Coming of Age
In Europa, where culture often differed from city to city and village to village, it was only natural that the manner and scale of coming-of-age ceremonies would vary wildly as well.
Some countries threw nationwide drinking binges under the guise of a rite of passage. Some cities and villages gathered everyone under the supervision of a representative. And some simply invited a priest and held a private ceremony with relatives, acquaintances, blood kin, or those connected by bonds of duty.
Coldon's coming-of-age ceremonies typically fell into the third category. Naturally, the one hosted by the Felwinter family was no different. Of course, its scale was by no means small. Nor could it be treated lightly.
The children of vassal counts, barons, and castle lords. The heirs of knights who had sworn loyalty, and the successors of tribal chiefs. Even the children of the servants employed at the castle.
The sons and daughters of the powerful and influential attending the ceremony alone would be enough to populate a whole village. If the duke who ruled the region and was hosting the affair handled it carelessly, people would talk.
Even so, it was a mere handful compared to Winter-Ascend. But Winter-Ascend was the exception among exceptions.
Anyway, as an event where people gathered, there was plenty to prepare — yet it wasn't nearly as frantically busy as it looked from the outside.
Barely a year had passed since the nationwide festival, and it hadn't even been a full month since they'd hosted a banquet of that scale. Compared to those, the coming-of-age ceremony they were preparing now barely even counted as an event. That didn't mean they could half-ass it, though.
"You there — raise those decorations a bit higher."
"Higher than this, sir?"
At Iona's words, the hands of those making final checks throughout the temple of Winterhome grew busier.
The ceremony itself would be held in the grand hall, not the temple. The sheer scale made it unavoidable. That didn't mean they could leave the temple untouched, though. Some people still came to the temple even after the ceremony.
"Lord Iona! Will this much firewood do?"
"Yes. There are relatively few participants this year, so that should be enough."
"Shall I air the place out a bit?"
"Do that. And while you're at it, go ahead and place the torches in advance as well."
After wandering the grounds and inspecting everything several times over, Iona finally decided it was sufficient.
"All right, everyone — good work. I've had special meals prepared in the kitchen, so head to the grand hall!"
At that, the priests and servants brightened and poured out of the temple without a backward glance, like a school of sardines that had spotted bait.
"...Looks like I won't be getting that beer after all."
Through the now-empty doorway, William entered with a face that said, I've got something on my mind.
"Young Master William. What brings you here? You visit so rarely I could count the number on one hand in a year."
"Oof, that stings a little."
William grinned and clutched his chest as if struck.
"Well, it's not wrong. I was just wandering around, spacing out."
The worry vanished from William's face as if it had never been there. Iona, who had been wondering what a boy his age could possibly be fretting about, decided:
"...Well then, how about a drink of beer?"
He would loosen him up with alcohol first, then prod him into talking.
The thoroughly improper picture of offering liquor to a minor under the pretext of hearing his worries — Iona moved with the absolute conviction that it was the most natural thing in the world.
After all, in the history of humanity, the stretch of time when minors drank alcohol was hundreds of times longer than the history of them not drinking, or being forbidden from it. The practical history of that age-discriminatory culture of "minors not allowed" was so short as to be meaningless next to the vast history of drinking.
How things stood in present-day Europa went without saying.
Iona guided William to the prayer room. After inviting him to sit at the table, he offered a prayer at the small altar of Skadi, Goddess of Winter.
Pop—
Then he opened the base of the altar and pulled out a beer barrel.
William, confronted with a sight of sacrilege he had never once witnessed, couldn't help shouting despite Iona's age.
"What— why on earth are you storing beer in a place like that!?"
"There simply isn't a more suitable place to hide it from the eyes of the underlings."
"If divine punishment comes for this, I won't be able to say a word in your defense."
"If it were going to, I'd have received it long before I ever became an elder."
The words were not merely casual — they were shameless. And it didn't stop there. The shocking sight of Iona setting cups on the altar and pouring beer left William silently reeling.
By the time William recovered his wits, a beer sat before him. He fretted as seriously as he had when first entering the temple — perhaps even more so.
If I drink this, I'm going to get punished...
Seeing that, Iona paused mid-sip and fluttered a hand.
"Young Master. If the beer I've just poured were allowed to go flat, wouldn't that itself be an insult to the Ascended?"
"I think Skadi smacking us upside the head for day-drinking is a far more likely agenda item."
"In Eisenwald, the saying that beer is not liquor but water has been passed down from ancient times to this very day."
"Why are you quoting a proverb from a dwarven country on the continent...?"
"Good words ought to be shared."
It was certainly a saying worthy of a land that history books recorded as a place of drunkards who, since the days when the nation was still a tribe, had drunk beer like water — or rather, instead of water.
"Fine. Fine. One cup. Just one."
No sooner had William spoken than the barrel tipped. The clear golden liquid crashed against the bottom of the cup, raising a cloud of foam as it filled rapidly.
"There — down it before the head settles."
"I was going to anyway."
Good grief. The beer in the cup vanished down William's throat without leaving a single drop. He felt the hot knot inside his chest settle at once.
"Phew. For all that talk, this isn't even Eisenwald-brewed?"
"Just ordinary barley beer of good quality."
One cup, two cups, three...
William, who had complained of sacrilege and divine wrath, finally set his cup down only after downing six in a row.
"Urgh. Hoooooo. That's enough. Ugh, I'm stuffed."
