LP 1.2 Gooseherd

Idelma Gold is worth whatever you ask for it. That’s because it’s exclusively produced only in the Idelma Mines of western Izelant. It’s not that there aren’t other substances that perform similar functions… but nothing was as effective as Idelma Gold in suppressing mages.

As he obediently put his arms behind him and was bound, Kosha thought about the person who must be the master of these fearsome men. Judging by the terrifying torture chamber, the sturdy underground prison, and all sorts of tools made of Idelma Gold, he was clearly no ordinary figure.

…But how on earth did such a person become a victim of the shoddy love potion Kosha made? That was as incomprehensible as the fact that the pathetic potion had caused such a fatal problem.

They wrapped Kosha up tightly, blindfolded him with a black cloth, and then firmly linked arms with him on either side. He wasn’t planning to escape anyway, even without all this. He didn’t even know where he was; where could he run to?

Being awkwardly dragged along by the hulking men, who were strangely not quite tall enough, causing him to tiptoe, Kosha timidly protested inwardly.

The way he was dragged was quite long.

Just how big is this building? It’s almost comparable to a royal palace. He felt a renewed flutter of anxiety in his stomach, wondering if he had gotten mixed up with a truly extraordinary person.

It was when the relentless command to “Walk properly” was issued for about the second time due to his constantly dragging footsteps. The men stopped abruptly.

Even through the blindfold, Kosha could sense the presence of a heavy door blocking the way.

And soon, the sound of the door opening was heard, and a pleasant scent wafted in from inside. Clean, refreshing, and something like a fruity smell.

Suddenly, Kosha became conscious of his appearance, which was bound to be filthy… The black cloth that had been tightly covering his eyes was roughly ripped off without warning.

Kosha squinted and lowered his head at the sudden light. He hadn’t realized it was midday, having been locked up in a perpetually dark prison.

Sunlight was pouring in from a large window directly in front of him. It was a very spacious room with a high ceiling. On the floor, a dark green thorn grass patterned rug was laid out lengthwise across the room, not flashy but clearly of very high quality, judging by its sheen and weave.

Kosha’s gaze involuntarily followed the path created by the rug, and stopped. In front of the sleek leather boots standing nonchalantly on the luxurious fabric.

“We’ve brought him.”

The blond man stated heavily.

“Is that so?”

The reply came back neither slowly nor quickly. Kosha’s gaze was still fixed on the leather boots at the end of the rug. Instinctively, he felt he shouldn’t look up any further.

Then, someone nudged him in the back. In a fluster, his gaze rose a little more.

Black trousers above the boots that came up to his calves, and a navy tunic with the edges decorated with gold thread. This man seemed to be very tall.

“This is him?”

It was a low, cool voice. …And somehow familiar. Kosha’s brow furrowed slightly.

A chuckling sound followed. It clearly contained an air of mockery.

“But why are you like that? Look up.”

A soft tone, precise pronunciation. Really, Kosha already knew this voice.

As if possessed, he raised his head, but he really was tall. Raising his head only allowed him to see the blade-like deer antler pattern embroidered on the collar of his shirt.

Only by tilting his head back as far as it would go did Kosha’s eyes finally reach his face, and they widened as if they would pop out.

The clear, clean jawline, and the line above it that went from his lips up his nose to his forehead, were harmoniously and meticulously crafted as if they had been deliberately carved that way.

His eyes were closer to soft than sharp, and his fair blond hair, which looked as if it would shatter into white if it caught the light, flowed down over it in exquisite curves.

He couldn’t even dare to blink, fearing it was an illusion. This was someone Kosha knew well. This man was….

“Lu…”

It was when his lips parted stupidly to utter the name.

Steel-gray eyes looked down at Kosha. After a confrontation that felt like an eternity but was only a fleeting moment, one corner of the expressionless mouth quirked up.

And then stars burst before his eyes.

Kosha didn’t immediately realize what had happened. Thwack, a merciless sound, was swallowed by the shock that shook his skull, and only a sharp ringing sound whizzed past his ears.

His cheek felt like it was on fire. Unable to collapse because of the arms firmly linked on either side, Kosha staggered. Something flowed from his mouth. He thought it was saliva, but the color of the liquid that dripped onto the floor was dark red.

Before Kosha, who was panting, unable to close his bloodied mouth, a large hand cast a shadow again. Just as Kosha, who hadn’t even had time to resist, barely squeezed his eyes shut.

“Your Highness.”

What followed was a heavy voice instead of a merciless blow. As he cautiously opened one eye, the blond man who had tightly bound Kosha was stopping his wrist.

“It would be difficult if you killed him now.”

And he naturally took two rings from the man’s hand. One was a heavy signet ring made of metal, and the other was a ring with a large blue jewel embedded in it. If he had been hit with those on, his flesh would have been torn off and more.

The rings slipped off the long, smooth fingers without prominent knuckles like flowing water. The man who had retrieved the rings stepped back. As if telling him to hit him comfortably now.

