CH 8

Perhaps it was time for work, the people stood up from their seats and gently brushed off crumbs and evened out the wrinkles in their clothes. Hera winked and requested another handshake from Ayra. Holding the other’s rough hands firmly, Ayra also stood up from his seat.

“See ya next time. This is such a small place–those living here are bound to meet again,” Hera said.

“Yes, it would be nice to see you again”

“Aigoo, look at how delicately you speak after working in the South.” Chuckling, Hera kicked at his friends’ butts and left through the door. Ayra also thought it would be best to slowly return, so he handed the owner her pay.

Though he called it money, it was merely fragments of a mana stone rather than ratified currency. There was no such thing as local currency–except for territories where dragons have sat upon and protected their treasure troves for hundreds of years. For this reason, the Solar region, like many other territories, had begun using high-utility mana stones that were hard to counterfeit instead of money. Mana stones that were pressed and flattened into a mold like coins were one of Labyrinth’s major export specialties and a huge source of revenue.

He received a pouch that contained one fistful of salt as change. Ayra stashed the bag within his arms and then staggered off. He had drunk too much while conversing. “I-I can’t walk anymore today…”

Because he wasn’t used to walking for a long time like he had today, his legs were stiff. He’ll have to wash up and sleep as soon as he returns–would it look weird to sleep right after he claimed he slept? Would his abilities work well even while drunk? What happens to drunk people anyway? While walking, trying to organize his thoughts, Ayra tripped over a jagged stone and fell forward magnificently.

Despite being drunk, he still had enough rationality left to feel shame; Ayra quickly stood up on his feet again. While brushing off the dust on his knees, he looked around and saw a man looking his way. Perhaps he wasn’t a local, he had fiery red hair and eyes–handsome… The man must either be a beggar or a minstrel bard. He looked shabby enough to be a beggar; but, he carried a lyre-like instrument, so he could be a bard.

Ayra, who quickly avoided his gaze, tried to walk nonchalantly, coughing in vain. At least only one person saw his fall. What a relief.

The man’s gaze lingered on Ayra’s hurriedly distancing back, but soon his gaze looked away indifferently, as if he had lost interest.

On his way back to the castle, Ayra organized all the facts he had learned today.

The first and most important point: this territory had yet to fall into dire ruin.

Although poverty could be reflected in the citizens’ appearances, it didn’t seem as if they were starved skinny. The food at the tavern might not have been delicious, but it wasn’t too bad either.

Although the citizens have a strong tendency to reject outsiders, that was, of course, natural. After all, after birth, most people in the Solar territory had never stepped one foot outside the fief. Furthermore, the Solar territory was not a place that had frequent exchanges with the outside world.

Similarly, it wasn’t strange that the citizens would draw the holy sign of Mollunka; the mountain god had several shrines and symbolic engravings here and there. Mollunka originated from a folk belief long before this land was established as the Solar territory. Even if the fiefdom was ruined, indigenous religion was sure to survive.

‘However, my retainer’s auras felt distinctly uncomfortable.’

He would have to look around the land’s nooks and crannies until the succession ceremony. This was never in Ayra’s plan for life, but, since he already decided to become the next lord, he might as well know the intimate details of his territory. With that in mind, Ayra entered his room the same way he left the castle: through the terrace window. As soon as he opened the window and entered, he stood, startled.

An armored knight stood upright, back to the bedroom. The door was open, but he hadn’t stepped a single foot inside.

As soon as Ayra stepped onto the terrace, the knight looked back at him and bowed politely. His uniform was somewhat different from the knights escorting him–perhaps he was of a higher rank?

Taking off his helmet, the knight introduced himself, “Please excuse my late greeting, Ayra-nim. I’m the vice-commander of the knights, Bloom.”

After his helmet was removed, short blonde hair and green eyes were revealed. Once again, he bowed his head deeply and stoically.

“It’s alright, Sir Bloom…” Ayra slurred, giving the knight a look that clearly questioned what brought the knight to his bedroom. It bothered him that someone had opened his bedroom door even if the latter didn’t step inside.

The vice-commander looked embarrassed and bowed his head again. “I came to visit because I was worried about the wound to my lord’s head when we first met, but you weren’t there. I’m sorry; the knights neglected their duties and didn’t even notice Ayra-nim’s absence.”

“No, it’s alright. There’s nothing to be sorry about. By the way, what’s this about a head wound?”

“Didn’t you fall down the stairs?”

“Ah! You were the knight there!”

It was only when the knight mentioned the stairs that Ayra remembered the other. Thinking that the knight came to find him because of generous worry, Ayra felt a little awkward. “Thanks for worrying about me. In any case, there’s no need to be sorry for not noticing that I was away. I just wanted to take a solitary walk. You may leave now.”

