Wolf remembered belatedly. “Because of its long isolation in a harsh natural environment, Stol’s ecosystem of plants and animals is unique in many ways. Hundreds of species exist there that cannot be found in Atania.”
“Quiet! What are you chattering about!”
Black Weasel spun around sharply, his face twisted in irritation. With an expression that looked like he doubted his own eyes, he stared hard at the rabbit the boy was holding, then pointed at it.
「What’s that? Don’t tell me a lazy bastard like you went hunting.」
「You said the food stored in the hideout only amounts to three portions.」
「……Ha.」
Black Weasel let out a hollow laugh, waving one hand as if the whole thing were ridiculous, then turned away. Wolf, who couldn’t understand their conversation, grew gloomy. Never having imagined a day like this would come, Wolf regretted not learning the Stol language earlier.
The boy suddenly shoved the rabbit into Wolf’s arms.
“Carry it.”
“Okay.”
Wolf turned around with the rabbit. He had barely taken a few steps when the boy tapped Wolf on the shoulder.
“Take this.”
Another rabbit.
“And this.”
The third thing was a wild baby goat. At least the goat looked no different from the goats in Atania.
「The boat’s going to sink! That’s enough hunting, you brat!」
Black Weasel shouted at the boy.
Around then the forest ended and the riverbank appeared. A small ferry boat was tied to a tree near the water.
Wolf and the Red Eagle Prince couldn’t hide their amazement as they looked across the river. Layer upon layer of massive mountains stretched into the distance, their hollowed valleys carrying thin streams of white water that flowed like threads. It was a spectacle neither of them had seen even while traveling through Atania.
It was mysterious and beautiful.
But that very mysterious and beautiful mountain range was the true culprit that had driven the Stol people to launch invasion expeditions all the way to distant Atania. The mountains crushed most of the country beneath their enormous bulk, leaving Stol with an absolute shortage of farmland. At this point, Wolf—who dreamed of becoming a baker—couldn’t help but feel curiosity bubbling up.
What do Stol people eat as their staple food? Barley? Rye? With the gloomy weather and a land dominated by dark mountains, which crop yields the most harvest in Stol?
“Quit sightseeing and get in here!”
Black Weasel shouted as he sat down in the ferry. Wolf and the Red Eagle Prince were seated opposite him, while Black Weasel and the boy rowed side by side.
They handled the oars skillfully.
Wolf flipped through the pages of memory inside his head.
“The mountainous country of Stol has very few paved roads.”
“In Stol, rivers are the roads, and horses are boats.”
“Even during the <Ill Omen invasion> period, although they lacked the technology to build sailing ships, small military vessels specialized for localized warfare were widely produced throughout Stol.”
And then, and then… that kid…
The flow of Wolf’s thoughts twisted away from the Great Encyclopedia of Stol and settled firmly on the boy.
The boy was rowing from the opposite side while looking at Wolf. Perhaps because the color of those eyes was so pale, each time their gazes met Wolf felt something impossible to describe.
Something like discomfort.
Something special.
Yes—centripetal force.
There was a centripetal pull in those Alice-blue eyes that seemed to draw people in.
Wolf’s cheeks gradually grew hotter.
Why does that kid keep staring only at me? I’m staring at him too, so I guess it’s the same… but your gaze is intense. It’s normal for me to look at you, but it’s strange that you’re only looking at me.
I want to know! What’s the reason!
Could it be that he likes me or something? The prince said my face is likable… and at school people always said I was funny… right, I even got invited to the student council president’s birthday party. I am the type people my age tend to like…
No, no! Suppress the ego! Suppress it! Why would a knife-wielding boy like that feel any kind of interest in a clueless attendant like me. He’s probably just… absentmindedly looking across the boat…
Once Wolf sorted out those thoughts, the tension drained away. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look away and continued staring blankly at the boy.
The hood had fallen back, revealing the boy’s hair. To Wolf it looked like the kind of hair someone would have after tossing and turning all night before waking up. Apparently walking around like that was what earned boys in this country recognition as “men.”
