The Prince Doesn't Cry From Mere Onions

It had already been a few days since Bertram had reappeared into Carla’s life, and things that would have been unimaginable before were now part of their daily lives.

Dieter kept glowering at Bertram from over the fence. But rather than fighting over Anna with him, he would always flee right before he actually made eye contact with Bertram. What a useless man.

It became the norm for Anna to go out into the woods with Bertram under the excuse of taking the pig out to feed.

And perhaps because Bertram had gotten some sort of education on how to pretend to be human from Anna or something, he wasn’t enraging the customers so much anymore, but….

Even still, Bertram was nothing more than an eyesore to Carla.

At dawn today as well, Carla vowed to herself, ‘I’ll slaughter the pig as soon as it reaches its estrus cycle, then I’ll kick that fellow out,’ facing the direction of the public farm. Soon, Bertram would come down to start sweeping the yard.

…However, even though the sky had brightened substantially, Bertram’s huge silhouette was nowhere to be seen.

“Oho, so he’s already pulling out.”

Carla thought that she finally had the opportunity to say something to Bertram.

But though the morning sun emerged from the hills, and though she could hear the sound of Anna rolling off and falling from her bed, Bertram did not appear.

Carla began to drum her fingers on the table anxiously.

“….Did something happen with that bear?”

It did not take long for her to reach a decision. Soon, Carla turned towards the inside of the house to yell quickly: “Anna! I’m going to the farm for a second!”

“Huh…?”

Not yet fully awake, Anna crawled out on her knees and peered at the yard. Drowsiness still dripped from her large eyes.

“Mom, what’s that supposed to mean? Why would you go to the… did something happen?”

“….No. It’s nothing. Finish some of the morning prep for me before I get back. Alright?”

Flinging the apron towards her daughter, Carla ran to the farm.

Though she’d said it was nothing, the worst situation was already panning out in Carla’s head.

Near the public quarters was the public farm and ranch.

The public farm saw the occasional invasion from fools who’d heard the rumor about how ‘there’s treasure buried here that the army left during the war.’

The ranch saw the occasional wolf.

Though it was a very small probability, what if the sole user of the public quarters, Bertram, had become prey for wolves or a band of robbers…?

‘If only I hadn’t chased him out to sleep at the quarters…! Spreading a wool rug on the kitchen floor for him to sleep on would have been nothing difficult!’

Her ominous imagination spurred on her footsteps.

Just as the fences of the farm emerged into view, Carla smelled the waft of blood that came with the breeze and felt a shiver down her spine. Her sense of foreboding, it seemed, hadn’t been completely wrong.

The men of the village, including the vigilantes, were gathered around the farm. Discovering her neighborhood friend Dean among them, she gave a shout.

“Oi, Dean! What’s happening over there!”

“Carla, what’re you doing here?”

Dean answered leisurely as he turned around, but his hand was painting in blood.

“Whose blood is that? Is someone hurt? Is it yours?”

“Not mine. Curses. Would you believe, mountain goats came down out of the blue and completely sifted up the field. And once we were done taking care of them, the wolves came in droves.”

“Wolves? …Whoa.”

Crossing over the farm’s fences, the entire scene now entered Carla’s eyes.

From the few mountain goats splayed out on the ground, to the carcasses of the wolves.

Nearby, the young men who must have fought the wolves off with the tools they used for farming were bandaging each other up. The blood on Dean’s hand then had to be from one of the young men, or a wolf.

Since it looked as if all the emergency measures had already been taken care of, Carla sighed in part-worry and part-relief.

“Is there anything I can do? Did you send the other wounded to the clinic already?”

“The other wounded?”

“There’s no way only this much people got hurt.”

Calming crazed mountain goats normally saw a couple broken bones from one or two people. And if they’d also gone against wolves, that meant at least three or four people should’ve been carried off to the clinic in the next village over with dripping open wounds.

But Dean shook his head.

“This is all the casualties we had. As it happens, the guy who works at your house was at the public quarters, and he took care of all the wolves for us. And he didn’t hurt a single hair on his head!”

“What?”

“He ate breakfast with everyone at the farm, so if you’re worried he’s starved, don’t. Heh, how long are you going to keep him? He looks very useful, you know. Can’t you lend him out to us too?”

Perhaps because he’d forgotten the time he’d acted tough towards Bertram, Dean shamelessly whispered in Carla’s ears.

At a place a bit removed from where they were, she saw Bertram in Hans’ clothes.

He was lifting the carcass of a mountain goat with one hand and throwing it outside. The worker standing next to him was all grins.

“Man, look at that size. Looks like it’s a meat day today. Should we take’m to Anna’s place?”

Bertram replied composedly.

“If you are taking this to Miss Anna’s house, then I will remove its horns and fur and drain its blood right now.”

“You’ve already worked yourself hard getting the wolves. Go rest—if it’s skinning, Carla’s good at that too.”

“Then all the more reason I should do it myself. I cannot give Mrs. Carla more work to do, not when I am here.”

Having heard that despite the distance, Dean chortled as he glanced to Carla.

“Look how fine and proper he goes about working. He was scary at first, but now he’s just fun to look at. So? Are you really going to send him off?”

“Well, I’m more scared of him now than before! Does it make sense for a normal human to kill a wolf in the first place? Did you see how he caught them?”

“Who cares. As long as the results are good. Oi, Bertram! Your owner madam’s here!”