The Isolated Marchioness Just Wants to Make a Living
Chapter 4
* * *
“All right, Potato Squad, assemble in the back garden.”
Brisa dubbed the knights, led by Philip, the ‘Potato Squad.’
Philip felt deeply insulted. To give knights such a ridiculous nickname as ‘potato’ was a truly novel form of contempt.
‘Sure, I happen to look particularly like a potato, but isn't this going too far?’
Don’t tell me she’s going to make us roll around like potatoes in the back garden?
‘So what if she’s a prodigy who mastered five languages at age seven? So what if she has imperial law memorized back and forth? So what if she’s been invited to the Empress Dowager’s banquets since she was ten because she knows high society etiquette inside and out!’
Philip gasped for breath, recalling the maids' endless praises.
‘At the end of the day, she’s just a noble lady who’d probably believe potatoes grow on trees….’
Naturally, she was their superior.
Before leaving, Alpheus had even instructed them: “In my absence, Brisa is your master in this mansion.”
Even so, did that give her the right to make a laughingstock out of people like this?
He intended to lodge a proper protest when he faced Brisa again in the back garden. Yet when she appeared moments later, her command was utterly serious.
“Go to Jejel Street and buy as many seed potatoes as you can. Ones meant for an early harvest.”
At those words, everyone blinked slowly, unable to grasp the situation.
Was this a joke?
Or a new method of mockery?
Since Philip already looked like a potato, an instant wave of anxiety washed over him.
‘She isn’t going to make us buy seed potatoes and order me to call them my sons, is she?’
To the dazed Philip, the young girl offered a fairly large box and spoke.
“They must be well-balanced ovals, free of blemishes or rot. Roughly the size of a hen’s egg.”
Hmm?
Having actually farmed potatoes before, Philip was genuinely surprised.
It was spring now….
While it felt just a tiny bit late, it was by no means an impossible time to source and plant seed potatoes.
“Pick firm ones with well-dried skins, with a moderate number of evenly distributed eyes.”
Wait, she actually knows what she’s talking about?
“No one in the marquisate has ever farmed potatoes before. So put your heads together and pick out good ones to buy. As for the money…… sell this.”
Brisa held the box out to Philip.
Seeing it, the maids screamed.
“Aaaack! No, my lady!”
“Those are your personal jewels! If you sell these, you’ll have to wear the exact same accessories once a week! Heavens, how dreadful!”
Was wearing the same pair of earrings twice in one week really such a despair-inducing catastrophe?
The maids weren't even young. Every single one of them looked to be in their late thirties or forties.
Even amid his sheer bewilderment, Philip took the box.
Brisa then spoke to one of the maids.
“You go along. Help them get a fair price.”
“No, my lady!”
The maid vehemently refused.
“Even if a blade were held to my throat, I could never sell your jewels!”
“Very well, then.”
Brisa generously respected her opinion.
“I was torn between practical gain and curiosity anyway. I was wondering how badly the jewelers would rip off the Potato Squad if they walked in trying to sell that.”
She continued in dead earnest.
“Make sure to get a receipt, Philip. It will serve as an excellent case study on market rates and price gouging, so let us record it in the history books of Sears.”
The maid was utterly horrified.
“Gaaah! No! I’ll go too!”
Once again, the mistress generously accepted her input.
“Very well, then.”
With that, Brisa concluded her instructions.
Immediately, the remaining maids collapsed as though they had lost the entire estate and began to weep.
“We couldn't even stop the Previous Marquis from selling off the Princess’s jewelry…….”
“How can we ever face the Princess in the afterlife……? Every single piece was meant to be passed down to Lady Brisa…….”
Brisa stood among them with a detached expression.
Did a simple trip to buy seed potatoes really need to be this dramatic?
Philip, reaching the limits of his ability to process the situation, cautiously opened his mouth.
“Um, my lady?”
“Yes.”
“Why…… why are you having us do this?”
“Because I am out of my mind.”
Brisa replied with utmost seriousness.
“I tried to come to my senses over the past three days, but I failed.”
