* * *
The moment I returned from my outing, I dove straight onto the bed.
“Whew... What a great shopping trip.”
“Oh my, did you buy a huge amount of things?”
Hazel’s eyes went round as she watched the steady stream of boxes coming in.
“Yeah. Take a look!”
“This looks like a magic stone... What is this?”
“Ah, it’s an herb!”
I dashed over and explained the herbs I’d bought to Hazel.
After the ore shop, the next stop had been the herb shop. Thanks to having mapped out my route in advance, I’d accomplished everything on my list.
This place in particular had many herbs that grew even in winter, so just browsing had been a real delight!
“There are seeds too?”
“He said I could plant them once it gets warmer.”
“His Lordship did?”
“Yeah!”
After that, the mister had kept grilling me about whether there was anything I needed, anything I wanted.
Thanks to that, I’d gotten everything I wanted, but... I suddenly worried that he might have spent too much money today.
No, no. They say the wealthy can survive three generations even if they go bankrupt.
‘Still, I should refrain from asking him to buy me things from now on.’
Not like there’s anything else I need to buy anyway. ...Probably?
“But what about clothes? Is this really all?”
With a slightly dissatisfied look, Hazel pointed at the twenty boxes.
“Really all...?”
Had I chosen the wrong word?
When I’d gone back to the clothing shop, the finished outfits had exceeded twenty sets. I’d been shocked, but the mister’s reaction had been exactly like Hazel’s.
“It can’t be helped. I’ll order whatever’s lacking from Lady Evelyn.”
Exactly what was lacking?
“Once Lady Evelyn arrives, we can place more orders!”
Hazel clapped her hands and added brightly.
I had a lot to say, but I decided not to...
I pushed the clothing boxes aside and opened the herb boxes to check their condition.
Mmm, green and vibrant, nice and fresh. Good, good.
“Hazel, could you cut this cloth for me?”
“Cloth, my lord?”
“Yeah. I need it for something...”
At that, Hazel exclaimed, “Oh my!” and brightened.
“Are you going to make that ointment you made for the knights?”
“Mm-hm. Something like that.”
I crouched in front of the boxes and picked out a few herbs.
“Anyway, cut the cloth for me.”
“I will! I’m quite confident with a blade.”
Her dense muscles twitched as if excited.
By now I was curious about Hazel’s past, but I’d leave that buried.
“With scissors. Nicely.”
“They’re both blades, so it’s all the same.”
Yeah, I should definitely stop letting Hazel cut my hair too!
“What size should I cut it to?”
“About this much. Enough to wrap around a knee.”
“Your knee?” came her small questioning voice, and I nodded.
“Yes, just leave it to me.”
After asking her to bring a few more tools, I carefully selected the herbs.
A refreshing fragrance filled the room.
* * *
North Annex. Barok’s bedroom.
Morris the butler shut the window with a snap.
Outside had become pitch-black night.
Faint smoke filled the room. It was medicinal incense with pain-relieving effects.
“...Did the little squirt get back safely?”
A low, sunken voice spoke from the dark bedroom. It was Barok, sitting askew on the spacious bed.
Without proper light, he looked like a black mountain.
“Yes. He is eating well and resting.”
“Hmph, did he take his spending money purse properly?”
“He seemed to struggle dragging it along, but yes, he was pleased.”
Morris recalled the child’s paling face when he had handed over the purse.
“Tsk. I heard he stopped by the herb shop too; why didn’t he buy that shop? Tiny hands, as if to prove he’s just a little bean.”
“It is not common for an eight-year-old to own several shops, Your Grace.”
“And?”
Morris hesitated briefly over his answer.
“Well, roughly one or two...?”
Recalling that fluffy silver hair, the corners of his mouth somehow loosened.
Those brave eyes that seemed to watch for cues yet never shrank back.
Facing them, something made one want to keep taking care of him.
“Well, I suppose Lord Rubian could do with three or four more.”
“Right? See! One shop isn’t enough!”
Barok tried to jerk upright but swallowed a groan.
“Urk.”
Damned body. Damn it. Damn it.
Rough curses followed.
Deep worry settled on the longtime aide’s face.
“...Your Grace, please stop being stubborn and at least see a physician—”
“Shut up. It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“But did you not fall earlier because you couldn’t keep your balance?”
“I said shut up!”
The air surged violently.
Crash! Unable to withstand the violent energy, the lamp glass burst. The window shook fiercely.
A black, surging aura.
Morris wiped his sweat and stepped back.
“...I understand. Please calm yourself. I overstepped.”
Barok yanked the covers over himself and flopped down.
“Stupid worthless body. Can’t even catch that fluff of a child...”
Listening to the muttered words steeped in deep-rooted rage and self-reproach, Morris cleaned up the broken lamp.
“Get out. I need to sleep.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Click. Morris quietly closed the door.
In his youth, Barok Gebert had been a knight more robust than anyone. But a battle injury had caused problems with his leg.
While he was usually fine, there was no real medicine for these seizure-like bouts of pain. The pain starting in his leg would invariably spread throughout his entire body.
He simply never showed it, but the frequency had been increasing lately.
‘It seems he fell again today because he put his weight on his injured leg wrong.’
That seemed to have touched that stubborn old gentleman’s pride right where it hurt.
‘Sigh, what to do.’
Barok still could not accept his weakened body.
Unable to participate in the Demon War due to his injury—how humiliating that must be for a knight of the North.
Because of that, he had developed a complex about his weakness. Staying deliberately in a secluded annex and acting gruffly toward others were all smokescreens to hide his weakness.
“Butler?”
Morris stopped mid-step on the stairs.
“...Lord Rubian?”
For some reason, a child was standing in the annex lobby.
“How in the world did you get here? The path from the main building must have been rough.”
“Hazel brought me!”
His clear voice seeped into the dark room like light.
Morris silently glanced at Hazel, who stood behind Rubian.
Perhaps already completely smitten with the small child, the masked mercenary once called a legend furtively averted her gaze.
“What about the Master? Is he asleep?”
“Yes, he is resting. I’m afraid today you ought to return...”
“Could I just see him for a moment?”
Morris wavered.
Barok was in the worst of moods. And the worst of health.
‘He seems not to want that child to see him like this...’
He ought to say it was difficult...
“It’ll only take a moment!”
Sparkling eyes.
“Please!”
“...Then I shall accompany you inside.”
If his eyes roll back and he snaps, I’ll have to take the child out immediately.
Morris led Rubian to the bedroom.
Creeeak. The door opened carefully.
Steady breathing could be heard from within.
Perhaps his poor health was genuine—Barok seemed to have fallen asleep already.
“Shhh.”
Rubian stepped over the threshold with a determined face and pressed his index finger to his lips.
Morris stared down at that round head with its flowing silver sheen.
...As expected, three or four shops aren’t enough for you, are they.
The child crept up to the bed and pulled something out onto the floor.
“What is that?”
“Ah, it’s a cloth with ointment spread inside. It feels incredibly cool and nice when you stick it on. I made it with the herbs I bought today, so I’m not sure how well it will work.”
A thin cloth smeared with light-green ointment.
‘Come to think of it, I had heard he was the son of a healer...’
Morris quietly watched what the child was doing.
Carefully climbing onto the bed and rolling up Barok’s pant leg. And wriggling for quite some time.
Barok, who had kicked off his blanket in his sleep, merely let out deep, rumbling breaths.
“Did you know that His Grace’s knee is unwell?”
“Yes.”
“How in the world...”