Chapter 7: Turnera Was Busily Preparing for Winter

Turnera was busily preparing for winter. It was almost time to harvest the chestnuts, walnuts, persimmons, apples, and pears planted around town, and this fresh yield would be nibbled on in moderation. Most would be dried or stewed into preserves, and apples would be made into hard cider. It was also time to reap the wheat planted in the spring. The cowberries and grapes plucked under Belgrieve’s supervision were dried and stored.

A handful of the elderly sheep and goats were culled and processed into salted and dried meats. Fish from the river were similarly dried and smoked. Potatoes were dug up and stored. Beans were harvested and dried. The fields were tilled for the wheat seeds that would be sown in the fall. Firewood was gathered and distributed to each house. The grass was dried into hay for the sheep to pass the winter.

When most of the heavy lifting was out of the way, the village would hold an autumn festival in front of the church. Here, they would offer their joy, gratitude, and wishes to survive the winter in peace to Almighty Vienna above. It was also believed that winter was when ancestral spirits would return home, and they needed a warm welcome.

“Ah! A little lower, you’ll hit the doorway! No, not like that! Angle it like that, and you’ll hit the sides next! Argh! Be careful!” Maurice, the priest, shrieked.

The statue of Vienna was carried from the altar to the town square. The stone goddess statue was large and heavy, and it took several men to move it. But the church doors were narrow, and it was an annual trial to get it out without hitting anything. It was difficult to damage the stone statue, but the wooden door frame would occasionally bend and break.

The church had just been renovated, and Maurice was even more high-strung than usual. He would raise a hysteric shrieking each time the statue was lifted or lowered, and the villagers who watched would break into laughter. Belgrieve was there as well, watching with a smile. Only a few years prior—when he was in his thirties—he would help carry the statue, but that was now a job for the younger generation.

Belgrieve was seen as one of the old pillars of the community. Regardless of the arduous work he went out and did of his own volition, no one would ask him to do physical labor anymore. The hot-blooded youths needed somewhere to show their strength, and if the older generation didn’t step back, the youngsters would never be able to inherit their roles. Ultimately, the village system would struggle.

Even so, Belgrieve still found himself often working around the youngsters.

Despite hitting the doorway numerous times, the statue was finally squeezed out. Its milky-white finish reflected the autumn sun—Maurice faithfully polished it every day.

“It’s that time of year again, Kerry.”

“Yeah, comes quicker each year! We’re well stocked up this time. A huge load off my mind—we can enjoy winter instead of fearing and worrying about it, ha ha ha!” Kerry’s amply protruding gut shook as he laughed.

Winter was a dangerous time for northerners. Through half of the season, a thick coating of clouds would cover the skies. The winds were cold, and if snow fell, it would be hard to simply venture outside. However, it could be a fun season with sufficient preparation.

It was a time to spend at ease with family members who would otherwise be too busy with work, and on clear days, the stars were more beautiful than during the summer. When the snow fell, the children would frolic, albeit dressed far too lightly. But in order for any of this to be possible, the fall would have to be devoted to the winter. Not only the fall—it was no exaggeration to say the entire year was spent preparing for the winter season.

A large bearlike man came over. He had deep creases on his face, and his hair was dusted with a fair amount of white. Watching the events in the square, the man burst into a grand laugh. “Is everything going smoothly?” he asked.

“Oh, Chief. Anything I can help with?”

Belgrieve’s suggestion caused Hoffman, the village chief, to laugh even harder.

“Gah ha ha ha! Settle down, Bell! You’re at the age to kick back and watch the young’uns do their thing! How are they supposed to grow up if you take their work?”

“I get where you’re coming from, but...I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Quit rushing at your age! If you’ve got free time, how about you enjoy it!” Hoffman laughed and patted him on the back.

Belgrieve tousled his beard with a wry smile. It certainly was childish to get restless just because he had nothing to do.

Hoffman was the son of the previous chief, who had passed two years prior, and was eight years older than Belgrieve. He was nearly fifty, yet didn’t show it; with his blessed body and frank, open nature, he was well-loved by the villagers. When Belgrieve had first returned, the only ones who treated him normally and without scorn were Kerry and Hoffman, so Belgrieve was thankful to him too.

“Oi, Kerry. A caravan’s here. Where should I send them?”

“They’re early this year. The square’s still a mess—could you tell them to wait so we can clear some space for them?”

Merchants, peddlers, and traveling gypsies would gather on the day of Turnera’s fall festival. They liked the festive air, for one, and Turnera was reputed to have excellent produce, so they would bring various goods to barter for preserved foods. The villagers all looked forward to when the peddlers told of their travels and the gypsies danced and sang of legends.

Hoffman headed off to the village entrance while Kerry began directing the youths in the square to make space for a stall.

