Malice is Everywhere
The brides and merchants heading to the pioneer village rested for a moment in the annex behind the mansion.
The so-called annex was little more than a clean barn.
The mansion where Marguerite had been staying was apparently a kind of official residence.
As they carried the meals and drinks inside, it became clear that the only piece of furniture was a simple straw bed covered with a sheet of cloth.
There weren’t even any chairs.
The brides lay huddled together on the straw bed, fast asleep.
They must have been utterly exhausted.
Kenson and the merchants had spread thick cloths across the floor and sat talking among themselves.
When the cook, the servant, and Marguerite arrived with the food and drinks, all three men’s eyes widened like lanterns.
“A noble lady…”
“She’ll probably live very well in that village.”
Kenson burst into loud laughter.
As Marguerite helped the cook and servant set down the brides’ food, a faint smile touched her lips.
Here, the fear of having become a slave or the dread of a possibly miserable future barely touched her.
It was probably thanks to the administrator and merchants repeatedly assuring everyone that the village chief was a decent man.
If everyone said the same thing, then this had to be the best among the worst.
The small bird and the spirits that stayed close to her were a great comfort as well.
If this many spirits are with me, we’ll surely be all right no matter which village we reach.
Marguerite gazed at the fluffy spirit, the other spirits watching her from afar, and the small bird circling the annex ceiling.
Please stay with me.
Flawless skin, graceful movements, perfectly groomed hair and nails, and innate beauty.
No matter how much soot she smeared on her face or how carefully she hid her lustrous hair, she stood out among the rest of us brides.
Whatever her former station, they were all the same now—slaves being sold to the pioneer villages. Yet a noble was still different.
The merchants and the administrator treated her with noticeable gentleness.
Even the most ordinary remark seemed to be weighed carefully before they spoke it.
Even the village she was heading to seemed better than the others.
As she accepted her food, Anne studied the hands of the woman called Marguerite.
Not a single callus.
They looked nothing like Anne’s own hands, roughened and hardened by farm work.
She had probably never cried through a winter with hands cracked and bleeding.
Because of people like you, I ended up like this.
Her family had been ordinary farmers.
They rented land from the lord, scraped by, but their situation had been better than most.
That changed the day her father walked the road without noticing a noble’s carriage approaching.
He must have seen it, yet the splendid carriage never slowed.
Father tried to dodge at the last moment, but the wheel crushed his leg and shattered it.
Anne never learned who the noble inside had been.
When her father screamed and collapsed, the carriage paused just long enough for its occupant to hurl curses before rolling on.
Whether the broken leg had been set wrong or he had suffered other injuries, Father burned with fever for two days and died.
After that, her household collapsed like a boulder tumbling down a slope.
Without a man to work, farming became nearly impossible.
Mother, Anne, and her siblings tried their hardest, but they could not manage even half of what Father had done.
As the harvest shrank and they fell behind on taxes, Mother finally sold Anne and her younger sister.
She did it to save their little brother.
A son was many times more useful for farming than daughters.
Only men could rent land from the lord, after all.
Yes, Anne understood that much.
If only women remained without the youngest son, the family would be driven off the land.
She knew it had been a choice Mother could not avoid.
But her younger sister was sold as a concubine to a wealthy farmer in the neighboring village, while Anne became a pioneer bride.
The difference in their appearances had not been that great.
Of the two, Anne had worked harder in the fields; her face was tanned by the sun and her skin coarse.
Her sister had still done more housework than fieldwork.
That small difference had decided their fates.
She had simply worked harder for her family, yet that became the reason for her misfortune.
People said the good were loved by spirits and that God watched over those who did good deeds, but it was all lies.
Anne no longer believed in spirits.
She hated the nobles, hated the father who had died so suddenly, and hated the mother who had sold her daughters to save herself.
She even hated her younger sister, who had inwardly felt relieved while outwardly crying and saying it would have been better if she became the pioneer bride instead.
Anne lifted a spoonful of stew to her mouth and watched Marguerite move busily about.
