Chapter 21.3

Chapter 2 The Crown Princess Who Broke the Code

Episode 21: The Fearsome Crown Princess Consort When She Loses Her Temper (3)

“Did Her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess, play with soil and get dirty? I’ve never touched it myself. What does it feel like?”

They would deliberately bring up the topic to emphasize my rural background. Well, it’s not like I’m trying to hide it, and I don’t mind talking about my nostalgic hometown. However, every time they do that, they would indirectly belittle me with comments like, “It’s something we could never imitate,” or “Your upbringing is truly unbelievable,” or “Your mother must have sent you to the estate, thinking about Your Highness’s future.”

Well, if I were to react to these petty remarks every time, I wouldn’t be able to survive in the social circles. I lack the refined conversational skills to deliver clever comebacks, so I choose to remain silent. By the way, when my mother or sister is by my side, they, being high-ranking noblewomen, would deliver entertaining sarcastic remarks that would burst through the air, making it amusing to listen to.

However, one day at a tea party, the Duchess of Marlörd, as usual, brought up my rural upbringing. She began to put me down. At that time, my fourth sister and youngest sister were present, but they held the title of Countess, which was lower in rank than the Duchess. Even if they respected me as the Crown Princess’s sister when I was with them, there were limits. The Duchess, who became keenly aware that I had no sister to protect me, openly mocked the countryside and indirectly belittled me, who was raised in the countryside.

To be honest, I was getting tired of the Duchess of Marlörd’s snide attacks, especially about my countryside upbringing. I casually ignored her words and continued eating the baked sweets served during the tea party. By the way, it is borderline impolite to eat during a conversation, but if one’s social status is high enough, it can be somewhat forgiven. So, in a sense, it also meant, “I have a higher status than you,” which seemed to further provoke the Duchess.

The Duchess said,

“Don’t commoners work the land with dirt on it? Oh, how filthy. I have neither seen it nor do I wish to see it.”

I was ticked off.

That struck a nerve.

What did this damn woman just say?

Getting dirty while working the land is filthy, she says? Is she ridiculing the work of farmers?

Many of my underlings were sons of farmers, and I myself was the adopted daughter of a gardener. I often helped with the farming work in the neighborhood. I got covered in dirt, and at times, even covered in manure while working.

Communicating with the soil, seeing the colors of the air, and hearing the sound of water are the fundamentals of a farmer’s work. It is often said that one cannot become a good farmer without becoming one with nature and hearing the voice of the crops. For those who live by and are sustained by the land, getting dirty with soil is even a source of joy.

And she calls it filthy? What a fool. I couldn’t help but glare at the Duchess. I must have given her quite an intense look because not only the Duchess herself but the faces of the ladies around her contorted. Oops, not good. Smile, smile. I tried to make it look like I was smiling at least around my mouth. But my eyes continued to glare at the Duchess.

“If commoners who get dirty with soil are considered filthy, then you have no right to drink that tea or eat those sweets.”

I signaled to my maid to remove the tea and sweets from in front of the Duchess.

“Your Highness, w-what are you…”

“This tea and the wheat needed to make these sweets, as well as the fruits, everything was cultivated by commoner farmers who got dirty with soil. To those who call it filthy, you have no right to consume it.”

My words made the noblewomen around me hold their breath.

“Oh, isn’t the other party a commoner?”

“While it is true that commoners have a lower social status than you, it does not give you the right to say anything or hurt their pride. It is the same as saying that just because I have a higher status than you, I can say anything to you.”

The Duchess blushed with anger when I clearly highlighted our hierarchical difference and even lumping her together with commoners. However, from my perspective, it feels like she’s throwing a tantrum and getting angry over something insignificant. I was furious, which was a rare occurrence for me.

I wanted to enlighten this ignorant woman who knows nothing about the hardships of farmers. I wanted to tell her how challenging it is from planting crops to harvesting them. The constant worry over whether it will rain or not, the anxiety during prolonged rainy periods, the joy of sunshine and the despair of drought, the daily labor of weeding and killing pests, and the dedicated care, only to end up with a meager yield for reasons that are often unclear.

Even the harvested crops were half taken away as taxes. I know this because I was involved in tax collection as a substitute for my father, who was a magistrate in my hometown. It felt incredibly sorry to see half of the harvest being taken away, even though my father had nothing to do with the agricultural work (I didn’t know that he contributed to the fertility of the land by offering magical energy).

Despite all that, the farmers would say, “The lord of this estate is a kind person.” I learned that in other domains, they have to surrender seventy percent of their harvest or pay a fixed annual tax regardless of the harvest.

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