Chapter 30: A Perujin Night

That night, after Mia’s welcome banquet concluded, King Yuhal and his wife retired to their chamber.

“The collapse of that poor merchant earlier muddled the discussion, didn’t it?” said the worried queen. “Will everything be all right?”

Yuhal sighed and gave her a reassuring nod. “I think it will be. In fact, I believe Princess Mia intentionally left matters undecided to give us time to think...”

Shalloak’s collapse was certainly a significant disruption, but there was no need for her to follow him. After the initial commotion died down, she could easily have resumed their talk and pressed him for an answer. Instead, she had left the banquet.

“I suppose she has absolute confidence in her proposal...”

“No, father, I don’t think so.”

Hearing an unexpected voice, Yuhal turned to find both his daughters at the door.

“Arshia... Rania...”

“Please excuse our sudden entrance.”

Yuhal, though caught off guard, did not find their appearance entirely surprising. He’d had a feeling the night wouldn’t end without a visit from them.

“May we have a moment of your time, father?”

“Yes, you may. You have perhaps come at the perfect time. I’ve also been meaning to speak with the two of you.” He bade his daughters in, then lowered his head toward them. “...I’m sorry for keeping the treaty with Tearmoon a secret from you.”

The treaty between the two nations had existed since Perujin’s inception. Agricultural Country Perujin was founded in response to the establishment of the Tearmoon Empire upon the Fertile Crescent. The tribe of hunters that had occupied the land became its new masters, and the farmers whose homes and fields had been invaded saw themselves relegated to serfs. Those who wished to escape the empire’s dominance fled south to settle in freer lands, where they founded the country of Perujin.

Believing that left unchecked, Tearmoon would inevitably act to swallow their country, Perujin’s founders sought to preemptively deter the empire by negotiating a deal. They requested recognition of their sovereignty in return for Tearmoon gaining exclusive rights to a portion of their wheat, which would be reserved annually. The first Tearmoon emperor agreed to their terms, and the treaty was made.

Yuhal did not understand what the emperor had sought to gain from this agreement. He certainly could have refused, opting instead for immediate annexation and serf labor. Regardless, the deal was made, and Perujin’s independence was guaranteed, though at the cost of subordinating itself to Tearmoon. The founders had, in essence, sacrificed an aspect of their sovereignty to maintain the rest. Ever since then, Perujin had been dependent on Tearmoon, allowing the latter to continuously squeeze cheap wheat out of them, but never so much as to leave them dry. It was sustained exploitation, but performed with the agreement of both parties.

This dynamic had always been a closely held secret, known only by the royal family and a limited number of confidants. If the people’s resentment toward the empire were to ever reach the point of triggering conflict, it would spell the end of Perujin. The imperial army would march in; the invasion would be short and decisive. In the end, Tearmoon would have expanded its borders, and Perujin would become a mark of a past time.

Those who had memories—be they remembered or retold—of being driven out of the Fertile Crescent felt this fear especially vividly. Give the empire a single excuse to invade, and the citizens would all wake up serfs the next morning. Operating under this belief, they trod extremely carefully, doing what they could to get things done without ever angering the empire.

Past Perujin kings, in an effort to lift their country from poverty, set their sights not on renegotiating the treaty with Tearmoon but improving their own agricultural prowess. In pursuing this goal, the existence of this founding treaty was made a secret. Every year, negotiations with the empire were attended by only a few members of the royal family and a select handful of delegates, and the price they ultimately settled on was never released to the public. The vast majority of people—the two princesses included—were kept in the dark. Yuhal had always avoided all mention of the treaty, instead telling them that the empire was a long-standing and highly valued client whose business was extremely important to their agricultural industry.

The description wasn’t wrong, per se. Business between the two nations included more than just wheat. Every year, Tearmoon purchased vast amounts of agricultural products from Perujin, and those whose prices were unfettered by the treaty brought in sizable profits. Given this dynamic, public sentiment toward Tearmoon was...complicated, to say the least.

“Since your marriages will eventually send the two of you abroad, I wasn’t planning to burden you with this knowledge, but—”

Arshia stopped him with a shake of her head. “What’s done is done, so let’s leave it be. For now, I have nothing to say about this topic. What I do want to know is what you plan to do about the proposal.”

“A fine question...and one to which I myself would like to know the answer.”

If the treaty with the empire were abolished, large swathes of their land could be repurposed to grow more profitable crops—that much was true. They could also continue growing wheat there but sell it to other nations. Either way, a significant pivot in national strategy would be required.

“In exchange for freeing ourselves from our wheat obligation, we lose our ability to rely entirely on the imperial army for our defense. Our profits will likely rise, but some will need to be diverted to military expenses to protect our newfound wealth.”

