A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 62

Blesta, our baby, was eagerly nursing from his mother’s breast, his tiny mouth working hard. Adorable.

“Boo-chan, is it yummy?”

With a softened expression, I spoke to him from the side. Concepts like noble dignity and decorum were entirely irrelevant to me at the moment.

“He’s drinking so much; it must taste great.”

Risty said with a smile full of maternal love. So precious.

“I’m glad the milk is flowing properly. Looks like I’ll be able to manage on my own.”

Risty had been worried that her small chest might mean she wouldn’t be able to produce milk. She seemed relieved now that her fears had proven unfounded.

From my Earthly knowledge, I knew that breast size didn’t affect milk production, but there was no guarantee the same applied in this world. I had been slightly concerned myself, but Risty’s milk was flowing perfectly fine. Incidentally, the milk production had even caused her chest to grow slightly.

As I continued watching, Blesta seemed to have had his fill and let go of her breast.

“I’ll handle the burping.”

Being utterly incapable of producing milk myself, I was determined to contribute wherever I could. I reached out and took Blesta from Risty, holding him upright with my hand supporting his spine. Gently patting his back, I continued for about ten taps until a small “burp” escaped. What a smooth and efficient burp—our child was amazing. Could he be a genius?

As much as I wanted to stay with the baby all day, duty called.

“Well, Risty, I’m off. See you later.”

Today, I was heading out for an inspection of the Gustique family’s direct farmland. It was a borderline day trip.

Accompanied by ten administrative officers and five guards, I mounted my horse and departed from Remilba. We traveled steadily along the road for about two and a half hours until we reached our destination.

This was a region the Gustique family had developed through reclamation efforts roughly 120 years ago. At its center was a town, surrounded by fields. Twelve nearby villages were managed as part of the town, with a total population of around 2,000.

“Lord Folca, welcome. We’re honored by your visit.”

The town’s mayor, a retainer entrusted with its administration, came out to greet me. He was a man in his fifties, of average build and bald.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. Let’s proceed as planned.”

“Yes, of course, my lord,” he said, bowing deeply.

Today’s agenda included both an inspection and an audit. The administrative officers would be checking ledgers and storage facilities, while I, accompanied by the mage guards, would observe the ongoing training and educational activities.

“Which would you like to see first?”

“Let’s start with the training.”

“Understood. Please follow me.”

The mayor mounted his horse, and we headed north out of town.

Beyond the fields, a flat plain opened up, where a formation of about a thousand men stood, armed with spears and organized into ranks. Nearby, rows of tents were set up.

This was combat training conducted during the agricultural off-season in winter.

The participants were volunteers from across the Gustique territory, not just this town, who had gathered here for training.

The training primarily involved marching in formation and moving according to commands. At the moment, they were advancing straight forward.

While it might seem simple, the terrain was uneven, with rocks scattered about and minor rises and dips. Maintaining formation while holding spears added a layer of difficulty. Despite this, their ranks moved forward smoothly.

After a while, a trumpet sounded, signaling a change in movement. They shifted to a diagonal advance. Even with this adjustment, they maintained their formation. For soldiers primarily composed of farmers, their proficiency was not bad at all.

“They’re doing well.”

When I said that, the guards also praised, “The diagonal movement is very smooth.”

“Yes. Anyone who doesn’t take it seriously is excluded from the following year’s training, so everyone puts in their best effort.”

I nodded and said, “That’s true.”

This training comes with a decent paycheck. Those who participate would be the first to be called upon in the event of war, so the payment also serves as a form of danger compensation. Including travel time, the training lasts about a month, and the pay is roughly equivalent to two months’ wages for a skilled carpenter. It’s quite popular, so if someone slacks off, they can easily be replaced with another eager volunteer.

“During the first session, their formations were a complete mess.”

The mayor squinted nostalgically.

Indeed, at first, even lining up was a struggle, and I couldn’t help but think, “Wow, Japanese elementary school kids are amazing.” However, with this being the seventh annual training session, they had finally gotten the hang of it.

After practicing various movements, including stopping to ready their spears, it was time for lunch.

Meals were provided during the training period, which was another reason for its popularity. While the participants had to prepare their own food using the ingredients and firewood provided, they were fed three meals a day.

The staple was barley porridge, made with barley, chickpeas, and lard, with occasional additions like vegetables, salted meat, or eggs. I had tried it several times—it wasn’t bad.

Those on kitchen duty efficiently served the porridge. Their handling of meal distribution was smooth and well-practiced.

“How was the tent pitching?”

I asked the mayor. The participants were responsible for setting up their own tents.

“They set them up efficiently. I believe they’ll perform well during marches.”

“That’s good to hear. Even short-term training makes a world of difference.”

In military operations, the speed of a march is critically important.

The faster tents are pitched and meals prepared, the farther the army can travel and the more rest they can afford.

“Yes, the participants are becoming accustomed to group activities, which is yielding significant results.”

“I’m glad to see it’s paying off. You’re doing a great job. I’ll be sure to report this to my father.”

The mayor beamed with pride and bowed his head. The winter sunlight reflected off his smooth scalp.

In addition to his role as mayor, he had somehow been saddled with overseeing training due to the town’s proximity to suitable training grounds. His efforts deserved recognition.

“Your kind words will surely motivate the trainees as well. May I convey your compliments to them?”

“Of course. Please do.”

Similar training sessions were being conducted at two other locations within the Gustique territory, each involving about the same number of participants. Combined, the program trained around 3,000 individuals, providing a meaningful reserve force if needed.

“Let’s head back to town.”

We returned to the town via the same route. The administrative officers had completed their audit and reported no issues.

After a lunch of bread and stew, we proceeded to the church, bringing the officers along.

The church was a simple wooden, single-story structure, but its surroundings were well-maintained, indicating its active use as a place of worship.

Quietly opening the door, we entered to find about 50 children, around seven years old, seated at desks.

Here, basic arithmetic and language skills were being taught. However, this wasn’t a full-fledged elementary education program, as the lessons only lasted two months.

The real purpose was to identify promising children. Those deemed capable were taken to Remilba for additional education. Since children were also a source of labor, their families were compensated financially for their absence.

In Remilba, these children received further training, and those who excelled and expressed interest could eventually be employed as retainers or assigned to places like The Lab. While the costs were high, even one genius could justify the entire program.

Unfortunately, this initiative was limited to areas like this town and Kolibe, where the Gustique family directly managed farms. While retainers in other regions were instructed to recommend promising children, implementing trial education programs there was not yet feasible.

I observed the children.

Some squirmed in their seats, struggling to sit still, while others enthusiastically engaged with their studies.

Would my own child enjoy studying? There were no entrance exams to worry about, but lacking basic skills would make managing the territory difficult. I was already concerned.

“Any promising children this year?”

I whispered to the mayor.

“I’ve received reports about the girl in the front row on the far right and the boy in the second row, fourth from the right.”

I quietly moved to the front right corner of the room to observe them.

The girl was smiling and seemed to be genuinely enjoying her studies. It was heartwarming.

The boy looked a bit bored—likely because the material was too easy for him. I was looking forward to seeing him thrive in Remilba.

“It seems everything is running as intended. Let’s call it a day.”

Now, I had to hurry back home and dote on Blesta.