Chapter 3

Volume 1 CHAPTER 003 — Women Are…
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“I’m hungry~. Mother, is breakfast still not ready~?”

The girl sitting in the chair raised a dissatisfied voice.

The sun had already shown its face, and it was a little past early morning.

It was still slightly early for breakfast, but in the Morteln household it was on the rather late side.

Warrior households rise early.

The girl who had been complaining of her hunger for a while now was Josefine. She was the fifth daughter of this house and, from Peystry’s perspective, his youngest older sister.

She was twelve this year. At an age of growing and hearty eating, her demand for breakfast was entirely reasonable.

In a society where two meals a day is the norm, one cannot do something like a modern-day sleepyhead skipping breakfast.

Beside the girl, in the lower seat, sat the youngest child and eldest son, Peystry.

He too was enduring the feeling of his stomach sticking to his back.

In Peystry’s case, unlike his sister, he got hungry because he had been receiving special sword training from his father since before the sun rose.

As the eldest son, raised to be taught the role of a noble’s heir, Peystry understood well why they were being made to endure their hunger.

The upper seat, still vacant. In other words, because the master of the head-of-household’s seat was at work.

Ever since Peys was born into this world retaining what could be called memories of a previous life, and integrated them with his young body and ego, the first thing that bewildered him was this status system close to feudalism.

All decision-making authority over the house rested with the head of the household, and the family had no choice but to obey. Even mealtimes were at the head’s convenience—the time the head ate was the time for meals.

He felt he had grown used to it recently, but even so, being kept waiting while his stomach growled brought out a complaint or two.

“I’m late. Let’s have breakfast right away.”

At last, the father appeared.

Naturally, the seat he took was the head of the household’s.

After giving thanks to God and the spirits for the meal and offering a prayer, the meal began.

The sister, as if to say she had waited long enough, shoveled down her food. Of course, Peystry too began eating, taking his time to savor it.

The meal’s contents were simplicity itself.

A soup of beans and leafy vegetables. And bread. The head of the household Casserole and the heir Peys also got dried figs, but Peys always gave his to his sister. From the eyes of a modern Japanese person, it might seem like a meal that would invite complaints.

But even this was apparently an improvement in the Morteln domain’s food situation recently—the soup was packed full of beans. It was already closer to stewed beans than soup.

In the early days of the domain’s development, the soup was said to be hardly different from water.

From the perspective of the knight baron, who still vividly remembered the old days, there was even a sense of emotion in being able to fill the children’s stomachs from morning.

Even if the bread was hard black bread.

Casserole’s mouth nearly loosened in a moment of fondness and pride, but he decided to bring up the matter before the meal ended.

“Peys, is sword practice fun?”

“Yes, I feel like I’m finally starting to grasp something.”

“I see.”

Peystry answered his father’s sudden question with a smile.

Swinging a sword requires the strength of one’s whole body. That it was aided by his hazy memories of a previous life and he could feel it becoming his own day by day—there was no way it wasn’t fun.

Memories of a previous life. During his training days as a pastry chef, he had been drilled with the lesson not to try to knead dough with arm strength alone. Perhaps because of that, having learned with his body the knack of using not just his arms but his body weight had been truly useful.

“From my eyes too, Peys seems to be working at it reasonably well. So then, this is sudden, but three days from now, I intend to have Peys undergo the Rite of Consecration.”

“The Rite of Consecration?”

Hearing that, Peys tilted his head.

This was not because Peys didn’t know what the Rite of Consecration was.

It was because he had the natural question of whether it wasn’t still too early for him.

The Rite of Consecration is a ceremony to report one’s coming of age to God and the spirits.

It is like the coming-of-age ceremony in modern Japan. In religious terms, it also carries the meaning of celebrating a child’s growth, like the Shichi-Go-San.

In this world, one is generally considered an adult between the ages of thirteen and fifteen.

Whether one is worthy of coming of age is judged by the head of the household, and once an adult, one bears responsibility as a member of the family. One can also leave the house and build a separate household, and only those who have undergone the ceremony may marry.

“Dear, isn’t it still too early for Peys?”

To his wife’s question, Casserole nodded.

Indeed, compared to society in general, it was only natural that it would clearly seem too early.

That was why he nodded, but he did not change his conclusion.

“You know as well as I do how clever Peys is. His swordsmanship has also reached the point where he can fend off a sudden blow. Enough that he won’t lose to the sons of other families who play around without properly learning the sword. In both letters and arms, I judge him to be sufficient for adulthood. There are other unavoidable circumstances as well, but this is what I have decided.”

“I see. If you’ve decided it, then it can’t be helped.”

