A slight issue arose during the summer harvest.
A portion of the kernels harvested from the edible corn field turned out unusually small. They were rock-hard, too. This was a first for any field I had cultivated with the Universal Farming Tool, and it took me by surprise.
I wondered about the cause. Had one of the dragons accidentally let loose a bit of Flame Breath? Had the Nyunyu-daphne siphoned off too many nutrients? Or perhaps it was the side effect of someone’s magic?
No, that was impossible. None of the village residents would do such a thing.
The next logical suspicion was disease, but that didn't quite fit either. It was strange for only a small patch of the field to be affected; if it were a sickness, wouldn't it have spread to the rest? Besides, the kernels were just small—they didn't actually look unhealthy.
Wait a moment. As I looked closer, I realized the variety itself seemed different from our usual corn.
Had I let my mind wander while tilling the field with the Universal Farming Tool? It was certainly possible. If so, I tried to remember what I could have been thinking about at the time, but the memory escaped me. It had been over two months since I’d prepared this field, after all.
I could tell it wasn't the type used for brewing sake. So, what else could I have wanted?
I set the corn out to dry, then stripped the kernels from the cob. Looking at them now, there was no mistaking it.
I headed to the outdoor kitchen, placed a deep pot over the fire, and melted a pat of butter. Once the butter coated the bottom, I tossed in the dried kernels, slapped on the lid, and kept the heat going.
A few moments later, a series of sharp cracks echoed from inside the pot. It was exactly as I had expected. This was popping corn.
I recalled a failed attempt long ago to make popcorn using standard corn. I had known even then that it required a specific variety, but the knowledge had slipped my mind over the years. I hadn't been particularly craving it, so I hadn't given it a second thought—until I was preparing the fields, apparently. The Universal Farming Tool must have picked up on that idle thought.
"Sorry about that," I said, offering a quick apology to everyone who had rushed over, startled by the rhythmic popping sounds. "It’s a new snack."
Since I hadn't seasoned it yet, I told them to sprinkle on as much salt as they liked. We all shared the pot of popcorn. The adults found the "new texture" intriguing, while the children absolutely loved it.
Kuro and his kin were less impressed, noting that it didn't really feel like they were eating anything substantial. Having the hulls get stuck between their teeth was another point against it for them. On the other hand, Zabuton's Children tucked in with delight. Even the Fairy Queen, who could be quite picky about her snacks, declared it acceptable and demanded I make more. She didn't even mind the salt. I knew she ate things other than sweets, but she seemed particularly fond of this.
The Fairy Queen had recently returned to her original child-like form after being stuck in her adult version for a while. I had just started getting used to her taller appearance, so it felt a little lonely seeing her small again, but since her personality hadn't changed at all, it wasn't that big a deal.
While the popcorn was a hit, it did have its drawbacks. It didn't keep well; it lost its flavor once it dried out, meaning it had to be eaten fresh. Since it couldn't be made in advance, I figured it would be best served as a treat during festivals or the martial arts tournament.
Fortunately, we had enough corn on hand to serve some at the upcoming tournament. As for the future, the village reached a consensus: we would officially dedicate a field to growing popcorn corn.
As I sat snacking on a batch of popcorn prepared by the High Ogre Maids, my thoughts drifted back to the summer festival we’d held not long ago.
This year’s main event had been a race—a footrace, to be precise. We had organized various heats, separating participants by race or mixing them together. I had been worried about whether people would actually get into it, but my fears were unfounded. Everyone here truly loved a good competition.
The highlight of the festival was undoubtedly the showdown between the Centaur Race and the horses. The centaurs held the lead for most of the track, but the horses staged a dramatic comeback during the final stretch. The defeated centaurs were quite dejected afterward, while the horses looked immensely satisfied with themselves.
The races between the Giants and the Minotaurs were slow by comparison, but the sheer power of their strides made for an impressive spectacle. As for the race featuring Kuro's children... that was pure chaos. Usually, they were perfectly capable of waiting their turn, but they had all been so eager to run that they just charged forward at once. Some even joined in halfway through. It was a mess, but a fun one.
The reason these memories came to mind was the sight of the horses currently training in the ranch area. Even the Pegasus were giving it their all, though their wings seemed to get in the way while they were running on the ground.
The horses were training for an upcoming event in Village Five. This wasn't just a simple footrace; it was a proper horse race. The Goroun Company had organized it to determine the fastest horse in the region, bringing in entrants from Village Five, Shashato City, and the surrounding settlements.
Village Five was merely providing the venue, but since the honor of being the fastest was on the line, our horses had been invited to compete. It was impressive to see them training so diligently of their own accord. I made a mental note to bring them some fruit later.
I noticed the goats watching the practicing horses from a distance. They had mischief in their eyes. Sure enough, the herd suddenly swarmed onto the track, right in the path of the galloping horses. Honestly, those goats... they shouldn't be interfering with people’s—or horses’—hard work.
I wasn't the only one who thought so. Five cows suddenly lined up abreast and charged into the goats, scattering the troublemakers in every direction. The pigs watched the scene from the sidelines, seemingly laughing at the chaos. It was a peaceful day.
Then there was the unicorn. I didn't even notice her approach until she snatched the bucket of popcorn right out of my hand. She galloped away the moment I realized what had happened. She was certainly fast.