Duck Commotion (2)
“I’m sorry, Village Chief.”
The Village Chief had rushed over from the sweet potato field the moment he heard the ducks had escaped. It hadn’t taken him long at all.
“We should’ve kept a closer eye on them······.”
“I never thought this would happen······.”
“What are you so proud of? Apologize properly!”
“······I’m sorry, Village Chief.”
At Ben’s scolding, Patrick quickly bowed his head and apologized again. Shameless as he was, he wasn’t a bad person by nature.
“Let’s search together. Luckily there are no stray cats on our island, so they won’t get bitten or killed anywhere.”
“You think so? Then let’s go.”
Out of the thirty ducks, they had only managed to catch twelve. More than half had successfully escaped.
Still, they’re trapped on the island.
Fortunately, the Village Chief hadn’t demanded compensation. Even if they couldn’t catch all eighteen escapees, recovering most of them would probably be enough.
I’ll catch every last one today!
Patrick tied a sturdy basket to his back and strode off with determination.
“Where are you going, Teacher?”
“Dunno. Maybe the mountain?”
“Why the mountain?”
“Don’t follow him. Teacher’s no help even if he stays here. He’ll just spot a duck and start yelling, and we’ll lose it again.”
“Right? I was thinking the same thing.”
While the children finished preparing to search the wheat fields, village alleys, and neighbors’ yards, Patrick headed toward the forest on the opposite side of the wheat field. The children, who had long since realized their teacher was nothing but dead weight in situations like this, made no move to stop him.
Teacher was useless for this kind of work. But he complained a lot and nagged endlessly, so they had reached their own consensus: just do it without him.
“Tch. So no one’s coming with me?”
The children’s judgment had been perfectly reasonable, but Patrick felt slighted.
I’ll show them the wisdom of an adult.
Convinced that if he actually tried, the kids wouldn’t stand a chance, Patrick marched deeper into the forest path. His reasoning was simple: ducks were birds, and birds liked forests. Having never raised livestock before, he had no idea how domesticated animals like ducks or chickens actually behaved.
First time coming this way.
He had entered the forest many times, but only ever poked around behind his own house. This was his first time approaching from the village side.
“At least there’s a path here.”
The one saving grace was that the villagers had worn a clear trail through frequent use. Still, there wasn’t a single sign of any ducks.
By now, even Patrick had realized the truth.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
If an adult like him was already panting by the time he reached the top, there was no way baby ducks could have climbed this far. Even if one or two had wandered toward the forest by some miracle, they wouldn’t have stuck to the path anyway.
Still, if I go back empty-handed, the kids will tease me again. What do I do?
It had become a matter of pride. He couldn’t let the children see him make a fool of himself again—especially not when his authority as their teacher already seemed to be crumbling lately.
“I might as well pick some raspberries.”
Luckily, wild raspberries grew thickly right beside him.
Come to think of it, these people don’t seem to lack for much.
The thought struck him as he picked the berries. This forest wasn’t far from the village at all, yet every raspberry vine was heavy with bright red fruit.
They’re just leaving all this here?
K—his inner gatherer—could never ignore something like this. He had to pick them! If there were too many to eat fresh, he could always make jam or brew wine.
Wait, can you even make wine from raspberries? Eh, whatever. They’ve got bokbunja, so it’s basically the same thing.
Deciding that, Patrick stopped picking individual berries and started yanking an entire small vine out by the roots. His plan was to plant it in his own garden next year so he could harvest them comfortably at home.
“Isn’t this a cherry? There’s wild pear too. Should I snap off a branch?”
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he vaguely remembered hearing that fruit trees could be propagated by planting branches. They would grow roots from the cut.
“Where have you been, Teacher! ······What’s all that?”
By the time the sunset painted the sky, Patrick finally emerged from the forest and arrived at the Village Chief’s wheat field. The children had been waiting.
“Did you catch the ducks?”
“We couldn’t find four in the end. We got the rest. But that’s not important—what’s all that stuff?”
Ben stared at his teacher, who was grinning brightly despite his dirt-covered hands and face. Dozens of branches and twigs were sticking out from behind Patrick’s back like some bizarre porcupine.
“Starting next year, all kinds of fruit will be hanging heavy around my house. Heh heh.”
“Fruit?”
“Cherries, wild pears, raspberries······. I got a ton!”
“Don’t tell me you broke off the branches?”
Drawn by the commotion, the Village Chief approached with a pitying expression.
“Ah, yes, Village Chief. Was I supposed to ask permission first?”
“It’s not that······. If you were thinking of propagation by cuttings, I’m afraid this won’t work, Teacher.”
“What? Why not?”
“Only certain trees can be propagated that way. The branches you brought are all from species that don’t take well to cuttings.”
Thud—!
Patrick’s shoulders, which had been puffed up with pride, slumped dramatically. He had carried all this without complaint, dreaming of a garden overflowing with fruit trees next year.
So what exactly did I spend the whole day doing?
He should’ve just stayed and caught ducks with the kids.
“I didn’t realize you wanted fruit trees. Haha. I must be terribly unobservant, Teacher. Let’s see······ I have some young fig and cherry trees at my place. I’ll bring them over tomorrow.”
