Ch.67Seeds (2)

A man who was rescued by Lord Alzar after being attacked by a pack of moon wolves, and who then volunteered for and became a resident of Lord Alzar’s pioneer village.

Pierre (who has no surname as he is an orphan) had more or less adapted to life in this pioneer settlement.

He had impulsively applied to become a pioneer village resident simply thinking he wouldn’t go hungry, and was surprised when he was actually accepted. Though initially somewhat dazed but overjoyed, as time passed, he began to worry.

Life in a pioneer village was both a rare opportunity and an equally risky, harsh existence. Even if the village was directly governed by the lord’s son with abundant support, the dangers remained largely unchanged.

In reality, during the month and a week Pierre had lived in the pioneer village, he had faced several life-threatening situations.

An ogre appearing in the nearby forest. Various bandits attacking the village. A large goblin settlement in the forest (their connection to a cult being confidential), and even the appearance of the infamous magical beast, the basilisk.

Having faced four potentially fatal crises in just one month, Pierre finally understood why people called pioneer villages dangerous.

Still, what consoled Pierre was that the standard of living in this pioneer village wasn’t particularly bad.

Though he initially slept in a tent, once the infrastructure was established, he was assigned a fairly spacious house. Unlike his home village where he endured 12-hour workdays, this pioneer village was more flexible.

It provided residents with ample rest time and strictly regulated work hours, reducing time while maximizing efficiency.

Additionally, participating in village construction work guaranteed three abundant meals daily, which was quite satisfactory for Pierre.

Though the distributed meals were supposedly just watered-down soup, they actually contained some meat. Moreover, with the wages earned from labor, one could purchase various side dishes for an excellent meal.

Instead of the watered-down soup typically considered poor quality, one could buy bread, or purchase wild berries and meat from hunter families.

The only drawback was the absence of alcohol, which had been Pierre’s sole comfort in life, but no one would complain about the lack of alcohol when the village provided three meals with meat every day…

“Alcohol! Give me alcohol—”

“Hey, stomp him!”

“Beat him! Beat him up!”

“How dare he speak such nonsense to His Lordship!”

-Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

…Correction. There was once such a person, but it would be more accurate to say he somehow disappeared.

Anyway, while Pierre had adapted to this village that guaranteed a quality of life sufficient for living without complaints, the more he lived this life, the more he felt an emptiness growing somewhere in his heart.

Like many people in this world, he had lived with the goal of simply continuing his life without any particular purpose. Now that his once-precarious existence had stabilized, he naturally lost his sense of purpose.

Of course, normally people would regain purpose in life by marrying and having children, but in Pierre’s case, the story was quite different.

“Gather around! A proclamation! Lord Alzar’s proclamation!”

‘A… proclamation?’

The village administrator, a woman of considerable beauty who may have stolen the hearts of several young men in the village… in other words, something like the idol of this pioneer village.

When she called out holding what looked like a piece of parchment, villagers naturally gathered around her, murmuring amongst themselves.

And at the moment when enough people seemed to have gathered, Administrator Charlotte cleared her throat with a few coughs and then, raising the parchment high, declared to the villagers:

“From the Baron of Alzar, Baron of Lur, Baron of Colland, and protector of countless manors. Lord Camille d’Alzar, the only child of the magnificent Lord Hugo d’Alzar and our protector, wishes to recruit his first squire from this village.”

“””S-squire…?!”””

‘What’s that?’

‘Is it good? Or…’

Those who knew the exact role of a squire nodded in understanding, those who vaguely knew it was something like an apprentice knight were excited, and the rest expressed confusion about its nature.

“A squire is one who serves Lord Alzar at his side, an attendant! Also a knight-in-training who could become a knight if fortunate enough to awaken an aura!”

Of course, public opinion completely changed after the administrator explained what a squire was. In this space of madness where people whose eyes had rolled back at the mention of “apprentice knight” were waiting for the administrator’s next words…

“Now I will explain the conditions! One, must be between 14 and 20 years old! One, must have all limbs intact! One, must be proficient in physical labor! Combat experience increases the possibility of selection! Remember this!”

