The Agricultural Elves #3
At first, the wine brewer thought it glorious.
Being summoned by the renowned House of Krauser filled him with pride, and the chance to pour himself into the craft he specialized in—wine-making—stirred a fierce drive in him.
They were famous for their skill at handling people, so much so that even slaves were rumored to be treated reasonably well. That alone put his mind at ease.
Next, when he set foot in the place where he was to work, the brewer was disappointed.
Of all things, the ones he had to labor alongside were dark elves—a race so thoroughly shunned that entire kingdoms wanted nothing to do with them.
Worse still, they were a mercenary band led by the Red Hood, infamous from the wars. He couldn't even freely show his disgust.
He might lose his head for it, after all.
But by the end, he had no choice but to reverse that opinion completely.
It was the sweetness and savor of the grapes he had forced into his mouth, weeping as he did it just to keep his neck, and that indescribable freshness that soaked through him and refused to let go.
Never in his life had he tasted grapes this fine. Crafting them with his own hands filled him with deep respect.
As a producer, what could he possibly say against people who had placed materials so good he couldn't utter a peep into his hands?
With that thought, the brewer poured his heart and soul into making the wine—and along the way, he no longer minded borrowing the dark elves' hands either.
Each one's labor was so outstanding it equaled a hundred men. No—a thousand.
"I feel it every time, but you really are remarkable."
He let out a breath of admiration as he looked over the wines made through their joint efforts—more precisely, the wines resting in oak barrels.
Even the underground cellar they had dug quite deep for storage with their help, the racks set aside for aging—every facility was excellent.
"Is that so?"
"You may not realize it yourselves, but there's nothing else I can say. Just the idea of bringing in elves, who are hard enough to meet at all, and putting them into grape farming is extraordinary to begin with..."
The brewer answered Ellen's casually tossed question with rising heat.
He was completing a work that would rank among the finest of his life. Excitement was only natural.
Ellen simply didn't understand that feeling, so she played along just enough.
"I see."
Will he even drink the wine made from the grapes we grew with our own hands?
Ellen smirked as she recalled Zion's face, smiling as he laid out his rather grand plans.
Even now she thought things would not go smoothly—same as always—but the confidence slowly clinging to her like new flesh felt good.
At least they were being acknowledged by people who acknowledged dark elves.
So she and the rest of them thought it was like a dream.
For those who had lived watching other people's faces from the day they were born, this was the most peaceful time they had ever known.
Season of sex, huh.
I gazed absently at the snow falling outside and let old memories surface.
At Christmas—the day Jesus was born—people would rush off to motels declaring they would make a child like Him themselves. The scene was vivid in my mind.
Especially since I'd once worked a cleaning job at a motel, I could feel that atmosphere with painful clarity.
Sometimes there were guests so loud their moans carried all the way into the hall, and every time I'd frown and scrub the corridor.
And yet, that I had now become the one making someone make those sounds... well.
"Ah... I'm tired."
Helena, who had been buried in her duties again today, let out a suffering sound.
Invitations to nobles of the same faction who would soon visit Krauser Manor, and to those who claimed neutrality; preparations for the party itself—she'd been terribly busy of late.
Even at year's end, some people got to take it easy while others stayed this hectic. That was just how it went.
I helped Helena with her chores and killed time with utterly idle thoughts.
Even if I was her aide, the major decisions had to come from her alone. Of course it was Helena who had to wrack her brains, not me.
"Good work."
It felt a little wrong to call it compensation, but I set a freshly poured cup of tea in front of her.
It still held enough warmth for a thin thread of steam to rise, perfectly suited to a cold winter day.
"Thank you... Still, with this the urgent fires are all out. We should be able to take it easy and watch how things develop."
Helena took a sip and let out a long sigh.
To me, she looked like she was savoring a leisurely moment she had barely managed to seize.
"Already winter... Time flies, doesn't it?"
"Especially this year. There was so much going on, it feels even more so. They say when you're busy you don't even notice time passing."
I nodded as if agreeing with her complaint.
At the start of the year it had seemed leisurely enough, like any other year—then Helena's succession to the duchy set off a chain of big, noisy events we had lived through in the flesh.
A quarrel at the royal palace, a duel with House Kilinear, and now we even had to look into sales channels for wine that was only just waking up. All because of the bottles the brewer had delivered a few days ago.
I wasn't much of a drinker, and it was wine only just starting to come out, so I hadn't expected much.
I'd only vaguely thought that since the grapes were delicious, the wine would be too.
But after tasting what the brewer brought, I realized that thought was wrong.
Whether it was because the grapes had been grown with real intent, I couldn't say—but I found a deep, complex flavor entirely different from the fruit itself.
"Moreover, the problem is there's still a big job left. I'm not blaming you, Zion... but banquets are so damn bothersome."
"I can understand."
Ever since she first set foot in high society, Helena had shown revulsion at even the word "socializing."
Even knowing she had to attend out of necessity, she seemed terribly worried that I would get tangled up with some woman.
