My name is Lutz. I’m five years old. I’m the youngest out of the four kids in my family. My older brothers are Zasha, Zeke, and Ralph.

  I woke up this morning to a few faint rays of sunlight flickering through the cracks in our shutters. After days of a raging snowstorm, the sunlight is amazing in a big way.

  It cleared up!!

  Not caring at all about how cold the bedroom would get, I spontaneously throw open the shutters so I can look outside. The sky is a stunning blue, completely empty of clouds, and the reflection of the sunlight across the snowdrifts make the entire city sparkle.

  “Whoaaaa…”


  Clear days like this are extremely rare, so when they happen both the adults and children immediately head out to the forest. Missing the rush is really bad. I close the window and hurry to the kitchen.

  “Lutz, hurry up!” says Ralph.

  “Okay!”


  Ralph has already finished eating, and is now clattering around trying to get ready. I warm up some hard rye bread1 and eat it while dipping it in milk. As soon as I finish, I run to get dressed. Today is a perfect day for foraging. In order to harvest paru, which can only be found during the winter, everyone in the city rushes out to the forest on clear days like this. If you want to get enough for yourself, you absolutely can’t be last to arrive. Throughout the year, there aren’t very many opportunities to taste something so sweet, so everyone’s absolutely hoping they can get any, whether it’s a lot or even just one.

  Today, I’m not just going with Ralph. Our older brothers Zasha and Zeke, who usually are working at their apprenticeships, are coming with us today. With four of us foraging, we’re definitely going to find a lot. The four of us strap boxes and bags to our backs and take off running. We dash down the stairs and out of the house. Our mother’s already outside at the water well, and she waves at us as we run past.

  “You’re heading to the forest now? Be careful, don’t overdo it!”


  “Got it!”


  “Hurry!!”


  My mother is, as usual, gossiping with the neighbors by the well. It’s really admirable how she’s still able to hold these long conversations, even in the middle of this frigid winter. One of the women chatting around the well is Maine and Tory’s mother. Both of our mothers are really good friends, so us kids were also always really close to each other.

  “Tory and her father have already gone, you know?” she says. “Maybe if you hurry you can catch up?”


  She didn’t mention Maine’s name. Probably, Maine is helping to watch the house. On days like this, she usually stays in bed instead of coming outside. Now that I think about it, she collapsed in the cart on pig-slaughtering day, just like last year. Last year, they brought her along even though she had a fever, but this year she’d seemed pretty healthy. She missed out on fresh sausage two years in a row now… I feel bad for her.

  Maine’s so tiny, frail, cute, and unreliable that I think of her like a little sister even though we’re the same age. That reminds me, she had a weird request for some grass stalks while we were preparing for the winter. I wonder what that was about?

  “Zeke! Check that tree!” says Zasha.

  “On it!”


  By the time we arrive at the forest, the paru hunt has already begun. Deep in the snow-bound forest lies a sweet flavor that can’t be harvested except on extremely clear days. The eyes of every single person here are filled with a strange zeal.

  Zeke runs towards the tree Zasha points him towards and starts to clamber up it. The rest of us start working to build a fire a little ways away from the tree. We shovel the snow away from a patch of ground, then ignite the firewood we brought with us. I glance over and see that Zeke has decided on the fruit he wants to harvest.

  “Lutz, get ready to start climbing,” says Zeke.

  “Okay!”


  I climb up the paru tree to the fruit that Zeke’s picked out. Paru trees are magical. It’s so white that it looks like it’s made out of ice and snow. It has many branches, so it’s easy to climb, but the fruits it produces are very close to the top. If this were a normal tree, I’d use a knife to cut the fruit free, but you can’t use knives to harvest paru fruit. This is the most dangerous part.

  “Lutz, you ready?” asks Zeke.

  “One moment,” I reply.

  I shift over until I’m right behind him, then quickly pull off my gloves. I grab tightly onto the long, slender branch that holds the fruit that Zeke’s been working on.

  “Ahhh, that’s freezing,” says Zeke. “It’s up to you now. I think it’s almost done, though.”


  “Yeah, okay!” I say.

  Zeke lets go and climbs down the tree. The stem that I’m gripping onto is freezing cold, just like ice, and the air itself is frigid. In an instant, all the heat in my hands starts to drain away.

  Fall quickly!

  In order to pick a paru fruit, you have to heat up the branch that it’s connected to until it goes soft and limp. However, you absolutely can’t use fire under the tree, because the tree’s magic immediately puts it out. So, you have to use the heat from your hands in order to warm it up. Bit by bit, the branch I’m holding onto starts to grow limp. The fruit, however, still hasn’t fallen.

  Still not done yet? How long is “almost done”, Zeke?

  I start to lose feeling in my hands, a painful numbness prickling through them. Right when the thought that I should switch out crosses my mind, the branch I’m sitting on suddenly bends a little bit.

  “Hey, Lutz, let’s switch,” says Zasha, from behind me.

  “It just needs a little bit more,” I tell him. “Hey, Ralph! It’s about to fall!”


