some crops that prefer more moisture, you’ll want to adjust the height.”
I left it at that—better for the farmers themselves to experiment and discover the best balance for each crop.
“I see…” the chief murmured, his tone thoughtful. He crouched down again, running his rough, calloused hands along the soil ridge I had made, feeling its texture with visible curiosity.
Maybe he would actually give it a try. If he did, he’d soon realize how effective it could be.
“And with this setup,” I added, “your plant nutrient will probably reach the roots more efficiently. Before, much of it must’ve drained off before the crops could absorb it.”
“That does make sense,” the chief admitted slowly, nodding.
I wasn’t sure if he was entirely convinced, but it seemed he was willing to consider it. That was enough for now. A sudden stranger—even the son of a noble—couldn’t expect people to accept his words right away. But if they tested the idea once, the results would speak for themselves.
“Julius-sama,” Fabienne said softly, “this method might also be useful in our herb garden.”
“True,” I replied. “If we let the roots grow deeper and stronger, it might improve the quality of herbs whose roots are used as ingredients.”
Maybe I’d try it myself when we returned home. Until now, I’d relied on magic to keep the soil soft and fertile, but perhaps this simple method could make a difference too. A small adjustment that could yield remarkable results.
Once our inspection of the farmland was finished, I asked to see the water-gathering site. It wasn’t part of the original schedule, but I insisted, and the chief reluctantly agreed to guide us there.
“There it is,” he said, pointing ahead. “We draw water from that river.”
I could already see the villagers at work—stooped figures hauling full jars up from the riverbank, their movements slow and labored. The path we had followed was rough and uneven, hardly suitable for heavy loads. I watched as one woman stumbled slightly, her knees trembling under the weight.
No wonder everyone looked tired. Doing this every single day would sap anyone’s strength.
“Village chief,” I asked quietly, “have you ever considered digging a canal? A waterway leading directly to the village?”
He gave a rueful chuckle. “We’ve talked about it before, yes. But we simply don’t have the funds to make it happen. This village lies far from the capital, so labor costs are higher here. And besides…” He gestured toward the distant river. “We’re not exactly close to the water. It’s quite a distance.”
Now that he mentioned it, the river did lie some ways off. Perhaps the villagers had chosen to build farther inland because monsters lurked near the water… or maybe the river had a tendency to flood, forcing them to keep their homes on higher ground. I’d have to ask more to understand—but one thing was clear: this village had survived by adapting to hardship.
And if possible… I wanted to find a way to ease their burden.