Chapter 47: Lazy and Cozy Days
Pasifal was sentenced to the central workshop to practice metalworking, you know, that sweaty, shirtless blacksmithing gig.
But he didn’t seem bothered at all.
“I never liked being a hunter; fighting with others just isn’t my thing, and I don’t have the talent for it. Compared to that, I prefer to fiddle around with some fresh new stuff.”
Those were his exact words to me, and perhaps that’s why the lady arranged for him to learn there in the first place.
And my little lie never got revealed, because two days later, Aunt Flo really showed up.
As usual, the flow was plentiful, but I didn’t stop my training with the duke. Every morning, I persistently sought his wisdom on controlling the Power of Order until I was completely worn out before going for lunch.
During all this, the lady remained quietly supportive, neither pushing nor discouraging me.
She just kept whipping up new desserts for me every day.
Almost every day, a piece of clothing would get torn. And Peilo’s wardrobe was mostly filled with exquisite, beautiful dresses that clearly didn’t come cheap, which was a bit disheartening at times.
But what can you do?
By afternoon, the duke typically stayed at the central workshop. On one hand, he was overseeing the progress of the Thirteenth Month’s project, and on the other, he seemed to be investigating something in secret.
As for me, I would blissfully take a nap, and after waking up, practice alone on the castle grounds.
During this time, I got quite familiar with the hunters.
The castle’s defense was managed by the Shanter Army’s Third Squad, and Captain Hoover was a burly, bearded uncle—a rugged exterior with a sharp mind. He’d worked for the duke for over ten years and was formerly a hunter’s son, often regaling us with tales of his youth hunting silver wolves in the snow.
Sometimes, when I was tired, I’d sit with them and listen to their chit-chat. They seemed quite used to my presence, never calling me Miss Silvya, but always “Little Pepé.”
Every time they saw me, they looked genuinely happy, especially Captain Hoover, who said he’d practically watched me grow up.
Even if I couldn’t remember that, it felt a bit disheartening. But I thought, despite their small numbers compared to the First and Second Squads, the Third Squad must consist of the duke’s most trusted men.
Once, they mentioned Valar.
“That damned rascal tried to escape a few nights ago, but luckily Bella stopped him. He’s an absolute traitor who’d sell his master out, yet he’s as stubborn as a mule, refusing to talk no matter how much we beat him.”
“b*stard! How dare he try to assassinate our little princess from Shanter Castle? I’d k*ll him ten thousand times and still wouldn’t feel satisfied!”
Hoover’s expression was downright terrifying when he said that.
I tilted my head and pondered.
“Maybe it’s because beating him just isn’t painful enough.”
“…What do you suggest, Little Pepé?” Hoover asked, looking intrigued.
“Let’s use that…um, smoke. To smoke him out.”
Hoover had an epiphany.
“Right! We found a ton of smoking tubes in his room! Hey, you there, go tell Bella right now!”
One of the hunters started to leave, and I quickly called him back.
“Give me a few of those tubes.”
“What do you need those for?”
“Secret.”
I held a finger to my lips, winking playfully.
…………
At night, I mostly read quietly.
After quickly finishing “World History,” I picked up a book called “The Rules of Order” from the duke’s bookshelf.
This book gave me a basic understanding of the world’s concept of “energy.”
According to the book, life needs energy, which is generally classified into three types.
Survival energy, the faith that sustains the soul, and the order that maintains rules.
Both of the first two must exist for something to be called intelligent life.
Once life grasps the rules through order, it is referred to as power.
The Power of Order is the power of creation. Life uses the source of the world to create fire, water, wind… and so on.
Interestingly, in the next few lines, it mentions the Abyss.
The original text states, “And opposite to creation is Chaotic Power, that dark force from the Abyss that consumes everything.”
One particular point intrigued me.
Humans, prior to the era, didn’t possess the Power of Order. It was the vanquished races who had it. Humans wouldn’t grasp it until many years later.
The book was rather vague on that point, barely touching on it, making it hard to draw any accurate judgments.
Regardless, I now had a deeper understanding of the Power of Order, which should make it smoother to use in the future.
Occasionally, I’d read the knight novels on Peilo’s bookshelf as a form of relaxation.