  As soon as Zasha grabs hold of the branch, the fruit pops off with a wet noise and starts to fall. Zasha’s hands are far warmer than mine are after having held onto the branch for so long. The fruit, about the size of my face, falls straight down to the ground below.

  “Go warm up quickly. Your hands are briiight red!”


  “Yeah,” I reply.

  Zasha starts looking for the next fruit and moves to a different branch. I immediately put my gloves back on, then climb back down the tree, being extra careful not to fall. I run over to the fire immediately, throw off my gloves, and hold my hands above the brilliantly burning fire to warm them up. As I rub my hands together over and over by the fire, feeling slowly prickles back into my hands.

  “I’m gonna throw it! …Rrragh!!”


  Ralph has found the fallen fruit and is brandishing it triumphantly. With a huge swing, he throws it towards Zeke, then starts climbing up the tree to go relieve Zasha. Zeke picks up the fruit and puts it in a basket. Paru fruit are like huge clumps of ice when they’re out in the cold, so you can be as rough with them as you want.

  “Whoa, cold…, Zeke, switch with me.”


  “Roger!”


  Zasha has been warming his hands by the fire, but now it’s Zeke’s turn to throw off his gloves and rub his hands together in the fire’s warmth while Zasha goes back to the tree. Harvesting paru is a job that requires a lot of teamwork: the more people you have with warm hands, the better luck you’ll have.

  Alternating back and forth like this, we gather five fruits.

  “It’s getting pretty limp,” says Zeke as I switch out with him.

  “Got it.”


  Our sixth fruit was just about to fall when the afternoon sun started to shine into the forest from high above. The leaves of the paru tree sparkle brilliantly in the light, and the tree starts to rustle despite the lack of wind, as if it had a will of its own.

  “Oh no! Get down quick, Lutz!”


  The instant I heard my brothers call out, the branch beneath me starts to violently shake. I had been leaning forward just a bit to grab onto another branch, so I lose my footing entirely as the branch bucks under me. With one hand, I cling desperately to the branch I had been holding onto, dangling in mid-air.

  “Whoa!!”


  I reach up with my other hand and grab tightly onto the branch, trying to stop myself from falling.

  “No, don’t, Lutz! Let go! Get down from there now!”


  As soon as I started to let go, the branch suddenly went limp, warmed by the heat from both my hands. With a crack, it snaps off. The paru fruit and I plummet towards the ground.

  “WAAAAaaaaa-”


  The ground beneath the tree is covered in deep, deep snow, and since I was falling feet first after having been dangling from the tree, I land without any serious injury. Around us, other people are jumping out of the other paru trees scattered here and there.

  The time for gathering is over.

  The trees shine brilliantly in the light, their countless leaves rustling loudly. They stretch skyward, growing taller as if they’re chasing after the light. Soon, they tower over even the thickest, fullest trees in the forest. Despite there still not being any wind, their branches whip through the air, almost like a woman’s long hair swirls around her as she shakes her head. The unpicked paru fruit fly off in all directions as their branches flick about in the shimmering light.

  As soon as the fruit all fly off, the paru trees start shrinking as if they’re melting away, and soon vanish into nothingness. Unlike any other tree in the forest, these are magic trees, which can only be found on clear days in the middle of the winter.

  “It’s over.”


  “Let’s go home.”


  Everyone gathers up their bags full of paru fruit and heads for home. Every household is going to spend the whole afternoon working on processing the fruit that they gathered. It’s hard, heavy work, but it’s still kind of fun.

  “First off, let’s split these up.”


  Now that it’s in the house, the fruit that was about the size of my face has gotten a little smaller and rounder now that its rind is melting away.

  “Can you handle getting the bowl ready?”


  “Yeah!”


  We light the tip of a small stick on fire using the stove, then press it into the shell of the paru fruit. With a sharp crack, the skin just in that area splits open a little bit, and a milky white juice starts welling up through it. An amazingly sweet smell drifts out to fill the house, and I gulp as my mouth starts to water. So that we don’t lose a single drop of the juice, we’ve placed the fruit in a bowl.

  This juice, and its sweet, sweet flavor, is extremely precious. I want to do nothing more than drink it all down in one go, but I’ve decided that I’m going to pace myself very, very carefully. For now, all I can do is swallow my saliva as my mouth keeps watering.

  Once we’ve drained out all the juice from inside, the next step is to crush the fruit and extract all the oil from it. Paru oil can be used both for cooking and for fueling lamps, which makes these fruits extremely welcome in the middle of the winter. Once we’ve pressed all of the oil out, the remains of the fruit are very dry. Once they finish drying, they’re not really suitable for people to eat, but it makes for an excellent, nutritious feed for our chickens. Even better, it causes the flavor of the eggs to change a lot, which I’m also always happy for.

  “May we come in?”


  “Sorry to bother you…”


  For a couple of days after that, we’ve had people constantly coming by, hoping to trade the dried-out fruit remains for eggs from our chickens. From my perspective, I don’t know what I’m going to do when we’ve traded everything away for chicken feed. The chickens will be very happy about this, but all of the eggs that I could have actually eaten are vanishing, right before my eyes.

