The Scholar's Rebirth-Chapter 35

As the golden light of dawn spread across the land, Eira stepped out of the house with a wooden crate tucked in her arms. The weight was considerable—inside were the precious spring seeds and the books she had written. Her footsteps were steady as she headed for the fields.

Before she could make it halfway across the compound, the sound of hurried feet reached her ears.

"Lady Eira!" a young voice called out.

She looked up to see a group of children rushing toward her—five in total, ranging from about seven to twelve years old, all of them wide-eyed and curious. The smallest of them, a girl with twin braids, looked up at the crate in Eira's hands and puffed her cheeks.

"Isn't that heavy? Let us help!"

Eira chuckled, a rare sound that softened her usual calm expression. "Are you offering out of kindness," she teased, "or curiosity?"

"Both!" said the eldest, a lanky boy with a crooked smile.

She smiled again and allowed them to take over. "Alright then, don't drop it. There are books and something far more important inside."

That was all it took to spike their interest.

"Books?" the girl with braids asked.

"What kind of books?" asked another boy, gripping the side of the crate carefully.

"Ones that could teach you how to read, write, and maybe even count faster than your parents," Eira said, watching their faces light up.

"Really?" The smallest boy, no older than seven, stared up at her. "You mean like... school?"

Eira nodded slowly. "Yes. Proper learning. I'm planning something similar to a school, but different—less sitting and more doing."

The children glanced at each other, murmuring excitedly.

"Do we have to wear uniforms?"

"Will there be tests?"

"Can we still play?"

Eira held up a hand to quiet the flurry of questions. "Let me ask you instead—if you were given a place where you could learn how to build, how to farm, how to take care of people... Would you be interested?"

There was a beat of silence. Then one of the boys nodded. "If it helps us get stronger, I wanna learn."

The others quickly agreed.

Eira's smile returned, faint but sincere. "Good. That's all I needed to know."

As they reached the field, she pointed to a flat patch of earth. "Set it down there. We'll be planting soon—and once that's done, maybe you'll help me build the first schoolroom."

"You mean we'll be the first students?"

Eira turned to them, gaze steady. "No," she said. "You'll be the first pioneers."

The children didn't fully understand what that meant but they nodded nevertheless .

As the children set the crate down in the fields and ran off to chase each other through the grass, Eira brushed her hands together and scanned the rows of soil. Her gaze moved across the greenery, pausing on the patch of wheat planted weeks ago. Her brows lifted ever so slightly.

It looked...ready.

Before she could investigate further, a soft voice called out behind her.

"Lady Eira?"

She turned.

A slender girl, perhaps in her late teens, stood with a slight bow. Her dark hair was tied back in a neat braid, and her hands were calloused from labor. "My name is Lysa. Elandor assigned me to oversee the fields and the workers. How may I help you today?"

Eira studied her for a moment, then nodded in approval. The girl looked young, but there was a quiet discipline in her posture.

"Very well," she said, gesturing to the crate. "These are some seeds to be planted."

Lysa nodded seriously, already reaching into the crate with care.

Eira turned slightly, her gaze drifting back to the wheat. The color, the height, the tilt of the stalks—all signs pointed to ripeness. She crouched, brushing her fingers against a golden head of grain, and frowned.

The system had sent her a message just yesterday:

[System Notification: Wheat seeds have sprouted. Crop Status: Growing well.]

At the time, she had assumed that meant the first hint of green breaking through soil. But these... these were nowhere near sprouting—they looked harvest-ready.

Her eyes narrowed.

Dear system, she thought dryly, what exactly does "sprouting" mean to you? Because this looks like two steps away from bread.

A faint chime echoed in her mind, and the familiar robotic tone answered:

[System Response: "Sprouting" indicates successful germination and above-soil growth. Growth acceleration is a passive system benefit.]

Eira stared at the wheat. "...You're telling me this is normal?"

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[System Response: Normal—by system standards.]

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "I need to ask you what 'normal' means one of these days."

Behind her, Lysa was already organizing the seeds and directing a few adults to bring water buckets and tools.

Eira stood off to the side as the workers began sorting through the crate of seeds under Lysa's direction. The spring sun was pleasant, casting a warm light over the fields, and a soft breeze carried the earthy scent of damp soil.

She crossed her arms and looked over the contents again in her head.

Wheat seeds, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, broad beans, onions... herbs too... and five mystery medicinal ones.

Her eyes drifted to Lysa, who was now explaining spacing techniques to two younger girls, clearly already taking her role seriously.

