Chapter 47
The lord had intended to hear a tale of Rodan's valor, but the story seemed to be taking an ominous turn. Gerda continued.
“We discussed what to do. We talked about going back to the village we'd come from.”
It was only a two-day walk back to their old village. They could take the food they had left and return, then start clearing the land again the following spring. This time, they would build a proper fence so the boars couldn't get in. Those were some of the ideas that came up during the discussion.
“But we were serfs who'd come here because we couldn't even afford to feed ourselves. No one would welcome us if we went back.”
The people in their old village, including Gerda's and the others' families, had secured enough food for the winter on the assumption that the settlers wouldn't return. Naturally, they wouldn't be welcomed, and there was no guarantee they'd be given any food.
“Many people said they couldn't go back anymore.”
“I see.”
The lord said that and glanced at the village chief. The chief bowed deeply, looking troubled. He had known, but hadn't reported it to the lord.
“That's when Rodan said we should hunt boars and use them for food to get through the winter.”
Gerda spoke of how Rodan had been a true hero. He'd gathered the men and led them out to hunt boars, armed with hoes, spades, and pickaxes. It had been nothing like the twenty people they had now. They'd hunted with more than twice that number. Almost all the men had taken part.
They hadn't had any tactics like splitting into three teams as they did now. They'd been acting on sheer desperation. They'd been lucky enough to find a lone boar, and luckier still that a pickaxe blow struck its neck. They'd truly been fortunate to take it down.
“And you successfully hunted a boar. That's a splendid story. Why aren't you proud of it? Look at Allen—he looks as though he's hearing it for the first time.”
The lord said it was a splendid story, one Rodan ought to be proud to tell his son.
“I-I'm sorry. We lost a friend that day...”
“Hm?”
Great Boar hunts were dangerous. They'd hunted desperately. Many of their companions had been grievously injured. Even so, they'd kept fighting desperately. If they dealt the finishing blow, God would grant them a reward for overcoming the trial. Then He would give them life and heal all their wounds.
“God rewarded us for overcoming the trial. But one of my friends couldn't endure it.”
One of their friends had died before they could deliver the finishing blow. With his eyes closed, Rodan put it into words.
“We all made the decision together, but Rodan feels responsible. I've always told him he shouldn't blame himself.”
Gerda continued. After returning to the village, everyone—those who had taken part in the boar hunt and those who hadn't—ate an equal share of the boar meat. Thanks to that, they survived the winter.
Many had suffered near-fatal injuries. One person had died, and afterward the number of participants had fallen by half, to around twenty.
Gerda concluded by saying that was how the boar hunt had begun.
(So that's who he'd seen in him.)
As Allen listened, he remembered something from two years earlier, when Rodan had come home gravely injured. He'd thrown himself in harm's way to protect a young commoner. Even though he had a family of his own, he'd prioritized the young man's life and been seriously wounded.
Rodan had been fifteen when he first hunted a boar. The young man must have been around the same age. Rodan must have seen his dead friend in him. He'd moved without thinking, forgetting even that he had a family.
Rodan hung his head in silence. Perhaps the memory had come back to him; his hands, planted on the floor as he knelt, trembled.
“I'm sorry about that.”
“N-No...”
Silence fell over the hall.
“That's not a story to boast about. I'll find a way to explain it to His Majesty the King. I see... Hmm.”
The lord fell into thought. Silence settled over the hall once more.
“Is something the matter, my lord?”
The butler reacted to the lord's silence.
“No, Sebastian. This is not enough. I take what I've heard to be the truth. If so, it's fair to say Rodan's actions saved the village.”
The lord said Rodan had made a great contribution to developing the village.
“That does seem to be the case.”
The butler didn't disagree.
“Rodan, I'll grant you one more reward.”
“Huh? A reward, my lord?”
The lord had made Rodan a commoner for free, a status that would otherwise cost fifty gold coins. Now he was saying he'd give him another reward on top of that.
“It's a lord's duty to reward his people's efforts. You may ask for anything. Is there something you want?”