  Please, don’t bring us any more chicken feed. Bring me meat! While my older brothers tend to split the eggs evenly among us, they hog all the meat and I barely get any of it.

  As I was contemplating my pending starvation, Maine and Tory come in, carrying with them some more fruit scraps. Inside their rough nilen bags are about two fruits’ worth of scraps.

  “Lutz,” says Maine with an enormous smile as she holds out her bag in front of her, “can we trade these for some eggs?”


  I really don’t want to, but my mother would be furious if I turned them away.

  “We kinda already have enough chicken feed… do you maybe have any meat?”


  “Meat?”


  “My older brothers eat all of it, so I don’t really get any for myself.”


  During the winter, everyone is home nearly all the time, so my food winds up getting stolen from me a lot and I usually wind up staying hungry. I know that Tory and Maine can’t really do anything about it, but I let my frustration slip out anyway.

  Tory gives a wry smile. “You’re not as strong as your brothers, so course they’re gonna steal from you,” she jokes, brushing past my dissatisfaction.

  Maine, for some entirely unknown reason, shoves the bag right towards my face. “Hey, Lutz, why not eat this?”


  “How the hell am I going to eat chicken feed?!”


  I am completely blindsided by the fact that Maine, who I always treat so nicely, just suddenly told me to eat chicken feed. The sheer shock of it caused me to reflexively yell out, but Maine just stands there with a blank look on her face, head tilted to one side.

  “…I guess it depends on how you cook it?”


  “Huh?”


  “The fruit’s been squeezed totally dry, so you can’t eat it. It’s probably still tasty, though, so even these dried-out bits will be fine to eat if we just cook them right.”


  Maine is saying these completely unbelievable things with a perfectly straight face. I instinctively glance over at Tory to see what her reaction is. There can’t be anyone who’d eat chicken feed. Tory, however, gives me a tired, worn-out smile and shrugs her shoulders a little bit. For some reason, Maine really does seem to want to eat paru fruit.

  “You…! Do you know how wasteful it is to eat a paru?! You don’t just eat it, you squeeze out its juice and its oil and then give the rest to the chickens!! There’s no way that we’re just going to waste it by eating it!”


  I don’t think there’s a single person in this house that lacks enough propriety that they’d turn to eating bird food. On top of that, taking something that we worked so hard to get and just eating it without making full use of it is unbelievable! I don’t think there’s a single person in this entire city who’d think of that except for Maine.

  “Ummm… if you were going to give it to the chickens that would be okay, but you just said you have enough bird food, right? It’ll be okay to use this to fill us up instead, then.”


  “Like I’m trying to say, people can’t eat something that’s so dried out!”


  “It only turned into something people can’t eat after all of the juice and oil was squeezed out of it. If we put some effort into it, we can definitely make it edible again!”


  “Maine, umm…”


  My strength leaves me. Maine is saying such unbelievable things with such an earnestly smiling face! What’s this feeling? I feel like I’m not going to convince her no matter what I try to say. Is this helpless sort of feeling what they call a sense of defeat?

  “Hey, Lutz,” says Tory, quietly. Now would have been the perfect time for her to remind her sister that bird food isn’t something that humans can eat, but instead she weakly hangs her head. “It’s kinda hard to believe,” she says, “but you really can make it edible. …I was even really shocked when I found out how good it was.”


  Eh? Seriously? She made you eat bird food, Tory?!

  Somehow, Maine has already demonstrated this working in her own home. I see now, I guess I’m just arguing off of my own self-confidence, huh.

  “Let’s try it out real quick, okay? Lutz, do you have any paru juice left over?”


  As she talks, she puts some of the dried-out remains in a little bowl. She adds about two teaspoons’ worth of my share of the fruit juice, then blends it all together. She scoops some up onto her finger and sticks it into her mouth, then nods to herself in satisfaction.

  “Open wide, Lutz!”


  Not only is my precious fruit juice being used for this, but I’m about to be fed bird food. I think this is probably going to be terrible, but after seeing Maine taste it as if it were a completely ordinary thing to do, I hesitantly open my mouth. She scoops up a bunch of the yellow stuff onto her fingertip and puts it in my mouth. As I close my mouth again, a sweet flavor radiates through it.

  Only a little bit of juice went into this, but it’s still so sweet and it doesn’t feel dried-out at all. Every year, I stretch out my share of the juice for as long as I can by drinking only just enough for me to taste it, but if I blend it with the leftovers from the squeezing, I guess I could eat a lot more sweet stuff, right?

  “It really is sweet, see?” says Maine, chuckling to herself triumphantly. My older brothers, who had been looking on suspiciously from a distance, simultaneously jump in on us.

  “It’s sweet?”


  “It’s really sweet?”


  “Seriously? Lemme try, Lutz.”


  All three of them charge forward, fingers outstretched, ready to scoop into the little bowl. I try to run away so that they can’t grab onto it, but with such a big difference in physique between us, I can’t escape. I can’t even dodge!

  “Hey, let go! Stop pulling! Are older brothers only good for stealing their younger brother’s stuff?”


  “My little brother’s things are my things!”


  “Sweet things should be shared with everyone.”