‘Huh? This… couldn’t I qualify?’

Pierre suddenly realized that he met all these conditions.

Eighteen years old this year. Obviously with all limbs intact since he was accepted into the village, experienced in physical labor from his background in a rural farming village, and had even served in the village militia (civil defense force).

Additionally, Pierre had been wanting to add some variation to his monotonous daily life, but at the same time, he had absolutely no intention of leaving the village at the risk of his own safety.

In short, this opportunity held more value to him than just any chance—it was something grand that could potentially turn his life around.

‘I hope I get selected…’

So while he harbored hope, he maintained his composure and didn’t get his expectations too high…

At this point, Pierre had no idea.

About what was about to happen to him, about how his future would be completely different from everything he had experienced so far.

※ ※ ※

Exactly one day after the announcement about recruiting my squire.

“Hmm…”

Having finished the recruitment notice and confirmed all 13 applicants who met the conditions, I now wanted to select a squire directly through one-on-one interviews, reminiscent of an audition program.

For them, it was like meeting someone as lofty as the heavens. Naturally, my direct involvement in the interviews was enough to put considerable mental pressure on them, but I had no intention of changing my approach.

I was confident that anyone who would retreat under this level of pressure wouldn’t be able to handle the role anyway, but…

‘Perhaps I should lower the requirements a bit?’

After finishing the twelfth interview, with only one candidate remaining, I thought about the twelve candidates—or rather, inadequate fellows—I had met so far.

Half of them, six people, were disqualified after brief conversations revealed they were completely unsuited for life-risking battles. Two were disqualified for having strong ambition—or rather, being too assertive despite their firm resolve.

The remaining four were disqualified for being former bandits among those twelve. Now only one person remained.

‘Do I really have to use that one?’

So, as I was racking my brains over this dizzying situation, I sighed deeply, recalling the conversation I just had.

‘Me! I want to be your squire!’

‘…Miss Hannah. You’re an intermediate. What kind of person would accept an intermediate as a squire?’

‘The merciful Lord Alzar would!’

‘…Please leave.’

‘Yes…’

…After this exchange with Hannah Wolfblood, I was wondering if I really had to make her my squire.

Because of this, I was thinking that if all else failed, I might have to pick one of the more reasonable candidates and at least give them some mental training, when I ordered the last candidate to enter.

And then…

“Ah, hello, Lord Alzar! I am, um…”

“Pierre… right? Haven’t I seen you several times before?”

“Y-yes, that’s right! But how did you know my name…?”

“I remembered your face. We’ve met several times.”

I met him once when I happened to save him on my way back from a mission, stamped his face during the pioneer village recruitment process, and furthermore, he was the one who informed me about Ing-something’s invasion last time.

So he was one of the few residents whose face and name I remembered, and I greeted him with a welcoming attitude, but…

‘Oh, look at this?’

As I properly looked him over, I noticed that he showed more potential than I had thought, and I smiled.

His overall physical structure was straight with broad shoulders, indicating an excellent skeletal condition. He also had decent muscle development, perhaps from his militia activities protecting his hometown.

The spirit reflected in his eyes was clear and transparent, and despite being slightly nervous, he wasn’t particularly intimidated by my presence.

Additionally, his height was considerable by this era’s standards, about 175cm, and unbeknownst to him, he was unconsciously demonstrating enhancement through magical power.

In other words, though he didn’t know it himself, he was a born warrior. If thrown into any barracks, hungry soldiers would rush to him, and knights would compete to take him as their squire due to his potential…

“You’re accepted, Pierre.”

“…Pardon?”

“Starting tomorrow, stop whatever you’ve been doing, and after breakfast, come to my office. From today, you’re my squire.”

“Yes. …Huh?”

I demonstrated trust in my judgment and eye for talent, firmly deciding to take him (Pierre) as my squire.

“Ah, and follow me right now. I’ll give you some suitable equipment from the storehouse.”

“…?? Y-yes…”

Of course, perhaps such a sudden change in circumstances was difficult to accept, as Pierre continued to wear an expression similar to displaying a blue screen on his face.