It was when Kosha’s face, looking up at them alternately, turned blue again with embarrassment and fear. Well-shaped lips as if drawn opened.

“What, is he going to die from just this much?”

“He’s a mage. Their bodies are known to not be very strong.”

Then he lowered the arm he had raised as if he had lost interest. His steel-gray gaze lingered disapprovingly on his hand that had struck Kosha.

A servant who had been waiting in the background without a presence brought forward a silver basin filled with water at the appropriate time. Lily of the valley flowers floated in the water. He lightly washed his hands in the water as if he had touched something dirty. His profile as he washed his hands with a slight frown was exquisitely and beautifully drawn as if in a painting.

“Lucian…?”

It was no more than a lip shape that didn’t even reach a whisper. He just had to move his lips because he couldn’t believe it.

The gaze that turned to look at Kosha was sharp enough to feel unfamiliar. He was going to get hit again, he could clearly feel it even with his clumsy intuition that usually didn’t function properly. Reflexively, he cringed and gritted his teeth−

Thwack!

The merciless sound was heard from below instead of near his ears. The inner edge of a sturdy leather boot kicked Kosha in the shin. Kosha staggered and fell forward. At the same time, the two men who had bound Kosha quickly pressed down on his shoulders.

His knees slammed onto the stone floor. From ‘their’ point of view, they had helped prevent Kosha’s shins from being kicked twice… But from his perspective, in so much pain that he couldn’t even scream, he didn’t have the capacity to consider them. At the very least, it felt like his leg was broken or his knee was shattered.

“How dare you be so presumptuous….”

The sleek toe of the boot nudged his knee. It was a perfunctory movement, but it was more than enough stimulation for his knee, which was burning from being slammed against the stone floor.

“I told you to look up. You wanted to see me.”

“Ugh, hhh….”

“How is it? Does it make you feel like working a little?”

Trembling, he somehow managed to raise his head as he was told, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Kosha already knew this beautiful man well. But now he is not the person he knew.

What on earth did that shoddy Love Potion do to this man?

---

Lucian, Lucian of Carlot.

Who wouldn’t know that name? Not only in Carlot, his territory in western Izelant, but also in Ostbrahe, the capital, and its surrounding areas.

Because the King of Izelant endlessly produced children, few people knew exactly how many royal descendants there were. It wasn’t particularly helpful information for making a living, so there was no reason to be curious.

The most famous were probably the eldest daughter, Arabella and the eldest son, Bastian, but even they weren’t known to the extent that all the people knew.

Lucian, who was born as the King’s fifth child and third son, was, to borrow the words of the world, a hero like a star fallen from the sky.

He rose rapidly by successively resolving major incidents such as the subjugation of the barbarians in the Ermus Mountains in the northwest and the Islaween Rebellion, and he completely solidified his position by recovering the eastern territory that had been seized by the enemy country Grafen a dozen years ago.

It is impossible to know if all the circulating heroic tales are true, but in any case, his army had actually never been defeated. He was simply, the hero of Izelant.

But if that was all there was to it, his name would not have spread so widely. After all, outstanding knights exist in every era. His real talent lay elsewhere.

He… attracts people’s attention.

First of all, his appearance was outstanding. He was a handsome man like pouring sunlight. Even though he had territory in the barren west and only traveled to the most dangerous battlefields, his skin was always clean and there wasn’t a single common scar on his cheeks. His light blond hair, which he inherited from his mother’s side, was particularly rare in central Izelant, where the capital was located, and easily caught the eye.

But what was more revered than his appearance was his character.

He was kind and friendly to everyone, and even humble. He spoke to everyone, regardless of their status, in a polite manner and even smiled often.

That was truly unknightly, but that was precisely why all of Izelant loved him.

The long-standing prejudice that ‘knights’ were rough, violent, and scary people disappeared at some point, and the fact that knights received such friendly gazes and unprovoked kindness when they walked down the street was, frankly, entirely due to Lucian’s contribution.

And Kosha was one of those who had fallen for his character.

His war exploits? It was irrelevant to those who were not residents of conflict zones, as it had nothing to do with their immediate livelihoods. His outstanding appearance? He didn’t deliberately come and shove his face in their faces, and frankly, he wasn’t interested.

He had heard the name because he was so famous, but at the time, Kosha was too busy managing his own life. He simply didn’t have the capacity to pay attention to a glorious knight.

If it hadn’t been for that incident.

It was the day when sweet osmanthus flowers were in full bloom, so it was slowly entering autumn. It was the time of year with the best weather based on central Izelant. But that was someone else’s story for Kosha. Frankly, he didn’t even have the capacity to feel the change of seasons.

He had business in the castle that day. He had to sell the feathers of the geese that had finished molting. Goose feathers fetched a fairly high price, so they were one of Kosha’s main sources of income.