“······Excuse me?”
“Should I ask my dad for a grapevine? Those are easy to propagate from cuttings.”
“We’ve got olive and pomegranate at our house. Do you need any, Teacher?”
The Village Chief and even the children began offering saplings one after another, as if to say he should’ve just asked in the first place.
“Really? You’re actually giving them to me?”
“It’s no trouble. Growing them is the hard part.”
“That’s right.”
“But Teacher, you like fruit? Why didn’t we know?”
Patrick, who had been staring blankly into space, slowly came back to life.
“Then······ could you maybe get me an apple tree and a peach tree too?”
“What? Ah! Of course. Haha. It’s nothing difficult.”
“And······ do you have any chili peppers? Garlic too?”
“Chili peppers······ and garlic······ aren’t easy to come by, but I’ll ask Oren about it.”
“Please, I’m counting on you, Village Chief!”
Faced with Patrick’s shameless escalation the moment he saw an opening—without so much as blinking—the children covered their faces in embarrassment.
“A dream for the children?”
While Patrick was excitedly imagining all the fruit trees and special crops he might receive, the alcohol from the Dunbrook brewery had found its way into unexpected hands.
“An interesting idea.”
“Indeed, my lord. It seems the Village Chief of Dunbrook has started something rather amusing.”
“A commendable notion. But if this is merely a merchant’s trick exploiting children, I will not forgive it.”
“Your words are most reasonable.”
The eyes of the highest authority in the Eltron territory—which included Dunbrook Island—flashed sharply.
“There may be no need for concern, my lord.”
“Why is that?”
“The merchant who distributed this alcohol reportedly asked the head maid if there was any way to obtain books.”
“Books, you say.”
The lord smirked, one corner of his mouth lifting. It wasn’t a sneer. He seemed genuinely pleased, but being unused to social graces, his expression could easily be misunderstood.
“Yes. As you know, my lord, there are no bookstores or merchants in Eltron who specialize in books.”
“True. So you’re saying the request for books came from Dunbrook Island?”
“That is correct. They wish to acquire fairy tales, simple history books, or collections of legends suitable for children. It appears they intend to educate the island’s children.”
“Is there someone on Dunbrook Island capable of teaching children?”
In the lord’s memory, Dunbrook was a tiny island village with fewer than a hundred households. It was already surprising that someone there had come up with this method of selling alcohol, but the idea of buying expensive books to educate children was even more astonishing.
“Well······.”
“Speak plainly, steward. Do not hide anything.”
“In truth, there is one exile living on Dunbrook Island. Everything likely stems from that individual.”
“An exile? Ah, now that you mention it, there was such an imperial decree.”
Following the black magic incident at the capital’s magic tower that had shaken the entire empire, related criminals across the land had been sentenced to exile. Even the small territory of Eltron had received four or five exiles and scattered them among the villages.
“A serious criminal?”
“Not quite. He wasn’t directly involved with black magic—merely an assistant who handled menial tasks.”
“Hmm. Then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about in particular.”
“He seems to be getting along well with the villagers.”
“As he should. Still, we must continue to keep an eye on him. Those magic users are all scheming to the core. One wrong move and they could cause trouble.”
“I will be vigilant.”
“Ah, and we shall purchase this alcohol for the lord’s castle as well. Regardless of whose idea it was, it sets quite an excellent example, does it not?”
The lord glanced once more at the bottle’s label.
With the right approach, this might even help solve the problem of poverty relief.
Poverty was something even the emperor couldn’t fully eradicate, yet it wasn’t an issue one could simply ignore. Still, if handled cleverly, this method could motivate greedy merchants to raise funds.
“Take some suitable books from the administrator’s library. If you search the corners, you might find storybooks. Ah, since we’re giving them anyway, send a few extra volumes.”
“Shall I prepare magic tomes as well?”
“He is an exile. We cannot give him anything too valuable. A dozen or so dusty volumes from the public library that no one touches should suffice.”
“The lord has sent this many books?”
The books from the lord’s castle arrived at Patrick’s house within a few days. Though slightly worn, they were proper hardcover volumes bound in well-oiled leather and thick layered paper. They clearly demonstrated that books read by nobles were different from the very cover.
“Wow! Teacher, can I read this?”
“Take it and don’t fight over it.”
“Yes!”
“Let’s read together!”
The children grabbed several fairy tale books and scattered with excited shouts, but Patrick’s attention was elsewhere.
“Why on earth did they send a law code? Is this some kind of ‘know your crimes’ message? They’re picking a fight, right?”
Besides the children’s books, several other volumes had arrived. Judging by their titles, none of them were meant for kids.
“What’s this one? The Chronicles of the Empire’s Noble Houses?”
Were they expecting him to read it and marvel at the greatness of the lord’s family?
Weird guy.
It was probably just a case of sending whatever books no one wanted, but Patrick—who had no way of knowing that—could only feel annoyed by the list.
That impression, however, had to be revised before the day was even over.
“This is fun! Next chapter, next chapter!”
The Chronicles of the Empire’s Noble Houses, in a single phrase, was “highbrow melodrama written in elegant prose.”