Elden and his group headed toward Gelida, a small village located between Lugen Village and the Grand Ducal territory.
They had started off a bit late in the morning, and the sun was already high in the sky.
Yet, nobody appeared weary.
It was thanks to their splendid companions—a donkey and the cart.
Of course.
“Grandfather, are we there yet?”
“Hmm. I think we should arrive by late evening.”
Although they were moving at a slow pace.
It couldn’t be helped.
When carrying the loads themselves, they had cut across steep mountain paths or low-slope cliffs to shorten the distance, but the cart couldn’t manage that, meaning they had to stick to flat ground.
Now that they had borrowed a cart to move on flat land, one might argue it would be better to have rented a larger one for a more comfortable journey, but unfortunately, this cart happened to be the biggest transportation asset owned by Lugen Village.
“First, let’s find a spot for lunch and take a short break before we move on.”
Rendler, who was guiding the cart, brought it to a stop, and like they had done for six months, the team began to efficiently handle their respective tasks.
Rendler set up the camp, Rachel patrolled the area for any potential dangers, and Elden gathered twigs for the essential campfire.
Crackle!
With a snap of magic, he easily ignited the fire.
If there was more time left, they could fetch water from a nearby stream using buckets and separate it into portions for everyone’s needs.
Amidst the routine motions, there were those seeking to introduce some variation.
One was amazed at the organized structure of the camp, while the other took on the role of a seasoned homeless veteran, eager to teach.
“Most camping happens during meal prep, you know? Just get the cooking utensils ready, and once Elden lights the fire and brings the water, we can start cooking.”
Ariel, skillfully preparing for the meal while explaining, was met with a nodding Lumia, who was naturally wearing her hood to prevent any potential mishaps.
[Thanks. I can handle it now.]
Having assisted Lumia, Ariel approached Elden, who was portioning the water he had fetched into smaller buckets.
“Hey, Elden?”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to ask one last thing. I’m almost done with the epilogue script.”
“Oh. So it seems the ending is ready?”
“Yep! While the Grand Duchess handles the cooking, I’ve been making fast progress. Hehe.”
After Elden finished portioning the water for their individual uses, he sat down on a large flat rock next to the campfire.
Ariel joined him, holding a piece of paper and a pen.
“What’s our great author curious about?”
“G-great author? Don’t call me that. It feels weird…”
“Who knows? It might be a hit right after publication, right?”
“Come on… That’s a real stretch for a joke.”
Though Ariel’s intent was not to envision “great success” with Elden’s story in book form, she secretly hoped, should an opportunity arise to publish it, that many people would indeed read it.
Money, fame, glory?
Not that—she simply wished that the infamous past of Elden Raphelion would fade from people’s memories.
She wanted him to be remembered not as the ruffian ringleader who wreaked havoc but as the compassionate noble who helped the weak, and as the monster hunter with a grandiose title.
Over the past six months, she had witnessed Elden’s good deeds—how he never turned a blind eye to those mistreated and generously offered his hand to help. She hoped the people of the Northern Regions, no, everyone in the Elpherion Kingdom would recognize him as such.
She wished everyone could see how magnificent and beautiful he truly was.
Like the instance where he helped a mother who had lost her daughter due to exorbitant debts.
Or when he liberating residents who were being exploited by a band of thieves.
And…
The episode that garnered the most attention was the hunting of the mid-level monster, the Cockatrice, which had been wreaking havoc nearby by slaughtering animals and occasionally snagging a person or two, instilling fear across the area. With the creature’s massive carcass, they feasted for two days, preparing dishes from its wings, tail, torso, and head, and celebrated with the villagers.
Thus, Ariel encapsulated all that had transpired over the past six months in the script, and through various incidents, she wished for Elden, who was evolving into an admirable man, to have his noble mindset, which transcended his origin and status, resonate within the hearts of his less worthy noble peers.
With the hope of achieving this, it had already been six months since she began writing the script. Matching Elden’s desire to settle in a picturesque location, Ariel had completed the main script, leaving only the epilogue to be written.
Once the epilogue was finished, she would be ready to dive into the actual writing process.
Covering everything from the main storyline to the epilogue, the end of this long journey had to be a guaranteed happy ending! Fueled by this stubbornness, the conclusion of Elden’s tale presented a happy ending devoid of any sorrow, and to cap it off, one particularly curious thought emerged.
While it was a somewhat embarrassing question to ask, for the sake of a proper conclusion and, incidentally, to gauge their similarities in thought, Ariel cautiously broached the topic.
“So… if, you know, you were to find someone you love and get married…”
“And then?”
“Umm, how many children would you want?”
“…Huh? Children?”
