Return Home and Lunch
What would have taken Dad less than ten minutes on foot probably took me around an hour.
I had plenty of energy walking from the guild to the square, but the second half of the trip felt so long.
Maybe because I was hungry too, my steps got heavier and heavier, and in the end, I was carried home in Dad's arms.
How pathetic…
"Hahaha, no need to rush yourself so, sugar. You're eatin' more now, and the time you can stay on your feet each day has increased too. You've built up a mighty fine amount of stamina since you first got here. You worked awful hard at that learnin' hall today too, didn't ya? If you're going to go foraging in the afternoon, it’s better to save some strength.”
Seeing me droop in my child-sized chair, Dad laughed cheerfully. But I still felt depressed at my inability to walk through the village on my own.
Still, as he said, on the first day I arrived here, I was mentally exhausted, barely able to move around even inside the house.
Little by little, I started taking walks around the house, walking to the backyard field, helping with fieldwork, and slowly recovering my stamina and strength.
Thinking about it that way, it's only been a week. If I keep working hard, maybe a month from now, I’ll be running all over the village. Yeah, I’m sure I will!
"Well, that's good to hear. Seems you've made your peace with it. Now, let's get on to the eatin'."
We sat down together, and began lunch.
Dad listened to the story I had started earlier about the learning hall, and I talked about everything I experienced.
"Oh, is that so? Lilium's little one took a shine to ya, did he? That little scamp, huh.
Mare, Mire, and Mure, huh? Them three sisters are known far and wide for their sweet dispositions.
Kathe wants to become a knight guard, does she? Her big brother's quite the skilled adventurer too. Hmm, she might just have what it takes for it."
Dad was good at chiming in, so I could talk about everything that had happened today without leaving anything out.
Even during my travels with Mom, we used to talk a lot just the two of us, but the inn walls were thin, and it was hard to talk at night.
Besides, since we were always together, there wasn’t much to report anyway.
Thinking back now, she taught me so many things needed for survival—plant traits, foraging methods, how to avoid magical beasts, how to use mana, how to handle money.
Things that, in an ordinary town, with an ordinary mother and daughter, you’d only learn after getting older—or maybe never even need to learn at all.
Thinking that, I started to wonder what exactly Mom had been preparing me for.
Did she anticipate that she might one day be attacked by those thugs?
I’ll never know now. If I could open that box, maybe there’d be a letter inside… but without the key, I can’t hope for that.
Why is it that happy memories always end up bringing back the sad ones too?
It’s like someone’s telling me: “Don’t forget. Your current happiness is built on your mother’s misfortune.”
Maybe because I started thinking that way, Dad noticed and asked if something was wrong, looking concerned.
“No, I just… I was thinking how nice it would’ve been if Mom could’ve been here in the village with us.
Hey, Dad, Len and the others aren’t registered as adventurers yet. They said in the village you register after the baptism ceremony at age seven. What’s a baptism ceremony?”
"Oh, right, that's how it goes 'round these parts.
The baptism ceremony is a ritual where the young'uns pray at the church when they turn seven.
It's a way to give thanks for growin' up safe and sound, and it's when they're officially recognized as one of us.
Folks say it's a tradition that goes way back, from when young'uns often didn't make it to seven due to injuries or sickness.
These days, with all them recovery potions and whatnot, kids don't pass on so young no more, but we keep the custom alive.
After prayin' at the church, it's the norm to get your magic attribute and mana amount appraised with a crystal ball."
So once you turn seven, you're recognized as a full person, huh.
But the fact that it’s still practiced today might mean there are other reasons behind it.
Also, seems like there’s going to be a shiny crystal ball event.
“Dad, does every child have to go through that when they turn seven? If I do it, won’t it expose that I have all attributes?”
Actually, just hearing that the church is involved already makes me suspicious.
I can’t help but think the whole thing was created just to find out who has holy attributes.
If they were targeting specific attributes, some people might opt out—so they just made it mandatory for all kids.
And pairing it with a mana appraisal? That’s way too shady.
"… You're right as rain. I plumb forgot, you’re only five. But if you go through with it, they'll surely send word to the royal capital.
Ain't nothin' mandatory about it, but for young'uns not registerin' as adventurers, it's become a custom to find out their attribute.
Thanks for bringin' that to mind, Vio. We oughta check with the guildmaster to see if you gotta go through with that baptism ceremony or not."
Dad looked a bit troubled at first, but quickly pulled himself together and agreed to check with the guildmasters.
Sorry for the trouble, Dad.
What do you think about this chapter?