They couldn’t possibly match the empire’s military prowess, but they’d need to at least rival neighboring nations. It was logical—even natural—to assume so. But...

“Is there something you’d like to say? Go ahead; tell me what you think,” said Yuhal, noticing a hint of dissension in Rania’s expression.

Only after he asked for her opinion did it hit him: he’d asked his daughter for her opinion. Never before had he even considered the thought.

So even I’ve been influenced by Princess Mia...

It shook him. At the same time, it intrigued him. The Great Sage of the Empire had, over a single dinner, left him debating the very future of his country. What, then, might his daughters, who’d spent so much time with her, have to say about the matter? Might they surprise him with an unexpected answer as well? He had to know.

Rania hesitated, unused to the sudden interest her father displayed in her opinion. She shook her head to gather herself and said, “In my opinion, that kind of thinking goes against the philosophy of our ancestors who built this ‘cake-shaped castle.’”

What she spoke of was a fairy tale that only children could indulge. It evoked visions of a world without war filled with castles not built for battle—a fantasy that forever lay far beyond the horizon of tomorrow. For all its absurdity, however, her voice was steady and sober. And Yuhal knew why.

It was the Great Sage of the Empire. Rania had spoken so earnestly about a fantastical future because she couldn’t help but think that maybe...maybe, with Princess Mia at the helm, it could become a reality.

It was absurd. Or was it? What if she was right, and such a world was truly within the realm of possibility? What, then, would be the correct path forward for the people of Perujin?

“We are a people of the land,” said Rania. “We till it, farm it, and bring the gift of its fruit to others. This is how we view ourselves. It’s our identity and pride. Isn’t it important not to let go of that?”

There was a dignity to her words. A confidence that went beyond simple pride. It was an unshakable sense of self-worth rooted in the Perujin people, their generations of toil, and the indisputable value of their accomplishments.

Yuhal blinked. He couldn’t help but feel there was a faint light radiating from Rania. In a way, there was. Walking up that golden slope alongside the Great Sage of the Empire had imbued Rania with a piece of her brilliance. Now, even in the absence of Mia, it continued to emit an enduring afterglow.

For a long moment, Yuhal stared at her with widened eyes. Then, a hint of a smile touched his lips.

My daughters are all grown up...

He retreated into his thoughts. Both Rania and Arshia were exceptionally fulfilling their duties as princesses of Perujin. His daughters were pulling their weight. What about him?

“Father, do you know what Princess Mia said during Saint-Noel Academy’s entrance ceremony?” asked Rania.

Yuhal looked at her. He knew what she was talking about—the Bread-Cake Declaration.

“I do. She spoke of nations helping each other during times of famine. Frankly, if it came from anyone else, I’d worry about their grip on reality,” he answered.

“I see Princess Mia as a rule-breaker in every sense of the word,” said Arshia, following up on Rania’s topic. “It’s as if we all think within the bounds of a box, but she’s outside it. She cares about people. Not just her own, but all the continent’s people, and all equally. When she first asked me to be a lecturer at her academy, I was going to say no. The reason I agreed was because I realized that my dream was never to keep the people of Perujin from starving. It would never be enough...”

Arshia looked him in the eye, and his breath caught in this throat. He felt as if he were seeing her anew. Gone was the callow daughter who struggled to hide her rebellious urges. The person before him now was a researcher whose shoulders, though young, confidently bore the weight of her grand mission.

“I still remember the day when Princess Mia became a beacon for me,” Arshia continued. “And when I heard about her Bread-Cake Declaration, I felt her radiance again. Her guiding light showed me what my dream truly should be.”

“The Bread-Cake Declaration... The need for cold-resistant wheat, as well as an advocate to get the word out... The emancipation of Perujin as a country...” Yuhal murmured pensively. “A new way forward, huh... I think I finally understand what Princess Mia is asking from us...and what the two of you are trying to say.”

Then, he laughed. It was not his usual laugh, for it had none of the strain and servility he’d become accustomed to. This one came from deep down, filled with innocent, childlike joy.

“Interesting. Very interesting.” It seemed a tad backwards to throw in with Mia when he could have freed his country from Tearmoon’s influence. But... “No, that’s not it... We will be free—truly free. Both from burdens of the present and baggage of the past. Either way, we must break the status quo. To that end, casting our lot in with Princess Mia should be...interesting, to say the least.”

His heart quickened with an emotion that had been absent for a long time—excitement. Expectation and anticipation soon followed. He felt like a child planning a prank.

“Well then. In that case, there’s something I must ask Princess Mia to do for me in return...”

His daughters traded bewildered glances, unsure what their father had in mind.