The statue of Vienna made it out safely, one way or another, and it was placed on a sturdy platform where the children decorated it with flowers and offerings of fruit and mutton were made. The festival preparations were gradually wrapping up.

With nothing to do, Belgrieve decided to patrol the village—though that was really just an excuse to stretch his legs. Just because there was a festival going on, that wasn’t to say there would be no fiends or wild beasts on the prowl. However, after defeating the icehund, the area had been peaceful as could be. Thus, his patrol for fiends required no more than the usual vigilance.

Nevertheless, he remained watchful as he completed his rounds. When he returned to the square, the caravan of merchants was already there unloading their wagons and assembling their stalls. The hasty ones were already touting their wares to the villagers. The gypsies and minstrels strummed their instruments to kill time, while the children stared at the rare, foreign trappings with starry eyes.

They were still in the preparatory stage, but the village was already filled with a festive mood. No matter how old I get, I can’t help but love this sort of thing, Belgrieve thought to himself with a smile.

He chatted with the nearest merchants, offering them cowberries and grapes. The peddlers traveled widely, and their ears were sensitive to the exploits of adventurers—perhaps one of them would know something about Angeline.

“Oh yes, the Black-Haired Valkyrie!” an elderly peddler said with a huff of his tobacco pipe. “She’s like a guardian deity in the Orphen region. Thanks to her, I feel a sense of relief whenever I’m in the area.”

“It’s pretty rare to see a party of three girls. I hear they’re not just renowned in Orphen—they’re strong enough to compete for the top spot in the dukedom.”

“Not just the dukedom either. I’ve heard rumors about them as far off as the imperial capital.”

Turnera, Orphen, and Bordeaux were all but small parts of the Dukedom of Estogal. The dukedom’s territory was vast and thus divided into several territories, each governed by a territorial lord like Count Bordeaux. Its main territory was Estogal, which was further south than Orphen. The Dukedom of Estogal, too, was but a portion of the Rhodesian Empire that occupied the northwestern regions of the continent.

Belgrieve was satisfied, hearing of his daughter’s good reputation. Adventurers were often the wandering, rough-natured sort. They spent each day brushing with death and tended to prioritize their own self-interests. Little things would add up, and there was no scarcity of adventurers who were seen as little more than hoodlums. Perhaps that would not be an issue at S-Rank, but he couldn’t help but be worried for his daughter’s reputation.

He never brought up the fact she was his daughter, though. The mayhem Sasha raised still lingered in his mind, and he didn’t want these peddlers to see him in a different light. He rested his eyes on the square and was nursing his wine when a blue-haired lady peddler came up to him in a hurry.

“Um, hello,” she said.

“Hmm? Ah, hello there. Do you need something?”

“I apologize for eavesdropping, but are you perhaps the Red Ogre Belgrieve?”

Belgrieve’s mouth opened blankly. This Red Ogre stuff again...

“Yes, well, I am Belgrieve...”

The peddler’s face lit up. “I knew it! You were talking about Miss Angeline, and with that splendid red hair, I just knew it! Truth be told, I was about to be attacked by bandits, and your daughter fought them off!”

Oh really? I didn’t expect her name to pop up like that, Belgrieve thought. He was about to ask for details when the area around the village entrance suddenly grew rowdy. He could hear the rattling of metal armor, and that sound was headed straight for the square.

He looked to see men in matching sets of light armor approaching while guarding a two-horse carriage. Those gathered in the square exchanged confused looks.

“Oi, that’s the Bordeaux family crest, ain’t it?”

“What’s the lord want out here?”

Belgrieve felt something terrible was brewing as he watched the carriage come to a stop. From inside emerged a woman who couldn’t have been much older than twenty. She wore a light, mint-green dress with no ornamentation, likely meant for travel. Her platinum-blonde hair had been braided and bound behind her head, and her features were refined. She gave off a bit of an unyielding impression, but her eyes were gentle and calm. He got the feeling he had seen her somewhere before.

“If she’s from House Bordeaux...” Belgrieve’s bad premonition grew into a throbbing headache as the woman restlessly looked around.

Her bearing seemed a bit awkward and bashful as she proclaimed in a clear voice, “I’m so sorry for startling you. I’m searching for someone.”

Stares were exchanged among the assemblage as though they were asking, Who could it be? Hoffman hurried forward and bowed his head.

“I am Hoffman, the chief of this village... I take it you have come from House Bordeaux.”

“Oh, pardon my late introduction. My name is Helvetica Bordeaux. My father passed recently, so I currently hold the position of Countess Bordeaux.”

Hoffman quickly fell to his knees. “I did not know you were the new lord...”