But the plots were mostly mind-numbingly boring, with protagonists all fitting a single mold: noble knights clad in shiny silver armor riding robust horned horses. They were typically quick to justice and skilled swordsmen, slicing through evil and ultimately marrying highborn princesses.
Basically, a real-life “Mary Sue” scenario.
Perhaps because Peilo owned the books, the stories were often told from the princesses’ perspectives, endlessly expressing their admiration for the dashing knights.
That must’ve been her girly heart shining through.
Time flew by, and the weather grew increasingly cold.
Life in the castle was certainly more comfortable than in the little village. The living conditions were top-notch in this world, every meal so lavish it left me feeling blissful, and I no longer had to bathe in the chilly creek—though the coolness felt quite nice…
At the door of my bedroom, a maid was always on standby, ready to fetch me anything I desired.
I felt like if this kept up, I’d get spoiled…
During this time, my growth rate so shocked the duke. The speed and resilience in forming ice blades had improved impressively; I was starting to shape them quite decently.
Training with the duke also became easier. Sure, his easing up on me was part of it, but my visible progress in combat was undeniable.
Carlos visited the castle twice during this period, looking rushed and hurriedly speaking with the duke behind closed doors in the study, leaving me with hardly a word.
Of course, I wasn’t keen on paying him much attention anyway.
However, he did bring me delicious Osmiru cakes every time he came! So I secretly decided that if he brought me more next time, I’d consider making peace with him.
I’d take the opportunity to ask him what he’d been up to lately, since Duke Skarlij wouldn’t tell me, and the lady was as clueless as I was…
Speaking of the lady, one particular thing was bothering me.
She worried too much about me.
Every morning, she’d wake me up right on time, decide what I’d wear, style my hair, and even when I wanted to sleep in a bit longer, it was a no-go.
At the dining table, she was just as strict, forbidding me from eating too much or too little… well, that’s my guess. Then came the napkin, cutlery, all sorts of dining etiquette—if I slipped up even a little, she’d start nagging me.
With so much good food right in front of me, I had to chew it all slowly! You wouldn’t believe how torturous it was.
Not just dining etiquette, but in other areas too; I always fell short, and eventually, she started dedicating time each day to give me etiquette lessons.
“A girl must look a certain way when she goes out.”
That phrase marked the beginning of a nightmare.
Posture, sitting style, body language, how to greet, and speak… the lady drilled me like a boot camp instructor, making me feel like I was terribly high-maintenance.
So now, every time it was etiquette training time, the lady and I played hide and seek around the castle first.
I wasn’t sure if Peilo had also played this game with her countless times, but she always managed to find me easily.
And then she’d wear a pleased expression like a little girl bragging about a victory.
As time passed, I realized resistance was futile; learning these things quickly was my only way out of this mess.
My attitude tightened up quite a bit, and now I was barely meeting her standards.
In short, this period of life could be described as lazy and cozy.
Except for one event that left a lasting impression.
One day, the lady took me to the clothing store on Commercial Street to customize some outfits, and on the way back, we encountered an unexpected situation.
Our war chariot was blocked by a crowd while passing through a circular square, and while I was wondering what all the fuss was about, a scream echoed from the distance.
Pulling back the carriage curtain, I saw roaring flames.
Many ragged people were tied to wooden frames, with heaps of dry straw underfoot, lit by someone in a black robe holding a torch.
The flames licked at their bodies, their screams piercing the air, chilling me to the core.
I overheard conversations in the crowd.
“What kind of people are being burned there?”
“Looks like heretics, those wicked folks who don’t respect the deities…”
“Scary… but heretics really deserve it.”
“I heard they’re traveling merchants from Silgaya?”
“Traveling merchants can’t be heretics, right?”
“True enough…”
Those people quickly turned black in the flames, their bodies writhing and struggling, their throats burned with heat, producing inhuman cries, fading into silence amid pain and despair.
Nearby, a father was clasping his hands in prayer, bowing his head.
“O exalted Goddess of Sin, grant your Sin Fire to punish those who serve evil…”
“Enough, don’t look anymore.” The lady pulled the curtain down. “You’ll have nightmares.”
“Okay.”
It was only after the war chariot turned down two streets that I suddenly remembered those people being burned were the merchants we had captured.
Other than that incident, my time in Winter City could very well be described as lazy and cozy.
