Chapter 266
Chapter 266
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.60 – The Way a Knight Treats Beasts (1)
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Merchants and mercenaries from other continents, or even scholars and adventurers, were always most shocked by the 'weather' and 'environment' when they first entered the southern region.
To be precise, it was the weather and environment that varied wildly from region to region.
For example, just the other day in one southern fiefdom, the sun had been blazing and the breeze refreshing for days on end. But in another, clouds blanketed the sky so thickly that nearly three hundred days a year felt like the rainy season.
Some mountain villages basked in springlike warmth year-round, while others, nowhere near the coast or even a river, sweltered in endless heat and humidity.
It was an environment possible only because the south was blessed by [Mystery]. Because of this, travelers new to the region often collapsed, unable to adapt to the weather and conditions.
Some scholars claimed these chaotic environmental factors were why southern knights were stronger than those from other continents, but nothing had been definitively proven.
Thus, though the south had its four seasons, it didn't always mean the environment matched those seasons.
No one knew what mystery had passed through a given region or village.
In that sense...
Whooooosh...!
...it wasn't all that strange for a fiefdom to be shrouded in fog all year round.
Splash, splash.
Thanks to the perpetual fog, even in broad daylight, the fiefdom always felt cloaked in twilight dusk.
To exaggerate a bit, it was hard to find your way without a lamp, and once it rained, puddles lingered on the ground for a full fortnight.
As such, the locals always grabbed shovels or brooms the day after rain to clear the standing water—and it was no surprise that so many were out doing just that.
At first glance, it might seem like a truly dreadful land, but it wasn't without its merits.
"Heard the cherry harvest turned out great this year?"
"Not just cherries—the grapes were a bumper crop too."
"Oh ho! The wines this year should be something special."
"Why don't you come by later for some grilled trout and wine to celebrate?"
"Sounds good. I'll bring some bacon and veggies too."
A land where farming thrived beyond belief.
Common sense dictated that the fog blocking sunlight would ruin crops, yet somehow, farming here always yielded massive hauls.
Rumor had it the fog absorbed only the beneficial rays of the sun and shared them with the vegetables and fruits grown there.
There were plenty of theories, but nothing certain. Still, bountiful harvests were a blessing in themselves for the locals.
Especially this summer, thanks to the high-quality new fertilizer spread by Crown Princess Isis, yields had exploded—and the people had come to revere the princess they'd never even laid eyes on.
"We should send the finest wine to the royal family as tribute."
"Couldn't agree more."
Wales.
The fiefdom of Mordred, infamous for its isolation, yet one of the south's top producers of the finest wines.
Its grape varieties couldn't be grown anywhere else, making Wales' wines priceless rarities.
Thus, the territory teemed with wine artisans and oak barrel makers, but...
"Hello!"
"...Oh, it's you."
"Back again today?"
"Yeah, the weather looks perfect for some bites today."
...it had its fair share of anglers too.
Of course...
"G-Good luck fishing."
"...Want some grape juice?"
"Thank you!!"
...a kid this young being one was pretty rare.
The child accepted the adults' grape juice with a beaming smile and toddled off, while the grown-ups watched with complicated gazes.
"And she's only eight..."
"Sharp as a tack."
They couldn't help but stare with mixed feelings at the pint-sized angler marching off with a fishing rod bigger than herself strapped to her back.
She was a kid they pitied yet wanted to cheer on.
Wales had a river fed by a massive waterfall.
The fog made the falls hard to see most days, but on the rare clear ones, their majesty was breathtaking—and when the mist wrapped around them like clouds, the sight was utterly mystical.
A rainbow arching over made it even more stunning.
Villagers often visited the river to catch a glimpse, but the girl wasn't there just to admire the beauty.
Splash!
She cast her line with practiced ease.
A homemade rod and dough bait.
She stuck faithfully to the method taught by the old man who'd once looked after her, and it wasn't long before...
"Hup!"