She was heading to a pioneer village, yet she was smiling.
Perhaps she had relaxed because the administrator and merchant had guaranteed the village was decent.
Even so, it was probably no more than comparing acorns to acorns.
Noble lady who doesn’t know the real world.
Anne hoped the village Marguerite reached would be truly wretched.
I hope she becomes more miserable than me.
If all the brides traveling together were going to sink into an unhappy swamp anyway, she hoped none of them would escape.
Everyone, just become unhappy.
Marguerite suddenly looked at her.
“Would you like a little more?”
She held the ladle and smiled gently.
Anne stared at Marguerite’s spotless face for a moment, then nodded.
“Give me plenty. There’s more.”
So saying, Marguerite ladled extra stew for the bride beside Anne as well.
When the girl next to her thanked her, Marguerite beamed.
“....”
That smile would soon be drowned in despair.
What would the first pioneer village look like to a noble lady who knew nothing of the world?
Anne smiled faintly.
After the meal, the merchants inspected the wagons.
They checked the wheels, crawled underneath to examine the axles, tightened them properly with tools, rechecked every piece of luggage, and tied everything down again with meticulous care.
Just watching them told her how harsh the road ahead would be.
Once preparations were complete, they set out while the sun was still high.
There were no proper roads.
Even in the most remote places there was usually a frequently traveled path, yet here there was none.
As they continued, thickets grew into forest, or the way became stony paths, or they crossed barren land without a single blade of grass.
Marguerite rode in the cart with the other brides.
Every time the wheels turned, the cart shook violently; if she didn’t cling to the side, she felt she would be thrown out.
Because of the constant jolting, short ropes had been driven into the edges of the cart.
Marguerite gripped one tightly, just like the others, and braced her whole body.
Even so, every jolt lifted her hips clear off the floor.
The cart was connected to the carriage, making the vibration even worse.
Fortunately straw had been spread on the floor, but it still hurt.
The small bird clung to the edge with its claws and somehow held on.
It didn’t fall despite the violent shaking.
“That bird is incredible. It hasn’t moved an inch—like it’s part of the cart.”
Someone’s murmur drew quiet laughter.
When the people laughed, the fluffy spirit tilted its head in confusion, flitted above the brides’ heads, then flew over to the small bird.
“Pipi!”
At the spirit’s cry, the small bird answered with a loud “Ppiyak!”
The sound was so sudden the brides jumped, which made everyone laugh again.
That was the beginning.
The women who had treated Marguerite as cautiously as a boil at first gradually began speaking to her more comfortably.
“Um… you’re a noble, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I was originally from a poor noble family.”
She did not mention that she had once been the royal fiancée.
“You were a noble, yet you ended up a slave like this…”
When the woman named Anne asked, the bride beside her frowned.
“Don’t ask things like that. None of us has a pleasant past. There’s no need to bring it up and spoil the mood.”
Thanks to her, Anne asked nothing more.
She looked a little upset, but Marguerite offered no further answer.
She had no desire to speak of the past.
The conversation naturally drifted to the pioneer villages.
“There used to be a very famous bandit group. I heard some of them went to the pioneer villages. I had an acquaintance in the guild who told me.”
At those words another bride nodded.
“It’s probably true. They say the villages are so short on people now that anyone who applies can go.”
“There was a man whose lover became a pioneer bride. He applied to the village, went through terrible hardship to find her, and…”
The woman shivered violently.
It clearly wasn’t from the jolting cart.
The brides swallowed and waited; she continued.
“They say the woman had already gone mad and didn’t even recognize him. I heard she had been a shared slave. The situation was so horrific that the man took her and fled back to his village.”
Even after returning, the couple had not stayed long before disappearing somewhere again.
A pioneer bride was a slave.
Simply running away violated the contract; taking a slave out of the village made them criminals.
In the end, the woman said she did not know what became of the pair.
“Well, it probably didn’t end well.”
After that, the grim stories continued without pause.
Not a single one offered any comfort.
The fragile calm she had managed to find grew uneasy once more.
