Chapter 16: Crop Rotation and Selective Breeding

The overwhelming results from the experimental farm spread throughout the entire Arkwright territory, shaking it to its core.

The fact that the once-stubborn village chiefs had bowed before Zenon served as the most eloquent proof imaginable. Resistance quickly vanished, and soon nearly every village began eagerly adopting the new agricultural methods Zenon had proposed.

Assistant Magistrate Marc was now living through the busiest days of his life.

Riding tirelessly from village to village, he personally instructed farmers on the correct amounts of lime to spread and how to make effective compost. The farmers’ eyes, once filled with suspicion, now reflected a complex mix of expectation — and awe toward Zenon.

“Marc-sama! The soil—it’s softer! It’s really softer now!”

“This compost stuff is amazing! Even the weeds we used to throw away look like treasure to me now!”

Every time he heard such words of joy, Marc’s chest burned with pride.

Lord Zenon’s reforms were right. If we follow him, we can truly escape this endless poverty.
That conviction alone gave him the strength to push through his exhaustion.

When he finally returned to the manor one evening, he was immediately summoned to Zenon’s office.

“Well done. I’ve read your reports on the villages. It seems the plan is proceeding more or less as expected.”

Zenon spoke while scanning through a mountain of papers — his tone hovering somewhere between praise and bureaucratic detachment.

“Yes, my lord! It’s all thanks to your brilliant guidance!”

Marc bowed deeply, his voice full of emotion.

Zenon then set down his pen and looked directly at him.

“But don’t be satisfied with the current state. What we’ve done so far is merely to bring the negative back to zero. From here on, we must move from zero to positive — and reach the maximum potential.”

“…What do you mean, my lord?”

Zenon slid a fresh piece of parchment across the desk.

“Let me ask you this. What happens when you keep growing the same wheat on the same field every year? Explain.”

Caught off guard, Marc hesitated.

“Well… that’s the way it’s always been done — passed down from our ancestors…”

“And that so-called ‘common sense’ is precisely why it’s inefficient.”

Zenon sighed, half in exasperation.

“Listen carefully. Each crop absorbs specific nutrients from the soil. When you keep planting the same wheat year after year, only the nutrients wheat needs are depleted. The soil becomes barren. Compost can help, but only to a point.”

Mark was struck speechless — as if scales had fallen from his eyes.

Now that he heard it, it was simple logic. But somehow, for hundreds of years, no one had realized it.

“Then… what should we do?”

“The answer is simple. Grow different crops each year.”

Zenon quickly sketched a diagram of a field divided into three sections.

“Divide the farmland into three plots. Year one: wheat. Year two: barley. Year three: beans. Then back to wheat on the fourth year. Keep rotating them — this is called crop rotation.”

“Beans, my lord?”

“Yes. Legumes have a special property — they restore nutrients that other crops deplete. We’d be fools not to use that to our advantage.”

He then pointed to one more section of the drawing.

“And one more thing: leave one of the fields fallow for a year. Let the land rest. If you graze livestock there during that time, their manure becomes new fertilizer. That’s a fallow field.”

Crop rotation and fallowing.

Marc’s mind reeled from the sheer revolutionary nature of the concept.

To a farmer, letting land lie idle was equivalent to throwing away a harvest — something unthinkable.

But Zenon’s explanation revealed that, in the long run, this “loss” was in fact a calculated investment — one that preserved soil fertility and stabilized total yields over time.

“How… how magnificent! What an incredible idea…”

Marc trembled with emotion.

But Zenon’s reform plan didn’t end there.

“Next, look at this.”

Zenon unfurled a large map of the Arkwright domain and pointed to the northern mountain region.

“This area has a high elevation and a cool climate. It’s not ideal for wheat. Yields are always about twenty percent lower than in the southern plains.”

“Yes, my lord. That’s always been the case — there’s nothing we can do about it…”

“Stop thinking ‘there’s nothing we can do.’ That’s mental stagnation. If the environment isn’t suitable, then we adapt — we find crops that are.”

He gestured to Gray, who soon returned carrying several strange vegetables.

Lumpy, earth-colored tubers. Round, white roots.

“These are… potatoes and turnips, my lord. They’re hard, bland — fit mostly for livestock feed, not for people…”

Marc spoke hesitantly.

Zenon gave a cold, amused snort.

“That’s because you people have yet to grasp the true value of these crops. These grow astonishingly well even in barren soil or cold climates. And above all, they’re filling. There’s no better insurance against famine.”

He picked up one of the potatoes, turning it thoughtfully in his hand.

“But it’s also true that, as they are now, they have little commercial value. That’s why—we’ll improve them.”

“Improve… them, my lord?”

“Yes. Have every village in the territory collect the largest, best-shaped potatoes and turnips they can find. We’ll use only those as seed stock, and repeat the process of crossbreeding generation after generation—selecting only the superior specimens each time. Eventually, we’ll produce varieties far larger and tastier than anything we have now. This process is called selective breeding.”

Sustainable agriculture through crop rotation.
New specialty produce through selective breeding.

These two plans shattered Marc’s understanding of farming all over again.

Every reform Zenon proposed connected seamlessly to the next—improving the soil, securing water, maximizing the land’s strength, and even turning the harsh climate itself into an advantage.

Just how far ahead does he see?

Marc could no longer think of Zenon as human. He seemed more like a god of agriculture who had descended to earth in human form.

“Marc,” 

Zenon said calmly. 

“Your task is to spread these two projects throughout the territory. Naturally, you’ll face resistance again. They’ll complain—‘How can we plant livestock feed in our ancestral wheat fields?’”

At that, Marc’s eyes widened in realization.

“But you already know, don’t you, how to silence them?”

“…Yes,” 

Mark replied firmly, nodding with conviction.

“By showing them results.”

“Exactly.” 

Zenon’s lips curved faintly. 

“Set up a new plot beside the western test farm. There, we’ll once again show them—what reality looks like.”

Zenon’s reforms were far from over.

Each time he solved a problem, a new challenge revealed itself—and rather than tire of the endless cycle, he seemed to enjoy it.

The Arkwright domain, once a bloated and inefficient enterprise, was steadily being transformed into a model of productivity.

Zenon had become completely immersed in this grand intellectual game.