The market was as crowded as ever, with people constantly bumping into one another. It was normal.
But even normal had a line that shouldn't be crossed.
And whoever had just slammed into me had crossed it.
I might not look like much, but my father is half dwarf.
That means I'm stronger than most kids my age.
Much stronger.
"Whoa! What the hell?"
"Sorry."
Wow.
"Sorry."
The girl had striking red eyes that could catch anyone's attention, and her golden hair was rare in this part of the country.
She wore a dress worth a cow and two chickens.
Maybe three chickens.
Her shoes looked like they had never touched a muddy field in their entire existence.
"No, it's fine. I'm a quarter dwarf, so I'm good."
"Wow! A quarter dwarf? How incredible—"
She suddenly froze.
"Wait, no! I have to get my bag back!"
Oh wow.
A bakadera.
Wait...
"What do you mean by that?"
I can't do this right now.
"My bag got stolen."
No.
Not right now, please!
"By any chance, were the people who stole your bag..."
Please.
"...three guys?"
"Yes! How did you know that?"
Shiiiit.
Thomas, it's your turn.
I quickly looked at Thomas.
He slowly shook his head.
It's not my turn.
Rosalind!
One look was all I got from her, and it was enough to understand.
I'm busy.
You go.
Damnit!
"I know where your bag is."
"Huh?"
Part 2
"Um, excuse me, but where are we going?"
"To get your bag back."
"But where?"
"Oh, right. You're probably new to the village?"
"Ah—yes."
Weird.
"I'm Ivan. Ivan Bloodstone."
"I'm Clarice Fitzroy. Pleased to meet you."
"Fitzroy? Are you a noble or something?"
"..."
Hmm?
"No. What made you think that?"
"Your surname sounds like a noble name."
I wasn't about to mention her clothes.
"But your name sounds like it belongs to a warrior house."
Good point.
I still didn't know why, though.
"Yeah, you make a good point there. That might actually be true."
"Ah, so you are of noble lineage?"
"Not sure. My mother is a nun with high-level Pure Magic, and my father is well-trained in both swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. The villagers really trust them, so my mother takes care of the sick while my father is the village's top hunter."
"Oh wow."
"It's not that impressive."
"But that's very impressive, Sir Ivan."
Not really.
My father hated hunting.
All he ever wanted to do was farm.
Unfortunately, he was terrible at it.
And my mother?
She couldn't cook to save her life and still treated her children like babies.
If only the villagers knew that side of my parents.
Wait...
Did she just call me Sir Ivan?
"We are almost there."
"Okay."
"Your turn."
"Excuse me?"
"I told you a bit about my family, so now you have to tell me about yours."
Pretty low.
Even for me.
"But I didn't ask about your family, so I don't see any reason to agree to that."
A bakadere with brains.
"I'm sorry, I was being too pushy. "
"It's fine."
Maybe I had pushed a little too far.
I guess I don't know where the line is either.
Now it's a bit awkward. Good thing the house is just around the corner.
"We are here."
"And where exactly is here?"
"The people who stole your bag are infamous around here. Stealing, picking fights... honestly, stealing is practically their full-time job."
"Who are they?"
"Rowan, Bran and Colin Holt."
Unfortunately...
You could count those idiots among my childhood friends.
To make matters worse, our fathers are both hunters, so I knew those three long before I ever met Thomas or Rosalind.
Knock knock.
A heavy pair of footsteps approached from inside.
The door swung open.
Standing there was a mountain of a man with a thick beard and arms...
Almost as big as my father.
Gray Holt.
His sharp eyes landed on me first.
"...Well, if it isn't Bloodstone's pup."
"Morning, Mr. Holt."
"Hmph."
His gaze drifted to Clarice.
The moment he noticed her clothes, his expression changed ever so slightly.
Not fear.
Recognition.
He knew money when he saw it.
"And who's the young lady?"
"Clarice Fitzroy."
Gray's eyes narrowed.