From the mother came a sigh that seemed equal parts resignation and regret.

Despite being close to reaching her mid-forties, beauty seeped through her sorrowful features.

Peys had features resembling his mother’s, and from a young age he had been an understanding and obedient child. He was a son who had received his parents’ love just as it was. Not to mention his father—his mother too had doted on him considerably.

For that reason, both parents shared the same regretful feeling about their son’s too-early coming of age. They had thought they could let his childhood continue a little longer and dote on him more.

“We’ll be going out in three days, so I want you to prepare for that. Agnes, Josefine, will you do it?”

The ones who reacted to the head of the household’s words were Peys’s mother and sister.

The way their eyes seemed to gleam sharply was, surely, Peystry’s imagination. It had to be.

“My, ufufufu. Leave it to me. I’ll prepare him thoroughly so he won’t be embarrassed wherever he goes.”

“Mother, I’ll help too.”

The women chuckled ominously.

At their manner, not just Peystry but even the father was somewhat taken aback.

The son sent a look to his father, pleading for help.

His hazel eyes, inherited from his parent, had grown slightly teary.

The knight baron’s heart wavered at the sight of his beloved son’s frail appearance, which was rarely seen normally, but at this point, even he could not stop his wife and daughter.

Give up.

To his father, who responded implicitly with that, Peys contorted his handsome face.

Peystry’s mother and sister.

There was a reason of their own why the two bristled at this very moment.

For nobles, going outside one’s own domain carries the implication of diplomacy for a nation.

Whether the purpose is goodwill, a pleasure trip, sightseeing, negotiation, or inspection, the essence does not change.

It’s much like how, when a company president acts outside the company, it is mostly part of sales activity.

The person with overall responsibility for the domain, or someone close to that, is going to another’s domain. Even a trivial dispute could, at worst, become a military clash.

Precisely because of that, adherence to etiquette and so-called “behavior that won’t be looked down upon” become necessary.

The foremost of these is clothing.

As it is said that seventy percent of a first impression is determined by appearance, the impression one receives at a glance cannot be underestimated.

Going out in military attire emphasizes military intent and stance; going out in formal dress makes it an official negotiation visit.

Expensive-looking clothing demonstrates the domain’s financial strength, and people gather around those with wealth.

Conversely, poor-looking clothing means being looked down upon no matter how splendid the contents. Because a person who cannot even arrange the minimum of clothing when visiting another’s territory is seen as lacking common sense, and in the first place, being unable to arrange one’s clothing is proof of poverty.

For example, it’s the same as how, when a salaryman visits another company, going in long johns, a belly warmer, and toilet sandals would be seen as lacking common sense. At the very least, a suit can be called the minimum of common sense, and the brand of one’s suit or watch can serve as a bluff.

Noble society is the same—there is a minimum of vanity, and power relations are gauged by how much one can add on top of it.

In other words, scrutinizing her son’s clothing can be called the mother’s “inner support.”

The sister too, as one who will eventually marry into another house, must learn the role of a noble’s wife.

As a woman of a noble house, dressing up the heir beautifully is an important duty, and it was entirely natural that she would be eager about it.

So then, why was Peystry on the verge of tears?

If one asked whether it was because, with a Japanese sensibility, he was bad at dressing up—the answer is NO.

For an artisan who could stand on the world stage, standing out was everything. And needless to say, appearance is important for sweets as well.

Since sweets are an art enjoyable to the eyes as well, he knew well the importance of being particular about appearance, as with clothing.

What made Peys about to cry was that he was being doted on by the women.

To put it more accurately, he was being doted on too much.

“How about decorating your hair with ribbons? I’m sure it would make you adorable.”

“Mother, in that case, Liliana-neesama’s dress would suit him. That pink dress with all the frills that I got when it no longer fit her.”

“My, my, how nice. Wonderful. But then perhaps we should do his makeup as well.”

In the countryside, where entertainment was already scarce, dressing up an adorable child like a dress-up doll was the most exquisite entertainment of all.

“Um, Mother and Nee-sama, I am a boy… please spare me the cross-dressing.”

That is, if one ignores the suffering of the victim being made into a toy.

“It’s fine because you’re cute. You’ve finished eating, haven’t you? Let’s get you ready right away.”

“Someone help me!!”

Casserole saw off his son as he was led away by his mother and sister.

He wore a pitiful look, but did not seem to stop them.

“Oh, drat.”

He muttered as if he had just remembered forgetting something important.

In fact, he had only now recalled something important his subordinate had told him.

“I forgot to mention that a proper formal dress will arrive tomorrow.”

Peystry’s ordeal seemed set to continue until tomorrow.

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