319. Childhood EP – Straw

Leah was experiencing that the work done in the Conrad Kingdom and the Orun Kingdom during the off-season was the same.

Young men and children huddled together in various warehouses.

If someone comes, great. If not, whatever. Amid their idle chatter and busy hands, Leah inserted herself.

These were the residents of Grania Orphanage, who had finished the autumn harvest and were working to enrich the soil for next year. They were twisting straw ropes.

Leah squatted at the edge.

At times like this, without caring about appearances, picking up the straw littered on the floor and starting to twist it makes one a companion and a conversation partner. Moreover, Leah was confident when it came to rope-making.

As the daughter of a farmer, she had helped her father make plenty of twine during the winter.

I wonder if my parents are doing well. I sent them some money, but I worry about them being alone in the cold winter without their daughter.

Leah missed her parents and hometown as she clutched the straw, lying that she was earning money in the city. Twisting the straw rope was simple.

Starting with four pieces of straw about 0.5 cm in diameter was ideal.

Looking around, it seemed everyone was using that thickness, so Leah picked up four strands of straw and held them down with her ankle. The posture was that of a sitting person.

A novice who had never twisted straw rope before struggles right from the start. It’s so simple. Leah aligned the ends of the four strands and grabbed two strands with each hand.

Then she began to twist.

Of course, there’s a trick to it; instead of rubbing her palms together like a child who made a mistake, her right little finger should be pressed against the palm of the other hand to push. This way, the worthless straw begins to acquire value.

Rustle, rustle, just pushing it up for a moment, she soon reached the ends. It’s best to bend and tie the starting point of the rope, the ends. Leah turned the straw rope and shoved the previously tied section under her ankle.

To those who are novices at rope-making, let me say this: a rope isn’t merely completed with a few strands of straw.

If you continue twisting the opposite end of what you’ve been tying, the straw will naturally become thinner, and at this point, you should add a strand of straw to the thinner side (left or right, held in each hand).

This part is very important.

If you recklessly add the extra strand without care, it’s highly likely to stick out later.

If you’re careless and do a shoddy job, it’ll result in a flimsy rope. As a tip, while twisting, it’s a good idea to occasionally straighten what you’ve been twisting to the left. This will tighten the rope more.

Leah diligently moved her hands.

As she got used to it, her hand movements felt rhythmic, creating a melodious “swish swish – swish – crack” (to the left), “swish – swish swish – crack,” feeling even cheerful; the action of rubbing her hands was thought to be akin to offering a prayer to the gods, making rope-making a revered task since ancient times.

Amidst the soft chatter and the sounds of palm rubbing, Leah was becoming one with the orphanage residents.

It was then.

“Huh? That’s not how you twist the rope…”

“Huh?”

A boy sitting nearby chimed in. Leah’s eyes widened.

Is this the so-called territoriality I’ve heard about? — She thought, but all the children gathered here were orphans.

They had been beggars helping each other as they wandered through the city, so they had no inclination to exclude anyone.

The boy innocently offered advice.

“Why are you twisting to the right? You should be twisting to the left.”

Now that she looked at it, that was true. All the residents of the orphanage were twisting their ropes to the left. Leah felt a bit flustered.

“Well then, wouldn’t it become a golden rope?”

“What’s a golden rope?”

A straw rope is classified into left-twisted and right-twisted based on the direction of twisting.

Generally, when people refer to a straw rope, they mean a right twist, as there are many right-handers. For right-handers, it’s easier to twist the rope to the right.

However, left-handers don’t twist only left ropes. Leah was also born a left-hander, but her parents and society didn’t allow that.

Whether it’s a door or a kitchen knife, all grips are made with the right hand, and similarly, they learned that ropes are to be twisted to the right.

Left twisting is specifically referred to as a “forbidden twist,” used only to block the approach of unclean things, tied across doors or paths.

So there wasn’t much reason to make a lot of this item… But why do people here?

The reason soon became clear.

It turned out that the people of Grania Orphanage believed they should twist the rope to the left. In their somewhat closed-off lifestyle, what was originally misdesignated became a custom.

The boy laughed heartily.

“You’re really funny, sis. I thought you were twisting it wonderfully, but you were doing it the wrong way.”

In Rutina, follow Rutina’s laws, and in Oberg, follow Oberg’s laws. Here, they twist the rope to the left, so Leah awkwardly adjusted her posture. Then she swiftly twisted the golden rope with her left hand.

It was a trivial happening, but Leah was steadily blending in with the orphanage residents. While Reb attempted to woo the knights and stirred up all of Rutina, she quietly spent her leisurely off-season.

Occasionally singing hymns and twisting the golden rope like a prayer, the hands of the children sparkled white, perhaps from the sunlight or a prank of the gods.

*

“Welcome.”

“…Thank you for the warm welcome.”

Usually, it’s the men who pursue, and the women have little choice but to feel reluctant, but how could this be the case for a couple already promised in marriage? The princess’s gaze toward her soon-to-be husband, Prince Eric, was displeased.

What kind of greeting is that?

There was no trace of etiquette for other royalty. It was as if the prince had already treated her like his wife.

As soon as Princess Elika de Isadora stepped down from the carriage, she wanted to get back on the road. However, she couldn’t turn back her steps and merely returned her furrowed brow to a normal state, for she understood this was her fate.