  “Ah-HA! Got it!”


  I struggle in vain to resist the three of them, but they yank the bowl out of my reach. They take turns scooping the mix out of the bowl with their fingers. “Aaaaa!! My paru!!” I wail, but they completely ignore me. Soon, the bowl is completely empty.

  “Whoa, tasty.”


  “This was bird food, right?”


  Just like mine did, all of their eyes go wide with disbelief, and they look over at Maine. She quickly looks to the side, shying away from all of the attention, but then says something even more unbelievable.

  “Lutz, since we’re at your house, I can make it even better.”


  “Seriously?!” shout all of us, simultaneously.

  It’s completely natural for us to react like that. We’re all growing boys with healthy appetites, after all. Zasha, in particular, is the oldest, and he’s always saying there’s never enough food. Even if it is made from bird food, we are all extremely eager to have another tasty thing to eat.

  “…Oh, although, I can’t do it if you guys don’t help. …I’m not very strong.”


  “Alright, leave it to me!” I reply. It’s immediately obvious that Maine is frail and weak. If she needs our help to make us something delicious, I will help with all of my might!

  “Lutz, don’t hog her attention. Let me help too, Maine, I’m way stronger than Lutz is.”


  “Yeah, okay!” she says.

  Suddenly, all of my brothers want to cooperate. I’m left wondering when it will ever be my turn for anything, but Maine looks absolutely delighted as she starts giving us orders.

  “Okay, hmm. You two older brothers get a griddle ready on the stove. Lutz, you do the prep work, Ralph, you’re in charge of mixing. Ah, also, it would be really mean for everyone to only use Lutz’s juice, so everyone needs to share theirs! Come on, chip in, chip in.”


  She claps her hands in a very mother-like fashion as she urges my older brothers on. Right now, Maine looks like an angel to me. With a single word, she saved me from having to give up all of my juice by myself.

  “Lutz, get me two teaspoons of milk. Ralph, grab that spatula and start stirring this, please.”


  Even though Maine is usually a huge hindrance, right now she’s looking extremely lively as she fires off instruction after instruction while everyone is moving around her. Zasha and Zeke have dragged the griddle on top of the stove and are working on getting it fired up. Ralph, spatula in hand, is vigorously mixing things together as Maine adds them into the bowl. I’m running here and there on Maine’s instructions, picking up the various things she says we need.

  “Right, this is looking good. Next, do you have any butter?”


  I run and get it for her. She uses a small spoon to take off a chunk of it, then climbs up on a chair next to the stove and slides it onto the griddle. Every one of our hearts skip a beat when they see what a precarious position she’s in, but she doesn’t seem to notice at all.

  The butter on the griddle sizzles loudly as it shrinks away. A delicious scent fills the room, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of how hungry I’ve been getting. Maine reaches into the bowl Ralph’s been stirring with a larger spoon, and drops a spoonful of thick, muddy batter on top of the melted butter. As the batter hisses over the fire, the sweet scent of paru mingles with the savoriness of the butter, and I’m almost overwhelmed. What she’s making looks kind of like the potato pancakes my mother makes, but the scent is totally different.

  “Alright, its your turns, make them like that, please,” she says.

  After demonstrating how to make one, she passes off the cooking duties to my older brothers, who do not need a chair to reach the stove. Maine, from atop her chair, continues to give directions. That’s fine, though. We understood what we had to do as soon as she showed us, and making her wobble on top of such a tall chair would be too much for us to do. Since it’s way less dangerous for us to do the cooking, my older brothers immediately take her spoon and get to work.

  “When the bubbles start to rise like that, that side’s done. Start flipping them over, please!”


  “Got it!” says Zasha.

  At Maine’s direction, he scoops them up with a spatula, one by one, and neatly flips them over, showing that the underside is now a wonderfully cooked brown. They look so good that I almost start drooling.

  “Alright, take them off, put them over there, and start more cooking in their place.”


  We gather up the finished things and put them to the side, then drop more butter and batter onto the pan. Whenever Maine said they were ready, we flipped them over and moved them to the plates.

  Maine holds the first plate we finished with triumphantly, a huge smile on her face. “Voila! ‘Simple bean curd hotcakes!’”2

  I actually have no idea what she just said. I don’t really know how I’m supposed to react, so I tilt my head to the side.

  “…Huh? What did you say?”


  “Um…,” she says, blinking in surprise. Her face scrunches up for a moment, as if she’s searching for the right words. “The basic parucakes are ready!”3

  Steam wafts up from the plates of parucakes lined up along the table. I want to dig into them immediately.

  “They’re hot, so be careful! Please, enjoy your meal~!”


  Slowly, I take a bite. Shockingly, they’re even more delicious than I thought they were going to be. They’re light and fluffy, and don’t have even a trace of the dryness of bird food. Unlike potato pancakes, these are extremely sweet, even without adding any jam.

  On top of that, since they’re stacked on each person’s dish one at a time, I don’t have to worry about my brothers taking them all!

  “Hey, Lutz. If you make these, do you think you’ll be able to fill yourself up easily?”


