A Motherlode, Without A Doubt (4)

Unlike me, who sat down, the three maids—Allena, Renia, and Beni—kept their heads bowed like guilty parties.

Since they fidgeted without meeting my eyes, I spoke first.

“You were waiting outside the workshop because you had something to say, right? Let’s at least talk.”

“We’re sorry.”

The three women apologized the moment I finished speaking.

“Sorry for what?”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure there was anything to apologize for. It had been because of a “medicine,” and, frankly, last night had been good, so I didn’t want to make a big issue of it. Still, there was one point that had to be stated clearly, so I waited for them to say it.

“W-we… got greedy yesterday and ended up stealing your property, my lord.”

Allena said what needed saying.

“We know it was a serious… offense. We talked among ourselves this morning, thinking you must have prepared… safeguards for something like this, and after discussing…”

Renia trailed off.

“After hearing the knights, we forgot the authority due to a noble, given we’re fated to live our whole lives in this harsh place. We committed a great wrong… we’re so sorry…”

Even Beni, who couldn’t bring herself to say “please forgive us,” bowed her head and fell silent.

They seemed to be waiting for my judgment.

“Touching someone else’s things is obviously bad and wrong. But I’ll let it go this once. Honestly, it wasn’t something of great value… and the situation wasn’t all that terrible.”

At my words, the three maids blushed as red as ripe persimmons, and I continued.

“To be blunt, I’m a vigorous man. If lovely women approach me, I’ve no reason to refuse. But we still have to point out what was wrong, and I needed to know you understood that. Since the three of you know what your mistake was, I’ll overlook it this time. I’ll keep quiet—so please take it that way.”

“Th-thank you, my lord!”

“Thank you for sparing us!”

“…You really are forgiving our crime… right?”

I nodded to Beni and rose to my feet.

“You’re my territory’s citizens and my staff. And you work hard for me. I don’t intend to mistreat people like that, nor to act high and mighty. So if you truly need something, tell me. Asking is better for both sides than stealing, isn’t it?”

Seeing the three keep repeating their thanks, I brought up the next item.

“And about what happened last night…”

At my words, the three maids twisted in their seats, at a loss. They would remember everything. Even as a side effect of magic power, they hadn’t blacked out.

Maybe that was why Allena, unlike Beni and Renia, looked at me rather openly. If there was a “next time,” Allena would likely be the quickest to suggest it.

“Among the medicines in the workshop, many have ‘side effects.’ So it’s best not to touch them. The items on display for ‘research’—you took one and used it, which is why you got ‘excited,’ and then you came looking for a physically healthy, rational ‘man.’ Please don’t worry too much about it. To be honest, for me it was a pleasant experience and memory.”

Beni turned her head away all at once, mortified, cheeks blazing. She seemed to embarrass easily.

Renia at least met my eyes, looking conflicted.

“Please return what you used to the workshop. If you use it again, the same thing will happen. It’s a medicine that requires caution. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Whether they would really stop using it—or borrow its power to repeat the same actions—would be up to their judgment.

After sending the three back to their routines, I headed to the kitchen.

Our territory’s head cook and assistant cook were busily working on something; when I showed up without warning, they startled and hurried over.

Whatever they had been handling, their leather aprons were spattered with blood.

“…Looks like you’re busy?”

“Not at all. What brings you to so humble a place, my lord?”

At the cook’s words, I glanced around and asked a question.

“Do you happen to have a sieve?”

“A sieve… we have the kind used for baking bread. May I ask why?”

“Ah, I need it for something. Could I have one?”

“Of course. What size…?”

“A normal size is fine—nothing too big.”

At that, the cook dashed off. I felt a bit sorry to make such a small request while they were busy, and resolved to treat the kitchen staff later. Soon the cook returned with a sieve of a suitable size.

It wasn’t the handle type I had in mind, but a round cylinder with very fine mesh attached.

It actually seemed easier to use, so I thanked him, took the sieve, and went back to the workshop. Just in case, I looked around inside—the maid who had taken the scar-erasing gel hadn’t returned it yet.

“They’re not planning to… use it again, are they?”

I didn’t think things were turning for the worse. Maybe they felt too guilty to bring it back. Still, if someone else happened to see it and use it by mistake, that would be bad.

“All right—back to work.”

I began sifting the Flame Herb through the sieve. Coarser grains could be reground into fine powder with ease; using the sieve made the job much smoother and faster.

Next came an herb with broad leaves called “Purin’s Lip Herb,” whose shape resembled a human tongue—honestly, a rather grotesque-looking plant.

But its effect—“strength enhancement”—made it very popular and highly valued.