Of course, feeling revulsion didn't mean she refused to set foot there at all.
Like it or not, now that she was living as a duke, she well knew the need to build and maintain connections through such gatherings.
Living elegantly alone might have been one way—but Krauser's influence was rather too large for that.
Moreover, at this banquet they planned to present wine made from grapes the dark elves had worked on. I couldn't even imagine how big the stir would be.
One could hope it might go unexpectedly well, but that would be far too optimistic.
"Just thinking about how the banquet will go makes my stomach burn. If I'd known it would be like this, maybe I shouldn't have accepted your suggestion..."
Helena shot me a look as if she were newly regretting it.
As the day of the deed drew closer, her heart pounded and her neck stiffened with tension; she seemed to find it hard to bear.
I was always a little tense myself, so I could only imagine how she felt.
In a position with nothing to say, all I could do was bow my head and apologize.
"Really? Then massage my shoulders a bit."
"Yes, of course."
In the end, had she dragged her words out just so she could act spoiled once?
I smiled bitterly inside and approached behind her as if nothing were wrong, setting my hands on her shoulders.
It was a body I had already touched every inch of, so there was no burden to it—only something perfectly natural.
"Nngh...!"
As I worked her shoulders, heavy as if the muscles were knotted solid, strength entered my hands of its own accord.
Helena closed her eyes and let out heated breaths from the pain.
Sitting long at a desk would have stiffened her shoulders, but the fundamental reason seemed separate.
"Ah, there...! Press a little harder..."
As if her tension had fully released, the color of her voice grew thicker and thicker.
She was freely making sounds she would never reveal before others—sounds she even hated making.
For the single reason that it was just the two of us.
"I'm sorry."
Even as I kept my hands moving steadily, I let out a drained sound.
If things went well, it would raise Helena's standing another notch. If not, various unpleasant words would be said. That future had come to mind.
Regardless of whether I took responsibility or not, there seemed a real possibility of such talk.
"Sorry? Why are you sorry, Zion? It's true I treasure you, but I'm the one who made the decision. Of course I can't say there were no personal feelings even if my mouth splits open—but that doesn't mean I decided on personal feelings alone either."
Helena lifted her head and answered crisply.
It was a reply so firm not even a needle could find a gap.
"...You're right. I guess I was thinking wrong. It feels so arrogant I want to slap myself."
"I don't mind even if you're an unlikable Zion."
"The words are appreciated, but I'm not okay with it. Anyway, thank you for comforting me. It's truly luxurious for a servant to receive comfort from his master, but..."
Setting aside how special we were to each other, looking at it simply, it was a master comforting a servant.
It wasn't that rare inside Krauser Manor, but it was still somewhat burdensome all the same.
The people I passed in the hallway, the people I met in the kitchen, and I myself were the same.
"Oh for heaven's sake. This won't do."
There was no time to ask What?
Before I knew it Helena had sprung up in front of me and casually pushed me toward a corner of the wall.
"What suddenly?"
"You look so wilted like a puppy left out in the rain, so as your master I'm going to dry you off a bit. Okay?"
"Helena. It's still work hours..."
Here she goes again. I sighed and tried to gently push her shoulders away—but instead I was the one pressed into the corner of the wall.
Fighting a Sword Master with force was impossible to begin with. This was only natural.
"Shh. I'm Krauser, and if I decide we're resting, we're resting. Right?"
It was easy to forget because she knew how to consider others like a normal person... but her words had a point.
Helena Krauser was the undisputed duke of this country. Even if she lived an arrogant and exploitative life, it would be hard even to voice a complaint.
With an ordinary duke it might have been different—but as a Sword Master who held the ducal seat, all the more so.
Fortunately her character was on the good side. If she'd only had the arrogance of an average noble, cleaning up would have been terribly difficult.
I'd surely have had to use rougher methods of training, and my fatigue would have more than doubled as a result.
"That's true, but..."
"Then that's settled. Strip. No—I'll strip you."
Helena narrowed her eyes and swept her tongue over her lips.
Ever since that day when she'd opened her eyes to pleasure, she would unconsciously show the gestures and expressions that made her look her best—and this was one of those times.
Give up. I was settling my mind as I looked into the eyes of a beast burning with lust—when Helena's movement, as she tried to crouch before me, came to a dead stop.
The half-risen, awkward pose was quite a sight.
"...Don't tell me you came aiming for this?"
Suddenly, Helena's gaze turned toward the door.
In a voice colder than the winter wind, she wore a ferocious look as if she'd recognized someone beyond it.
Lucky, or unlucky.
I bit my lip as I watched her back approach the door, and casually took up a position beside the office desk.
I was inwardly grateful that the presence from outside seemed to have saved me.
"Who is it?"
As if her last shred of reason hadn't flown away yet, Helena opened the door roughly with a frigid voice.
Seeing her act without giving the other party time to answer, she seemed quite intent on picking a fight.
"Uh, well... I think I should come back later..."
And the target—the owner of the presence felt beyond the door—Ellen, stammered as if she'd sensed Helena's displeasure.