“A-Anything I want?”
“Do you have something in mind? Anything at all. Go on.”
(Dad's reward, huh? What could it be? I can't think of anything besides alcohol.)
Rodan seemed to have something in mind, but Allen couldn't think of anything Rodan might want.
“Th-Then, my lord, I have one request.”
Rodan spoke while keeping his head bowed.
“Very well. I'll hear it.”
“Would you allow my son Allen to work in your household?”
(Huh?)
“Hm?”
“My son Allen is clever, unlike me. I'm sure he could be of use to you, my lord.”
“Oh? You want your son to work for my baronial house?”
(Whoa! W-Wait, Dad, no, that's not it! N-Not that! Th-This is bad!!!)
Panic welled up inside him, showing plainly on his face.
“Yes. He could be a page or anything else. Please let him work in your household.”
“I see.”
The lord said that and looked toward the butler.
“I see no issue. He certainly seems like a clever boy.”
The butler in charge of the baronial house didn't object. Beside him, the commander of the knights nodded along.
(Whoa! Someone object!!! If this keeps up, I'll lose my dream life with the White Dragon. I-I have to think!)
Allen loved hunting more than anything. He loved leveling up, too. Being made to work in the lord's household was the exact opposite of everything he enjoyed. Life in the lord's manor would be restrictive. It might even be more restrictive than life as a serf.
He had to find some way to get out of this situation. He desperately racked his brain.
“A page, hmm? No, that's not right.”
“Huh?”
Apparently, he wasn't going to become a page. The lord stroked his neatly trimmed mustache as he spoke. Rodan, who had been sure his request would be accepted, looked disappointed.
(Oh? Is he turning him down? Yes, that's right. He should say no.)
“You were an excellent guide on the hunt and served us admirably the night before. As expected of the son of the hero Rodan. You've raised him well.”
“Y-Yes.”
“Allen shall become a retainer of House Granvelle.”
“A retainer? Are you sure that's all right?!”
Rodan's voice cracked from sheer surprise.
(Hm? Is a page different from a retainer? No, no, this is no time to think about that!!)
“Is that acceptable, Sebastian?”
The butler answered the lord's question, saying there was no problem.
“Allen, the lord has said he'll take you on as a retainer!”
Forgetting that the lord was right in front of him, Rodan ruffled Allen's hair and rejoiced. He was so happy that tears spilled from his eyes.
“Allen, this is wonderful. The lord has offered us something we serfs could never achieve on our own.”
Gerda joined in, explaining just how incredible it was to Allen, who looked dazed, as though his soul had left his body.
They had caused a commotion in front of the lord, but he said nothing, simply watching the father and son. He had brought up painful memories for Rodan, despite all he'd done for the village. Perhaps this was also a way to make amends, seeing Rodan now rejoicing with a broad smile.
Then he declared:
“Allen, son of Rodan. Become a retainer and take your place at the bottom of House Granvelle's ranks.”
“Huh?”
Allen could only respond to the lord's words with a question.
(If I say yes, does this mean my fun life with the White Dragon will be over?)
“Hm? What's the matter?”
The lord seemed puzzled. He'd expected an immediate answer, but Allen had frozen in place.
“Allen, say, ‘Thank you. I look forward to working for you.’”
Rodan prompted him, assuming he didn't know how to respond.
(What should I do?)
Allen looked at Rodan. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Rodan must have been so happy; Allen felt as if this was the first time he'd ever seen his father cry.
Rodan had worked desperately to raise him for eight years. Before coming to this world, Allen had been thirty-five, older than Rodan, but that had nothing to do with his respect for the way Rodan lived. He'd always been glad to be Rodan's son.
For his family, Rodan worked the fields without a day off and risked his life hunting boars each autumn. He cared deeply about his companions and was beloved by his fellow serfs.
And now that very Rodan was crying with joy.
“I-I look forward to working for you.”
(I can't. There's no way I can turn this down.)
And so Allen became a retainer of House Granvelle.