This one wasn’t roasted; it was juiced, and I needed about one liter. It had a thick, cactus-like feel and a lot of moisture, so extracting the juice didn’t take long.

A clear, pleasant fragrance wafted out as I pressed it.

“Mmm… like a diffuser.”

The scent reminded me of a high-end diffuser I knew, which made me miss my old world—so I hurried on to the next task.

Work was the best cure for idle thoughts.

I picked up the next ingredient.

“So this is ‘Tartar Fruit’?”

It looked just like a rambutan. I needed its juice, too. It was said to be very “bitter and astringent,” with an effect of increasing agility; I needed a liter again.

Thanks to practice with Tiger’s Fang Grass, I had become adept at juicing herbs, so this prep went smoothly as well.

After that, I had to grind an herb called “Maesideureok” and another with the odd name “Golgol-cho” into powder. By the time all ingredients were ready, Vincent arrived to call me to dinner.

“Aren’t you tired, my lord?”

“Mr. Vincent, what if you imagined everything in those jars is ‘gold’—how would you feel?”

“…Even if there’s a lot of gold, isn’t it useless here?”

“We don’t know about later. Who’s to say I can’t turn this into a livable fief?”

“I’d be grateful if you did. I haven’t seen my children in so long…”

“You have a family?”

That surprised me. I’d assumed he lived alone, but Vincent nodded as if it were obvious.

“I have three sons and a daughter. My wife passed away long ago from illness, but the children are grown—and I have five grandchildren.”

I felt sorry for having mentally labeled him a lonely old man, and said,

“I’ll make you a health supplement later. Take it and stay strong for a long, long time.”

“Such a thing exists?”

“I plan to make and sell it. This is a pharmacist’s fief; I should try my hand at all sorts of manufacture.”

“Then… I hope that day comes soon.”

Chatting amiably, we went to the dining hall and, as always, enjoyed a lavish supper.

Maybe we’d gotten used to eating together. The maids began speaking freely, and most of their questions were about “beauty.”

Being “women,” they couldn’t help caring—even if the Demon God’s curse meant they wouldn’t age into shabby old crones. The most interesting question was this:

“But… how are you able to get along so well with Beastkin, my lord?”

It was Seria’s question. After thinking a moment, I answered the watching maids.

“I approached first. Their appearance is different and a bit unusual, but there’s no question they’re ‘people.’”

“You see them… as people?”

Apparently, to Vincent, Beastkin were just Beastkin. So I laid out my view.

“Life is hard for them and for us, all the same. My simple take is that the difference is just another race. I’m not claiming I’m right, but thinking of them as ‘human,’ as ‘people,’ made it easier to approach without hesitation.”

“…That’s a frightening idea. To call them human!”

At Vincent’s firm exclamation, I tried reframing the question.

“Then what’s different about them from humans? I’m honestly short on information about them, so I’m asking out of curiosity, not to argue. Please speak freely.”

Vincent drew a deep breath and began.

“At certain times, their ‘animal blood’ surges and they ‘beastify.’ They become very dangerous then. Some—once beastified—will kill or try to eat humans. They grow extremely violent. Beastkin often fight each other then, causing chaos. And that’s not all. When this was demon territory, Beastkin led from the front in the war against humans and worshiped the Demon God. The blood shed by humans at their hands all but covered the continent!”

It sounded like the answer of a man with a deep grudge. The maids also looked at me with worried faces.

“When exactly is this ‘time’?”

“There is a month when the Red Moon rises.”

“And when is that?”

“Every year in January, when the Queen of the Harsh Winter grips the continent.”

So in midwinter, when the Red Moon rose, beastification occurred. It was August now—far from the season of trouble. I thanked Vincent and, just in case, asked another question.

“What happens to us then?”

“The state dispatches people to activate the magic circle. We evacuate to the capital temporarily and return here when February comes.”

“Ah… mages. Fascinating. But when we came here, didn’t we use a ‘response array’ to arrive directly?”

“The imperial household designed the response magic circles installed in every fief’s manor so they can be triggered for teleportation without a mage.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Most nobles live in their own houses or castles. The manor is a public space for fief administration.”

From Vincent’s words, I realized this manor truly was a public facility the state had installed.

‘If they can force a teleport, no wonder nobles don’t want to live here… If they ever became enemies of the imperial house, the enemy could “invade” this building instantly…’

“What happens if you destroy the response array?”

“You can’t with ordinary force.”

“Why not?”

“Because the receiving array is installed very high in the sky on the coordinate—so high you can’t see it. I’ve heard there’s a ‘Coordinate Transference Stone’ floating there. The imperial household uses it to teleport into this fief.”

The word “sky” surprised me, but without the ability to fly, you certainly couldn’t break it. A small but useful bit of information.