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Chapter : 38
When Tris whispered in a teasing voice,
“Hey, aren’t you hungry now? Want to eat some bread?”
For a moment, I froze, thinking, What is this?
But only for a moment. Peta nodded.
“Yeah. We should eat something.”
As they sheathed their swords and slowly turned around, they came face-to-face with several pairs of eyes watching them in breathless silence.
Ron, Shawn, and the innkeeper’s family—mouths wide open, eyes sparkling.
One by one, the villagers straightened their bent backs.
A blue cloak fluttering in the wind. Long arms and long legs. Broad shoulders and a firm chest.
The man looked strong—not just his body, but the aura he carried.
He wore the noble-born confidence like a suit of armor.
And he was not alone.
With him was another knightly-looking man, about ten centimeters shorter, with a gentler impression.
Behind them followed two men in plain clothing.
Four in total.
Everyone held their breath as they watched.
The man in front was none other than Princess Emblin’s husband, Tris Ake.
In just one day, they had already learned a great deal about him—thanks to the innkeeper.
Danny, the innkeeper, was always talkative, but that morning he was practically bursting.
He ran to the church and blabbered away to the people gathered there, worrying about the seeds they would plant in the spring.
<I think we don’t have to worry anymore!
Maybe good days are coming for us too!
I saw them training this morning—wow! His skill was…>
He babbled endlessly, especially about the swordsmanship.
It was enough to spark curiosity in anyone.
Unconsciously, everyone straightened up and followed the man with their eyes.
Tris rode slowly and spoke.
“That over there is the Riveron Forest.
Right now, it belongs to the wolves.”
Five villages were attached to Wintergarden; the largest among them was Burk Village, where the church and market sat.
But strange things had been happening—people were leaving.
The village decayed, and those who remained gradually gathered in Burk.
Now, everyone left in Wintergarden lived here.
Tris continued.
“There’s good timber in that forest.
So what should we do, Shawn?”
Shawn answered.
“We have to drive the wolves out first.
If not, we’ll die.”
“Exactly.
Those creatures can never be eradicated by force alone.
We need to push them back.
Think about the method, Shawn. You’re good at that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ron glanced admiringly at Shawn.
Shawn was full of hidden talents—and incredibly strong.
Ron had always thought he was simple-minded, but living with him had proved otherwise.
He was just innocent and kind.
Then Peta spoke.
“Keep your eyes sharp and remember everything.
We’re the only ones here.
We protect ourselves.”
“Yes!”
Everyone stiffened with focus and spent the whole morning walking the village.
At a fork in the road, Tris said:
“You head back to the inn.
I need to speak with the abbot.”
“All right.”
They split, and Tris returned to the monastery.
Every village had one—monks were the only educated people and served as the village’s anchor.
Now that Tris was settling here, he needed a good relationship with the abbot if he expected support.
Father Jacob was, as yesterday, tending the garden when Tris arrived.
“Good day, Father.”
Jacob straightened from picking vegetables bound for Wintergarden.
“Welcome, my lord.”
Tris nodded, accepting the natural use of the title lord.
Wintergarden had no noble ranks—it was still part of the Ledian territory.
Ownership and title were different things.
But since he owned the land, he was still addressed as lord.
“I’ve come to ask you something,” Tris said.
Jacob smiled gently.
“Ask whatever you wish.
I will answer anything I know.
Ah, would you like tea?”
“That would be nice.”
“This way.”
Father Jacob led him inside.
Over a cup of ginger tea, Tris asked about the seasons, the people, and everything else, and Jacob answered calmly.
But he never volunteered information on his own.
Arms crossed, Tris stared and finally asked,
“Don’t you have something you wish to tell me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something like what this village needs, what should be changed, taxes, and so on.”
Jacob chuckled softly.
“I’m simply one who listens.
In time, I’m sure you’ll hear and understand far more than I ever could.”
“Then tell me anything Emblin set in motion that I should know about.”
“There is nothing.”
“Nothing? What does that mean?”
“Princess Emblin has asked nothing of us.”
Tris narrowed his eyes.
Emblin had been here for a month—nothing?
“She has not left Wintergarden even once.”
What? Had she locked herself away?
Before he came, the land belonged to her.
“And that’s why we are grateful you’ve arrived, my lord.
Someone to protect her.”
Tris’s expression hardened.
Yesterday as well, Jacob had listened to his words, not hers.
Was he disregarding her again?
She was still a princess!
Anger flared.
But Jacob continued quietly.
“Princess Emblin is a pitiable soul.
When she first arrived here, I cannot tell you how sorry I felt.
She is the spitting image of Lady Meryl.
It was as though she had come here simply to survive.
So I wanted her to be at ease—unconditionally.”
Tris raised a brow.
Oh?
That was unexpected.
So—he took care of her out of sympathy?
And he meant it.
His soft brown eyes made that clear.
“And that is… only my personal opinion,” Jacob added cheerfully.
Ah.
Tris couldn’t help but smile slightly.
A wise man indeed.
By stressing that it was just his opinion, he was shielding the villagers from consequences.
And suddenly another side of the picture appeared.
Five villages reduced to one.
Where had the people gone?
“Father Jacob.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Why has the village become a ruin?”
Jacob bowed his head immediately.
“Because we failed.”
“In what way did you fail?”
“It was all our fault.”
“That is all?
What about the king’s representative?”
Silence.
Speaking of the royal agent could be considered slander.
Men had already died for that—some by hanging.
So the villagers made a silent pact:
Never voice complaints about nobles.
Survival demanded it.
If they left here, they had nowhere to go.
“Was he fair?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Hmm…
Tris stared.
Something was wrong—obviously.
The bowed head was humble, yet the stubbornness beneath it was unshakeable.
Even if there were horrors behind the truth, the abbot would never speak of them.
Tris let it drop.
There was much to learn; time would reveal it all.
He stood, and Jacob rose with him.
“Ah—there is someone I should introduce.”
He called out, and a young cleric entered.
Jacob: stooped back, limp, black hair.
Jacob placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“This is Jacob.
I send him to Wintergarden for errands.
You will see him often.”
The boy bowed so deeply his head nearly touched the floor.
Tris nodded lightly and stepped back into the sunlight.
Returning to the inn, he pulled out treated leather and began to draw a map—clean, simple, precise—based on distances he had measured himself.
His party watched in awe.
So this was the difference.
While they thought of one thing at a time, Tris thought of ten.
“Tower locations should be here, here, and here.”
He marked them with charcoal Xs.
“And we need barricades at the Valley of Wind entrance.
Sooner is better.”
“So first we need to check if the forest has usable lumber.”
“Exactly.
The village representative is a man named Jack.
He wrote the ledgers.
Educated, so communication should be easy.”
“Okay, I’ll go ask.”
“We also need workers.
Gather every carpenter.
Tell them we’ll pay day wages.”
“Two dirhams for a full day should be fine, right?”
Ron and Shawn stared at Peta simultaneously—clearly displeased.
“What? Isn’t two dirhams enough?”
“With two dirhams you can buy half a loaf of bread.”
Peta scratched his head awkwardly.
He hadn’t known.
He was a knight—paid a salary—and the castle had provided everything.
He had no idea what commoners lived on.
He dropped his voice.
“Then… uh…”
“Half-day five dirhams.
Full day twelve.
And instead of buying bread, buy wheat and bake.”
Tris ended the discussion neatly.
His time in Dello, running a village himself, was paying off.
Ron and Shawn relaxed.
That was a fair rate.
“All right.”