"Lysa," Eira called.

The girl straightened immediately. "Yes, Lady Eira?"

"I want the wheat planted in the northernmost plots, rotate them after each harvest to avoid soil fatigue. Potatoes and onions can go to the west fields—roots thrive better there. Cabbages and carrots in the center where the ground stays cooler. Beans to the east where the sun hits strongest."

Lysa nodded quickly, already pulling a worker aside to pass on the new instructions.

Eira then reached into the crate herself, carefully picking out a small pouch wrapped in cloth. Inside were five small, dried seeds—each darker than the last, with a faint silvery sheen.

These must be the rare ones.

There was no name, no description, just [Rare Medicinal Herb – Unknown] scrawled beside them in the system's log.

She turned the seed over between her fingers thoughtfully.

You don't give gifts without a reason, she thought.

"Lysa," she said again. "I want a small, isolated patch fenced off at the far end. These five seeds go there. Only I am allowed near them. Understood?"

Lysa's eyes widened slightly but she nodded. "Yes, my lady."

"Good. Once planting is done, send someone to help with harvesting. The wheat's ready."

Lysa looked at the tall golden stalks and blinked in surprise. "Already?"

Eira didn't answer. She just turned and muttered under her breath, "Apparently, yes. Take this."She said handing one of the books she had written on farming over to Lysa.

Lysa accepted the book with both hands, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface. She opened it and stared at the words for a moment before glancing back up, her expression apologetic.

"I... can't read. Not yet."

Eira blinked. "You can't?"

Lysa shook her head quickly. "I never learned, Lady Eira. None of us did."

Eira stared at her for a moment longer, then looked out at the rest of the workers in the field. Most were adults,the rest were young teens, it seems she'll have to figure out a way to ensure every single one of them attend classes but most importantly, she'll need to find someone who will teach them.

Maybe even she would have to do it herself. At least to start.

"Finish planting the seeds, especially the cotton. Then restock the toolshed. I'll handle the rest."

Lysa nodded quickly,"Yes, Lady Eira."

*

After what felt like a full workout—complete with dusty roads and chattering children,Eira finally arrived at Faelor's blacksmith shop. The rhythmic clanking of metal on metal was absent, and instead, the scent of oil, soot, and freshly cut wood lingered in the air.

Unfortunately, the shop's namesake was nowhere in sight. Instead, a young man, covered in smudges and soot, noticed her and quickly wiped his hands on a rag before approaching.

"Good morning, my lady," he said with a polite bow. "I'm Jimmy. Master Faelor left me in charge while he oversees the miners. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Eira waved it off. "It's no trouble. I came to check on the progress."

"Then if you'd follow me, my lady," he said, gesturing to the back of the shop with a half-grin that said he was trying not to trip over his own feet. She nodded, following him, the children carefully setting down the crate by the entrance and eagerly peeking around like it was an adventure.

Behind the shop, lined neatly like soldiers on parade, were three wooden carriages. They were simple but sturdy—nothing fancy, but definitely functional.

"No animals to pull them yet," Jimmy offered quickly, scratching the back of his head. "But they're ready."

Eira walked up to one, inspecting the wheels, frame, and joints. "They'll do. Good work."

"Thank you, my lady," he said, clearly proud.

She turned back to him, arms crossed. "Any other projects ongoing?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Not at the moment. Storage is packed up. We've got chalks—over a thousand pieces now—slates, farming tools, and the like. All the usuals in excess."

"Can I see the accounts?"

"Of course!" He rushed back inside and returned with a few parchment sheets, neatly rolled and tied. Eira scanned them quickly, her eyes flicking over numbers and categories.

"Hmm. Not bad." She paused, then glanced up at him. "Can you read?"

He nodded. "Yes, my lady. And write. Master Faelor insisted we all learn. Said 'a dull blade can still write a name.' ...Didn't make much sense to me, but I learned anyway."

Eira let out a small breath of relief. "Finally, someone I don't have to draw stick figures for."

Jimmy laughed awkwardly.

She pulled out two books from the crate, handing them to him. "One's on mining, the other on gun production. Give them to Faelor. Tell him to look them over tonight. I want to discuss it with him tomorrow."

He accepted the books like sacred scrolls, eyes wide. "Yes, my lady. I'll make sure he sees them."

"Good." With that, she turned back toward the road, the kids scrambling to pick up the crate again like loyal ducklings.

"Where to now, my lady?" one of the boys piped up.

"The village hall"