  “I do! Wow, Maine, you’re amazing.”


  Since people keep coming over wanting to trade for eggs, we have a lot of paru leftovers. Our chickens make plenty of eggs for us, and if we can trade some of those for milk, then we should be able to have parucakes all through the winter.

  “I’ve got some other ideas about how to cook the squeezed-out paru,” says Maine, “but I don’t have the strength to do them myself.”


  “If you show us how to do it, we’ll make it for you!”


  After that, Maine continued to come over and imprint on us new ways to cook delicious things every time the weather cleared up and we went to collect more paru. Thanks to Maine teaching us how to cook, I rarely went hungry that winter.

  Maine is my savior, but she’s also very weak, so I want to help her any way I can.

  I couldn’t have noticed at the time, I was so immersed in the joy of parucakes, but this would become a huge influence in my life.

  Volume 6 14: The Spring Prayer

  Sylvester quickly (and thankfully) got tired of my ‘poowee’ and stopped poking me. But I had hoped too soon, he didn’t get bored but turned his attention to something else.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked and proceeded to pull out my hair stick.

  Without being able to respond back, I felt my hair loosen and drop down. I looked up to see Sylvester examining the hair stick made by my family for me. He looked like he was in his late twenties, but he was acting crazy and immaturely like a kid.

  He’s going to break it!

  My face paled when that thought went across my head.

  “P-Please return it.” I stretched out my hand.

  But my desperation only made Sylvester turn into a mischievous cat. He stretched his hand above his head and dangled my hairstick, laughing at me to jump for it. I already knew that he wasn’t going to return it back.

  “Give it back!”


  Sylvester kept moving away from me as I ran and jumped about to snatch back my hairstick. I quickly started to feel breathless.

  “I’m… begging you… give it back… It belongs… to me… It’s…the hair stick my… family made… for me…”


  Urgh… I hate boys like this.

  My fists tightened and eyes narrowed with my gaze set on the hairstick above me. My body surged with mana as anger coursed through my veins.

  “Ahhhh! Apprentice, don’t!” Damuel started panicking, which caused Karstedt and the High Priest to turn back at us enraged.

  They each took out a wand that looked like a conductor’s conducting stick and waved them.

  “You fool! Didn’t I warn you to not tease her?!”


  “Don’t bully a kid!!”


  Their wands had changed into maces and they slammed it onto Sylvester’s hand with a satisfying thump. I froze and panicked about how much it would hurt, but Sylvester remained indifferent and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Aren’t you all overreacting? What’s wrong with a little playtime.”


  Nothing went into Sylvester’s head at all, but my rage cooled down because I realised that the High Priest and Karstedt were around to reprimand him.

  My hair stick was snatched back from Sylvester by the High Priest who then returned it back to me.

  “I assume that you can put this back on youself?”


  “Yes. Thank you, High Priest.”


  I gripped the stick and pushed it back into my hair. Sylvester watched me bun my hair up and tried to grab it again, but Karstedt slapped his hand and pointed to the pale Damuel.

  “Play with Damuel and leave Myne alone. He can handle it better.”.

  The High Priest nodded back and chased Sylvester away.

  “Yes. Go somewhere else with Damuel. Myne, come over here.”


  With that, I was carried towards his work table, and the High Priest and Karstedt continued their discussion over the map, ignoring Damuel’s cries of plea in the background.

  Anyways, I was amazed by the map on the table. It had so many details, it was on a completely different level than the Merchant Guild’s. The latter only drew and labelled the city and roads, but this one detailed the entire duchy.

  The geography of the duchy was stretched out laterally from the north to the south, with areas labelled in either red or blue. The areas near the cities were red, but there were more blue ones as you moved further away from the cities.

  …What do the colours mean?

  I wanted to find out, but I didn’t want to interrupt their discussion that seemed very important, so I just continued examining the map.

  “…Ok, that is all.”


  “Then we should head off now.”


  After Karstedt and the High Priest had finished their discussion, we could now go to the Noble’s Gate.

  “Damual, please look after Myne. Sylvester, carry this. And Karstedt, take that.”


  I was carried by Damuel as we left the room while Karstedt and Sylvester transported bulky luggage.

  I whispered to Damuel, “Sir Damuel, I don’t want to be anywhere close to that blue priest if possible.”


  “I agree with you too”


  Me and Damuel agreed on this and he moved away from Sylvester and watched him cautiously. Though Sylvester was a blue priest, his family’s status seemed to be superior to Damuel’s

  I wanted to keep my distance from Sylvester as much as possible because I was worried that another Shikza would appear if I offended him. But despite my wishes, he stuck close to us.

  “Why does it seem like you two are distancing yourself from me?”


  “N-no, you must be seeing wrong,” I stammered and looked around for help. But Karstedt was too far away. I looked over Damuel’s shoulder and noticed that the High Priest was catching up us now that he had finished instructing his attendants.

  “High Priest,” I mumbled, giving Ferdinand a headache as he rubbed his head.

  “Sylvester, please stop bothering Myne. It will be troublesome for me if she collapses before the Spring Prayer.”


  “If she can actually collapse from this, that’s really pathetic.”