"...Fitzroy?"
"Yes."
A long silence followed.
Then he stepped aside and spoke with surprising politeness.
"My apologies if my boys have caused you trouble, Miss Fitzroy."
Huh?
I'd never heard Gray apologize to anyone.
Ever.
He turned back to me.
"As for you..." he grunted. "Looks like you're following in your old man's footsteps."
"Huh?"
"Always cleaning up after everyone else's mess."
"...Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"If you have to ask, you've got your mother's brain instead of your father's."
"...Thanks... I think."
"It wasn't a compliment."
I was still trying to figure out how that wasn't a compliment.
My mother was the smartest woman in the village.
Gray's three idiots came to our house every week so she could teach them how to read and write.
"...Your kids still suck at reading and writing."
"Hm?"
"Nothing."
Gray let out a long sigh.
"My boys are inside."
He definitely heard me.
Hehehe.
"I've taught those idiots better than stealing."
There was disappointment in his voice.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
"If they took something that doesn't belong to them..."
His eyes hardened.
"...they'll return it."
Without another word, he turned toward the house.
"Get out of here!"
His voice boomed through the walls.
"You three have exactly five seconds before I drag you out myself!"
Almost immediately, loud crashing echoed from inside.
"...Four."
"M-Mom! Dad's mad!"
"...Three."
"I told you we shouldn't have taken it!"
Gray folded his arms.
"I raised hunters."
His glare could have split stone.
"Not thieves."
"Here!"
Here!" Colin yelped, holding up the leather bag with both hands.
Gray didn't even look at him.
"Rowan."
"..."
"Take the bag from your brother."
Colin quickly handed it over.
Rowan hesitated.
"Now."
With a reluctant grunt, Rowan took the bag.
"Good."
Gray folded his arms.
"You were the one who thought stealing it was a good idea."
"..."
"So you'll be the one returning it."
For a moment, Rowan stood frozen.
Then, with a clenched jaw, he stepped toward Clarice and held out the bag.
"...Sorry."
It was barely louder than a whisper.
"Bran."
"...Sorry."
"Colin."
"I'm really sorry!"
I almost laughed.
Poor Colin.
He was always the first one thrown to the wolves whenever the three of them got into trouble.
Gray nodded once.
"Good."
There wasn't a hint of satisfaction on his face.
Only disappointment.
That was somehow worse.
"Now get out of here, Bloodstone."
Dude.
I didn't even do anything.
The walk back to the market was surprisingly quiet.
"It seems like you and the Holt family are close," Clarice said.
She picked up on that pretty quickly.
"Not really, it's just how this village is. The people who founded it were a group of families traveling together. They settled here about fifty years ago, so most of the villagers have known each other for generations."
"I see..."
She looked down at the bag she was holding.
"So, would that make it difficult for newcomers to fit in?"
"Yeah. Like my family. "
"How?"
"My family has lived here for thirteen years, but to some people, we'll always be outsiders."
She looked genuinely surprised.
"After thirteen years?"
"People aren't mean about it."
Well...
Most of them aren't.
"I don't really mind. I spend most of my time at home anyway.
My older brother, Walter, hardly leaves the yard unless he has to.
And Rulf would rather spend the whole day hunting with Dad.
So none of us really cares what people think.
We don't really care. Besides, the Holt and Foreman families are the only ones who spend time with us because they genuinely want to, not because they want something from us."
"Foreman?"
"That's the family name of my two friends, Thomas and Rosalind."
"Thank you."
"Hmm?"
"I said thank you."
"Don't worry about it."
"And... if it's alright with you, may I come to your house and ask your mother to teach me magic?"
"Yeah. My mother would probably be happy to."
"Thank you, Sir Ivan."
"Can you not call me 'Sir Ivan'? We're the same age."
"Hey, Ivan!"
I turned toward the familiar voice.
"Oh, it's Thomas and Rosalind. I have to go. Our classes start tomorrow at noon."
"Okay."