PDCOO Chapter 7

Beneath hair as dark as shadow.

Blue eyes, gleaming fierce.

The wolf, finally confronting its quarry, began to growl—

"Do we need to go help him? Standing next to that size, I can't even tell if it's a wolf or a large dog."

The wolf had started out fearless enough. But as Bertram kept advancing toward it, the animal was becoming visibly—nervous.

Any wolf colliding with that mass would not come away whole.

But the wolf refused to abandon its hunger or its pride—

That was the wolf's last decision.

Bertram kicked the wolf clean out of his path and kept walking.

Yelp!

The wolf went sailing through the air like a flag.

Bertram didn't stop. He ran in a straight line.

While the uncles' baffled gazes tracked the arc of the wolf, Dieter never took his eyes off Bertram—

And when he caught sight of corn-silk golden hair fluttering from beneath the fur cloak, he shouted:

"Anna!"

Bertram and the Anna on his back were already pulling away. Dieter sprinted after them and screamed:

"Come quickly! That—that bastard's kidnapped Anna!"

"What are you on about! Hey—hey!"

"You son of a bitch, STOP!"

Dieter's legs were no match for Bertram's pace, but his voice rang out across the entire village. People opened doors one and two at a time, then shrank back at the bear-man's shadow cutting across the dirt road.

Dieter nearly lost his mind.

"Catch him! Anna's been kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped? Where to?"

"Well—that would be—"

Nothing to say.

Bertram was moving steadily deeper—

Into the village.

By the time Dieter had managed to rouse half the neighborhood, Bertram had arrived at the restaurant. Karlah had come out with her face set in a scowl, and startled when she saw him.

"What in the world is going on? What?"

"I have returned Miss Anna."

Bertram untied the cloak fastenings. The Anna who'd been bundled up inside the fur cloak like a parcel was finally freed from his back.

"Miss Anna, we have arrived at your home."

Anna lifted her head.

From inside a world that wouldn't stop spinning, what she could still make out: her mother's baffled expression, Bertram's expressionless face, and the heads of the neighbors peeking over the fence.

"Ha... ah-ha-ha-ha..."

"Hm. The effects appear to linger. Karlah, water—"

"The laughing is from exasperation, you know!"

When Anna gave Bertram's thigh a feeble kick, he wiped her face with the fur cloak.

It was the first and worst escorted walk of her life.

After that, various conversations happened at the restaurant, apparently.

Apparently, because Anna was unable to outlast the last of the symptoms—sleep.

As Karlah supported Anna and deposited her into the bed, she muttered:

"Dean, that little—. What kind of dangerous foolishness is this, a grown man."

Dean was a friend of her mother's—why was his name coming up now? Mother, aren't you angry at Mr. Bertram?

But there was no chance to ask.

Anna fell asleep, and when she finally opened her eyes—

The first thing she saw was the old ceiling with morning shadows drifting across it.

Back to ordinary life.

'I really thought I was going to die last night.'

She rubbed her eyes. Sleep crust flaked away. Anna let fragments of the previous night drift back to her. The laughing and crying like someone deranged meant Bertram's cooking must have had some poisonous mushroom in it.

But worry came before irritation.

'He probably didn't put them in on purpose. Is Mother trying to skin him alive? He did try to help me, in his own way!'

Bertram had wrapped her in his fur cloak, tucked her over his shoulder, and run—and when Anna, nauseated from the jostling, had gotten sick on him, he'd stopped and patted her back and wiped her face. Even when the symptoms wouldn't clear, he'd arranged her so she could cling to his back, bundled the cloak around her like a sling, and run all the way to the village in one go.

'Having someone carry you on their back—that's the first time since I was small. It was terribly uncomfortable. Is that how all men's backs are?'

Too wide to know where to hold on. Too solid to properly lean against.

But he had been paying attention to everything happening behind him. He'd stopped every time Anna, laughing and crying in turns, had hic—hiccupped—and tried to settle her down.

Not much help, practically speaking.

But undeniably good-intentioned.

'If I explain this to Mother, will she think any better of Mr. Bertram?'

Worst case: already skinned, the hide already tanned.

Best case: talked him out of the village nicely.

Hoping for the second option, Anna stepped out of her room and walked into the restaurant—

And found an unexpected sight waiting for her.

In the corner of the restaurant, a man shaped like a bear was trimming onions.

Bertram.

He noticed Anna's gaze first.

"Good morning."

"Good... morning."

He delivered his memorized morning greeting and returned his attention to the onions.

