PDCOO Chapter 21

Lara thought Anna was already a lost cause, but the worry itself was justified.

If Franz had been present, he would have realized his naming of it as a 'competition to weed out idiots' had been appropriate.

...Setting aside the problem that his friend and superior was among those idiots.

The wild boars rampaged. The young men who'd been giggling and running at first lost their laughter one by one. Some clung to the fence.

"Get me out!"

"If you said you'd do it, see it through to the end! Show us what you've got!"

Spectators surged toward the fence with shrieks and laughter.

Anna struggled desperately not to be pushed back from her front-row position, but Lara—worried her she'd be crushed to death by the crowd—had no choice but to grab and drag her out.

"Ahhh! I can't see anything from here! Lara, can you see anything?"

"...Bertram looks fine."

"He looks fine?"

"Sis, was this an obstacle-collection race?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

On the platform.

Bertram, who had somehow emerged first, held an injured person in each arm.

The drunk-seeming announcer giggled.

"You've picked up useless things too! You're too kind."

"People getting hurt—war was enough for that."

"Uhahaha! Not exactly festive wisdom! Anyway, we have a winner. Your name is..."

But from that point on, people began moving en masse and Anna couldn't observe any further.

The spectators seemed uninterested in results as long as they could drink to the accompaniment of loud noises—whether pig-slaughtering sounds or the screams of people trampled by pigs. They chattered about where to go next.

When the crowd finally dispersed, what appeared was:

"I'm back, Miss Anna, Miss Lara."

"...Bertram. What is that?"

"The prize."

In Bertram's arms sat one adorable piglet.

The small black piglet twitched its nose, cradled in Bertram's thick forearms.

It was truly scream-inducingly cute, but that wasn't the point.

'Wasn't the original prize a full-grown pig? Does it just look small relative to how big Bertram is?'

But no matter how many times she looked again, it was definitely a piglet.

Bertram seemed to realize why Anna was at a loss for words and provided additional explanation.

"I tried to bring back the original prize, the large pig, but the organizers were in a difficult position. Apparently there's a custom where the winner slaughters and shares the pig on the spot."

"What kind of custom is that!"

"I overlooked that local festivals are fundamentally for local residents. I gave up the black pig, and received this piglet instead—will this one be difficult?"

"It'll grow big eventually, but..."

The plan to return triumphantly with Bertram carrying a huge pig had fallen through. Karlah wouldn't exactly welcome such a small piglet as a great fortune either.

Bertram seemed to notice Anna's drooping shoulders.

"I'll hunt and bring back a wild boar then. Piglet, you wait here."

Bertram gently scratched the back of the piglet's head. Liking the touch, the pig narrowed its eyes and gradually leaned into him.

Seeing this, Anna spoke firmly.

"It's fine. Let's go like this!"

"Pardon?"

"Lara, you think so too, right?"

"Huh?"

"Look. Doesn't Bertram holding a piglet look harmless and pitiful? Like we could at least lend him a roof."

"...Well, yeah. He looks pitiful. ...The pig does."

"Mom surely won't try to kick out a Bertram like this. Let's go as is. I'll drag the village chief along!"

Anna seemed sincere. She petted the piglet's head, then ran toward the collapsed, drunk village chief.

Lara sighed watching her retreating figure.

'Sis is already a lost cause. To my eyes, he just looks like a bear holding a bite-sized snack.'

Meanwhile, Franz, who had gone to see the sheep flock without much expectation, was startled by an unexpected reunion.

In a dilapidated stable that didn't match its occupant, a fine horse stood tethered.

Their first meeting in three years.

"What's your master doing, leaving you here?"

The kingdom's treasure and Bertram's horse, Monat.

Over his sturdy brown body, a silver mane flowed like a river of moonlight. The adjective "beautiful" suited this horse well, but his bulk was so great that most men would struggle to mount him in one go.

His temperament was equally foul—a precious being who permitted almost no one's touch except Bertram's.

"Monat, do you recognize me? I'm the guy who used to fight with your master sometimes."

Fortunately, Monat seemed to remember his scent. He permitted Franz's hand carefully stroking his mane.

