Aldric's breath hitched.

"…Staboyonaz."

The name slipped from his lips like a curse.

He stared at the thin rod embedded in the soil, his jaw tightening.

Nothing happened.

No reaction.

No pulse.

Not even the faintest ripple.

His eyes darkened.

"I… was deceived."

His fingers slowly tightened around the rod.

"That bastard…"

His voice dropped, low and cold.

"That black market rat dared to sell me a fake?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Hmph."

Aldric tore the rod from the earth and crushed it in his hand until a faint crack echoed.

"So this isn't a Stone of Staboyonaz."

His gaze sharpened.

"I should have known."

The merchant's face flashed through his mind—

that confident smile,

that smooth voice,

those words that sounded far too perfect.

Genuine.

A fragment of the Stone of Staboyonaz, straight from the source.

Aldric closed his eyes.

"…Careless."

He let out a slow breath.

"I should never have trusted the black market in the first place."

Then he stood.

His cloak shifted in the wind.

"…I will find him."

His lips curved slightly.

Not a smile.

"He's going to explain himself."

He turned.

One step.

Then another.

"Personally."

His figure disappeared into the tall grass.

His presence vanished.

----

The midday breeze drifted across the field.

Lucas sat by the irrigation channel, leaning back against a small mound of dirt.

Not far away, Geralt stood in silence.

Under the old tree, Anya was still practicing her letters in the soil.

"L… u…" she mumbled, tongue slightly sticking out in concentration.

Silvara remained beside her.

Calm.

Patient.

Her voice stayed low and gentle each time she corrected Anya's strokes.

Lucas glanced over.

Then frowned.

…She's been that soft the whole time?

The system panel popped up.

[King~]

[She's always been like that.]

Lucas blinked.

[You're the only one who gets the strict version.]

He clicked his tongue.

"Tch. Unfair."

The panel wobbled.

[Limited edition treatment~]

Lucas waved it away.

Footsteps came from the direction of the village.

Liona appeared, carrying two small baskets.

One held bread.

The other, bottles of water and warm drinks.

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"…I didn't ask for this."

Liona stopped in front of him and gave a short bow.

"The Baroness sent me."

Lucas stared at her for a moment.

"…Just now?"

"…Yes."

Silvara glanced over.

She understood.

Geralt stayed silent.

Anya, unaware of everything, continued tracing letters in the dirt.

Lucas sighed.

"Fine. Put it down."

Liona spread a cloth on the ground and placed the food neatly on top.

Everything straight.

Everything practiced.

They sat.

No orders.

No ceremony.

Just eating.

Without a word, Geralt split his bread in half and placed one piece into Anya's hands.

The girl lit up.

"Thank you, Father!"

She bit into it happily.

Lucas opened a bottle and drank.

Cold.

Simple.

Good.

All around them—

the sound of wind,

rustling leaves,

quiet chewing.

No threats.

No fear.

No dark magic.

Just a man with a hoe.

Just a father.

Just a child learning her first letters.

Lucas looked out over the field.

Then thought—

"…Today feels… strangely quiet."

The system panel said nothing.

For once.

As if choosing to stay silent.

Under the midday sun—

it felt as though the seeds of something dangerous…

had decided not to sprout today.

After their quiet break—

Lucas glanced beneath the tree.

"Can you do it now?"

Anya jolted, then immediately stood straight as if facing a king.

"I-I can!"

She grabbed her small twig.

Liona asked Silvara, "Can do what?"

Silvara only chuckled softly.

"Just watch."

Anya knelt.

She took a deep breath.

Then began writing with a solemn expression, as if carving a royal inscription.

Lucian Voss.

Once.

She paused.

Steadied her breathing.

Focus, Anya…

Don't fail…

Second.

Third.

The letters leaned.

Some were too big.

Some nearly collapsed.

Her hand trembled.

Not from fear—

but from too much tension.

This isn't just a name…

This is the name of the man with the evil face…

If I fail to write it…

Father will suffer…

She swallowed.

Wrote faster.

Stiffer.

