Ch.211Report on the Collapse of Patience (4)

The ground was cool, but the grass was long and soft. Thick-barked trees wrapped around the village snugly, as if saying they could withstand the cold.

From the stream came the crackling sound of thin ice breaking, and birds with fluttering feathers swooped down to wet their beaks before quickly flying away again.

Toward the village where the festival was taking place.

As Kain and his companions approached, villagers playing flutes and beating drums led them to the village square.

“It’s a wedding!”

A plump woman shouted. Judging by her flushed face, she had already had quite a bit to drink.

“It’s a wedding, a wedding! Come, enjoy plenty of delicious food and bestow your blessings!”

It seemed the custom of hospitality still remained in this remote Garioth village.

If there were travelers on the road, they would be treated with sincere hospitality, and travelers, unless in unusual circumstances, would not decline.

This was a custom that had almost disappeared since the Empire was established and life became more stable, but not in such isolated villages.

Even country folk enjoy bustling crowds and excitement. But when they wake up every morning to see the same faces day after day—familiarity is nice for a day or two, but it soon becomes a tedious and monotonous daily life.

So even personal events like weddings become major festivals for villagers looking for any excuse to celebrate.

And if traveling visitors happened to come by, it was considered an especially good omen for the bride and groom. After all, it was a wedding blessed even by complete strangers.

Even so, being a country village festival, the food was nothing special.

There was mostly bran bread that seemed like it would scratch the roof of your mouth if not chewed carefully. Each bite released the smell of old chaff.

Most bread usually develops sweetness when chewed long enough, but bran instead intensified the bitter and sour taste characteristic of grain.

There were cookies too, but they were strictly for children and the elderly.

Made by mixing figs and wild raspberries into the dough and baking small pinched-off pieces, they were unevenly baked with slightly burnt edges.

This wasn’t due to lack of skill but rather the lack of proper means to control the heat.

The venison was tough with a strong gamey smell. The cheese made from goat’s milk was slightly sour, and the fruits were small and less sweet because they had been harvested too early.

Yet everyone was in high spirits, not just because these were foods they didn’t eat regularly, or because of the sense of liberation from finally being able to enjoy freely what they had saved bit by bit for today’s wedding.

It was thanks to the beer.

Just one sip filled the mouth with a rich aroma. A low, gentle oak scent paved the way, followed by the soft, rippling brown aroma of barley popping pleasantly.

A deep sweetness like maple syrup and a refreshing sensation that cleared the nose swirled around, before finally a heavy bitterness settled in the mouth.

No one enjoys bitterness for its own sake. But bitterness has its role—it organizes what might otherwise become a chaotic taste.

Then bitterness becomes not something to avoid but a savory taste that makes you smack your lips and salivate, and to satisfy that craving, you need to eat and drink more.

With just one good beer, a modest country table transformed into a rich and hearty farmer’s feast. This was magic that only alcohol could create.

To a sober person’s eyes, these were just bitter foods with rough flavors, but who would complain about tasting beer aged for over half a year in oak barrels in limestone caves, in a country village where one expected no taste at all?

Though there was no fried bread, and though the bride and groom were not handsome but rather plain with broad faces, everyone grabbed each other’s clothes and jumped around dancing, and the sight of two plump chickens fluttering about made many people cry and laugh.

In one corner, they were electing a Pope. Not a rebellious Pope or anything so grand, but simply a drinking game involving the entire village.

Everyone started equally as slaves, and with each gulp of beer, they rose one rank. From slave to freeman, from freeman to plantation owner, from plantation owner to count…

Anyone who asked how a count became a Pope had no right to join the game. After all, it made no sense from the beginning that a slave would become a freeman just by drinking a mug of beer.

And so finally, whoever could still walk on two legs after draining the last mug of beer became the Pope. Among a table full of people crawling on all fours, the one walking on two feet truly deserved the title of Pope.

The four-legged beasts celebrated the election of the new Pope by carrying him around the village in a makeshift carriage cobbled together from chairs and sticks, which usually ended with everyone crashing to the ground in a heap.

And the actual wedding ceremony hadn’t even started yet.

The priest who arrived late offered excuses. His old donkey wouldn’t listen, and one carrot wasn’t enough to make it budge, so he had to feed it two more.

But by then, the villagers could hardly tell whether the person before them was a priest or a Pope.

After much commotion, fuss, and uproar, the bride and groom finally stood facing each other in the village square. Both had droopy eyes and slack mouths from drinking, but they still knew exactly what they were supposed to say.

“My heart is your heart,” the bride spoke first.

“I entrust my heart to you,” the groom responded.

“We who have become one heart are happy.” The two embraced and kissed.

By then, people were beating drums loudly and playing flutes as they pleased, so no one seemed to hear the declaration: “Under the wings of the Two-headed Eagle, in the name of Günther, God’s representative, I solemnly declare these two people husband and wife.”

But Kain heard those words. Surrounded by people getting up to dance, he looked at Günther.

He appeared to be an utterly ordinary man.

A middle-aged man. A wrinkled face. A plump build with a slightly protruding belly. A somewhat hunched back and slightly bowed head, perhaps from much studying. But his large eyes remained clear.

Sensing something, Günther looked through the crowd directly at Kain. Only at Kain.

Among the jubilant crowd, only these two remained expressionless.

While the world around them was in noisy commotion, only these two stood quietly frozen.

As if they were the only two left in the world. The noise faded, and even their heartbeats slowed. The pursuer and the pursued became aware of each other.

