A few days later, I took Zoe with me to inspect the soup kitchen sites.
There were dozens, even hundreds of these relief distribution grounds, and I made a point of visiting a different one each time.
Different sites had different people and different circumstances.
Until the situation stabilized, I intended to make frequent rounds and inspect as many locations as possible.
Today was another such day, but upon arriving, I halted in my tracks at the sight before me, furrowing my brow.
"Is something the matter, Master?"
Zoe asked.
Her expression was not one of confusion, but of sharp gravity.
Having served me for years, Zoe could read my face well enough to know that something was wrong.
Even so, she asked.
That was likely because she couldn't discern what that "something" was just from taking in the scene before us.
And reasonably so—it was something a person with Zoe's background wouldn't immediately pick up on.
With a slight nod, I pointed it out.
"There is too much cooking smoke."
"Cooking smoke, you say?......Indeed."
Following my gaze, Zoe examined the scene.
At this distribution ground, easily more than ten plumes of cooking smoke rose into the air.
Most of it was white, but there were distinct columns of black smoke mingling among them.
"How strange. This site shouldn't be large enough to warrant that much."
"That is not all. The black smoke concerns me as well."
"Could it be that people unaccustomed to cooking are the ones doing it?"
Zoe immediately grasped the implication of the black smoke.
Though she was now the vice governor-general, Zoe had originally been a maid at the Thirteenth Imperial Prince Mansion.
She understood cooking far better than an ordinary aide ever would.
In most cases, cooking smoke came from hearths, and the vast majority of it was white.
Since soup kitchens during disasters primarily prepared rice, the smoke should have been whiter still.
Yet, while much of what we saw was indeed white, black smoke was interspersed throughout.
Anyone could tell that this was not normal cooking smoke.
Though the underlying issue was bad, I found myself thinking, I'm glad I came.
"Let's go."
"Yes!"
Leading Zoe with me, I entered the distribution grounds.
Located on the outskirts of the provincial capital, Larak, this area was a full size larger than the Central Plaza where crowds gathered for festivals and celebrations.
Refugees sat on the bare ground all around, and in some spots, people had erected makeshift shelters out of wood, brush, and simple tarps to fend off the weather for the time being.
As we walked past, most of them raised their heads, looking at us as if we were some rare curiosity.
Relieved that they at least had the vitality to look our way, I glanced at what they were holding.
"Master, the people in the tents..."
"Yeah, I see them. They're cooking for themselves."
I had noticed it even before Zoe spoke up.
The people who had built shelters out of brush and wood had similarly fashioned makeshift hearths from the dirt, using them to cook whatever they had.
I walked over to one of those hearths.
"Do you have a moment?"
"Hm? Who're you?"
The middle-aged woman tending the fire paused, raising her head to look at me.
Seeing someone clad in the garments of a governor-general—the formal uniform of a high official—she eyed me with clear suspicion.
Pointing to the hearth, I asked, "Are you cooking rice?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
Her tone was defensive, her face practically asking, What's it to you?
"Why are you cooking the rice yourself?"
"Because they gave us rice. What else're we supposed to do, eat it raw?"
"Gave it to you? You mean it was distributed like this?"
"That's right. They said they didn't have enough hands to run the soup kitchen. So they handed out the dry grain and told us to fend for ourselves."
"..."
I fell silent.
Behind me, Zoe murmured in disbelief, "They handled it like that...?"
Distributing raw grains and expecting disaster victims to cook them on their own.
As that realization and all its grim consequences cascaded through my mind—
"...This is bad."
"What is the matter, Master?"
"..."
Remembering something crucial, I turned on my heel and strode off, leaving the bewildered woman behind.
Scanning the area as if searching for something, I picked up the pace.
"Master? What are you looking for?"
Zoe hurried after me.
From my urgent stride, she could tell instantly that I was on the hunt for something specific.
Without answering, I pressed onward.
