Chapter 37.1

Whether Arina and Arad were aware of how the Frost Knights viewed them or not, they continued their warm conversation.

“Anyway, you’ve really worked hard on your first day. You must be tired, so go rest. Actually, why not take three days off?”

“Three… three days?! No, that’s not necessary! I can keep coming to work!”

“No, rest is important.”

“D-Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Not at all. This is a reward for your hard work.”

“……”

“This is what we call a flexible work arrangement.”

“Flex… what?”

“Something like that. In any case, go and rest. If your other job gives you trouble for this, let me know. I’ll take it up directly with Her Highness.”

“Y-Yes…”

“By the way, where’s your home? Shall I escort you there?”

“No, no, it’s really fine! I can manage on my own!”

“Is that so? Security is important, after all. Alright then, off you go.”

“Yes… Um, can I visit the company even on my days off?”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Why would you come to work on your days off? I’m not that kind of tyrant.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“Rest well!”

“Yes…”

Flexible? Primary job? The Frost Knights—Eote, Rosie, and Carrot—listening from their hidden positions, struggled to make sense of the conversation.

They whispered silently among themselves, exchanging confused glances and hand signals.

“He’s telling her to rest, but why does she look like she doesn’t want to?”

“Exactly… Some of us can’t rest even when we want to.”

“Is it because she won’t get to eat that chicken again? Was it really that amazing?”

“Come on, it’s just a day off. That can’t be it.”

“True, especially since Arad salt is common now.”

More than anything, Mary’s lack of joy at being given a three-day leave left the knights puzzled.

“Whatever this flexibility is, getting three days off sounds enviable.”

“When was the last time we truly rested?”

“Should we quit being knights and apply to Arad’s company instead?”

“Let’s hold out until this mission ends. Once we’re off emergency duty and get more reinforcements, we might be able to rest in shifts.”

Still, there wasn’t much need for them to understand.

The trio’s mission was singular and clear: ensure the safety of their targets.

“Well then… I’ll take my leave for now.”

“Take care, and great work today.”

“…Thank you.”

And so, with a dazed expression, Mary left after receiving what was, arguably, Arad’s act of kindness.

“Sir Rosie, follow and guard Silver. Stay with her until she reaches the Renslet main estate.”

Eote, the leader of their team, watched Arina walking toward the inner city and gave Rosie his orders.

“Should we only guard her up there? What about her on her days off?”

“Isabelle and Balzac will handle things at the main estate.”

“Understood.”

She must definitely be another descendant of the former Grand Duke.

Rosie, the youngest of their group, nodded at Eote’s explanation and discreetly followed after Arina.

“We’ll continue guarding Gold in secret.”

The remaining two focused their attention back on Arad and the equipment he had made.

A short while later.

The officials and witches emerging from the High Tower marveled endlessly at the detector Arad had created.

Then, they cheered again upon hearing about the fertilizer he had introduced.

Finally, when they heard the fertilizer’s name, they were astonished.

***

There was once a farmer who lived in a small village in the North, growing rye on land passed down for generations.

The farmer had ten siblings, but six of them died before reaching adulthood.

Two passed away before they could even walk, succumbing to illness and the harsh cold.

Four others were eaten by monsters and beasts just as they reached adolescence.

The farmer’s parents also died when he was on the cusp of adulthood, caught in an avalanche while gathering firewood.

Though he was the third-born, the farmer became the eldest and head of the household simply by surviving.

He worked tirelessly to fulfill his responsibilities, raising the two younger brothers and one younger sister left behind by their parents until they were adults.

His efforts bore fruit.

His sister grew into a fine woman and married a blacksmith in the neighboring village.

His brothers chose independence, setting off to become adventurers.

The farmer couldn’t offer them much as they left for the city, except two silver coins each.

Ten years passed.

The farmer had since married late and fathered five children.

But his joy ended there.

His sister, married in the neighboring village, died giving birth to her third child.

The two brothers who had set off as adventurers hadn’t sent word in over a decade. They were likely dead.

The farmer’s unyielding efforts and sacrifices ultimately led to bitter results.

Now, at this very moment, the farmer stood staring at his field, murmuring in despair.

“Ancestors… is it my turn now?”

Beside him stood his three surviving children and his heavily pregnant wife.

Originally, he had five children, but two hadn’t survived the harsh Northern winters and were buried before they could even be named.

“The leaves in the field have all wilted!”

“Daddy, I’m hungry.”

“What do we do now…? Dear…”

His children’s cries of hunger and his wife’s anxious voice didn’t register.

“…”

All he could do was silently gaze at the dead soil.

What now? He had heard that the lord would provide food supplies. But it wouldn’t be free. The land would have to be collateral.

Even with his lack of education, he understood too well what that meant.

Then, the sound of a broomstick broke the silence.

A witch was flying through the village sky, something rarely seen.

Had it not been for this disaster, the farmer might never have encountered such a being in his lifetime.

‘They say the spirits suddenly went berserk, causing all of this.’

According to rumors, an evil person had incited the spirits, and their rampage was rapidly draining the land of its vitality.

The witches had supposedly come down from the High Tower to stop the rampaging spirits.

Crrrrrkkk…

But seeing the witch only made the farmer clench his teeth in anger.

‘Those witches…!’

He didn’t believe the rumors.

Not when another whisper had been spreading through the village.

‘The farm is managed directly by the High Tower witches! It’s become far more fertile!’

Rage boiled within him.