But not now. It wasn’t the right time yet. The priest was soon swept away by the excited crowd and disappeared somewhere.

* * * * *

Everyone gathered together to dance.

At some point, Lily was twirling with the village women with a lily flower tucked behind her ear. Maria seemed to be having a drinking contest with the village drinkers.

Kain joined a quieter gathering, consoling the father who had just given away his daughter.

“Congratulations on this joyous occasion.”

Kain responded politely, and the bride’s father nodded with tear-stained face. Other villagers tried to comfort him.

“Brother, stop crying. The newlyweds’ house is right next door, isn’t it? What’s there to be so sad about?”

“You’ve never given away a daughter.”

“What, were you planning to feed and keep her forever?”

“I didn’t think so until this morning, but now that she’s gone… sob.”

“Come now, brother. It’s a happy day and we have guests. You shouldn’t be like this. Our niece needs to receive many blessings, right?”

“Yes, that’s right…” The aging man finally forced a smile.

“I apologize for this.”

“No, not at all. She must be a very precious daughter. Have a drink.” Kain smiled as he filled the man’s cup.

“Thank you. Yes, let’s drink to Linzi’s future!”

Everyone raised their cups, and the heavy pewter cups clinked together with a bell-like sound. The villagers seemed very grateful to Kain for downing his beer.

“I hope we haven’t detained you from an urgent journey. We don’t have much to offer…”

“Not at all. This is the most delicious beer I’ve ever tasted,” Kain replied with a smile.

“That’s our pride,” said a man with a chestnut-like beard, laughing heartily.

“Our village really had nothing before. We used to be somewhat prosperous. We have a mine with good quality limestone. Many people lived here then. Before the limestone ran out, that is.”

Kain nodded and looked around.

There were indeed many empty houses. Even among equally dilapidated houses, the difference between those inhabited and those abandoned was obvious at a glance.

Vitality, air, or atmosphere. Empty houses had none of these. Just the coolness of an empty cave.

“I suppose many people left after that.”

“There wasn’t much to live on. Given the situation, the lord gave permission for people to move to other villages if they wished.

Most went to the quarry in… what was it called… anyway, many went there. Those who didn’t, stayed. Woodcutters, hunters…”

In territories outside the Empire, one needed the lord’s permission to move.

In fact, moving itself was rare unless there was war or a major disaster like a fire. How easy is it to leave a village where your family has lived for generations? It shakes the very foundation of your life.

Only nobles could afford to marry into other regions, receive education elsewhere, and so on. For common people, it was never easy.

Moreover, no village had an abundance of food. Everyone led a hard life, working to the bone just to earn a small piece of bread.

No one likes more mouths to feed. Especially if they’re not your children but outsiders.

So the count’s measure must be considered quite exceptional. Or perhaps this village of Garioth was truly that poor.

“Many people left then. Good people. Then about ten years ago, when the new priest arrived, many things changed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. After hearing about our situation, he asked if the limestone cave was still there. It was still intact, thanks to being sturdy and well-maintained.

Seeing that, the priest suggested aging beer there. He said it would be exceptional after about half a year.

Well, we had nothing to lose, right? So we did as the priest suggested. Wow, the taste was incredible. Our production is still small, but if we get ambitious, we could sell to other villages…”

“Hmph,” the bride’s father frowned. “Man, you need something to sell before you can sell it. The barrels are emptied as soon as they’re opened, with nothing left. Are you planning to sell the oak barrels instead?”

“That’s why we need to increase production, sir.”

“And who’s going to brew all this beer?”

“We can gather people, can’t we? Besides, these days there are many outsiders passing through…”

The atmosphere grew somewhat tense. Even the speaker seemed to realize he’d gotten carried away and changed the subject.

“What I mean is, wouldn’t it be nice to bring back our neighbors who went to the quarry?”

“Nothing good comes from a crowded village. Just makes unnecessary noise. People are most beautiful when they stay in their proper places. Otherwise, trouble surely follows,” the father muttered bitterly.

Kain noticed men of similar age nodding in unison.

“Wise words indeed.”

“My, such polite speech from a young man. Are you perhaps a scholar?”

“No, just a passing traveler.”

That was all Kain said. The men nodded.

“Young people these days are smart. Good with words too. Different from our time, isn’t it, brother?”

“Yes, different.” The bride’s father rubbed his thick, cracked fingers over his eyelids.

“We lived ignorantly without knowing much, but our children shouldn’t have to live the same way. At least we should know how to protect those who are like our children…”

“Come now, brother. Why are you getting gloomy again?” another man shouted.

“Well, what should we have done then? Aren’t we living just as poorly now as we were then?

Just as we stayed here to find our own way to survive, those kids went to find theirs. It’s not like we forced them, right?”

“Hey, hey, what are you saying, man?”

“No, wait.” The man struggled roughly.

“Brother. Edgar, brother! You only did what you had to do as the village head. Those kids left because they wanted to! What’s there to regret and feel so bitter about?”

“They all died!”

“What do you mean ‘all died’! I heard those who escaped outnumbered the dead by three times! They’re all breathing and living well somewhere, so don’t worry too much!

Why would they show their faces in this village with nothing to see?

If they’re living well, let them live that way, and if they died somewhere, just pray for their souls. Why keep going on about it…

The boy at least joined the White Blood Knights, and the girl became a novice priest! Can’t they take care of themselves?”