  I was now at his height because Damuel was carrying me, making it more convenient for Sylvester to poke my cheek. Thankfully, the High Priest slapped his hand down.

  ~~~

  The Noble’s Gate was open and Karstedt stood in the square, waiting for us. With the High Priest signal, the three of them (the High Priest, Damuel and Karstedt) transformed their feystones into their own highbeasts.

  “Karstedt will lead. The middle will be Myne and Damuel, and Sylvester and I will stay in the back.”


  “Are you good with that, apprentice?” asked Damuel.

  “…Sir Damuel, you did not even try to project me from Sir Sylvester.”


  Damuel had made zero efforts to protect me from Sylvester.

  Not a very reliable bodyguard

  To be frank, I felt like to was a safer option to ride with the High Priest.

  “B-but, it’s just because…” Damuel stammered and his words trailed off. He reconsidered if he should finish his sentence, but in the end he just ended off with a soft “Sorry”.

  We were riding on a winged horse. I was sitting on the front while Damuel sat behind me with the reins in hand. The wings sprung open and flew behind Karstedt’s griffon highbeast.

  We only went past the lower city and then the city’s wall before the griffon started to make its descent. The first stop was the winter manor of the closest town, south to the city. It was the same town my family went to butcher the pigs. The manor was tall and wide, making it look like an ancient school. Its front was a field that reminded me of a sports track. I saw many people gathering at the field far down below. There were roughly a thousand of them.

  We moved towards the square and the crowd parted to make way for us. Karstedt made a majestic landing on the open space and kept away his highbeast. Damuel’s highbeast landed next to him. Karstedt carried me off, Damuel got off before putting away his highbeast too.

  “Make way!” Sylvester called out on top of the High Priest’s lion.

  With me in his arms, Karstedt move to the side and watched the blue man jump down and yell. “What?!”


  “Bweh?!”


  The crowd was getting excited by what was unfolding. They watched on with excitement as the man in blue made a somersault, landing with a pose. He was infecting them with his energy as the crowd roared with a burst of energy like this was some sort of performance.

  “This fool is beyond hope.”


  I could feel that Karstedt’s annoyance. In the next second, the High Priest’s lion made a violent landing towards Sylvester to crush him. But it failed as he tumbled away like a gymnast and posed again.

  “WOOOAAHHHH!” The crowed was getting even more hyped.

  Sylvester had on a haughty smile, like a was a kid who had just done something outstanding.

  “… Do priests usually perform tricks to entertain people during the Spring Prayer?” I asked half-seriously, half surprised that Sylvester was unlike any of the other blue priests I knew.

  Karstedt frowned and shook his head. “Myne. Just ignore him. That man is just a bad influence. Take note that that man is someone you must never become.”


  “I assume that Sylvester must be from the upper echelons since he behaves so casually with you, Lord Karstedt. Is there a possibility that he might treat me like Shikza did in the past?”


  I sincerely asked Karstedt what I should do around someone who acted inconsiderate and without care for those of less importance. My question troubled Karstedt.

  “He is not one to harm others, so you will be fine. He can just be a bit difficult… and a wreck.”


  “If by any chance Sylvester does anything to me, may I request for your protection, my future father?” I asked with my head tilted sideways.

  Karstedt got a surprise and smiled after that.

  “Please do. You can always come running to me. I’ll defeat any bad guys who bully my adoptive daughter.”


  …What a reliable father, I must say.

  I had successfully won over Karstedt and his protection. The High Priest kept away his highbeast and walked towards the small stage on the other side of the square. The crowd split to make way for him. On the other hand, Sylvester dug through his bag and fish out a huge chalice that was roughly eighty centimeters tall. He held it carefully and with reverence as he walked behind the High Priest.

  Karstedt knelt down so that I could get off his arms and signalled me to walk with them. But with the speed I was walking at, I was soon carried back into his arms. He walked quickly to the stage. It appeared that my walking speed was outrageously slow.

  I’m not slow, it’s because adults have longer legs than me. I’m not to blame.

  I was carried to the stage and placed down. After which, Karstedt and Damuel walked to the front of the stage and gave a stern look towards the crowd that this was an important event. The High Priest received the chalice, that was a divine instrument, from Sylvester, he walked to the centre of the stage and placed it onto a stand.

  “We will now commence the Spring Prayer. May I invite the head of this town and those from the neighbouring ones.”


  With the High Priest’s announcement, five men walked up onto the stage, each of them was carrying a large bucket with lids, they looked like they had a capacity of ten litres.

  “Myne, we will begin.”


  The High Priest carried me to the stand because I was not tall enough. I knelt down onto the red cloth that went up and over the stand.

  The chalice resembled a huge wine glass. It had large feystones embellished the outside of its body, and smaller ones going down its body, stem and to the base.

  I moved closer to the chalice and put my hands onto the feystones embedded on its bottom.

  “O Goddess of Water, Flutrane who bestows healing and change. O twelve goddesses, guardians of Goddess Flutrane. The Goddess of Earth Guduldh has been freed from the God of Life Ewigeliebe. Please bestow your younger sister the power to bring forth new life.

  The crowd gasped in amazement as they witnessed my mana flowing to the chalice, making it beam with a golden light.

  “I bring you gifts, of our happiness and shouts of joy. We present to you our prayers and words of thanks, in exchange for the blessings of your divine protection. I humbly request that you bless the thousands of mortals with your diving color.”


  After I finished saying my prayers, Sylvester and the High Priest worked together to pour the green liquid in the chalice into the buckets brought forth by the chiefs.

  “Praise thee Goddess of Earth and the Goddess of Water!”


  After the first bucket was full and the lid was on, some people started shouting prayers and thanking the gods. I guessed that they were all from the same town the just filled bucket was for, and the same praises rang out too with every bucket that was filled.

  I did my best to keep my hands stuck on the chalice and maintained my flow of mana into it until all the buckets were filled,

  “That is all, Myne.” The High Priest said.

  My hands retreated off the chalice and it was put back up again, after that the High Priest carried me back to the floor of the stage. I was in the centre because I was the one who offered my mana, while Sylvester and the High Priest stood diagonally behind me on my left and right respectively.

  “Praise thee gods!” the High Priest yelled out.

  I made a praying pose and everyone else followed along too. The townsfolk made the pose with ease and seamlessly, compared to the folks in the lower city. That was probably because they had to do the pose at this time every year.

  “The Spring Prayer has ended. Work and live diligently with the new life the gods have bestowed upon you all!” The High Priest announced which received lots of cheers from the crowd. On the other side, Sylvester kept the chalice in a large cloth and placed it carefully back into his bag.

  And with that, the ceremony was over. The High Priest proceeded to call out his highbeast, he and Sylvester got on its back

  “Please pardon us as we will be making our leave, we have a busy schedule ahead of usthis year. May the gods bless you all.”


  The High Priest’s lion flew around the crowd and scattered gold dust onto them. Karstedt and Damuel moved to call out their highbeasts too. Damuel carried me onto his horse before himself, the highbeast spread its wings and made its ascent, I watched as the town grew smaller.

