Chp 2

It wasn’t long after he worked in the castle’s stables that he took notice of her. As he carried a loaded barrow towards the barn, he saw her sitting in the backyard of the outbuilding.

He immediately noticed the oldest little girl of Duke Croix and briskly tried to shrug it off, but his legs didn’t move for some reason.

The doll-like little girl hugged the black hound tightly with her stubby arms and buried her face against its velvety fur. Seeing how she clings to a dog bigger than him, his body stiffened, and his heart felt sore for unknown reasons.

He noticed that she wanted to be embraced by someone and her loneliness felt as vivid as his. He used to seek aid for his solitude that way too, burying his face against the nape of a foal.

Why does a girl with hundreds of servants seek comfort from a hound? Is she as lonely as I am? Having such thoughts run in his mind, he felt an urge to comfort her presumptuously.

It was thoughts that a passing dog would laugh at. Who will comfort who? He is a servant who removed horse dirt from stables, and she is the daughter of a duke.

Perhaps, she lived a life so luxurious that is beyond what he could imagine. A banquet hall decorated with marbles, golden chandeliers, soft fabrics, and sumptuous food that he will never be able to touch in his lifetime…

She sleeps in a soft, cloud-like bed made of feathers and she can eat and drink as much as she wants. She will never experience the pain of working until the skin of her palms peel till the day the dies.

He shook off the strange feelings he had towards her and congratulated himself for successfully convincing himself to walk away. However, after that day, he couldn’t help but chase her with his eyes every time he passed by the outbuilding.

Seeing her shoulders drooping or the back of her shaggy head made him feel sick, her smile made him feel better. He also became worried if she was sick somewhere whenever she’s not around. Unexpectedly, she has become someone who provided him healing at the end of the day.

Last night, as Riftan bagged charcoal from the kiln into a sack, he mocked himself. Although he knew that on one hand, he was just creating a comfort zone to escape from the harsh reality.

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He’s just protecting himself at will, and the girl might not even be lonely at all. Her sad figure must be all but a delusion he’s having, and she will have nothing but fun and joyful days ahead of her. Thinking that bringing her shabby gifts daily brings her joy is all but for vain.

She can get as many jewels as she wants if she wished for it. In just a few years, when she grows up a little more, she will forget the fact that she used to collect pebbles and all these kinds of nonsense.

He tightly tied the sack filled with black charcoal and tried erasing the red-haired girl who kept flickering in his head. Thinking of her is only an illusion that’s made for him to feel like he wasn’t alone.

Riftan pulled out firewood from the storage and stacked his sack in a barrow. He then grabbed the handles and pushed his load forward. He did the same routine over and over without stopping that he was able to transport all the charcoal before the sun reached the middle of the sky. With his raggedy sleeves, he wiped his sweat and pumped water from the well to quench his thirst.

The only fortunate thing about his damned life was that he was stronger than his peers. He couldn’t get the nutrition his body needed so his limbs and legs were thin, but he was tall and big enough to meet the height of boys two or three years older than him.

From eight years of age, he never suffered from any major illness despite being subjected to rigorous labor. There were times he would hope he’s sick when faced with a mountain of work but seeing people dying from unknown causes made that thought disappear.

If he gets sick, it’s all over. He couldn’t afford to go to a healer, let alone a priest, nor couldn’t expect someone to nurse him back to health because taking a day off work also means starving on that day.

Most poverty-stricken people just leave the sick unattended until they die, even their family. There’s no other way or choice for them anyway.

Merchants, craftsmen, and architects were better off, but tenant farmers such as they are, had to pay enormous amounts of rent every season.

It was common for peasants to renounce their freedom and become enslaved serfs because they couldn’t afford to pay taxes. Despite being able to pay taxes, putting food in the stomach is another difficult burden.

The taxes and rent implemented by the Duke of Croiso was particularly expensive. It wasn’t only once or twice did he see his stepfather haggling with the tax collector.

The taxes and rent implemented by the Duke of Croiso was particularly expensive. It wasn’t only once or twice did he see his stepfather haggling with the tax collector.

Whenever his father opened his mouth, it would be complaining about the expensive rent and moving to a land with lower taxes and rent. However, Riftan was well aware that there was no way that they’ll be able to leave the Croiso Manor.

Outside the walls were forests and lands infested by horrible monsters and it would require at least thirty silver coins to hire escort mercenaries to bring them to safety.

Even if he worked and farmed his whole life, he would never be able to save that amount of money. The only way to escape was to risk his own life, but Riftan knew that his stepfather doesn’t have the guts to do so.

Riftan stretched his waist and massaged his throbbing shoulders. Despite all the profanity that his stepfather spat out complaining about the hefty rents and taxes, he went out at dawn everyday carrying a plow to the fields. There was no other choice for him. He’ll wake up and do the same work over and over until he’s old and ill, until his body can no longer work.

It was not difficult to picture his stepfather lying on the bed, waiting helplessly for the day that he dies. And soon, it will be him. Like most peasants, his life will end that way too.

Riftan’s mouth twisted bitterly as he washed his soiled hands with the water from his canteen. But he was born strong, he will be able to withstand the hardships for at least thirty more years.

If he’s fortunate, he might even be a blacksmith like his stepfather intends for him to be. However, at this rate, it was a shot to the moon for him to become a master at the craft.

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