Maybe even Black Weasel’s ragged horse-mane of hair would pass for “masculinity” in Stol.
Wolf found himself wondering about the relationship between Black Weasel and the boy. They definitely weren’t father and son. Friends despite the age gap? Judging by the nickname the boy had given the man—Ice-Armored Beast…
Even if someone didn’t know about long-haired rabbits, there was no person in Atania who didn’t know about the Ice-Armored Beast. Native to Stol, the Ice-Armored Beast was a bear whose back was covered with hard plate armor fitting its name. Traveling theater troupes across Atania adored it as their most popular attraction.
Despite its extreme ferocity, the beast was also famous for strange moments—like seeing its own shadow in firelight and falling backward in fright, or trembling in terror at the sound of bells. Because of that absurd contrast, in Atania the Ice-Armored Beast had long become a byword for “a creature that doesn’t live up to its size.”
But that man definitely lived up to his size.
“You. Why are you staring at my slave like that?”
The sudden voice made Wolf flinch. Black Weasel was glaring at him while rowing.
“Why aren’t you answering? I’m asking why you keep staring at my slave.”
“That… uh, a slave? Him?”
Wolf couldn’t believe it. That boy—who looked like the kind of person who absolutely wouldn’t listen to anyone—was a slave?
“Yeah, a slave. When there’s work, I use him as an assistant. You two are seventeen, right? Same age as my slave.”
“Ah….”
“What, surprised? Don’t tell me you thought he was my son. That’d be strange—anyone can see we’re complete strangers.”
“Yes, you look nothing alike, so I never once thought you were father and son. I figured he was your business partner, warrior. Since he looked about my age, I admired how impressive he was. But…”
Wolf quietly changed the subject.
“What’s his name? It feels awkward to keep calling him ‘that kid.’”
“Hm.”
Black Weasel narrowed his eyes and slowly looked Wolf up and down. It was the kind of gaze that searched every inch.
Wolf felt a stab of unease. Did I say something wrong again?
Black Weasel soon looked away and spoke.
“First a question. The prince called you Wolf. Is your Stol name Silver Wolf?”
“How did you know?”
Wolf asked in surprise. Black Weasel snorted loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You didn’t know, country bumpkin from Atania? The most common name in Stol is Silver Wolf. Among kids your age alone, there are as many people with that name as there are stars in the night sky. Now I’ll answer your question. Silver Wolf. That’s the name of my slave.”
“Ah….”
Wolf’s heart fluttered.
“I see. But right now I’m Wolf Bell. Please call me Wolf. I may have been born in Stol, but I’m an Atanian.”
“That’s convenient. As it happens, I call this slave Silver. Silver hates his Stol name.”
At that, Wolf looked at Silver.
Silver was staring down at the tips of his own feet, eyes lowered.
Then Silver must be a former prisoner?
In Atania and Stol, slaves fell into three categories: prisoners from the Atanian civil wars, Stol captives taken after tribal conflicts, and unlucky Atanians who had been kidnapped.
Silver seemed to belong to the second category. When Wolf had asked if he was Atanian, Silver had pointed to the tattoo on his own face and sneered, “Me?” Clearly Silver considered himself Stol.
Then why hate a Stol name? Because it’s too common?
Wolf wondered how long Silver had been Black Weasel’s slave. How he had fallen into slavery in the first place. Whether he had learned the sword from Black Weasel. Whether he ever planned to become free again…
Wait.
Aren’t I being way too relaxed?
There were mountains of serious problems piled up right now—how to get the Red Eagle Prince away from White Deer, how to return safely to Atania, and so on.
And yet Wolf had been thinking only about Silver.
Like iron filings drawn helplessly toward a magnet.
Wolf had never before felt such persistent and powerful curiosity about someone.
Why am I like this? This is strange. Really strange.
On top of that, the faint heat in his body refused to fade. Ever since his eyes had first captured Silver’s face, he had been like this.
The unfamiliar sensation filled Wolf with confusion.
His body felt like a broken string instrument—one whose string had suddenly snapped mid-performance, leaving behind nothing but a useless wooden box with a few loose gut strings dangling inside.
No way.