Chapter 4

Volume 1 CHAPTER 004 — Dreams
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Dreams differ from person to person.

What you answer when asked what you want to be when you grow up is also a dream, and what you answer when asked what you want to do when you become an adult is also a dream.

Peystry=Mill=Morteln’s dream is to someday create the finest sweets he can envision. To gain the freedom of action (free hand) for that, he is currently doing his utmost to wildly remodel his father’s domain. But this is also a somewhat unchildlike dream for this world.

A boy’s dream is usually something with a fixed going rate.

Wanting to become a hero and defeat a dragon, or to become a knight and show that he can protect the people important to him, or to gallantly save a childhood friend being attacked by bandits and be loved for it and live happily ever after.

Even things that might half be called delusions are called dreams.

A girl’s dream also has various set patterns.

Meeting a handsome prince who falls in love with her at first sight and becoming a princess, or projecting herself onto a gallant female knight, or having a constitution that never gains weight and eating all the delicious food she likes.

About half of this too might well be called delusions.

So then, what is a parent’s dream?

As long as humans are living creatures, bearing and raising children is something to be revered.

Anyone could become a parent.

Especially for women, childbirth is a major event, and having given birth, it is only natural to think about what comes after. Inevitably, they end up thinking about the future with their children factored in.

As a parent, it is hard to imagine a dream for the future that excludes one’s children. If so, then surely many parents’ dreams involve their children.

The answer is clear if you look at one woman.

Her dream since becoming a parent is “to someday dress her son in the finest formal attire.”

Needless to say, that is Knight Baroness Agnes=Mill=Morteln. Peys’s mother.

She is currently in a full sprint toward the realization of her dream. Choosing any means to her end and giving it her all—she resembles her son very much. Strangely identical.

“How about this jacket? Yes, it feels good. Ah, but with that, the color of the socks doesn’t quite match, does it. But but, these socks have careful stitching so they look nice, and I can’t bear to part with them. Should I match the shoes first? Hmm, I wonder if there are shoes in the right size. Aah, I’m so torn.”

Changing a child’s clothes is a joy for a mother.

It is much like playing with dress-up dolls, and making him wear “outfits to one’s own taste” carries an excitement much like crafting.

Even things she can’t wear herself, she can put on her son.

The mother’s fierce spirit—akin to the intensity of an artisan making the finest sweets—as she resolves to create the finest “boy.” Truly, mother and son are the spitting image of each other in the strangest places.

She is right now, in this very moment, fully enjoying the puzzle-like fun of searching for the best combination.

Her son, swept along despite his resistance, had already reached the utmost resignation. It was a surly feeling of “just do whatever you want.”

And there was someone adding fuel to the fire.

“Mother, how about these shoes? They’re shoes I used to wear, but wouldn’t they fit Peys?”

“My, my, Jose, aren’t those the shoes you treasured?”

“It’s fine. I’ll lend them to my little brother for his big day.”

“Oh, what a good older sister you’ve become, Jose. Wonderful.”

The one the mother embraced with an exaggerated reaction was her own daughter.

The fifth daughter, Josefine. From Peystry’s perspective, his youngest older sister, and since the four above her had already married out, the only sister in this house.

Josefine—Jose—was already thoroughly used to her mother’s excessive physical affection. Rather, since it had been a habit since she became aware of things, she accepted it as a matter of course.

Physical affection between mother and daughter was, at least for the observer’s eyes, gentler than hugging a boy, Peys thought.

Since he was always the one on the receiving end, it would be somewhat appreciated if she would just keep hugging her mother as she was.

But at this rate, the work would not progress at all, so he reluctantly called out to his sister.

“Jose-neesama, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Do your best too, Peys. I can’t come along, but listen well to Father.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

Speaking of the Morteln family’s sisters, they were renowned for their beauty.

Their father had a ruggedly handsome face and their mother was a beauty, so some people said it was only natural that the daughters who inherited their blood would be beautiful.

All six siblings inherited no small measure of the looks of their mother, who was renowned as a beauty.

Among those siblings, the one who resembled their mother the most was, sadly, the youngest child and eldest son—but that is a considerable digression.

There was a creature that all the sisters doted on together.

It wasn’t that they kept a pet—it was their little brother.

Speaking of siblings, the younger child often finds himself in an unfortunate position. Especially in this world, which is a society akin to feudalism, there was a common understanding that it was only natural for those above to command those below.

But they doted on their little brother beyond all measure.

The reason was that their little brother was a very obedient, clever, and adorable creature. Silky silver hair. Soft, plump cheeks. Round, bright eyes. Small limbs.

Every one of these was a sufficient element to make one’s eyes crinkle with fondness.

