Chapter 56 — The Question of Gods
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 3
Like the vast majority of commoners in this age—peasants, as the nobility called them—Norris harbored an instinctive dread and awe of nobles. True, the Cecil viscount of this generation and Gao Yang, who had only become the new lord a few days ago, were both friendly enough, but habits accumulated over decades do not change so easily. He had needed considerable effort just to converse normally with Hetty; now that Gao Yang had arrived, the farmer could not help tensing up again.
Yet apart from the tension and humility on his face, Gao Yang caught something in Norris's eyes that set him apart from other commoners. At first he could not identify it, and only half a minute later did it strike him: he saw no numbness in Norris's face—none of the dull resignation that marked most of the poor.
Nervous, cringing, humble, trembling with apprehension—yes, all of that. But not numb. Deep in those sunken eye sockets, furrowed by years of labor, a lively spark still remained.
No wonder Hetty had sought out this particular farmer to discuss breaking new ground. Norris genuinely had the capacity to "discuss."
"How is this land?" Gao Yang asked, his tone gentle.
Norris raised three fingers and held them before his chest like seedlings in a gesture of prayer. "The Harvest Goddess Eve watches over this place. Never did I think one could find tillable soil in the Dark Mountains. The ground here is level, water is easy to draw, the soil is rich, and there aren't too many stones in it—there's truly no better place to break new ground. Half of the Harvest Moon has already passed, so it's too late for rice, but we can plant sweetwood root and fireleaf greens. The sweetwood root will winter in the soil and give a good harvest come spring; the fireleaf greens can go alongside, feeding off the sweetwood's richness, and they grow fast—we'd get a crop before the Fog Moon this year. Come spring, the stalks of the fireleaf and the vines of the sweetwood can rot right in the field as fertilizer, and then we can sow grain. So long as the rains come, everyone will have a full belly."
The sweetwood root and fireleaf greens Norris mentioned were crops of this world. In fact, most of the plants and animals Gao Yang had encountered here were utterly unlike those of his homeland; even when they shared a name, they were fundamentally different things. He could only rely on the "ancient memories" stored in his mind to make sense of them. From Norris's answer, he confirmed that the agricultural techniques of this world were not as primitive as he had first assumed—at least this farmer before him understood concepts like interplanting specific crops to raise yields, composting crop waste into fertilizer, and properly managing soil fertility. These ideas were likely fragmentary, born of personal experience and lacking any systematic framework, but they proved that the people of this age did not simply scatter seed and wait for rain, living wholly at the mercy of the sky.
Unfortunately, the memories of Gao Yang Cecil were not omnipotent. Even the most formidable pioneering hero was not master of all trades. Where agriculture was concerned, Gao Yang found he could not fully rely on his mental archive, and so he would have to rely on the expert before him.
He made rough inquiries about the expected yields of several crops, and Norris answered each in turn. At the end, the old farmer added one more remark: "Those yields are from the land's own fertility and a bit of plant compost. Farming this way drains the soil badly. However good the land, you still have to let it lie fallow every two or three years. Truth be told, it's not very high..."
Gao Yang frowned. He knew this world had no concept of "chemical fertilizer," and so far he had found no possibility of producing local fertilizer from native materials—the periodic table probably did not even match. So he asked: "How do you normally raise yields and maintain the soil?"