Eyes darting across the camp, I searched for that which was almost bound to be here.
"—There."
A short distance ahead, I found them.
Lying in front of a patch of tall grass were several children, completely limp.
Some sat slumped while others curled up on the ground, but all of them shared the same agonizing symptom: clutching their bellies and groaning in pain.
"Is this—severe diarrhea?!"
Though shocked, Zoe immediately covered her nose and looked around.
While the waste wasn't in plain view, a foul, unmistakable stench drifted from within the brush.
"Hold on."
Crouching down, I placed a hand on the shoulder of one of the boys and asked him directly.
He looked barely ten years old. He forced his eyes open to look at me, but his gaze was hazy and unfocused.
"Was it the rice?"
"Huh?"
"..."
Zoe let out a soft gasp at my question.
Still grimacing in agony, the boy gave a faint, weak nod.
"Zoe."
"Right away, Master."
Though she didn't fully grasp the entire picture, an order from her master had been given.
Without hesitation, she pulled a whistle from her breast pocket and blew it toward the sky.
The shrill blast cut through the air, instantly drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
Moments later, the heavy clatter of armor and the thudding of boots approached in haste.
A squad of a dozen armed soldiers arrived on the double.
"You called for us, ma'am?"
"Take these children away. Just make sure none of them die."
"Sir!"
Compared to Zoe, the soldiers remained composed.
Unlike Zoe, who had not yet pieced together the connection with the rice, the soldiers simply saw children suffering from stomach sickness.
In the aftermath of a massive disaster, sick patients of this severity were considered relatively mild cases. Having already witnessed far more harrowing horrors on the front lines, the soldiers carried out Zoe's orders without hesitation.
Quickly requisitioning loose door panels and whatever else was on hand, they loaded the children up and carried them away.
After watching them leave, Zoe turned to me.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"I shall go apprehend the person in charge at once."
"No need. This isn't a case of poison or rotten food."
Saying so, I knelt down once more and picked up a few uncooked grains of rice that had spilled from the children's hands.
It was somewhat aged, but there was nothing inherently wrong with the grain itself.
"There's no need to arrest him. Just bring him here and say I wish to speak with him."
"...Understood."
Though puzzled, Zoe bowed her head and hurried off.
A short while later, she returned with an official in tow.
The official stared at me, looking utterly bewildered.
Zoe cut him down sharply.
"What are you standing there gaping for in the presence of His Excellency the Governor-General?"
"—Ack?! F-Forgive me!"
At the words "Governor-General," the young official threw himself flat against the earth.
The ground was a muddy quagmire from the constant cooking, but upon learning he stood before the Governor-General, he paid no heed to the filth, pressing his face into the dirt.
Looking down at the trembling man, I began my questioning.
"Are you the supervisor of this site?"
"Y-Yes, Your Excellency!"
"Was handing out dry grain your idea?"
"Uh, um... well, that is..."
"Answer without hiding a thing!"
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
Zoe's sharp reprimand made the official practically jump out of his skin, even with his hands and knees pinned to the ground.
"W-Well... the orders from above said to get relief into the hands of the victims immediately, by any means necessary... so..."
"I see. In other words, you were so fixated on distributing it quickly that you simply handed it out as raw rice."
"Y-Yes, sir."
"Which explains why there is far more cooking smoke than usual..."
Zoe let out a breath of realization.
This place could hardly be called a "soup kitchen" anymore.
Normally, relief kitchens involved preparing vast quantities in giant cauldrons and ladling it out.
Here, however, shackled by the directive to "distribute immediately," they had concluded it would be faster to hand out dry grain directly rather than boiling it first.
Because every recipient had to build their own fire and cook their own portion, the smoke columns had multiplied far beyond the norm.
Instead of a few large plumes of smoke, the camp was filled with dozens of small ones.
"And that is why those children ate the raw rice and ruined their stomachs..."
I nodded. Zoe tilted her head slightly, confused.