Helvetica frantically urged him back to his feet. “Oh no, no need to be so formal. I’m not fond of showing off my authority,” she said with a soft, friendly smile. However, as friendly as she was, her demeanor was refined and she had an air about her that made it clear not just anyone would be allowed to approach her so easily. I see, she does have the makings of a lord, Belgrieve thought.

Hoffman looked at her meekly, then nervously opened his mouth. “It is an honor for the Countess to visit our humble little village... We are not harboring any criminals.”

The woman looked dazed for a moment, though that quickly turned into a giggle.

“Oh no, there’s no need to worry about that. I did not come here to pursue a criminal. I am here to meet the Red Ogre Belgrieve.”

“Huh? Bell?” The villagers’ eyes gathered on Belgrieve.

Red Ogre again, he thought, awkwardly trying to make himself seem smaller. The blue-haired peddler was making quite an amazed face.

With their stares as a guide, Helvetica gallantly made her way to Belgrieve, taking his hand with sparkling eyes.

“You must be Belgrieve.”

He paused. “I am.”

“Your daughter saved my youngest sister. You have my gratitude.”

“Yes, well, thanks for that...” Belgrieve resigned himself, giving a troubled laugh. He didn’t know if it was because of his nervousness, but he could feel his phantom pain coming back to him.

Helvetica simply smiled.

The three Bordeaux sisters were famous in these parts. Seren, the youngest, had already begun to show talent in domestic affairs at the age of fifteen. The valorous second daughter Sasha excelled in martial arts, and there was no doubt she would reach S-Rank one day.

Then, there was Helvetica. Accomplished in both the pen and the sword, she was a charismatic woman who, rumor had it, would one day be handed the territory rather than having to marry and transfer the power to her husband. This prediction had, apparently, come true, as she reigned as the current countess.

That very same Helvetica was now holding his hand, simply beaming, and there was little he could do save for smile bitterly at this. However, behind Helvetica’s friendly smile, he felt a sharpness, like a beast eyeing its prey. She hadn’t come just to offer her thanks.

Looking Belgrieve over from head to toe, she laughed. “You’re very well trained. I have heard of your masterful swordsmanship.”

“No... You speak too highly of me...”

He felt as if he was being overpowered by a woman shorter than he was. It was somewhat impressive, and he had to wonder if those of great talent could utterly consume someone simply by standing face-to-face with them.

Helvetica’s eyes narrowed. “I came today with a request.”

“I see.”

“Let me get straight to the point. Belgrieve, please serve under House Bordeaux.”

So it’s come to this. Belgrieve felt exhausted. Presumably, Sasha had spread word of her defeat with all sorts of exaggeration. He never thought the lord would come to him personally, though. In any case, Belgrieve had no interest in accepting—it was too far beyond him. He shook his head.

“My apologies, but I have no intention of leaving Turnera. I am already forty-two, and my body grows weaker by the day. I don’t think I can prove useful to you now.”

“What are you saying? Despite how she looks, Sasha’s sword is unrivaled in the Bordeaux region. Of course, I would like to possess the strength that effortlessly subdued hers.”

It wasn’t exactly effortless, but that wasn’t the issue.

“Perhaps because I was once an adventurer, I can’t stand the thought of serving under anyone. I am truly honored that you took the time out of your day to see me, but I must decline.”

“Please?”

“No...?”

“You can set your own terms.”

“Even if you say that...”

“I’m begging you, become mine.”

“I apologize...”

At the end of this back and forth, Helvetica sullenly frowned. “I see you’re as stubborn as you are strong.”

“I was born like this, I’m sorry to admit.”

Helvetica grinned. It seemed she had finally given up, and Belgrieve breathed a sigh of relief.

“Then I will have to bring you back by force.”

“Huh?” Belgrieve uttered after a beat.

“Boys! If you will!”

At Helvetica’s orders, the group of lightly armored men surrounded Belgrieve. They were her bodyguards, evidently. It seemed they only intended to capture him, so they did not draw their weapons.

Those watching the scene kept their distance, startled.

Belgrieve spaced out for a moment, but the closer the guards inched towards him, the more he felt a strange sense of amusement until finally, he burst into laughter. The guards were taken aback, naturally, as were those watching, and even Lady Helvetica herself.

She’s a child. No matter how lionized this new lord was, she was still a twenty-year-old girl. In that case, he just had to be the adult, and he did love playing along with the children’s games.

He slickly dodged a guard who jumped at him—the guard grumbled as he collided with his comrades.

Belgrieve quickly recovered his footing and took his stance. “Tag at my age,” he mused. He dodged, parried, and tossed around the guards who came after him one after the next, his movements so unimaginably smooth for someone with a prosthetic leg. None of them were trying to kill, making them easy to deal with.

By the time an hour had passed, the guards all lay immobile, utterly exhausted. Helvetica stood there looking awestruck with her mouth half-open, as though she couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed.