He left home early in the morning carrying his luggage. He crossed a hill on foot, waited endlessly in line in front of the castle gate, and finally entered at noon.

That day, the castle was unusually crowded with people. He was curious, so he grabbed someone and asked, and they said that it was the day Prince Lucian was returning, and people had gathered to see him.

At that time, he didn’t think much of it. He was just a little dissatisfied inwardly, wondering why he had to return on the day he had business.

After a quarrel with the retailer who always tried to lower the price, he sold the goose eggs and feathers, and with that money, he bought some dried meat, oil for the lamp, and even splurged a little and bought some apples that he had wanted to eat all summer, and half the day had passed.

There were a lot of people everywhere he went, and he was bumped and pushed around, so his body quickly became exhausted.

All he had eaten all day was a bowl of stew, and his luggage bag was heavy. Moreover, Kosha was not very physically strong due to a congenital problem. He didn’t even have the luxury of sitting down and resting for a while if he wanted to return home before sunset.

It was when he was carefully going down the hillside of the castle wall, where there were relatively few people. But once again, it was a talent to be so unlucky. He had been feeling uneasy since morning, and as expected, the old sack made of burlap couldn’t withstand the weight of its contents and burst open.

Really, everything was going wrong…. The hardships he had experienced all day flashed through Kosha’s mind.

The gatekeeper who had been more picky than necessary, the haberdasher who had tried to lower the price by finding fault with the quality of the goose feathers, the greengrocer who had subtly tried to sell him small and scarred apples at a high price….

But he didn’t even have the luxury of sitting down. He had to pick up the spilled items. He was fortunate that the oil bottle hadn’t broken, but a few apples were rolling down the hillside.

He squeezed through the crowded people all the way to the alley, almost crawling down the hillside. He grabbed one apple, grabbed another, and then there was one last apple left.

It rolled as if it would be caught but wouldn’t be, and stopped… in front of someone’s shoe. It was a sleek leather boot.

And the owner of that leather boot bent down and picked up the apple. Excuse me, just a moment, excuse me− Kosha, who was repeating like a parrot and squeezing through the people, stopped.

It was a very sleek, long, and pretty hand. The clean hand stood out in contrast to the scarred, reddish apple. The hand playfully tossed the apple up and down once.

‘Ah, is this yours?’

It was a low voice and precise pronunciation. Kosha couldn’t answer and blankly raised his head to look up at the owner of the hand. He was standing with his back to the light, so he couldn’t focus for a moment.

He glanced at the items Kosha was awkwardly holding and the torn burlap sack and lightly clicked his tongue. That appearance was like a very well-drawn picture.

Soon, he handed over the apple as if throwing it, and Kosha accepted it in a daze.

‘Gee, that must have been tough. But it would be nice to eat something clean if possible.’

He said that. With a smiling face. Kosha didn’t even manage to say thank you.

When he barely came to his senses, he had already left with the other knights.

In the place he had left, the sweet scent of sweet osmanthus flowers brushed past on the wind. Only then did Kosha recognize the crowd around him. Most of them were slowly following the group of knights, but some remained near Kosha.

One middle-aged woman among them suddenly spoke to him.

‘Hey, about that apple, would you like me to exchange it for a clean one?’

…Suddenly? Kosha was inwardly wary of the inexplicable kindness and only blinked, but someone next to him said casually.

‘That’s because he picked it up himself. Because his hand touched it, it’s a commemorative item. It’s a disease.’

‘……?’

‘Maybe if you hold out a little longer, there will be someone who will offer to exchange it for two clean ones?’

The man chuckled, pointing at the apple, and the woman who had first made the offer got angry, telling him not to spoil things with nonsense.

For Kosha… he still couldn’t understand.

Anyway, there was no reason not to accept the advantageous offer. In the end, Kosha was able to get a new burlap sack in exchange for a clean apple and listening to a story about Lucian’s character, achievements, and good deeds.

And those stories, even though he had clearly thought he didn’t even have time to sit down and rest just a moment ago… seemed worth listening to in their own way.

The way home after that, even though he hurried quite a bit, wasn’t very tiring. Was it thanks to the stiff and sturdy new sack? No, in fact, he was just dazed. He didn’t even realize that he had a bruise on the shoulder where he was carrying the luggage.

That must have been tough, that voice kept ringing in his ears. When he arrived home, organized his luggage, filled the feed troughs for the geese who were flapping their wings in welcome, and only then finally cut one of the bruised apples to barely satisfy his hunger, he kept, kept….

That low voice, precise pronunciation, the way the well-shaped lips moved, and the way his eyes curved slightly when he smiled kept. As that word kept swirling in his head, he finally realized. Ah, I really had a hard time.

And he suddenly realized that it had been a very long time since someone had looked at him so directly and smiled and spoken to him.

Even the content of the words was kind. To tell him to eat something clean if possible, to say such nice things! Even if it was just a formality, even that was very rare in Kosha’s life.