Chapter 56: Interlude (Part Three)
In the evening, the sparse drizzling rain gradually stopped.
Subtle light broke through the thick, dark clouds and sprinkled down onto the spacious and quiet Longdoll Street. A tall, skinny young man in a raincoat hurried along, clutching two bundles of herbs he had bought, all while checking to see if the dry herbs inside had gotten wet.
He soon reached the grand entrance of a manor, where a man in a long coat with a sword insignia immediately opened the door for him. The young man bowed and thanked him, then made his way through the garden, passing by the rose-covered walls and two rows of honey fruit trees beneath it. Before long, he heard the sounds of swords slicing through the air and people talking near the “Vilo Garden” compound.
“Come on, faster…”
“Faster! When you swing the sword, do it decisively. Retract it smoothly. Hesitating in a life-or-d*ath battle is a big no-no! Don’t give anyone a chance to catch you off guard. Your Pope Knight sister did this way better than you a few years ago, and back then, no one taught her this…”
“I’m not convinced!”
“Brother Rect, let’s do it again!”
Downstairs in the manor, a boy named Barry was breathlessly gripping a longsword, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ready to charge again at the calm-looking Forgiveness Head man not far away. Just then, the young man with the herb bundles walked by, and Barry, hearing those footsteps, turned to look, instinctively halting his sword strike. “Huh? Ryan, you’re back already?”
“Could you at least pay attention?”
Whoosh—
In an instant, the Forgiveness Head man, Rect, charged forward, and with the swiftness of a ghost, he was right in front of Barry, raising his hand like a blade and slashing at the boy’s neck. Barry didn’t even have time to react before letting out a yelp, dropping his sword, and clutching his neck as he plopped down on the ground.
“Brother Rect, you cheated!” Barry exclaimed, baring his teeth, looking utterly wronged.
“Hmm, just remember to say that to your defeated enemy next time,” Rect shrugged, unfazed.
“But you’re not the enemy…”
“When blades are drawn, everyone is an enemy.”
“That’s just nonsense…”
After a moment, Barry stood up again, disregarding the mud on his backside. The youth from the nameless village, Ryan, handed him the herb bundle and said, “Barry, go brew some medicine for Grandma Claire.”
“Did you buy all the herbs?” Barry asked.
“Got everything on the Royal Palace physician’s prescription. If I missed one, feel free to hit me.”
“Pssh, hitting you would just hurt my hand…”
Barry took the herb bundle and exchanged a few more jabs with Ryan before turning back to Rect, who understood that it was time for the kid to take care of his grandma. He noted, “Let’s call it a day. Think about things while brewing the medicine. Tonight, practice with Ryan, and tomorrow I’ll come back. If you make the same mistake again, I’ll go all out.”
“Thanks, big brother!”
Barry bowed sincerely and dashed back into the house.
Rect turned as if to leave when he heard Ryan hesitantly call out, “Um, Brother Rect… could you teach me for a bit too?”
Fearing rejection, he quickly added, “I’m way smarter than that kid. Just show me a couple of moves, it won’t take long…”
“……”
Rect scratched his head, somewhat annoyed. “Ugh, seriously… since when did I become your practice boy?”
Muttering under his breath with an exasperated face, the man pointed to the longsword Barry had dropped on the ground. “Pick that up. I’ll give you ten minutes. Charge at me and show me all you’ve got.”
Meanwhile, Barry had rushed into the mansion, and after a few hurried steps, he suddenly remembered he had tracked mud onto the floor. He looked around for the new head maid, sighed in relief when he didn’t spot her, and turned back to clean up the muddy prints with a cloth. He kicked off his shoes and tiptoed barefoot into the living room.
Once inside the living room, he darted straight for the kitchen, started a fire, set up a pot, and glanced at the herbal recipe posted on the wall. This was supposedly from the most skilled herb master in the Royal City, written for Grandma Claire to help her health. He took a quick look, though the content was already firmly planted in his mind. However, just to be safe, he always double-checked.
He opened the herb bundle, grabbing each herb according to the recipe. Once the water boiled, he dumped everything in, covered the pot, poked the fire with a stick, added some dry twigs, and once everything was done, he headed upstairs to the second floor.
“Grandma!”
“Grandma—”
As Barry climbed the stairs, he called out, not hearing a response, muttering, “Old lady’s ears are getting worse,” and quickened his pace to the door of a room near the balcony. He knocked loudly, didn’t wait for an answer, and pushed the door straight into the bedroom.
The sun still had a while before it would set, and with no lights on, the dim yellow light streamed in through the window, illuminating the big bed where Grandma Claire sat at the edge, her hair in disarray, hunching over with squinty eyes, trembling hands trying to thread a needle, working on a floral long dress that wasn’t quite finished on the cuffs or collar, draping across her legs.
The noise from his entrance seemed to have startled her. As she looked up and saw Barry striding towards her, she exclaimed, “What are you yelling about? Can’t you see I’m threading the needle?”
“Why can’t you hear me when I call?” Barry huffed.
Claire shot him a glare. “You arrived just in time. Help me get this thread through the needle… my eyes aren’t what they used to be, and I’ve been at this for ages…”
As she spoke, she handed over the needle and thread. Barry took it, glanced at the dress draped on her lap, and asked, “Grandma, are you sewing for Little Shay again?”
The big boy stood in the sunlight by the window, deftly pinching the thread’s end, and managed to thread the needle smoothly, handing it back to Grandma just as he said, “What good does this do? You stress yourself out every day, and she won’t even wear it. Just let the maids handle this stuff. But no, you’d rather not let anyone help and send them all away. You don’t enjoy these good days at all. What’s your deal, Grandma?”
“Shoo, go away. Once it’s done, I need some peace, don’t block my light.”
Grandma Claire impatiently pushed him aside, her trembling hand picking up the dress again, and she lowered her head, sewing diligently, one stitch at a time.
“…Good days? What do you call good days?”
While sewing, she murmured to Barry, her voice quivering. “The little one has no idea when they’ll come back, and the older ones just stay around, training swords all day, barely speaking to me… All I have is these uptight young kids to keep me company, who don’t even know how to converse. It makes me uneasy.”
The old woman paused, casting a glance out the window.
“Look at this place, as grand as a palace in the sky, but the neighbors are all so disgusting. They come and go on their fancy war chariots, looking all prim and proper with their snooty faces, not even acknowledging that boy teaching you swordplay, nodding and bowing as if they’d lick his shoes. Yet, in their hearts, they look down on us.”
“Grandma, what are you talking about?”
Barry frowned. “I don’t think anyone looks down on us… I haven’t even really talked to those folks…”
“If they thought highly of you, they would have come over to greet you ages ago.”
Grandma Claire let out a sigh. “I’m just an ordinary farmer woman who’s worked hard all my life. Even living in this big house, with good food and drink every day, left me feeling empty inside. Life was better in the village! Whenever I felt like chatting, I’d just drop by anyone’s house and talk. I could go on forever. This life of leisure and luxury? I just can’t handle it…”