...a trout tugged sharply at her line.
For a girl her age, wriggling fish like that would normally spark squeals of disgust or fear, but she gazed at the trout fondly and deftly dropped it into her twig net.
Then she cast again, catching fish after fish.
It looked easy, but it was incredibly dangerous.
The current was strong, and slippery spots could send you tumbling into deep pools.
Trout packed a punch too—get whacked in the face, and soft kid skin would bruise or cut easily.
It was a tightrope walk over disaster, made all the more precarious by her being only eight.
Yet the girl...
Splash!
...fished on in stoic silence. Once her net was full of trout and other catches, she gathered it up.
"This might fetch a whole silver coin..."
Two hours of fog-shrouded fishing.
To some, it was risking life and limb—but mulling the earnings brought a satisfied grin as she headed home.
It might be deadly to others, but for her, nothing beat it for earning coin.
'Gotta hustle before it gets colder.'
The water wasn't exactly balmy, even now—she'd been wading in ice-cold shallows for over an hour.
She'd never admit it, but her feet must be numb.
Anyone less sturdy or spirited would've been bawling about frostbite long ago.
Yet she never complained.
She just did her job, quietly.
Besides...
"Auntie, how much for these?"
...she had reason to grow up fast, so it was far from 'hard' for her.
...Not one bit.
"Hee hee, a silver coin!"
She was thrilled.
Her first silver coin in hand.
With fewer trout anglers lately, the innkeeper auntie had paid top dollar, letting the girl beam with innocent joy for once.
But...
Step, step.
...the closer she got to home, the more her smile faded, sorrow clouding her eyes.
Her heart grew heavier with every step.
'I don't wanna go...'
She halted for a moment.
She wanted to run away right then and there...
"-Miss Louise, what are you doing out here?"
"!!?"
"Out playing again, I see."
"......"
"Sigh! Why can't you just stay quietly in your room? Always sneaking out..."
"......"
Louise shrank back at the scolding from the elderly maid.
Of all places, why here? Her chest pounded like her heart might burst.
She was that terrified of the old maid—and as she squeezed her eyes shut...
Whoosh.
"Pleased to meet you, miss. I'm Santa Ri Han."
"...??"
A warm, gentle voice rang out, and Louise's eyes flew open.
What she saw was...
"...Wow. So pretty."
A strikingly handsome man's face.
"P-Pardon?"
The words slipped out unbidden, and at that...
"Ah...!"
...Louise clapped a hand over her mouth.
It was pure instinct, but she instantly knew it was a mistake.
Yet he...
"Haha, that's high praise. First time anyone's ever called me pretty."
...just smiled gratefully, making her cheeks flush scarlet.
"R-Really the first time?"
"Yup, first compliment of its kind in my life."
"No way, you're really pretty..."
No matter how mature she acted, she was still a kid—clumsy at hiding her honest thoughts.
Normally, the maid would've snapped at her for that, but...
"Ho ho, can't argue there. Never seen a man as pretty as you myself."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is one. So refined and lovely. If you were a bit shorter, I'd hire you as a maid."
"...Dodged a bullet there, then. At least I'm tall."
"Oh ho ho!"
The old maid laughed behind her hand, leaving Louise blinking in surprise.
She'd never seen the witch-like crone smile like that outside a fairy tale.
So she asked.
"Wh-Who are you?"
The question carried layers of meaning, and Santa Ri Han replied with his usual refreshing smile.
"Please, no formalities, miss. As of today, I'm just a humble servant in proud service to Mordred."
"......"
It was a bold, straightforward declaration, and Louise thought to herself:
'Not a servant—a knight.'
...Way cooler than any knights in her family, even.
"Pretty knight..."
"Miss?"
"Eep?!"
"......"
Louise slammed her mouth shut in a panic.
And hearing that assessment...
'Just compressed the muscles and frame a bit... Feels kinda weird.'
...he felt awkward from the nonstop 'pretty' compliments.