"So then — are you ready to tell me what problem has you so troubled?"
"You get me half-tipsy and then ask again?"
"Alcohol is also a medicine that loosens the tongue."
"Earlier you said beer was water."
"That's only what those Eisenwald dwarf drunkards say — it doesn't apply to us."
"I really can't beat you with words."
"At my age, losing a war of words to you young ones would make the years feel wasted."
William heaved a long sigh.
"It's about the future. The future."
"The future — meaning your own future, Young Master?"
"Who else's would it be? Alicia's still way too young."
Alicia was a little girl only just approaching seven. She was far too young to be discussing futures. Alicia was still of an age to eat, sleep, cause trouble, and run about. Well — he'd heard there were families that arranged betrothals even at that age, but set that aside for now.
"Brother's future is as good as decided, right?"
Godwin was, for all practical purposes, the Grand Duke of Felwinter. The next duke who would succeed Alfred Felwinter. He was growing healthier and sturdier by the day — if anything, because he kept exercising so steadily. The reason being nothing more than not wanting his meals controlled, of all things.
William would bet that Godwin was walking a tightrope. Pointless, utterly pointless. Give him half an excuse and he'd go right back to gorging on mayonnaise like a few months ago.
"Robin seems set on becoming a mage when he grows up."
Robin, who had been at death's door, had suddenly recovered his health. Before anyone could say "wait," he'd entered as a disciple of Vice Tower Master Olivier. These days he spent more time at the tower than at the castle.
"Everyone above and below me has their futures locked in."
"Indeed they do."
"Even when I try not to care, I feel the pressure."
"The situation has become rather peculiar."
"I mean — I could accept it from Brother, but I never imagined Robin would actually become a mage."
"Well, for a model second son of a noble house, aiming to claim the eldest's place is the usual course..."
Power was not something shared even between father and son. Between brothers — and eldest and second son at that — anyone looking would see them as de facto rivals number one and two.
"Gack. Ugh! Father! Don't jinx me!"
William shuddered as if he'd just seen three-day-old rotting garbage.
"I've been watching Brother and Father's daily lives carefully, you know? And more and more I keep thinking, this isn't for me."
Iona swallowed a thoughtful hum.
"Documents come in by the cartload every day, and the second you clear them another cart arrives — and that's supposed to be an improvement?"
"..."
"It's already hard enough sitting in one place putting on a dignified face, and on top of that you have to keep that composure in front of hundreds of vassals and retainers?"
William shivered, apparently getting the creeps from his own examples.
"Wow. Just two examples and it's already horrifying."
"Great power comes with great responsibility... though these days I often hear nobles who don't understand that coming for counsel, which is a worry of its own."
"Ugh. If that's power, I don't want any."
His longish hair that reached his neck swayed left and right.
"I'm not some work-golem."
"The higher the seat, the more there is to manage — that's simply how it is."
"Let Brother be the Grand Duke. I'll just freeload under him and look for something else to do, like Robin."
Words tantamount to abandoning his title. Essentially a declaration that he was giving up being a noble. But Iona was not flustered.
"Whew — what a relief."
Iona was, if anything, reassured.
"That's... not the reaction I expected."
"I'll be frank, Young Master. I was worried you might be aiming for the successor's seat and plotting harm against Young Master Godwin. Hearing that you're not, this old body is truly at ease. Hahahaha!"
"..."
At the sudden ominous words, William couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Wait — is that why you got me drunk on beer?"
"I've watched you all this time, Young Master William, but a person's heart doesn't always run on pure reason, does it?"
"Well..."
A woman's heart is like a reed? A person's heart is like a reed by nature. And when that heart was power, where knives flew instead of feelings — it was more reed-like, not less.
"In noble houses, it's common for heaven itself to arrange that the eldest and second son try to kill each other."
"I mean, I know that with my head, but is it really that bad?"
"In some noble houses, after a struggle among seven brothers, only the youngest who had been trying to renounce the title survived to inherit — that sort of thing happens often enough."
"That's pretty barbaric."
"Which is why this is fortunate."
The world of power was ruthless. A cruel world where one watched blood kin more closely than rivals.
"So I think it would be good for you to take things easy, in this old man's opinion."
Fortunately, the Felwinter family was one of those extremely rare cases, even in the world of power, where the family got along well.
"It might also do you good to experience other things for a while."
"Knighthood really doesn't suit me."
"This old man is well aware that you have no talent as a knight, Young Master."
"Hey — people don't usually say that to someone's face!"
"Would you have preferred I put it more roundabout?"
"No, that's not what I meant."
Iona wet his dry mouth with beer.
"How about learning to cook for a start? I hear Karem still has quite a bit of free time even between finishing jobs."
"Well... I don't mind, but. Ah, that reminds me."
"Of course, after the ceremony is— hm?"
William set down the beer he had been about to drink.
"Is he participating in the coming-of-age ceremony?"
William's question was only natural. Fewer than five people knew that Karem was a reincarnator. To anyone unaware of the circumstances, it would look like they were putting an eleven-year-old whose body had grown from a curse into a coming-of-age ceremony.
"I don't rightly know myself."
"Weren't you the one who accepted him?"
"I was, yes."
Iona stroked his beard.
"This is a first even for me, so if it becomes a problem we can simply deal with it later, no? His body's grown and he's a precocious child — it shouldn't matter."
Probably?
"Ugh, I don't even know anymore."
William decided to just drink more beer for now.