Princesses of the Aisel Kingdom have always been used this way. As tools for political marriage and means to continue the line of the Manzamen royalty.

For hundreds of years, since the fall of the Acaian Empire, it had been this way. Would I be able to escape? She had prepared herself but couldn’t help feeling bitter.

Suppressing her sigh, she glanced at the man who would soon be her husband.

…He’s still handsome.

Prince Eric de Yeriel, whom she had only heard of in words, was fortunately a handsome man. He seemed like someone who could keep her from going hungry just by looking at his face.

However, there was a somewhat irritable look in his eyes, which was a downside. The clean blonde hair mixed with brown was of no concern to her… She dismissed the wearied handmaidens from their long journey and boldly said.

“Please guide me to the palace, Prince Eric de Yeriel.”

“…Is that a request to me?”

“Should I call your name again?”

Prince Eric chuckled, brushing off her rudeness. “Please follow me.” His back as he spoke felt cold. Perhaps his personality wasn’t very pleasant.

Oh dear, what a fate I have.

However, Elika did not lose hope. Since it had come to this, she knew she had to persevere.

Elika’s golden-flecked orange eyes sparkled as she asked.

“You’re quite silent. Are you naturally a person of few words?”

“…”

“How fortunate. I enjoy talking. Well… I’m going to try to chatter. Back where I was, even royalty found it difficult to speak. Wow! The chandelier is magnificent. What is this place?”

She asked questions, but it was glaringly marked with “salon” at the entrance. Prince Eric de Yeriel did not respond.

He merely walked on, and despite that, Elika chatter relentlessly.

What is this? What is that? ─ Starting from there, the questions gradually narrowed down to “What kind of person are you?” Eric found it increasingly hard to endure.

When they arrived at the third floor, in a room separate from the others, Elika spoke.

“The Rutina palace has a unique structure. It’s interesting how everything is clustered together without corridors.” As she spoke, Elika peeked into Eric’s room.

It was a bleak room.

Since it was the prince’s room, there was at least a carpet and elegant curtains, but there were no personal items. On the desk, not even a single book was lying around, only a writing utensil sat alone.

Is it possible for someone to live this way?

Feeling a chill, Elika crossed the threshold, and Eric seized her wrist. It hurt slightly.

“This is my room.”

“It’s also my future husband’s room, isn’t it?”

After a moment of eye contact, Elika pulled her seized wrist back. Her mood soured, but she pretended like it didn’t matter.

I can’t go back anyway.

Instead of showing dislike from the first meeting and worsening the relationship, figuring out what kind of person this is might be the way to make her possibly miserable life ahead a little smoother.

She stood in the center of the prince’s room, walking with dignity as she surveyed her surroundings.

But really, what’s wrong with this room?

Oh dear, what a fate I have. Little sister, big sister… Is it likely that I’ve married a lunatic? What am I to do?

It’s clean because the handmaidens clean it every day, but is it possible for a room to lack anything related to its owner? If this ends up being a guest room and if that prince is just playing a prank, I might even be happy about it. Oh!

At that moment, Elika’s eyes sparkled.

On the shelf by the window lay a necklace that clearly belonged to someone else. It looked a bit old… an item that had clearly been touched by human hands.

Wow, he doesn’t seem totally insane after all.

Filled with joy, as Elika grabbed the necklace, Eric seized her neck and pushed her against the wall.

“Gah!”

“Now that you’re looking so much… you don’t seem to know your position.”

A princess sold through inter-kingdom trade.

On the other hand, Eric was a prince who grasped real power in the Conrad Kingdom and was soon to ascend the throne. Whatever he did to her, as long as he didn’t kill her, no one would question him.

The Aisel Kingdom? How about a fight? The Lord Oriax would probably be pleased.

Eric clutched Elika’s chest instead of her neck.

Expecting tears or some unworthy rage to burst forth, Elika merely looked up at him calmly.

“Is this object really valuable enough for you, my prince, to commit such rudeness?”

…Air escaped his lungs.

Eric snatched the necklace from her hands. Elika steadied her trembling arms and spoke.

“Please answer. If you want to take me as your queen.”

“Why should I do that?”

“…Prince Eric. You have expressed a desire to marry me for years. Doing this now is quite bewildering.”

Eric chuckled, curling his lips in a sardonic grin. Elika recognized that it was a self-deprecating smile.

“I only needed your bloodline.”

“Why? Because your hair isn’t fully blonde and your eyes aren’t golden?”

Elika’s gaze shot at his tragically dark eyes.

His hair was blonde, yet mixed with the brown of the Duke of Tertan’s house instead of the blue of the Yeriel royal family, which made it look dark like straw.

That was what distinguished Lean de Yeriel from Eric de Yeriel. Even though they were terrifyingly similar.

When Eric didn’t reply, Elika continued. She knew that Lean de Yeriel was still alive and was aware of his hair and eye colors.

“The one who will ascend the throne is ultimately you. What are you so afraid of?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

Hahahahahaha!! Eric laughed loudly, confidently. Yet Elika de Isadora felt an eerie dread within his laughter.

It wasn’t madness… but this man seemed to be afraid of himself.

Elika questioned again.

Pointing at the only item displayed in the room. She boldly asked, as someone who would become his wife, what that necklace meant to him.

Eric’s eyes flickered.