The Isolated Marchioness Just Wants to Make a Living [Novel] Chapter 71

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Chapter 71

Dalia stared out over the vast tomato field.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered all around her.

“Isn’t this completely ridiculous? Central nobles having a duel across the West and East?”

“Well, I mean, if they’re planting wheat for us, we’ve got no reason to complain. Our tomato crop was ruined anyway.”

“Right, but didn’t we get a massive sum in compensation? All thanks to Lady Brisa Sayre.”

“We’ve already received a full year’s worth of pay, so we might as well just sit back and enjoy the show.”

Dalia could hear every word of the farmers’ hushed murmurs.

Their faith in Brisa was already sky-high, as Brisa had immediately uncovered the root cause behind their wilting tomatoes.

“By the way, who is that young lady over there?”

“I heard she’s the daughter of Baron Harwin. Supposedly a cousin to Marquis Sayre.”

“Baron Harwin’s family? I feel like I’ve heard of them somewhere… or maybe not…”

“You should read the papers more often. Word is they’re criminals and locked up in prison right now.”

“Then is it really alright to leave our land in that girl’s hands?”

Dalia ground her teeth in secret.

Her heart thumped violently against her ribs.

“Remember. You are not defending something right now, you are taking it.”

The gentle, melodious voice of the Duchess of Devostan echoed in her ears.

“Which is why you must not act rashly. You have to reveal your ability gradually so that others are forced to acknowledge it. If you display your trait and the public consensus turns out to be, ‘Well, that’s nothing special,’ everything is over. You must act slowly, inflating their expectations as you go.”

Even while filing the lawsuit against Sayre, the Duchess had offered such counsel.

“For now, do not bring up the phrase ‘Sayre’s trait’ to anyone outside the nobility. Show them your power first, let the reputation around that power inflate, and only then declare that it is the trait of Sayre. There are plenty of people with superhuman abilities out there—take Alpheus Sayre, for instance.”

Indeed, people with abilities were far from rare.

Most of them ended up joining the Magic Tower. The traits of the original Five Houses were simply more famous because they were vastly more powerful and passed down exclusively through bloodlines.

“If you slap the label of ‘Sayre’s trait’ onto it first and show it off like a trophy, people might just react with a shrug and think it’s no big deal. So be careful.”

To Dalia, however, public opinion already seemed heavily tilted against her.

The moment Brisa brought up the duel to the herb farmers of Seldoche, the Western farmers had cheered for her. Having witnessed the success of hydroponic farming with their own eyes, they fully recognized her talent.

Yet look at these Eastern farmers.

Weren't they just staring at her with dubious, judging eyes?

Worse yet, they were already whispering among themselves as if they had accepted Brisa’s superior ability.

Dalia swallowed hard, her mind racing.

In truth, she knew next to nothing about farming. But she had a trait.

An miraculous opportunity for power that had presented itself just as she was being dragged away to a monastery.

“Um, excuse me, young lady.”

Having whispered to their hearts' content, the Eastern farmers slowly approached Dalia.

“Shall we… lend you a hand with something?”

“Ah, no. That won't be necessary.”

Dalia flashed a smirk.

She couldn't go on like this. She had to seize control of the room.

The Duchess of Devostan had told her to hold back on using the term Sayre’s trait, but in Dalia’s eyes, there was no reason for her power to be devalued like this.

And so, she threw them an arrogant, confident smile.

“I possess the trait of Sayre.”

“…I Beg your pardon?”

Unaware of the intricate details and assuming this was merely a family dispute, the farmers’ eyes widened in shock.

“Watch closely.”

Dalia took a deep breath and thrust her hand high into the air. At that precise moment, about five ants crawling through the field began to rapidly swell in size.

“Gasp?!”

“Wh-what in the world?!”

“U-uwaah…?!”

The watching farmers nearly tumbled backward in sheer terror.

Dalia issued a command to the ants, which had now grown to match her own height.

“Go. Turn over this tomato field completely.”

The tomato field was currently a chaotic mess of trampled, rotting vines and upturned earth.

“Clean it up thoroughly.”

The five massive ants began plowing through the dirt at unbelievable speed.

Dalia grinned triumphantly, as if demanding they look upon her greatness.

“This is Sayre’s trait, .”

The common folk knew nothing about the specifics of . Consequently, they could only blink in stunned silence, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Hmm.”

The giant ants worked with terrifying efficiency.

“Good. Now that the soil is cleared, give it plenty of water.”

Dalia issued her orders with supreme confidence, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

“Now, as for the wheat seeds… let’s see.”

She began sorting through the wheat seeds sent over from the West.

“The Duke definitely said that the larger the wheat seed, the taller the stalk grows and the more grain it produces.”

Since the Eastern farmers had only ever grown tomatoes, they knew nothing about wheat farming either.

Even if they did know better, the rules of the contest strictly forbade them from advising her. Every decision had to be made solely by Dalia.

“Great. Then I’ll just pick the largest seeds and plant those.”

Dalia lifted her chin high and looked back at the farmers.

“Of course, if the stalks bear too many grains, harvesting might be a bit tricky for humans, but it’s no problem with my ants. They aren't fragile like people.”

By now, the farmers were staring hypnotized as the giant ants began dousing the field with water on their own. Quite literally, human speed and physical strength couldn't even begin to compare.

“Brisa Sayre?” Dalia crossed her arms, her voice dripping with disdain. “Don't believe a word of her nonsensical babble.”

The farmers exchanged confused glances with one another.

Dalia shrugged, letting out a cruel little laugh.

“Her mother was insane, you know. Completely out of her mind.”

Rumors that the last princess of Riente had gone mad were common knowledge, but as no official confirmation had ever been made, people had simply lost interest after her death.

However, hearing it directly from the mouth of a noble, and a close relative at that…carried an entirely different weight.

“Brisa Sayre inherited that exact madness. That’s why her engagement was broken off, because she’s stark raving mad. And her brother is nothing more than a lowly mercenary who grew up among commoners, so he just goes along with all her crazy ramblings.”

Dalia declared with smug satisfaction, “How could you trust the words of a girl like that? It’s the same story here. She just told them to dig up the dirt, and they happened to strike mana stones by sheer luck.”

The farmers couldn't bring themselves to argue with Dalia’s claims.

When it came down to it, none of this was their business anyway, nor did they care about the complex political drama underneath. However, the sensational gossip that someone had gone mad, and that her daughter had been dumped because of it, was far too juicy to ignore.

“Mark my words, the Sayre family will vanish into the pages of history soon enough,” Dalia remarked smoothly.

“That madness is hereditary. Who in their right mind would ever marry Brisa? Not to mention Alpheus, whose blood is tainted and filthy.”

The farmers merely stole nervous glances at one another, afraid to speak up.

“She’s even the girl who chopped down the olive trees, the very symbol of the Sayre family.” Dalia shrugged nonchalantly. “So go ahead and tell your friends in the West. If you entrust your land to a mad girl, there’s no telling what kind of disaster will strike.”

The farmers stared back at Dalia with dubiousness and uncertainty in their eyes.

“It’s far better to trust powerful, hard-working, tamer creatures like these.”

In truth, the giant ants were making rapid progress in turning over the soil. The moment the wheat seeds arrived, they even managed to sow them with absolute uniformity.

The ants never rested, nor did they require a watchful eye to keep them on task.

“Plant them as quickly as possible. Early summer has already passed!”

A few days later.

Just as Dalia had predicted, the green shoots of wheat began sprouting rapidly across the former tomato field.

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