Arms built for anything but kitchen work thumped the chopping board. When the board tilted, the tendons rising across the back of his hand were thick as tree roots. Anna was staring without quite meaning to when Karlah called out:

"Hey, Anna! What are you gaping at?"

"Mother... why is Mr. Bertram in the kitchen?"

"You threw up on his back last night. I told him he could stay until his clothes dried. Lord help me, that cloak—it'll take three days to dry properly."

Only then did Anna register what Bertram was wearing.

Two of Hans's old shirts sewn together. Less a garment than a temporary means of covering the body.

"He can't very well go to another village looking like that."

Anna pressed close to her mother and whispered.

"Mama, weren't you trying to kick him out just a little while ago?"

"I was. If my daughter hadn't vomited on the man's coat, I'd have sent him packing then and there."

"……I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know. You know that friend of mine—Dean? Turns out he deliberately offered the man those Jester's Cap mushrooms. Said he didn't like some suspicious stranger wandering around our village. The man suffered because of our people. I couldn't very well throw him out right after."

Karlah's finger traced a lazy circle in the air, then tapped Anna squarely on the forehead.

"Besides, my daughter was apparently chasing him down to feed him. If that's how it's going to be, better to keep him where I can see him."

"That's not what it was!"

"Never mind. At least he doesn't bring up the debt anymore. He does what he's told."

"Having to be told is hardly a virtue."

"Says the daughter who doesn't listen to her own mother. Before you become less useful than him, go wash your face!"

Karlah thwacked Anna on the head and stood.

But Anna didn't get up right away. She sat staring blankly at the restaurant kitchen.

The ordinary day, returned. And settled into it, as though he'd always belonged there, one dark-haired man.

He noticed her looking and raised a hand in greeting. Expressionless as he was—

It was a little unnerving.

'Is he being friendly, or is he about to say "I saw you throw up."'

Even while wondering, Anna raised her hand back.

At which point Bertram folded his other fingers down and extended a deliberate thumbs-up.

Anna burst out laughing before she could stop herself.

Having apparently discharged his obligation, Bertram gave a small nod and turned his attention back to the cutting board. On both sides of it sat the spicy seasonings Karlah hated prepping. He sliced the hot peppers without complaint.

All manner of thankless work, and not one word of protest. Calling people 'my lady' out of nowhere, muttering about honor and the like.

He addressed her as "my lady" with no apparent warning.

"What on earth is he, really……?"

While Anna puzzled over Bertram's origins, Anna's mother Karlah was sharing similar thoughts with a friend.

"This shirt—what do you make of it? It's his."

Karlah held out a shirt to her friend Collie, who had come to visit. Collie was a seamstress. She reached for it, then went wide-eyed at the texture.

"My goodness, what's this?"

"What's the matter?"

"I'm amazed anyone would call this a garment."

"Oh, don't startle me like that."

"No, you ought to be more startled."

Collie smiled and unfolded the shirt.

The faint ivory fabric was covered in rough, uneven repairs. To look at it, you'd think it belonged on a real beggar. But Collie pointed to the collar.

"You see here? There's embroidery with a date stitched into it."

"Embroidery? Who has money to spare for that?"

"Exactly. This was made for someone with money, made carefully. It's been worn to rags, but if this had been a rough homespun shirt it would have dissolved into loose thread long since."

"Well, I never."

Karlah clicked her tongue loudly.

The man's fur cloak hadn't been any ordinary thing, either. Anna had tried to scrub away the traces of vomit with stones in the stream and a thorough application of soap, and the cloak hadn't been damaged at all. Light for its size, and it had dried remarkably fast. Three days? Not at all—he might very well be wearing it again tomorrow.

Collie seemed to notice Karlah's unease. She rolled the shirt up and handed it back.

"Worried some strange fellow's going to latch onto your daughter?"

"Of course I am. I've gotten used to the husks the war left behind—men who can't go home—but this one, I can't get a read on him……."

"For someone who's worried, you've been remarkably willing to let him into the restaurant. Did the sight of him half-carrying your sick daughter up the hill do something for you?"

"I didn't lose my mind. Better to have him where I can see him, I said. If he causes trouble, I'll chop him up with the cleaver right then."

"Hmm. Though I wonder—what is he, really? Dressed like that, he might be nobility."

"Then I'll kill him before he causes trouble."

Karlah's eyes sharpened.

"Noble bastards coming down to the countryside and getting innocent village girls pregnant and disappearing—I'm never going through that again."

Translator Rant: lol 'innocent'. I highly doubt that if they're sleeping with nobles that just rolled by.