Chapter 67: Test of the Rose Windmill Cabaret (1)
Gascon was the manager of the Tomato Greenhouse.
The Tomato Greenhouse referred to the garden area located northwest of the closed black palace, which was where the official residence of Charlotias ruler. Being the manager of the Tomato Greenhouse was no different from being called Charlotias top gardener.
The reason Gascon wasnt called the royal gardener was that Charlotia no longer had a royal family.
The royal people had been executed, the palace closed, and the queen had disappeared.
Gascon was the top candidate to be called the royal gardener on the day the missing Queen Charlotte returned. Every time he entered the official residence, he would imagine himself as the royal gardener.
However, the queen who had disappeared before he turned 10 had not been found even when he was over 60 years old. Queen Charlotte was now considered a character from a fairy tale used to explain why this country was called Charlotia.
Among the younger generation who did not remember the queens reign, there was a growing opinion that it might be better to recognize the reigning family as the royal family. They thought the fact that the reigning family governed the country itself undermined the countrys reputation.
Gascon inwardly scoffed at these foolish remarks when he saw young people making such nave comments in the tavern. But he refrained from getting angry as he didnt want to come off as an old man muttering, The queens time was better.
Foolish people.
Dont they realize that assigning an unseen figure as the countrys owner can have a unifying effect on a divided nation? Look at the Papal States and the Pope.
Gascon had held the position of Tomato Greenhouse manager for over 30 years.
Three decades was enough time for a person who considered digging in the earth and tending to plants as his calling to develop a political perspective. Especially someone in a position where they could observe the laughter and tears of Charlotias top leader from beyond the bushes.
Gascon remembered the first time he entered the official residence.
The countrys leader was a much weaker figure than he had expected.
His role was always to cater to the whims of the aristocracy, carefully navigating the politics and conflicts between noble factions, and sometimes even pretending to be helpless to play to his advantage.
His son had more strength than his father, so the act of helplessness was no longer necessary.
His grandson, the current ruler, had recently ascended to the throne, but the gardener was convinced he was worse off than his predecessor.
This was because the previous ruler could at least raise his voice to his wife and handle the estates hunting dogs, but the current ruler couldnt even confront his own mother or control the gardens hunting dogs.
Just by looking at that, it was clear that he was less capable than his father.
Even those who hadnt known him for 30 years, like the gardener, could sense it.
The gardener had heard a few days ago that the garden in the Metropol Hotel of Luz was in disarray.
It was a place he had perfected the landscaping of, and the former rulers wife had praised it. He used to visit once a year to maintain its shape.
When he heard about the accident, he naturally thought he would be called.
The woman who had been the former rulers wife was now the current rulers mother, and the current ruler couldnt defy his mothers words.
However, no orders came from the current rulers residence for his trip.
The current ruler hadnt suddenly started rebelling against his mother.
But that didnt mean he was foolish enough to leave the garden of the hotel where influential nobles often stayed unattended when he didnt have to.
When he heard the gardeners request to go to Luz, he gave an awkward smile and dodged the question.
Gascon scrutinized the person with interest. The young man had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a well-sculpted face. He was tall, with fair and smooth skin. His appearance did not fit that of a typical gardener. His attire resembled what youd expect someone working in the hotel to wear. He seemed to be a young man hired to clean up the damaged remnants.
Gascon muttered inwardly, If he came to work, he should be working. Looks can be deceiving.
The gardener muttered something to himself. At that moment, he suddenly brought the knife to the edge of the peeled tree bark.
Gascon involuntarily shivered as he watched the movement. The way he handled the knife was far too smooth and precise for someone who appeared to have no knowledge of gardening. It was the skill of an experienced gardener who had been studying trees for decades.
Carefully, he continued to work. What was astonishing was not just his appearance. His skill in handling the damaged bark was impeccable. The apprentices working under Gascon were far less skilled than this young man.
Gascon watched with a slightly tense expression, waiting to see what the young man would do next.
Peeling the bark was not something that could be done haphazardly by tearing off the damaged parts. It required the ability to examine the inner layers, inspect the direction of the trees growth, and predict the shape and thickness of the new bark as it regrew. It was a task that couldnt be solved with mere manual dexterity.
It required the experience of observing how a tree grew and recovered over a long period of time.
For someone like Gascon, just a quick examination of the inner layers would reveal precisely where to cut.
All things considered, there was only one correct line where the knife had to be inserted at this particular wounded section of the tree. If the line deviated by just 1cm, the completion rate dropped to 90%, and if it deviated by 2cm, the completion rate plummeted below 50%.
Gascon couldnt understand why he was so nervous.
Just because his knife skills had been slightly proficient just now, there was no reason to be surprised.
Although his appearance didnt show it, he seemed to be in his mid-twenties, so he could have had about ten years of experience.
So, his skill was understandable.
Peeling the skin was not something a young man like him could grasp just by looking at it for a moment.
The best that gardeners of his age could do was to bring a gardening manual and calculate things here and there, or first cut and then watch it grow, trimming a bit at a time.
The young man pressed the knife against the bark.
There was no tension on his face at all.
Only a calm smile was there.
His knife moved.
Ah.
Gascon involuntarily made a sound.
It was because the knife had entered the line he had predicted with an accuracy of 0.1 cm.
His knife skills were truly perfect.
Who are you?
The young man turned to the old man.
Gascon unconsciously swallowed his saliva.
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