Chapter 11 (2/2)
“I feel the same way, but we saw what happened.” Herti shook her head. “Remember the first lesson that every mage apprentice has to go through? It isn’t theoretical knowledge or formulas for magic, but a maxim: ‘The truth may run counter to common sense, but the truth will always be the truth.’ This is also valid in areas outside magic.”
Seeing as Rebecca was starting to ponder over it, Herti added in a low voice, “No matter what caused Ancestor to wake up from his long slumber, the resurrection of Cecil Clan’s ancestor remains a fact…”
Betty glanced at the two mistresses and realized that she did not understand what they were talking about, so she lowered her head and continued to hold her precious saucepan idly.
Soon, Gawain, who had gone hunting, returned with Amber and the three soldiers.
They did not have a bountiful catch, but it was still quite acceptable. They brought back three rabbits, two which they could not name, a large bird with gorgeous feathers, and they also picked up a bunch of wild fruits on the way. It should not be a problem to satisfy their hunger.
Watching as Amber skillfully handled the bodies of the catch, Gawain curled his lips. “You were saying that you couldn’t hunt? Your skills are on par with the gray elves of the Moss Woods!”
Moss Woods was a vast forest located on the border between Anzu Kingdom and the tribal country of Augari to the west of it. The gray elves, an elf subspecies, that lived in the Moss Woods were considered to be the best hunters in the world. To speak of their abilities to hunt prey in forests, they were even better than forest elves. When Gawain realized that he urgently needed to brush up on his general knowledge of this world, he took some time while he was free to search the memory. He had only just learned the information about this and quickly put it to use.
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While sorting out the guts of the beautiful big bird, Amber replied without looking up, “Truly a hero of seven hundred years ago. That information about gray elves should be at least a few hundreds of years old, right? Do you know that gray elves are now trading medicinal ingredients, and are no longer hunting?”
“…”
Amber continued working with her hands, skillfully skewering the food on a long wooden stick, set it by the bonfire, and she then glanced at Gawain and said, “I’m telling you I’m really no good at hunting. Though I am a half-elf, ever since my earliest memory, I have been living in human society. It was an old bandit who brought me up…”
“Then your skills…”
“Although I don’t hunt, I steal chickens.” Amber laughed like a child who could still joke with the person whose grave she just dug. “That’s where I learned it from.”
“…”
Hearing what Amber said, Herti frowned mildly. “How uncouth.”
Amber waggled her finger at her, “Yes, yes, I’m uncouth. Ah, but I’m a thief. I can only grab a few copper coins from the pockets of those that pass me by. How can I compare to you nobles who live in castles and can overtly take from the pockets of the residents?”
Before Amber’s voice fell, Knight Byron’s longsword made a ‘schwing’, and was held at her neck.
The half-elf instantly broke out in cold sweat.
Gawain waved his hand, motioning for Byron to put the sword away, and then he looked at Amber curiously. “That’s strange. Forget other things, but why haven’t you been beaten to death with that mouth of yours?”
Before the half-elf girl could utter a sound, Gawain wagged his head smugly and said, “You’re a pro at escaping, right?”
“…”
“Okay, let’s set aside all our class differences and conflicts. We’re all in the same boat now.” Gawain let out a breath of relief, grabbed a fruit from the side, and brought it to his mouth. “Let’s all regain our strength. Mages, make use of this time to meditate to restore your mana. We must set off before noon. We have already spent a night underground, and we must not waste the day ahead.”
“Betty, put that aside for now,” Rebecca glanced at her maidservant and kindly reminded her, “You’re not going to use it now.”
Betty looked at her mistress, then at the pan in her hand as though in hesitation.
Gawain was curious. “Speaking of which, why do you keep holding this pan?”
Betty was a little scared of Gawain. Her neck cringed as she clutched the handle of the pan tightly. “Madam Hansen told me that I’ll be responsible for frying sausages and bread… using this pan.”
“Madam Hansen is in charge of the kitchen in the castle,” Herti whispered to Gawain. “But she’s dead.”
Gawain sighed as he looked at the young lady with freckles on her face.
“This pan is yours, and it’ll always be yours,” he said, “Now you can set it aside and come over to eat.”