And because their parents praised them lavishly for being so close, it only accelerated further.

The one on the receiving end, however, found it unbearable.

For Peys, being on good terms with his sisters could be called fortunate, but “right now” it could also be called unfortunate.

“Mother, how about this dress? Doesn’t it look like it would suit Peys?”

“My, how cute. Yes, I suppose trying this dress on him might be nice.”

“Mother, Nee-sama, I am a boy…”

“It’s fine, because it suits you.”

“That’s right, just try it on a little. Come now, just a little.”

Peys felt the futility of resisting the powerful tag team of his sister and mother, but he did have the feeling of wanting to avoid cross-dressing if at all possible.

The firm conviction that he was a boy.

“How about we make even his underwear women’s?”

“Then I’ll undress him!!”

“Stop iiiit~~!!”

That day, the offensive and defensive battle until sunset left Peys thoroughly exhausted.

◆◆◆◆◆

“Sigh.”

“What’s wrong, my son? Making such a tired face. It’s your big day.”

On the morning of the appointed day, Casserole saw his son’s utterly exhausted face and grasped the general state of the disaster.

It wasn’t for nothing that he had been watching his son all this time.

Today was the big day when they would set out, seen off by everyone in the main village, and yet his son wore a gloomy face. He had enough eye for such things to see through it and conclude it was because of being treated as a dress-up doll day after day.

But though he sympathized with his son, regarding the clothes he could only say to give up.

Given the circumstances, his mother’s excitement was unavoidable.

Although the overall trend was a booming upswing, the Morteln knight baron domain was still—at best—developing, and at worst held much untouched wilderness, with little population and little income. In such a domain, making or buying clothes was a luxury for any household.

He understood that this was the same for their own house as lords.

Of course they didn’t wear just one outfit—they rotated several—but it was normal to buy one piece of clothing and keep using it for a very long time.

It was not unusual to keep using clothes acquired in one’s youth until death, and sometimes they were even inherited. This tendency was especially pronounced with formal wear, and accordingly durable clothing was preferred.

Even in Japanese kimono, there is a tradition of passing kimonos from grandmother to mother, and mother to daughter. Similar customs exist everywhere.

It might be unthinkable in an age of mass production and mass consumption, but clothing is an important personal asset. A rather valuable one, at that.

In this there is no distinction between lord and retainer—it can be called a matter of course and common sense.

The exception is children’s clothing.

Children’s growth is rapid day by day, and especially during growth spurts, it is common for the length to stop fitting in the space of a month. At worst, it is even possible for height to differ between last night and this morning.

There are mothers who adjust the length for their children, or who spend a long time sewing formal wear for them, but amid being pressed by daily work, it is common for such things to not go as one wishes, and there are physical limits to altering length. It cannot be extended beyond the original hem length.

So in many cases, a custom of mutual aid arises in which children’s clothes are circulated among siblings or among households in the village.

Since no single household can buy that many, neighboring households pass on clothes that no longer fit to households with smaller children.

A village-wide children’s clothing rotation.

Sometimes clothes one wore as a child come around to one’s own child, covered in patches.

In the worst households of poor domains, small children sometimes go naked, so compared to that, one could say they are blessed just to have clothes.

In that rotation, who is the very first to wear the “brand new” item?

In most cases, it is the child of the lord, the one of highest status.

This also has the aspect of a measure to clarify the hierarchy within the domain and make even children understand the ranks of status, and it is a custom practiced in every domain.

Even if there were a person of some means, it is common enough that they might decline the new item and buy a nearly-new one.

Precisely because of that, it was only natural that the new formal wear for this day would be looked upon enviously by those around.

And it was equally natural that his mother would wait with the impatience of a thousand autumns for the proud presentation of the fruits of his growth.

“He’s going to the royal capital, I hear.”

“Huh. So that’s why he’s dressed like that.”

“Hey, look. Those buttons have incredibly fine craftsmanship. Is that the lord’s crest, I wonder. Looks expensive.”

“Amazing. There are so many of them—I wonder if he’d give me one.”

The gazes of yearning were dazzling as the boys and girls of the same generation stared at Peys. Not only them—most of the people of the main village were staring.

There was enough persuasiveness to justify it, right before everyone’s eyes.

A gallant yet beautiful face, and radiant silver hair flowing in the wind. And a bluish formal outfit that harmonized beautifully with it.

The jacket, fastened with front buttons, had a subtle taper at the waist to match the wearer’s slender build. Perhaps because of that, it gave a slim, taut impression.

The trousers had not a single wrinkle, the creases were correct, and the hem was neatly aligned. Only the shoes had a slight hint of being women’s, but one could tell they were high quality.