  ~~~

  Throughout the day, we made our way throughout the winter manors from four towns and did the Spring Prayer ceremony at each one. The sun was setting when we finished our work and I felt drained.

  “We will now be heading to our accommodation for the night. Apprentice, please wake up. You are going to fall off,” Damuel nagged at me and I nodded my heavy head, trying my best to hold the reins.

  “Myne, wake up.”


  Bweh?!”


  I got shocked awake by the High Priest’s command. I examined my surroundings and noticed that we were in front of a large building.

  “Where is this place?”


  “Where are we?”


  “Baron Blon’s summer manor.”


  The High Priest explained that nobles who owned land bestowed by the archduke would live in their manors in the towns they were in charge of from the Spring Prayer to the Harvest Festival. Only during the winter would they return to the Noble’s District to pay their taxes and present their yearly report. Nobles that stayed in the city would collate all this information for the year.

  “That section is the residence for the nobles, the guest priests will stay here instead.”


  The nobles with the land would prepare a residence for the visiting priests because they visited every Spring Prayer and Harvest Festival. But upon closer examination, the reason they built a separate residence was to keep the priests away from them. Though the priests came from noble families, they were not viewed as one. This sentiment was evident because the priests were only welcomed by a representative, the nobles did not care to greet them.

  “Arno should have greeted them and requested for the residence to be opened for us.”


  The place where we would be staying had a few carriages parked outside. They were empty as all our luggage had been moved in.

  “Welcome.”


  We were greeted by our attendants when we entered the residence. There were a few unfamiliar faces so I guessed that they were Sylvester’s attendants.

  Arno stepped forward and spoke softly to the High Priest.

  “We are ready to serve the food, but there are only two dining rooms. What do we do?”


  “Prepare it in the larger hall. Everyone will dine together. Make sure that Sylvester is seated the furthest from Myne.”


  “Yes sir.”


  Winter had just ended, so the farming town would not have sufficient food supply for a large group of priests and attendants. Though they did sell us simple vegetables, eggs and milk, we still had to bring some of our own food like grains and oil. This troublesome procedure was why many of the priests disliked conducting the Spring Prayer and preferred to stay behind.

  “Well then everyone. Please wash up and we will meet at the dining room.”


  With the High Priest’s instructions, the group of attendants split to attend to their own masters. I saw Rosina and Fran rushing towards me. A wave of relief and comfort spread over me at the sight of them.

  “Welcome, Sister Myne. We will need to get you changed.”


  I followed them to the room where I will be resting. Priests conducted ceremonies, and the Spring Prayer in this case, in pairs. Some residences would have a third room prepared in case a third priest accompanied them. Karstedt, Sylvester and the High Priest were staying the rooms meant for the priests. Since Damuel and I were lower in standing we had to stay in the rooms for attendants.

  “You might be uncomfortable about this, Sir Damuel. I’m quite used to this because my house is actually much smaller.”


  Some nobles might be unsatisfied by this room that was much more downscaled compared to the ones for priests, but it was much bigger than the average home in the lower city. I did not feel uncomfortable at all. The carpet and blanket from my chambers in the temple made me plenty satisfied.