The fluffy spirit flew to her as if to say not to worry, cried “Pipi!” and clenched its tiny fist.
Then it gently pressed its face to Marguerite’s forehead, like a kiss.
“Pipi!”
With a bright cry the fluffy spirit fluttered its wings.
It showed Marguerite its little fist once more before soaring into the air.
Ah…
It was leaving again.
Where did it go every time?
To the forest?
Or to its companions?
Or perhaps, just as it came to her, someone else was waiting for it.
A faint jealousy stirred toward that unknown person whose face she could not even imagine.
And a touch of envy as well.
“Ppi! Ppiyak!”
As if scolding her for such thoughts, the small bird cried loudly.
It still clung tightly to the jolting edge of the cart, body tilted slightly backward.
The fact that it could hold that pose was truly impressive.
Its body was tiny, yet the strength of its beak and talons rivaled that of an eagle or hawk.
Honestly, it was amazing.
“Hehe.”
Marguerite gave a small laugh.
Yes. That was wrong of me.
Jealousy? She should not harbor such presumptuous feelings.
The very fact that the spirit came to her was a miracle.
If I ask for more, I’ll be punished.
With that thought, after enduring the entire day’s ordeal, she arrived at the first pioneer village the following morning.
The house was finished.
I had expected it to take longer, but the villagers had worked without rest, and it went up in the blink of an eye.
At first we had only meant to build a simple house, yet before long things began to multiply.
Besides the barn, wooden chairs and a bed suddenly appeared inside one day. Orange’s little house was attached to the entrance, and a low fence began to grow around the property.
Every time I passed by while working the fields, the fence had grown a little more. Right before the house was completed, several people worked together to finish it all at once.
“Chief, congratulations.”
“It’s a wonderful house.”
“It may not be the greatest house in the world, but…”
“We poured our hearts into it.”
All the villagers gathered to offer their congratulations.
“I never imagined it would turn out this splendid. Thank you so much.”
When I bowed my head, the villagers smiled with evident pride.
“But the spirit isn’t here.”
Someone spoke up suddenly.
“Right. The spirit should give us a blessing.”
“What should we do?”
As the adults looked troubled, one of them tilted his head.
“But this is the spirit’s house. Isn’t it right for the spirit to bless its own home?”
The others exchanged glances and nodded.
“That’s true.”
“Then who should bless it?”
“This is awkward.”
While the adults murmured among themselves, the children shouted.
“Then I’ll bless it!”
“Pudding says he’ll do it!”
“Can’t the bride do it?”
The children’s words gave me an idea.
“Everyone, please give us your blessing.”
At my words the villagers’ eyes widened.
“Us?”
“We’re just ordinary people.”
“We’re plain farmers.”
They said so, but their eyes sparkled with joy.
“The Spirit’s Blessing is wonderful, but right now nothing would make me happier than all of your blessings.”
The first to react were, of course, the children.
“I’ll bless it!”
“I’m first!”
One child dashed forward and pressed his palm to the front door.
“I bless you, House.”
The others immediately followed.
“That’s cheating!”
“We said we’re comrades who live together, die together, and eat together!”
“Traitor!”
The children competed to touch the house, each shouting their own blessing.
“I bless you too!”
“Whether you’re healthy or sick, I’ll cherish and love you always!”
“Be happy!”
I’m not sure those count as blessings for a house.
After the villagers had a good laugh, they quietly approached and bowed toward the walls or the fence.
Everyone blessed our house with words of “We bless you,” “Be happy,” “Stay healthy.”
Actually, those weren’t blessings for the house at all.
They were all wishes directed at me.
Their warm hearts made me bow deeply to them in gratitude.
“Pipi?”
Popcorn had flown over at some point and now peeked at my bowed face.
Then it turned and gave the villagers a polite little bow as well.
“Pipi!”
It seemed the villagers could see Popcorn’s light too.
Perhaps it looked like a greeting to them.
In the strange scene where no one could tell who was blessing whom, everyone burst into loud laughter.