From top to bottom, from any angle, it looked like nothing but the young master of a fine house—splendid tailoring.

The innocent gazes directed at him seemed, to the mischievous boys and girls, to be nothing but frank material for teasing.

“Must be nice. I’d like to go to the royal capital looking that cool too.”

“Impossible. That’s absolutely impossible.”

“Why’s that? I might be able to wear clothes like that someday too.”

“Still impossible. Even if you wore fine clothes like that, with you inside them, no matter how you struggle you’d just be a dressed-up ugly guy. The clothes might be fine, but with bad contents you could never look cool.”

“The hell’d you say!!”

“Heh heh, come and get me.”

The boys, still unable to shed their childishness, grew noisy in an instant. It didn’t take long for them to become clamorous.

And as always, they were forcibly subdued by the gutsy mothers.

Along with lumps on their heads.

Of course, there was a color of yearning in the eyes of the little ladies too, but it had a slightly different hue from the boys’.

It was the look of cute little precocious girls toward their familiar “my prince.”

When they grew noisy with shrill voices, they too were soothed by the mothers.

With the heartwarming tease that a noisy girl will be disliked by the young master.

Thus everyone had been gathered, noisily, for the send-off.

Yes—not gathered of their own accord, but gathered.

This also had the aspect of a doting lord wanting to show off his son, but more than that, it had a large aspect of being a necessary action for governing the domain.

This Morteln knight baron domain was a newly risen territory that the current head, Knight Baron Casserole=Mill=Morteln, had built up to this size in a single generation.

Originally it was wasteland and mountains owned by the royal family, known as a place serving as a buffer zone with the neighboring country.

Geographically difficult to interact with from other domains in the country, and a treasure trove of wild beasts and the like that made governance difficult, yet if one meddled carelessly it would invite unnecessary pressure from the neighboring country—hence the buffer zone. Put badly, a neglected, non-interference zone.

Barren land where even weeds barely grew, with clearly less rainfall than other domains. A land it was only natural to leave alone. A land no one would be pleased to receive, yet one that couldn’t very well be given to a hypothetical enemy.

Casserole obtained a domain there because of the rare military exploits he had achieved, and because there was another “reason only he could govern it.”

That reason served as a powerful deterrent against the neighboring country, and at the same time, being a remote region nearly isolated from the other domains, it made possible the governance of this domain that was extremely difficult to rule.

He displayed it to the people at every opportunity, using it to foster cohesion and thereby secure stability within the domain.

It was a kind of demonstration.

That reason was a rare ability said to occur once in ten thousand people.

Namely, “magic.”

“Then everyone, I’m off.”

Saying that, the lord left the circle of people together with his son.

There was the pride of a man bearing responsibility.

“Have a safe trip, dear. Peys, be careful over there too. You mustn’t follow strangers, all right?”

“Have a safe journey, my lord. We await your swift return.”

“Peys-sama~ don’t forget my souvenir~”

“You can forget that idiot’s souvenir~. Please don’t forget mine~”

Waving to the people who offered words of farewell one after another, Casserole placed his hand on Peys’s shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, Father.”

With those words, the two vanished from that place.

They disappeared without leaving even a trace—or so it seemed.

In fact, there was only an empty vacant lot there, as if nothing had ever happened.

“The lord’s magic is amazing as always.”

“What was that called again?”

“Wasn’t it called teleportation or something?”

“That’s right, that’s it. Shonkan teleportation.”

“Idiot, it’s teleportation, teleportation. Are your ears made by goblins?”

“What the hell, that’s what I said.”

Until a moment ago the topic had been Peys’s outfit, but now it was the knight baron’s magic causing a stir.

They were once again feeling firsthand that their leader possessed a talent irreplaceable by any other.

Seeing that many of the domain’s people looked proud of it, Knight Baron Morteln must be governing well and be well-loved.

Nodding with satisfaction, everyone returned to their own homes.

Among them, one person. No, two. There were women staring at the spot where the lord and next lord had vanished, not moving.

Knight Baroness Agnes=Mill=Morteln and her fifth daughter, Josefine.

Amid the people dispersing in twos and threes back to their homes, for some reason they wore puzzled expressions.

Both of them were tilting their heads repeatedly.

And then they realized something important within themselves.

The mother called out to her daughter Josefine, who was right beside her, as the one to tell it to.

Unexpectedly, Jose had realized the same thing.

“Jose.”

“Yes, Mother.”

The mother and daughter’s eyes perceived what the other was about to say.

The words the two uttered achieved a splendid unison that was truly worthy of parent and child.

” “After all, cross-dressing suits Peys better.” ”

The days of Peys’s nightmare seemed set to continue for some time yet.

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