Belgrieve looked at her, calming his slightly erratic breath. “In any case, I will be declining your offer.”

“It seems this was my complete loss...” She shook her head.

It appeared as though she would give up this time. Belgrieve felt the strength draining out of him, only to feel something soft against his arm the next instant. He looked in surprise to see Helvetica clinging to him.

“You’ve left me with no other option... If you won’t be mine, I just have to be yours!”

“Huh?”

“I hope you’ll accept me, inexperienced as I am...”

Helvetica’s cheeks were red. She had strength in her grip, and the feeling of her voluminous chest through her dress was terribly soft. Belgrieve’s mind had halted at this completely unexpected development. His eyes darted around as the crowd exploded.

“Eh? Eh? Is Mr. Bell marrying into the Bordeaux House?”

“You sly dog! Marrying into money, eh?”

“Wrong, the lord’s marrying into Bell’s house!”

“Oi, this festival’s turning into a wedding!”

“Color me surprised!”

“Let’s get the ale flowing!”

“Where’s Maurice? We need a priest!”

Soon after, the sound of hooves heralded the intrusion of several more riders. The spectators scattered to make way. One of the riders, a girl with glasses, dashingly jumped down right in front of Belgrieve. It was none other than Seren Bordeaux, third daughter of House Bordeaux.

“Sister! What are you doing out here?!”

Seren closed in on Helvetica, rage in her eyes. Helvetica blinked and gave a troubled smile.

“Well, you see, Seren...I’ve come to recruit Belgrieve.”

“You were going to drag him back by force, weren’t you?!”

She had hit the nail on the head. Helvetica awkwardly laughed, hugging Belgrieve tighter to play it off. Upon seeing that, Seren pouted angrily, grabbed Helvetica by the nape, and tore her away from Belgrieve.

“Lock her in the carriage!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Seren’s guards promptly shoved Helvetica into her own carriage. It was hard to tell who was actually the elder sister here. She turned back to Belgrieve and lowered her head. “I’m sorry for all the trouble... You’re Belgrieve, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Finally returning to his senses, Belgrieve noticed her bowed head and hurriedly returned the gesture.

“I am Seren Bordeaux. Your daughter Angeline saved my life and allowed me to see my father before he passed away. Words are not enough to express my gratitude. And yet...my sister has been so rude to you,” she said apologetically with a knitted brow.

“Oh, I don’t really mind...”

“Much obliged... She’s usually a respectable person, but she has a bit of an obsession with capable people. Whenever she catches wind of a great talent who hasn’t been hired yet, she runs off without thinking...”

She’s like a child wanting a toy. Belgrieve smiled bitterly.

“And thanks to that, the territory is developing splendidly, but she’s forcefully dragged people back more than a handful of times,” Seren went on. “Helvetica! Are you reflecting on your actions?!”

“I’m reflecting, Seren! Let me out!”

“Not on my life! This time, I won’t forgive you until I’ve returned you to the house! By Vienna, my savior’s father... Good grief!”

After briskly throwing out orders, Seren was soon to be on her way. Belgrieve hesitated for a moment before conferring with Hoffman. Then he called out to Seren, who had mounted her horse.

“If you return now, you’ll have to camp along the way.”

“Yes, but there isn’t much we can do about that. We are the ones who barged in.”

“There will be an autumn festival tonight. Would you like to join us?”

Seren touched her glasses in surprise. “Really? But...”

“We’d gain a bit of prestige if the countess takes part. Right, Chief?”

With the conversation turned to him, Hoffman replied shrilly, “That’s right, that’s right! You might find it a bit shoddy, but go right ahead and join us!”

“You’re the shoddiest one here, Chief,” someone called from the peanut gallery, eliciting laughter.

“Shut up!” Hoffman yelled back. “Agh! My apologies...” He shrunk back and hid behind Belgrieve. Seren giggled and slid down from her horse.

“Then perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer?”

“I have one condition. Please let Helvetica out of the carriage.”

Seren’s eyes widened, but she soon shook her head, shrugged, and gestured to the carriage. The door opened, and Helvetica raced out, ecstatic at her grand escape.

“Belgrieve, oh sir Belgrieve! Thank you for saving me!”

“Ha ha, you’re making such a big deal out of it...”

“How benevolent... House Bordeaux could use someone of your—”

“Sister!”

“I’m...I’m only joking...”

“Good grief... Next time, I really will lock you in the carriage!”

Seren led her horse away, her cheeks puffed up in a huff.

Helvetica whispered in Belgrieve’s ear, “She’s usually a very kind girl, you know.”

Belgrieve laughed. Under a full starry sky, the lovely sisters of House Bordeaux joined the festivities, and there could be no way that the autumn festival wouldn’t grow rowdy after that.

Winter was quickly approaching.