The day after my dispiriting return home, I was chopping firewood in my family’s garden.
“Ow… it hurts…”
Cradling my aching knees, I wielded the hatchet on the chopping block, splitting logs for the fireplace. Thanks to the traditional Threefold Empire punishment of kneeling seiza-style on the floor, my legs were left in a state of numbness akin to attending a wake.
It’s said that this custom started when the Founder Emperor Richard would reprimand his courtiers who made mistakes, saying, “This way it’ll hit closer to home.” But from the receiving end, all I can think is, why did he have to create such an unnecessary culture? Our Western human knees aren’t built to endure long periods of kneeling.
The scolding began alongside my awakening and lasted for what felt like hours. Seizing the opportunity presented by topics involving Eliza, I mentioned that I had a gift from her, allowing me to finally escape. By the way, the other men were still trapped inside—two well-aged family men along with a junior clerk to the deputy, all enduring the punishment of seiza together. I bet the other men won’t be able to use their feet today because of the numbness.
Thankfully, I had made the right decision to bring some nice textiles and elegant combs and hairpins for Mother and my sister-in-law from the Imperial Capital. I also managed to get a letter from Eliza and a fine miniature painting from Lord Raizenitz—though when he said he could give more if I wanted, he creeped me out a little—but it all came in handy.
Even if we’ve been receiving letters from both Eliza and me, seeing a picture really solidifies it, doesn’t it? The men were all cheerful, claiming, “Our girl is the cutest one,” while the women were genuinely happy to have been honored with such a fine painting.
If only it wasn’t due to some necrophilic spirit bothering a small child but rather a handsome noble young master falling for her, it would have been better. After all, for women in the manor, just as the common dream for the villagers is to enter officialdom, the dream is to be chosen by a handsome prince. Of course, Eliza, who is the cutest in the world, deserves more than just any prince, so I’ll have to screen potential candidates following my brother’s standards.
He must be talented enough to beat me in a one-on-one without a hitch, stylish enough to rival Lord Raizenitz, and authoritative enough to match Lady Agrippina. I need someone who can fulfill all these requirements.
Yesterday, since I was around, the topic of Eliza didn’t come up much, but with the miniature painting, it will surely liven up conversations among the women who talk about her. The Eliza depicted in the small-sized painting is adorned in a luxurious and beautiful gown, with gray frills on a black base.
However, I should probably save the men’s presents for tomorrow.
Asides the fine shovels and hoes, and the defensive short swords I bought on the workshop streets in the Imperial Capital, bringing out the rare foreign wines could potentially trigger another long lecture.
“Phew…”
When I felt I’d chopped enough to appease them, my detection skill signaled an approaching presence. I need to upgrade that ability soon too but have a use for it, so it’ll have to wait.
As I paused for a moment, my childhood friend, Margit, wearing her usual cotton-lined robe that made her puff up cutely, leapt down from the roof toward me.
She looked surprised, as if thinking, “Huh? You noticed?” Her expression was the usual playful one. She’s such a tease, but it only emphasizes how adorable she is. Seeing her look two years older than she actually is still comes as a surprise.
“Did you ease up because you were hungover?”
“I didn’t intend to hold back, you know.”
Thinking of setting her down, her hands reached for my neck first and she was hanging from me as usual. She’s definitely taller than before, though, making it less of a strain to carry her. She used to only reach my waist, but now she’s almost at my thigh.
And yet, she’s made an especially charming outfit today. Even though spider-folk like her are usually bundled up in the winter, seeing each of her spider-like legs swaddled in warm leggings was quite novel. She probably knitted them herself.
But why did she bundle up and come all the way here just this morning?
“Yesterday, the men had their fill of you. So today, I thought I’d take my time and hear all about your gifts.”
Straightforward as always, her response was simple and honest. The men’s loud parties last night really left the women out of the loop. Of course, it would be unpleasant for them to mingle.
Well, since she came all this way let’s take the time to talk properly. Considering the ongoing preaching in the living room, we headed toward the stable.
In the horse stalls, our farm horses Holter and his stablemate stood peacefully. Castor and Polydeuces are both well-tempered, blending seamlessly with Holter.
“Truly magnificent horses! Aren’t they military horses?”
“Yeah. A breed called… Ostem-something. Military horse lineage mixed with local Western horses.”
I remembered something about this. It’s a breed created by crossing resilient, sturdy horses from the central continent with local horses of the west to balance strength and temperament.
“How many gold coins must they be worth? You must have worked really hard!”
“Well, no. These two were handed down to me by… my old master. They’re ten years old now. Originally, they were used to pull his carriage…”
We sat near the stables and prepared a small fire using the chopped wood. Even though I was wearing layers, I figured it must be quite cold for Margit.
Thinking about sitting with her on my lap feels natural at this point, though really, it’s quite a compromising position when you think about it.
No big deal between the two of us, I suppose.
As we reminiscence about our departure days from the manor, the memories flowed easily. They’re just too vivid to ever forget. Honestly, I’m quite amazed that I’m still alive when I think back on it.
As I gathered twigs to build a small fire, I decided to surprise Margit a little.
There’s no point in hiding that I’m a sorcerer, even from her.
I asked her to step back a bit and cast a simple fire spell. A delicate flame suitable for lighting a pipe appeared, igniting the bundle with a small plume of smoke.
“Wow!”
“Hehe, impressive, right?”
Even though it’s a spell that professional mages would scoff at, Margit clearly found it fascinating since she isn’t familiar with magic. I proudly recounted my life in the Imperial Capital, casually throwing maki fruits with my “Invisible Hand” spell.
