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chapter 55
Lake Mountain (2)
Ian arrived at the mountaintop, subtly worried that Maktero might attack with a giant iron club, but he couldn’t help but be captivated by the breathtaking scenery before him.
A wide, deep-looking lake was surrounded by flowers and trees whose names he did not know, creating a mysteriously enchanting atmosphere.
“Wow… they used this place as an exile site?”
Pink petals flew in the strong wind, landing on the lake like snow.
It was a scene showing one facet of beautiful nature, but somehow it felt even more cruel.
Mountain lakes retain their beauty, yet the faces of exiles reflected in the water age quickly. Wrinkles deepen, illness sometimes strikes, and loneliness persists. Isolated until death, Lake Mountain constantly reminds one of life’s futility.
“Ah, let’s not think too deeply. Still, dying of old age in exile is better than dying young in battle.”
Many of his comrades and friends had died young on Earth, never getting a chance to experience the natural changes of aging.
Lost in thought, Ian walked along the lake until he reached a small house on a flat area overlooking the water.
The single-story log cabin was so modest that it bore little resemblance to the luxurious royal villas he imagined.
“Is it like this because it was once an exile villa? It’s so plain…”
The villa was very different from what he had envisioned.
“Lord of the Alberne family, we have brought you here,” Maktero announced at the door.
A young woman opened it. She had a small beauty mark near her mouth, a slender face, and a full figure. Her crescent-shaped eyes curved in a small smile as she bowed.
“Welcome, Lord. I am Sian, assigned to serve the prince. Please come inside.”
Ian nodded lightly and entered the cabin with Jarlang.
Inside, the cabin was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, with books stacked along the walls and across the floor.
“This room is messy,” Sian said, nudging books with her feet to make a path for Ian.
“Watch your head; the books might topple.”
Books teetered toward Ian, stacked almost to the ceiling.
“This is chaos. What is this place?”
Used to the orderly manor of a lord, Ian found this disorder overwhelming.
“Where is the prince?” Ian asked Sian, surveying the stacks of books.
“He’s in the back room. Please follow me.”
Ian and the captain of the guards carefully navigated through the books to another room, opened by Sian.
Inside stood a tall, plainly dressed man placing books on the shelves. He paused and turned his head when they entered.
“Is this Prince Joseph?”
A sharply angled face with thick eyebrows, piercing blue eyes set in slightly slanted eyes, and a long, prominent nose. His strong features were striking, made even more so by the fact that one ear was missing.
“Did he lose it in a fight?”
Ian, having heard some of the story from the captain, studied Joseph’s appearance closely. The sight of him holding books rather than a sword seemed incongruous.
“Could he have spent his time in the villa training both mind and body with books?”
“Prince, this is Lord Ian of Alberne,” Sian announced.
Joseph nodded, finished arranging the books, and approached Ian.
Ian bowed first.
“Nice to meet you, Prince. I am Ian, Lord of Alberne.”
Joseph stared at Ian briefly, then opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture with a gentle smile. Ian was momentarily taken aback, but the prince’s respectful demeanor made it clear he was not mocking him.
“Why isn’t he speaking? Did he lose his jaw?”
Joseph sent a light greeting to the captain of the guards behind Ian and turned back. Using gestures, he indicated that Ian should sit at a chair by the table. Then he scribbled something on a piece of paper and showed it to Sian at the door.
The paper read: “I cannot speak due to circumstances, please do not take offense, Lord.”
Ian straightened his posture and replied politely:
“It’s fine, Prince. Communication alone is enough, isn’t it?”
Joseph smiled and wrote again: “Haha, true. What brings you here?”
Ian carefully explained:
“It’s due to drought in the western region of the territory.”
“Drought?”
“Yes. The western region is experiencing worsening drought, and countermeasures are needed. Some villages are already short of water, causing conflicts among the villagers.”
“I see. But why involve me in this?”
Ian pointed toward the window overlooking the lake.
“It’s because of that lake.”
“The lake?”
Joseph turned to look outside and nodded knowingly. On the far side of the lake, remnants of ancient constructions remained. He understood Ian’s intention to utilize them.
“You wish to draw water from the lake for use?”
“Yes. Will you permit it?”
Joseph paused, then slowly wrote: “If that is the case, you could have sent a subordinate. Why come personally?”
“I came to avoid upsetting you, Prince,” Ian replied honestly. Joseph laughed heartily and brushed his sideburns.
“Nonsense. I may be a prince, but I cannot simply command lords. Since the territory is in need, use the lake as you see fit.”
Ian, who had been nervously awaiting the prince’s response, brightened at the easy approval.
“Thank you, Prince.”
“I hope rain comes soon to end the drought.”
Despite worrying that Joseph’s rough past might make communication difficult, Ian found him surprisingly gentle and approachable.
“The guest has come from afar; the drink is delayed. Please wait a moment, Lord. Sian will bring it shortly.”
Just as he finished, Sian entered, carrying a large tray.
“Sorry for the delay,” she said, dripping wet as though she had just bathed, hair soaked.
Ian’s eyes widened at the tray she set down: a huge fish, sliced thinly like sashimi, head intact.
“Did she catch this in the lake?”
If she hadn’t gone into the water, she wouldn’t be soaking wet.
“Enjoy your meal.”
Ian watched Sian leave with a surprised look.
“Fresh lake fish with sake… excellent. Thank you.”
He took the fish, enjoying the tender, chewy flesh with his hands, savoring the texture.
“Most people don’t like raw fish, but it suits your taste, Lord,” Joseph wrote, observing him.
Ian, unpretentious and hungry, ate without formality, showing proper respect for the one who prepared it. Joseph smiled, amused by the young lord’s hearty appetite.
He glanced at the captain of the guards standing silently behind Ian.
“Jarlang, we haven’t met in a while. Shall we share a drink?”
“I am guarding the Lord. I cannot drink, Prince. Please understand,” the captain replied.
“Strict with yourself, then and now,” Joseph wrote, finishing the drink he had poured for the captain in one go.
Joseph then wrote to Ian: “I heard you are unwell, but you seem fine. How is that?”
“It’s thanks to an excellent healer, Nekamo, who has been treating me constantly,” Ian said casually, praising the healer.
“Ah… If my elder brother had met your healer before he died, things might have been different. What a pity,” Joseph wrote.
Ian’s mind quickly traced the royal family tree. King Arthur had five sons—one with the queen and four with concubines. The first prince, queen’s son, had died early, leaving four sons, with Twel taking his place. Joseph’s words hinted at nostalgia for the deceased first prince.
“Who do you support, Lord? The princes, or the great lords?”
Caught mid-bite, Ian swallowed and answered:
“I haven’t had the mental space to consider that. My health only recently recovered.”
“True. But you should prepare; this coming conflict will be severe.”
A beastly, cold glint flashed in Joseph’s eyes, and Ian felt the alcohol leave his head.
“Why stop eating?”
“I’m full. I can’t eat more.”
“This head is delicious,” Joseph said, crunching down on the fish head. Eating a raw fish head that smells strongly of the lake is no small feat.
“Perhaps our meeting is fate. If you had arrived a day later, we wouldn’t have met. Isn’t that fate?”
Ian nodded without realizing it; had he not chosen the shortcut by horse instead of carriage, he would have missed meeting the prince.
“Indeed,” Ian said with a small smile, finishing the last of the sashimi.
“Thank you for your hospitality despite the sudden visit. I must descend the mountain; the sun is low.”
“I will see you down to the lake,” Joseph said in a clear, commanding voice as he rose.