"Can raw rice truly make them so ill?"
"Under normal circumstances, eating a small amount wouldn't do much harm. But if starving disaster victims gorge themselves on uncooked rice until their bellies are full, it will wreck their digestion in an instant."
"I-Is that so?"
"Yes."
"I... I see. Ah, could it be, Master, that you deduced all of this the moment we arrived?"
"I did."
I nodded.
"Handing out raw grain and leaving people to cook it themselves... It isn't unique to this disaster. Whenever starving people get their hands on uncooked rice, this inevitably happens."
"To perceive that much in a single glance... Truly magnificent..."
I shifted my gaze from Zoe to the official still prostrated in the mud.
The man, who had been peeking up at me with terror in his eyes, flinched when our gazes met and instantly pressed his forehead back into the dirt.
"You heard our conversation, didn't you?"
"Y-Y-Yes, s-s-sir!"
"From this point on—effective immediately—you are not to distribute raw grain. Cook it thoroughly before handing it out."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Get to it."
"Huh?"
Startled, the official raised his head, his hands and knees still planted in the mud.
He stared up at me, wide-eyed with shock.
"What is it? Is there a problem?"
"N-No, sir. Um..."
"Master. What punishment shall be meted out to this man?"
Zoe asked.
The official flinched for a second, but his face practically screamed, Yes, exactly that!
I see. He was actually more terrified of getting off without a reprimand after committing such a blunder.
When one made a mistake before a noble—or rather, a ruler—a direct scolding or immediate punishment was not necessarily the worst outcome.
There were plenty of people who found the absence of punishment far more terrifying.
Often, a calculated, delayed punishment proved far more devastating than an impulsive lash on the spot, or worse, one might simply be abandoned and cast aside in silence.
Alternatively, even if the ruler paid it no further mind, those around him might take it upon themselves to punish the offender excessively just to curry favor.
This official was the supervisor of this relief camp.
If I left him unpunished, his superiors might inflict draconian penalties on him solely to appease me.
From a superior's standpoint, doing so served to get on my good side, while shielding themselves from any collateral blame.
That was why, to a young official, walking away without a scolding right here was not necessarily a stroke of good fortune.
Zoe's question, combined with the sheer dread in the official's eyes, brought that harsh reality back to mind.
"It was a misinterpretation of orders, but there was no malice behind it. In that case, we need only correct the method."
"Understood."
Zoe nodded at once, fully satisfied.
Devoted to me as she was, she had no intention of pressing the matter or raising an objection.
The young official, not knowing my temperament, still looked uneasy.
"Do not throw in the towel. Make amends by doing your job properly. I will return to inspect this place, so show me then that you can run it right."
"..."
"What is it? Do you still not understand?"
"N-No, sir! Not at all!"
"Then get to work. Immediately."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
As though released from a spring, the young official knocked his head against the ground once more, scrambled to his feet, and sprinted away.
"You are truly remarkable, Master. Had it been up to me, I would have executed judgment on the spot."
"From what I saw, even if it was raw grain, the rations were actually reaching the people—which means he was distributing it diligently. Capable people are a treasure. If their character is sound, there is no need to punish them excessively."
"You are wonderful, Master—would it be wise, then, to execute a few others elsewhere as an example?"
An instant after singing my praises, Zoe's expression turned chillingly cold.
The sheer whiplash of her demeanor would have sent that young official shivering in terror had he still been within earshot.
"To sharpen the contrast, you mean?"
"Yes. Those who err while striving to serve the people will be spared, but those who line their own pockets will face absolute ruin. I believe this is a prime opportunity to make your stance unmistakably clear, Master."
"Mm."
I gave Zoe an approving look.
"You're right. We've executed plenty up to this point, so we might as well tighten the reins further."
"Awaiting your command, Sire."
"Any replacement officials who dare repeat these corrupt offenses are to be beheaded, and their heads put on public display."
"It shall be done."
"Good."