  Fran filled a tub full of warm water, and Rosina helped to wipe me down. Having a bath was the best feeling now after spending so much time outside.

  After my bath, Rosina picked out a set of clothes dyed in the colour of green grass, accompanied by a pair of delicate cloth shoes. I had prepared many hair sticks for the Spring Prayer, this time Rosina picked the one from Tuuli, she had spent the winter making it. It used yellow, orange, and yellow-green thread to make flowers as these were the colours that symbolised sprint… The flowers were sewn together to form a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

  “Hugo and Ella gave their best to cook this meal. They did not want to lose to the other chefs.”


  “Then it looks like I will need to give this meal my best too.”


  I was not looking forward to eating with nobles. Though Rosina and Fran had done their best to make sure noble manners were ingrained into my head, I was still nervous at how Karstedt, my soon to be adoptive father, would be inspecting my every move to see how well a commoner would fare. And there was Sylvester too. What on earth would he say?

  If only he was a kid, I could ignore him. But he was a high-ranking noble so that was not possible.

  “Can I come back to my room after my meal?”


  “You cannot refuse if you are invited to a meeting after the meal because of your status.”


  Uhhhh, that doesn’t sound good…


  ~~~

  The meal was ready and was held in the dining hall. Everyone was donned in their own clothes. The High Priest was dressed casually, this was quite the sight because I have only seen him in his priest robes, or that one time he wore his armour. The clothes had a baggy style and long sleeves, which were very noble-like styled. I have only seen Sylvester in his priest robes too, but it wasn’t as impactful seeing him in his casual clothes because I just met him today.

  “You look just like a noble when you are wearing these clothes,” Karstedt commented.

  I hope that that was a compliment. Glad that he was not angry or disappointed with me.

  “Thank you for the praise, Lord Karstedt.”


  “Looks like the lessons she went through the winter was successful,” the High Priest added on. “Her behaviour and way of speaking is much better now. But she still needs to work on hiding her emotions.”


  All his compliments would be paired with criticisms, it never felt like his compliments were truly sincere.

  “Sister Myne, please take your seat.”


  Fran brought me to my seat and brought out my food.

  “Why are you eating different food from the rest of us?” Sylvester asked when he saw what I had.

  “That might be because our meals were prepared by different chefs,” I continued, “Fran, would you care to explain?”


  There were two kitchens here, Hugo and Ella were assigned to the smaller one, the larger one was for the other chefs to make noble food.

  “It turns out that it was because my food came from another kitchen. Since I have the least attendants, my chefs were assigned to the smaller one.”


  I got the chance to eat the food I liked because of that. Sylvester (who was seated the furthest away from me) was examining my food with curiosity.

  “Smells good.”


  “Yes it is, my chefs are quite special.”


  Now that everyone had all their food on the table, we crossed our arms and said our prayers.

  “I offer thanks and prayers to thee, O mighty King and Queen of the eternal sky who have graced us with thousands and thousands of lives for sustenance, thee O mighty Immortal Five who look over the mortal realm, I shall be grateful to partake in this blessed meal”


  Just as I took my first bite, Sylvester yelled out, “Hey! Why are you eating it?!”


  I was confused by what he said, I tiled my head and asked.

  “…Am I not allowed to?”


  The High Priest sighed, “Sylvester is interested in your food, Myne.”


  “But he only said it smelt good?””


  So it turns out that Sylvester had been using the confusing noble’s way of speaking to demand that I hand over my food. I completely missed that.

  “I will not give you everything. Half of it will be fine.”


  “H-half?” Sylvester looked shocked by what I said, but honestly I was the one who was shaken.

  “This is my food. Surely a humble blue priest of your status would not take away a pitiful common girl’s food, right?”


  “Y-yes, of course not.”


  Sylvester was so desperate to try my food that he eventually settled for half of it. Although it was common for attendants to receive dishes that were half-filled, it appeared that no one would give away their half-eaten food to someone else.

  Karstedt and the High Priest looked like they gave up on everything and just rubbed their own heads, Damuel looked like a deer in the headlights.

  The High Priest told me on a later occasion that when someone was interested in trying your food, you were supposed to offer them your whole plate first. After they took their share they would pass the plate back to you. So apparently I was supposed to pass him my food first.

  So it was wrong for me to give him the later half… Argh.

  Sylvester drank all the soup I offered to him, his whole face brightened and demanded that I transfer my chefs to his side too. Fortunately, Karstedt and the High Priest were there to protect me and I finished my food without any more trouble.

  Deep in my heart, I was so thankful that we were sitting the furthest apart.

  I stood up and declared.

  “I will take my leave now. Please enjoy your discussion.”


  I bid my goodbyes to the others seeing that they were preparing for the next gathering, I wanted to retreat back into the safety of my room. But I was not so lucky this time as Sylvester locked onto me with his deep green eyes like a hungry predator.

  He stopped me in my tracks. “Stop there, Myne. You’re coming along. We negotiate on trading chefs.:

  …Argh. So he hasn’t forgotten about it.