Philip was caught off guard for a moment, though come to think of it, he had been bewildered for quite some time now. Still unsure how to respond, he asked carefully.
“Er…… this is, well, noble humor or something like that, right, my lady?”
Brisa’s expression turned solemn.
“Know this well, Philip. Since we don't know each other very well yet, I'll tell you in advance: I do not speak nonsense.”
Philip flinched at the girl’s solemn declaration.
Now that he thought about it, setting aside Alpheus whom they had previously thought to be a commoner, this was his first direct command from a ‘true noble.’
This is far stranger than anything I imagined.
“My lady, may I ask just one question?”
After hesitating briefly, Philip voiced the question that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue.
“Do you…… truly see us as human beings?”
Just a few hours ago, he would have bet anything that she didn't consider them human.
Yet facing her in person, while she was certainly odd, it didn't seem like that at all.
Had they been misunderstanding something all this time?
Brisa’s response was nonchalant, yet without a shred of hesitation.
“I am clearly aware that you are humans just like me.”
Every knight, including Philip, was taken aback at that moment. They hadn't expected the phrase ‘just like me’ to follow.
Brisa added with a quite serious face.
“You must eat three meals a day, after all.”
Wait……. Was that the point of this conversation?
Just then.
The gatekeeper came running in a panic.
“My lady, my lady! T-T-Trouble!”
He panted, sounding as if he were about to pass out.
“Th-The Head of the Western Grain Merchants Guild is here! He demands the d-debt be repaid immediately…… and says he’s al-already cut us plenty of slack!”
Philip couldn't make sense of the words.
Yet the maids, who had been collapsed and wailing behind Brisa, let out snickers.
“That rookie must have made a mistake. Haven’t we always paid our debts late?”
“Sure, it’s true we missed the contractual deadline every year, but custom dictates they always let it slide.”
“Calm down. The Marang fish harvest in our marquisate peaks in early winter anyway. It’s just some sort of misunderstanding.”
A type of freshwater fish, the Marang fish was the primary source of income for the Marquisate of Sears. What little prime land the marquisate possessed bordered the river.
Having reassured the gatekeeper, the maids resumed their wailing.
Brisa wasn't particularly rattled either. However, after muttering, “I suppose it’s a good thing I lost my mind,” she answered.
“For now, I shall meet the guild head in the parlor at once.”
Giving a brief reply, she turned her head back to look at Philip. Then, with supreme grace, she rested a hand firmly on Philip’s forearm.
“Leave this place to the rest of them…… and depart, Sir Knight.”
Her voice was grave and solemn.
“For the very survival of our estate’s people rests upon the Potato Squad.”
……All of a sudden?
Philip felt strangely as if he were marching off to war.
The gaze Brisa directed at him was dead serious.
“The circumstances are dire, but do your utmost in the duty entrusted to you.”
Strength entered the small hand gripping his forearm.
“For the future forged by the Potato Squad’s struggle shall surely return as glory.”
Having spoken with solemn dignity, she stepped back.
“Go quickly. I entrust the seed potatoes to you.”
Philip almost succumbed to the illusion that he was receiving an order of life-or-death deployment.
The maids sobbing hysterically behind them only amplified the feeling.
Is receiving a command from a ‘true noble’ always like this?
Philip took a deep breath and bowed his head.
“Yes, my lady. Leave it to us. And…… I am truly sorry for earlier.”
Believing she had looked down on them all this time must have been a complete misunderstanding.
Was she not issuing orders in such a solemn, noble manner?
A swell of pride rose within him.
“I am honored to receive such a dignified command. It’s my first time experiencing anything like this, so I feel rather overwhelmed and—”
Wait. This sounds far too pathetic.
Snapping out of his rambling, he lowered his voice and whispered hurriedly.
“Pl-Please keep what I just said a secret from the others.”
“I refuse.”
Brisa answered instantly.
“I shall record it in the history books.”
Then she turned around and spoke to the gatekeeper.
“Lead the way.”
And with chilling eyes, she declared.
“I go to another battlefield.”
With her posture perfectly straight, the young girl walked away.
