"Please look over there, my lord."
They crossed a narrow stone bridge arching over a crystal-clear river that flowed slowly from the mountain nearby.
Beneath the water, a school of fish drifted through the current. Some hid beneath scattered white water lilies.
"Those are koi. They symbolize perseverance, and they are quite resilient and ambitious creatures."
Iria folded her hands neatly in front of her as she spoke.
"They're also quite pretty."
"...I see."
Step, step.
They passed several more houses.
Seven found himself glancing at Iria's profile as he walked beside her. From time to time she gestured toward a building, Iria explained the village's architecture, trade goods, and customs like a dedicated tour guide.
Before long, they reached the center of the village.
At the heart of the square stood a stone well fitted with a wooden pulley. Beside it hung a small silver bell.
Honk!
"You two! If you're going to flirt, do it somewhere else and not in the middle of the road!"
An old man shouted from atop an ox-drawn carriage, yanking hard on the reins. The cart screeched to a stop just short of them along the path.
Iria hurriedly stepped aside, tugging Seven by the sleeve.
"My apologies. We were inattentive."
The old man snorted.
"If I hadn't pulled the reins just now, the two of you would've ended up flat under my wheels."
Seven's face contorted.
Truth be told, there was more than enough space for the carriage to pass through. They had already been walking along the side of the road.
"You damn old—"
Iria pinched Seven's skin by his wrist, cutting him off. They looked at each other for quite a while.
"Go find a field somewhere if you want to stare at each other like that."
"…"
Grumbling to himself, the old man flicked the reins and the carriage rolled away.
A short distance later, the cart stopped beside one of the village houses. Judging by the bundles tied behind the carriage, the old man seemed to be a traveling merchant who had come to trade with the locals.
His voice soon echoed through the path.
"I crossed half the land through snow and mud, and these are the prices you give me?!"
The old man threw his hands into the air.
"Fine! Keep your turnips! Keep your beets! Keep all of it!"
Snow scattered from his sleeves as he climbed back onto the carriage and maneuvered it. The ox plodded forward, straight toward Seven and Iria again.
As the cart passed them, the old man suddenly stopped and stared at Seven without saying a word for a whole minute.
Seven frowned.
"What?"
"Tch."
The old man looked him up and down once again before clicking his tongue.
"Bah! Stubborn people, the lot of you."
The old man tugged the reins again.
"I offer fair cito, and still they shake their heads like old goats on a hill. Bah! I swear these mountain villages would rather freeze in winter than sell a single sack for a reasonable price."
With a final huff, the carriage creaked forward and disappeared around the bend.
Seven composed himself.
"The fudge is wrong with that old man?"
Iria shook her head, not knowing the answer to that question too.
Iria fished out a leather pouch from her pocket and handed it gently to Seven.
"Can you please hold onto this, my lord?"
"Aight."
Seven accepted it. He followed Iria toward the house the old merchant had just stormed out of.
Step, step.
The pouch sagged heavily in his palm like a well-fed pig ready for slaughter.
Curious, he then loosened the drawstring and peeked inside.
"Heh, not bad. These are all silvers. A good perk of being the youngest son of a renowned family."
Silver square coins filled the pouch, but each one had soft rounded corners with fine notches lining the edges to prevent shaving.
A 7-pointed star was engraved on the face of the coin, and the tail of the coin bore the design of a cruise ship.
He tightened the pouch again.
Carrying this much felt like walking through a chicken yard with feed spilling from his pockets.
They arrived at the house.
Like most homes in the village, it was built from thick timber planks. The roof slanted sharply to shed rain and snow, and a thin ribbon of smoke curled quietly from the chimney.
Near the entrance, there was a small wooden extension beside the door.
A narrow counter faced the path, with crates and woven baskets stacked beneath it. This was where the old merchant had tried his bargaining earlier.
"Good day, aunt Mabel. Though it seems the day hasn't treated you very well."
Iria greeted the old woman standing by the counter.
The old woman looked up from the basket she was sorting. Deep lines creased her face, but her sharp black eyes softened when she recognized Iria.
"That old bastard came all the way here just to argue over a few silvers. Dared of wanting fresh mountain roots for the price of roadside weeds."
Mabel brushed a bit of dirt from her hands before nodding toward the direction where the carriage left.
"I bet his purse strings are tighter than a winter drum."
Iria gave a small sympathetic smile and glanced over the woven baskets that are neatly arranged.
"Traveling merchants can be difficult. By the way, what do you have left today?"
"What you see."
Mabel shrugged.
"Turnips. Radishes. Beets. Parsnips. I pulled them out of the ground yesterday before the snow settled."
Seven picked up one of the turnips and turned it in his hand, brushing off a bit of dirt.
Mabel caught his wrist.
"Ah—ah."
Mabel gently took the turnip from his hand.
"You can't just go grabbing the roots like that, young man. Folks still need to buy these. I don't want them all handled raw before they even reach a pot."
Mabel brushed the turnip clean and placed it back into the basket.
Mabel then finally looked at him properly for the first time, narrowing her eyes as she leaned her elbows on the wooden counter.
"…And who might you be? I don't recall seeing you around Iria before."
"I—"
"I apologize for my fiancé, aunt Mabel."
Iria stepped in, cutting his words off— she had forgotten to assign him a temporary identity before coming down, and it might be bad if his identity was revealed.
"I am afraid it is his first time visiting such a humble village. But I assure you, aunt Mabel, he is nothing like that old merchant earlier."
"…Hmm. Fiancé?"
Iria smiled politely.
"Yes, aunt Mabel. This is Seb, my fiancé."
Seven didn't expect that, but he wasn't dense enough to miss the intention behind it. He extended his hand for a polite handshake.
"Nice to meet you, aunt Mabel. Your harvest looks very fresh."
"…"
Mabel blinked once and didn't take his hand. Instead, she looked between the two of them again.
Studying Seb more carefully, she noted that he wasn't built like a knight. Still, he had long limbs and broad shoulders that might have suited one. His sharp features carried the unmistakable air of nobility.
Beside him, young Iria's beauty made the two of them look strangely well matched.
"So Iria finally brought someone down with her. A noble one at that."
Mabel hummed softly.
"Well then, young Seb. If you're going to marry the girl, you'd better learn how to pick good roots without bruising them."
Mabel pushed a basket of turnips slightly forward.
"Here. For you… 15 bronze."
Iria immediately turned to her.
"Aunt Mabel."
"What?"
"That's three times the normal price."