Until ten.

She stopped.

Stood.

Threw her arm to the side like finishing a final technique.

With a stage-serious face—

"I'm done," she declared.

Lucas walked closer.

Crouched.

Examined the ground.

Silence.

Anya stood stiffly, like a knight awaiting judgment from a dark lord.

He must be impressed by my skill… hehehe…

The Iron Knight is not only good with a sword…

Lucas finally spoke.

"…Your writing."

Anya held her breath.

Lucas pointed at the dirt.

"It looks like a squad of worms practicing formation."

Silvara immediately turned away.

Holding back laughter.

Anya froze.

A squad…

Of worms…

Lucas added flatly,

"But… the count is right."

He straightened.

"Ten. You pass."

Anya froze.

"P-Pass?"

Lucas nodded.

"Yeah."

Anya clenched her fists.

Her eyes sparkled.

The Iron Knight has successfully saved Father… mwhehehehe…

Liona straightened the cloth used as a food mat.

"Then… I'll be going now," she said politely.

She gave Lucian a short bow, then turned to Anya.

"Study hard, okay?"

Anya puffed out her chest.

"I will become a knight who can write!"

Silvara smiled faintly.

Liona nodded once, then turned and walked back toward the village.

The field fell quiet as she left.

Lucian stood.

"Old man. Back to work."

Geralt snapped to attention.

"Y-Yes, Young Master!"

They returned to the field.

Hoes in hand.

Lucas stood in the middle of the field.

Dry earth.

Neat drainage lines.

An empty trench.

He scanned the area.

"…Too peaceful."

Geralt glanced at him.

"T-Too peaceful, Young Master?"

Lucas touched the tip of his hoe to the dirt.

"A place that looks this neat… usually attracts 'visitors' quickly."

"Visitors…?"

"Pests."

Geralt stiffened.

Lucas pointed at the soil near the roots.

"They don't come from above."

He tapped the ground lightly.

"…They come from below."

Geralt swallowed.

"R-Rats…?"

"And their friends."

Lucas went silent for a moment.

Judging the spacing between the plants.

The contour of the land.

The edges of the field.

The system panel appeared.

[Then what will you do, King?]

Lucas thought briefly.

"…Dig."

He started moving.

"Not randomly."

He drew a line on the ground, circling the field.

"A dry trench. Deep enough to cut off their tunnels."

Geralt immediately followed suit.

"H-How deep should it be?"

"About a child's knee high."

Geralt nodded.

Lucas pointed to one corner.

"Widen that part."

"For what, Young Master?"

"So anyone who tries to cross… falls."

The panel blinked.

[Structure Detected: Anti-pest Dry Trench — Constructing]

He glanced at it.

You really love naming things.

He kept digging.

Hard earth lifted.

Slowly.

Heavily.

----

The sun sank lower.

Shadows stretched.

Only a small portion of the trench had been completed.

Still rough.

Still shallow.

Geralt wiped sweat from his brow.

"…We're not finished yet, are we, Young Master?"

Lucas nodded.

"Evening came too fast."

He planted the hoe into the ground.

"We'll continue tomorrow."

Geralt gave a stiff smile.

"…Young Master is a genius now."

Lucas snorted.

"Not a genius."

He looked at the slowly changing field.

"I just don't want my work… to be eaten by rats tomorrow."

The system panel appeared.

[DING]

(≧▽≦)／

+20 EXP

+5 Progression Points

---

…That's so little. He thought

The panel blinked.

--

(￣_￣)

[Because you're not done.]

--

He clicked his tongue.

Stingy.

(¬‿¬)

Geralt brushed the dirt from his hands.

"Y-Young Master… I'll be heading home now. It's late…"

"Take the hoe with you." Lucas said.

Geralt jolted.

"E-Eh?"

"That one." He pointed to the ordinary hoe.

"Use it again tomorrow."

Geralt froze.

Then bowed deeply.

"T-Thank you very much, Young Master!"

Meanwhile—

Anya stood before Silvara.

Chest out.

Hand to her heart.