The stable worker gaped at Franz.

"Milord, you're amazing. This one's so ill-tempered even his owner can barely touch him!"

"Where is this horse's owner?"

"The owner's at the bookshop right now. Why do you ask?"

A bookshop?

An ominous feeling crept over him.

"Isn't this horse's owner a large black-haired swordsman?"

"Could've been, in the past. According to the bookshop owner, some vagrant showed up saying he owed a debt to the late previous owner, and paid with the horse instead of money."

"Why didn't they take money?"

"Probably didn't have any. But the damn horse's temper is so foul they can't sell him anywhere, so they left him at our stable. Ah! Would you like to purchase him, milord? If you're interested, I'll fetch the owner..."

"......"

"M-milord?"

The worker who'd been chattering away fell silent.

Anger had colored Franz's eyes.

"I'll visit and discuss it myself later. You didn't see me."

"Y-yes, understood!"

The worker fled in a hurry. Looking back, he felt certain the sword at the knight's waist would start dancing.

Soldiers gathered around Franz one by one. One soldier recognized Monat.

"Isn't this His Highness's horse? Gyaaah, hey, don't bite! Same nasty temper as before!"

"Right. According to that worker, he left the horse saying he'd 'repay a debt.'"

"A debt?"

"Don't you lot know why His Highness left the palace? He set out saying he'd personally repay the requisition certificates he'd issued."

"Didn't the state compensate for the requisition certificates in a lump sum?"

The soldier swallowed the unspoken addition: though not properly.

It couldn't be helped. After the war, the country was devastated, and repaying a cartload of flour debt with even a bowlful was the way to keep the people alive.

Franz spoke in a somewhat somber tone:

"He must have judged that compensation inadequate."

"But surely there's no debt large enough to repay with Monat."

"Of course not."

Franz stated definitively.

"No matter how simple-minded Bertram is... Ah, no. Even though he's someone who cuts to the essence of everything and acts accordingly, there's no way he doesn't know Monat's value. He must have intended to leave him as temporary collateral and return to reclaim him."

"Then His Highness leaving this city and returning means...!"

"He probably came to repay the debt and retrieve Monat. We should wait here for His Highness's return."

While Franz saw through Bertram's essential nature yet reached the wrong conclusion.

Monat leisurely munched on Erich's hair.

"Oof, my head's splitting... Anna, is the festival over?"

"Yes. You can keep sleeping though, Chief."

"I should get up soon... Hm? What's this piglet doing here... Why is he driving the cart!"

"Keep sleeping. While you were passed out drunk, Bertram was the only one who could drive the cart, so I prepared an excuse that we had no choice but to accept his help."

While the chief clutched the back of his neck and collapsed again.

Bertram calmly drove the cart—which was really just a wagon.

The journey back to repay his final debt was nothing but peaceful.

A few hours later.

Karlah stood dumbfounded before the cart stopped in front of her house.

The bear she'd barely managed to evict had returned holding some pig.

The village chief lay sprawled in the cart, pretending to be drunk.

Her rabbit-like daughter was looking up at Karlah with an expression that said, 'Mom, don't scold!'

While Karlah was pondering whose collar to grab first, Bertram spoke first with infuriating words.

"It's a piglet from a prize boar from the next city. I'll give it as a gift."

Karlah raised her head to say something, but damn it—Bertram was too tall. No matter how much she tilted her chin up, she could see the piglet he held aloft better than Bertram's face.

A plump black pig.

Adorable.

Before the piglet making oink sounds, Karlah couldn't possibly maintain a stern expression.

In the end, Karlah covered her chin and mouth, pretending to be serious as she spoke.

"I'll be honest. You're an unwelcome guest, Bertram. At first you looked so haggard I took care of you as payment for errands, but... actually, the odd jobs you've done haven't really helped us much."

"Are you saying the restaurant work I did had no value?"

"Yes. Don't think I'm being too harsh—"

"Then I haven't repaid my debt yet."

Oh no.

Bertram strode inside with the determination to bury his bones at Anna's restaurant.