“Yes, understood. Still, for safety, please let a knight accompany you next time.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”

Perhaps that really was all he had wanted to do–Sir Bloom refitted his helmet, shut the door, and left.

Of course, Ayra had no intention of allowing a knight escort next time he left the castle. That would be no different from spreading rumors around the locals that he was some nobleman accompanied by a knight. The trip to see the locals could only be done now while Ayra’s face was still unknown.

Ayra tapped the back of his hand; Pebble, who pretended to be asleep, popped out while displaying ‘zzz.’ Even if it tried to stretch away the sleep 1 Pebble could only raise up its gravel fragment hands and shiver. Perhaps Ayra was also feeling tired–he thought Pebble did actually look sleepy. “You’re tired too, huh? We have things to do tomorrow, so let’s sleep early today.”

He felt the sharp downturn into exhaustion because he was out and about all day, fighting the cold. Ayra shivered, washed up, warmed himself in front of the fireplace, and crawled into bed.

******

Ayra woke up from such a deep sleep it could be mistaken for a coma; the sun was up in the sky. Ayra groaned and reluctantly left the warm bed.

‘My laboratory…I miss my warm and pleasant private laboratory in the Labyrinth.’

In such a cold region, why would they line the floors and walls with stones? Ayra thought he should set a day aside to cast warming spells on it. After freshening up lightly, changing clothes, and grabbing a quick meal, Ayra jumped out of the terrace window just as he did yesterday. Following his route yesterday, he easily left the castle and headed straight for the city. It seems as if this territory’s main castle was incredibly poorly guarded.

Like that, for several days–every day–he secretly sneaked out and wandered the area, performing various quests. Among the many places he visited, the place he frequented the most was the square located in the city center.  The square was surrounded by the shopping district, making it a particularly efficient location to observe people.

Today, also, he headed to the square in the city center, after he had exhausted himself both physically and mentally by walking around the city the entire day. Dragging his feet, Ayra almost fell over once again.

It was then he heard a chuckle. When Ayra looked up awkwardly, he saw a familiar face. A red-haired man locked gazes with Ayra; it felt like his smiling face was picking a fight with him.

“What are you looking at?” The man asked.

But, honestly, wasn’t that red-haired man sitting right there just a few days ago? Ayra crumpled his brows. The man’s red hair was definitely impressionable–he was definitely here a few days ago, and today he was sitting, wearing the same clothes and carrying that same instrument. While Ayra was walking to and fro from the center plaza, that man had never left that spot empty. It seemed that, within that time, dust had accumulated on him.

In any case, Ayra, feeling like he was abruptly caught in some quarrel, responded with a refreshing smile. “Do you always pick fights with innocent citizens on nice days like this? Is your face the only thing that’s decent; are you a punk?”

People usually spaced out for a while at Ayra’s gentle voice–a voice that sounded as if he were praising and stroking your ego–but then got angry when they properly listened to the content. However, the man’s interest seemed to have been piqued, as if he heard only what he wanted to hear.

“I am indeed an outstanding and handsome person.” The man seemed pleased.

Ayra couldn’t even be frustrated, it was too ridiculous. Ayra looked at the man’s instrument, wondering if he was a wandering minstrel, shameless and free-spirited; the man, seeing that gaze, postured as if to showcase himself. Then, he plucked a string with his finger.

“Oh…….” Ayra admired the other’s loud twanging sound for a while. He must be a beggar and not a bard. Otherwise there’s no explanation for his lack of musical ability. Unless…he really was some punk street gangster?

Ayra felt a little sorry for him; the man was dressed in short sleeves in this cold weather, and it looked as if he couldn’t earn enough to eat a good meal.

When he took a couple of mana stones out of his pocket and handed them over, the man lifted his eyebrows. Looking closely, not only his eyebrows but his eyelashes were red as well; the eyes were a deeper shade of red–ruby red. The man stared at the mana stone fragment in his palm and then jumped up from his seat.

He grinned, “I’ve gotten something from you…should I sing you something?”

Then, without waiting for Ayra’s response, he began to haphazardly pluck at the instrument.

“There were three pigs in the stable.

One was fat, the other was chubby, and the last was stick thin.

Three pigs would eat hay and yeast.

Three little piggies close with each other

One was eaten by a dragon

One was eaten by a Mage

The last one left fell sick and died!”

After appreciating and listening to the tragic story of the three pigs, Ayra followed through by saying, “You honestly shouldn’t attempt to make a living through singing…”

TN: Hello~ Sorry for the delay. I got married recently, so things were a huge hassle. In any case, meet the other man on the cover, Mister ML.