This seemed to ignite her competitive spirit. Suddenly, she reached into her collar and pulled out a necklace.
What emerged in her small hands was a primitive pendant carved from an animal’s tooth. But make no mistake—it was large and sharp enough to resemble a knife, definitely from a carnivorous beast’s tooth.
The creature that boasts a tooth longer than an adult human’s index finger cannot be anything else but…
“A Great Wolf’s tooth!”
She proudly revealed the trophy, which undeniably marked a great achievement for her as a hunter. Hunters who slay tough opponents often take pieces of them as charms to incorporate the creature’s strength as their own.
A Great Wolf with teeth this size is bound to be at least as long as a human, if not larger. The “Gray King,” a fearsome menace in the Threefold Empire, was aggressively hunted and their numbers reduced, making them exceptionally cautious and intelligent. I truly admire her for defeating such a formidable foe.
“It wandered close to our manor and I hunted it down. It was near where the children play, so it was crucial!”
“Wow… Tell me all about it!”
The tale of her heroic hunt had me jumping with excitement while I shared stories of my adventures in the Imperial Capital. The topics were endless, and the firewood dwindled, yet neither of us grew weary.
We continued our chat, eager to share the time apart and soak in the memories.
As all things must, our time eventually came to an end. Winter’s daylight is fleeting, as the chimneys began to smoke noisily, signaling it was almost lunchtime. We should probably get back to eat as well.
Well, now that we’ve shared enough tales, it’s time to talk about something important.
Between childhood friends, promises, and whatever agreements there may be, there is still a line that needs to be respected—whether because it should be or because I choose to uphold it.
I picked Margit up gently, placing her back on the ground.
“What is it?”
The tone in her voice isn’t questioning but rather a playful anticipation of how I’d entertain her. Even with a spirit aged near middle age, she seems to always have the upper hand when it comes to emotional subtlety.
Oh well, when you’re as socially inept as I am, you can’t win against ladies like her.
If this were one of my studious friends from the Imperial Capital, I’d probably twist my head around trying to recite some lines from a play.
But Margit appreciates wit, not pretense.
So, let’s just be straightforward about it.
I knelt down, looking up at her shorter, yet increasingly tall form, making direct eye contact. Her amber eyes curved into a mischievous smile, watching how I would flounder with amusement.
“Do you remember the promise we made before leaving the manor?”
With that, I dove right in. She laughed like a silver bell and responded teasingly, “Was there one?”
I’ve been gone since I was twelve, and I’m now fifteen. She’s seventeen and nearing the age where she’d be criticized for not marrying. In the Threefold Empire, adulthood begins at fifteen and the optimal marriage age is around seventeen, after which it’s considered late.
It’s no small matter to have kept her waiting. I shouldn’t presume her patience has lasted this long.
“A boy came to work for our manor before our promise.”
“Ah, there was such a promise, wasn’t there?”
She giggled and teased me with playful words. Over the past three years, she mentioned several “offers” had come her way.
Well, it’s only natural. She’s not only a fine woman but also full of charm. Belonging to a family of hunters who have connections with the deputy, her status in the manor isn’t low at all. Surely, there were those who turned a blind eye to rumors to approach her.
But she was the one to find me first. A little self-pride isn’t entirely misplaced, right?
“But you waited for me to keep a promise. So, Margit, let me ask you again.”
Even though she was the one who made me swear, it isn’t worth ruining the mood. I made that vow, and I came back to honor it.
This is where a man shows his mettle.
“I’d like to ask you to protect my back. Will you join me as an adventurer?”
After declaring my intent, I bowed my head, offering my hand. It was as if I was proposing marriage.
Her laughter grew louder and was filled with utter satisfaction. After a nerve-wracking moment, her hand gently took mine.
“What a good boy. Leave it to your big sister.”
“Thank you…”
I’ve truly been blessed with an amazing childhood friend.
“I’ll give you my strength. As you said, I’ll ensure no one steps on your shadow. I’ll lead the way and guard your rear, always.”
“Then I’ll stay close, keeping my blade within reach, standing always before you to protect against perils and steadfastly at your back to shield from malevolence. No sword or arrow will pass through.”
“Ah, it seems we’ve made promises to uphold our original pledge with a new one, haven’t we?”
With a light leap, she came to eye-level with me, peering into my eyes with the same intensity as that twilight day we pierced each other’s ears for earring holes.
“Swear it, wholeheartedly. That you’ll pursue your adventures as you desire.”
“I swear. The same intention I had at twelve is unwavering—I will be an adventurer.”
Her usual playful smirk disappeared, replaced by a maternal smile. She called me a “good boy” again, scooped a strand of my hair, and kissed it.
“Then, I’ll come along with you. Whether to the far west, beyond the southern seas, atop the snows of the north, or the deserts of the east.”
“Thank you. Whatever the land and whatever the view, as long as you lead, it will surely be a fine place.”
And thus, I gained my first companion. A bond so unbreakable, one that’s difficult to find…
According to custom, the marrying age in the Threefold Empire is generally between fifteen and seventeen—this applies to the eldest sons for males and for women who do not have a trade or continue the family name. Depending on the position or profession, there may be slight variations.
And so, once again, a surprise.
I finally managed to properly invite Margit to join me as an adventurer.
There might be another two or three topics to address and a bit more preparation around the manor before we venture out.
And being me, I may just insert some random idle chatter into the mix.
As always, thank you so much for your comments and retweets—they really keep me going and provide great material.
“Keep it up! (ry”