Like she was about to swear an oath.

"From today on… I, Anya the Iron Knight—"

Silvara blinked.

"…Hm?"

"—hereby officially become Miss Silvara's first student!"

Geralt exclaimed.

"Anya—!"

Anya raised a finger.

"I'll come again tomorrow!"

Eyes blazing with determination.

"To… conquer letters!!"

Silvara fell silent.

Then smiled faintly.

"…I'll be waiting."

Anya beamed.

Geralt hurried to Lucian Voss.

Bowing deeply.

"Y-Young Master… please allow my daughter… to come again tomorrow…"

Lucas looked at Geralt.

Then at Anya.

Then at the field.

He let out a slow breath.

"Of course."

Geralt froze.

"T-Thank you!"

Lucian added flatly,

"But you… work properly too."

Geralt bowed even lower.

"Yes, Young Master!"

Lucas took out two coins.

Placed them into Geralt's palm.

Geralt smiled.

Then bowed again.

"Thank you… truly, thank you…"

Anya turned toward Silvara.

Straightened into a knight's stance.

Feet together.

Chin raised.

"Miss Silvara!"

Silvara straightened on instinct.

Anya gave an awkward salute—

half knight's salute, half childish wave.

"See you tomorrow!!"

Silvara blinked.

Then replied, a little awkwardly.

"…See you."

Anya then turned to Lucas.

Her face tightened.

She swallowed.

Then gave a small bow.

"Thank you… Young Master…"

He looked at her.

She was still trembling.

But now—

she didn't run.

He sighed.

"…Get home safely."

Anya nodded hard.

"I-I will!"

Then ran to her father.

Geralt waved as they left.

Lucas remained in the field.

Watching the small figure disappear into the distance.

The feeling was strange.

Not bad.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… unfamiliar.

Being called "Young Master" by someone that small.

----

Since noon, Healer Mae had been restless.

Anya usually stopped by her clinic—

sitting in the small chair, begging to be read stories about Iron Mathron.

Mae worried Anya still hadn't fully recovered.

She closed her book.

Exhaled slowly.

Then finally decided to go herself.

At Anya's house, her mother greeted her with a puzzled look.

"Anya? She went with her father to the fields."

Mae stiffened.

"…To the fields?"

Her chest tightened.

One face instantly rose in her mind.

Lucian Voss.

Mae held her breath.

Anya was still a child.

And Voss's reputation…

Her hand clenched.

She turned.

And walked quickly.

A few steps outside the village—

Mae stopped dead.

Her nose wrinkled.

That scent.

Acrid.

Sweet.

Faint.

Too familiar.

"…This…"

Her arm moved on instinct.

A gauntlet manifested around her hand.

She closed her eyes.

Inhaled.

And followed the trail.

Mae arrived at a small cave.

Silent.

Damp.

On the stone floor—

a bottle lay abandoned.

Mae crouched.

Picked it up.

Two fingers formed a V sign before her eyes.

A thin glimmer of magic passed over the glass.

Her expression changed.

"…"

Poison.

The same one.

The one she'd smelled on Lina's clothes.

Her fingers tightened.

"Did Lina poison him…?"

Then—

her suspicion twisted.

If it was here…

then the one who mixed it must have been—

Lucian Voss.

Her gaze dropped.

To the cave floor.

Several strands of silver hair.

Her eyes widened.

"…Silvara."

Her breath hitched.

Her thoughts burned.

But her hands trembled.

She couldn't charge in.

Not again.

Mae stood.

Stared at the bottle for a long moment.

"…I'll find the antidote."

She turned.

And walked away.

At the same time—

Lucas and Silvara walked along the narrow path.

Their footsteps were calm.

Silvara suggested returning to the cave to retrieve the forgotten wine bottle.

Lucas dismissed it at first.

But Silvara insisted that maybe Healer Mae could examine it.

So he agreed.

As they neared the cave—

Mae rushed out.

Then froze.

Because standing right before her—

was Lucian Voss.

Their eyes met.

Mae felt her breath catch.

"…Oh my…"

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