Caught off guard by the sudden inquiry about parenthood, Elden blinked in surprise as Ariel’s face turned a bright shade of red, flailing her hands.
“Oh, no! I’m just asking for reference, you know? It’s totally fine if you don’t want any! I mean, if there’s a baby in the epilogue that looks like you, I thought it would make readers happy… maybe add a touch of emotion? So, that’s why I’m just asking!”
Stumbling over her words, she unraveled her reasoning, which was a mix of truth and excuses—truly a shy rationale meant for someone she knew well. Of course, there was a tinge of sorrow as she thought about how she hadn’t even considered who would fill her bowl of rice yet she was already serving up such a hearty helping of thoughts.
Ariel hadn’t yet expressed her feelings.
“Really? Hmm, children, huh…”
Elden pondered as he gazed into the flickering campfire, lost in thought.
It was a question he had never entertained in either his past or present life. After all, his past was far too harsh for romantic dreams of marriage and children, and in this life, dreams of gastronomic adventures with monsters occupied all his thoughts.
He had no intention of living a life of perpetual singleness, yet planning to start a family felt like a distant fantasy.
Having endured a life as a lower-class citizen that required them to suppress and submit, the abrupt shift to a life of upper-class privileges presented him with countless romances beyond the simple notion of marriage.
And thus, after an initial moment of contemplation regarding his own offspring, Elden finally shared his answer.
“I think two children would be ideal. One son and one daughter sound just right.”
And then.
Rachel, who had just returned from her patrol, had to suppress her astonishment upon hearing the sudden child-planning talk from her beloved pupil.
For someone who did not particularly like the idea of small, helpless beings, Rachel was thoroughly struck with disbelief; it was as if a thunderbolt had hit her.
“Two… babies…?”
Of course, like Ariel, it was a preposterous concern for someone who hadn’t even expressed any romantic interest herself.
—
After a light lunch consisting of Lumia’s delicious red Longuer meat soup, we took a short break and soon set off straight toward Gelida Village. By now, the late afternoon sun was casting a golden hue through the gaps in the trees.
As we quietly walked, soaking in the essence of the serene forest, Rachel approached me.
“Mentor?”
“Yes, my disciple. I have something personal I’m curious about.”
“You too?”
“Yes.”
A feeling of ‘personal’ questions had been intensifying lately, with both Ariel and Rachel seeking them for different reasons.
“Is it about my training?”
“Well… it’s not entirely unrelated. To teach my disciple well, it’s beneficial to understand their personal thoughts and ideologies.”
While there’s a point there, Rachel had never inquired about such lofty ideas during our six-month training sessions. But still—
“That’s fair enough. What is it?”
However, an oddly unexpected question came next.
“What do you think about the marriage between commoners and nobles?”
“Huh?”
Sudden, right?
“Oh, it was just a thought I had, wondering if it could help with training. If it’s a difficult question, you don’t have to answer.”
I wondered how a belief about love could aid in training, but it wasn’t such a hard question that I couldn’t tackle.
As you know, nobles mostly marry through arranged unions dictated by their houses. I had heard tales of nobles who fell in love with commoners, only to be exiled for bringing dishonor upon their family, even when there was no pressure to produce heirs.
It was tragic—they were cast out simply for tarnishing their family’s honor, even if they meant no harm. Of course, before that happens, the families would employ every trick in the book to avert the worst outcome, whether through bribery or intimidation.
So in essence, love between commoners and nobles is a forbidden territory, carrying the potential for catastrophic consequences if mishandled.
For me, who cared little for the chains of status, it was merely the ordinary right of any man and woman.
“Well… as long as they truly love each other, shouldn’t it be celebrated? No one chooses where they’re born.”
As I replied, I noticed Rachel’s pleased smile at her disciple’s belief.
“Indeed, commendable!”
“What’s commendable?”
“Such a notion exists.”
“So how does this relate to training?”
I threw the question out there, confused as to how this connected. Rachel simply returned with another puzzling answer.
“It does. My enthusiasm has been reignited!”
“Huh?”
Your enthusiasm is reignited?
Wasn’t she just showing off her prowess while venting her frustrations during our sparring sessions? Had that grin held a sinister undertone?
Or could it possibly relate to us, in the context of commoners and nobles…?
Nah, couldn’t be.
“What do you mean…”
Before I could receive an answer, a group appeared, blocking our path through the forest.
A typical band of highwaymen from a medieval fantasy setting.
“Ahaha! Well, well, look what we have here—some folks that seem to have a bit of coin on them. And look at those ladies, quite appetizing. Listen up! This mountain belongs to our great ‘Iron Can Band.’ If you want to pass safely, you’ll have to offer up some gold and the ladies as a toll! Ahaha!”
…The Iron Can Band?
What a hopeless choice of name!
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