READ NOVEL ONLINE Chapter 42
The main event of Wintersend began in a sequence familiar to Karem.
Typically, when the event starts, the highest-ranking and most respected person among the attendees delivers a short speech, which somehow never seems to end.
However, thankfully, Alfred briefly expressed thanks to the gods along with some common platitudes one might expect from a ruler.
In past lives and the current one, it seemed customary for speeches to stretch indefinitely, yet here was Alfred, finishing promptly!
“I have no more to say. I shall stop here.”
It was hard to believe, but Alfred really did step away from the podium.
He truly spoke briefly and left.
Karem couldn’t help but admire that.
And immediately, Iona, stroking her lush beard, gracefully climbed the platform with her plump body.
At first, it felt solemn, but once the event started, the atmosphere took a turn.
What had been a somewhat reduced volume in the plaza transformed into a cacophony almost instantly.
Karem was stunned by the unexpected shift from the austere mood he had anticipated.
Tamer performing tricks with trained monsters and beasts,
Circus members quickly setting up equipment for their performance.
A fierce duel between two barbaric warriors wielding axes.
A stunning woman devouring a whole roasted wild boar by herself.
The songs of a bard duo composed of an elf and a dwarf.
Various people gathered around the campfire, each putting on their own shows.
Karem felt a sudden pang of nostalgia.
Had the festivals in Moston Village been like this?
Then he dismissed the thought.
This was Winterhome. The Duke’s castle.
With nobility hosting the grand banquet, there was bound to be a spectacular display.
It was inappropriate to compare it to a remote, backwater like Moston.
Besides, even when festivals were held there, it certainly wasn’t a place where wandering circus troupes or actors performed, let alone bards showing up.
Regardless, it was an experience that felt delightfully different from his past life.
As he enjoyed the spectacle of people losing themselves to the festival, Karem suddenly felt the prickling sensation of something jabbing the back of his head.
An annoying sensation as if tangled hair were irritating his scalp.
He could probably ignore it, yet it persisted, becoming too bothersome to disregard.
Adjusting the containers he held in both hands, Karem glanced around.
The bustling crowds in the plaza and at its periphery were absorbed in the performances around the campfire, so they were not a concern.
Just to be sure, he casually turned around to glance toward the royal seats.
“Our dear chubby one. What seems to be the matter?”
“It’s William. Can’t we see more of the monster performance from earlier?”
“Is that even possible? There are plenty of other acts lined up.”
Alicia, seemingly disengaged, pouted beside him, while William, the second son of Felwinter, responded with an indifferent air.
Both Alfred and the Duchess gazed upon Alicia with honeyed eyes.
Godwin, teasing his younger brother Robin, made eye contact with Karem and subtly nodded his head while gesturing with his eyes to the right.
Karem’s face paled.
Could it be that he brought the mayonnaise all the way here? He must be severely addicted to it.
At this rate, he was sure to gain weight.
Shaking his head, Karem turned to look at the others at the royal seats.
Various influential figures, nobles, and chieftains were seated at the outer edge of the royal circle, chatting and enjoying their meals while watching the performances.
However, the source of the pricking gaze was not among the guests.
Catherine, who sat among the nobles, seemed uninterested in the performance, munching on fruits that Mary offered her.
As their eyes met, Mary subtly shifted her gaze to indicate a group of offerers.
Mary’s eyes pointed to the back of the platform.
More specifically, to the right of Karem, where the offerers were gathered.
But to Karem’s eyes, the offerers looked just ordinary.
Most were chattering while enjoying the show.
They didn’t seem tense; in fact, the atmosphere suggested they had participated as offerers many times before.
And there was an older dwarf, aging but without a beard, glaring intensely.
Karem briefly wondered if he was dreaming, but the beardless dwarf’s head was indeed perfectly bald.
For a moment, he thought he might be looking at a muscular old man.
Yet, with arms and legs as thick and short as tree trunks and broad shoulders, he was assuredly a dwarf.
And the emotion burning in the elder dwarf’s eyes was jealousy and rage.
Startled by the intense gaze of the dwarf he had never seen before, Karem felt bewildered.
‘Did I mess up somehow on the way here? That couldn’t be possible.’
From an objective standpoint, there was no reason for Karem to be the focus of anger.
But from the dwarf Zigmeser’s subjective point of view, Karem’s existence was a valid reason for his ire.
Zigmeser was sure of it.
The child sitting diagonally ahead was indeed Karem.
It was only natural to recognize him, as no one among the offerers was younger than Karem.
‘How dare this brat take away my joy…!’
Feeding his child and grandchild to satisfaction while hearing them praise the food was happiness that no old man would ever concede.
Yet, the realization that Karem had stolen even a fraction of that joy ignited Zigmeser’s uncontrollable wrath.
Zigmeser cast a smoldering gaze filled with unidirectional fury towards Karem, either unaware of or indifferent to whether Karem was even looking.
Eventually, Karem could no longer endure the stare, and he turned his head forward.
Even so, the weight of that stare from behind continued to bear down on him.
Fortunately for Karem, the elf archer’s performance had just concluded.
Iona, holding a long scroll, ascended the platform once more.
The priests waiting before the offerers also stepped out and surrounded the table by the campfire.
As the naturally solemn atmosphere settled, the previously boisterous crowd began to quiet down.
The gaze that pricked his back was still there.
However, Karem found himself so tense that he kept turning his head around.
The high-quality leather pants, wool shirt, and leather vest he wore to protect himself against the cold were nothing compared to the ragged garments from his serf days.
These clothes had been found in the servant quarters of the Wizard’s Tower.
Mary had mentioned that although they weren’t as lavish as the nobles’, they were decent enough for a person of some means to wear on special occasions.
Sure enough, her words seemed accurate.
Though they may not have been as fine as the shirts from his past life, the softness and insulation of these clothes were undeniable.
And the fur cloak too?
It wasn’t clear what kind of beast it came from, but the plush fur on the outside was definitely cozy.
The inside was well-finished too, feeling far from rough at all.
In the meantime, Iona began calling out the names of the offerers.
The procedure was simpler than Karem had expected.
1. The offerer would approach the table with the sacrifice.
2. The priests would receive the offering and bow lightly towards the campfire.
3. The offerer would return to their original spot while the priests arranged the offering on the table.
4. Iona would call the next offerer’s name.
When it came to the steps, Karem couldn’t recall having seen a simpler ceremony than this.
Though, in fairness, he hadn’t witnessed all the raucous performances and tricks before either.
One participant brought the stuffed head of a wyvern he had hunted,
Another displayed a battle axe crafted while burning the last embers of his life,
Someone offered clothing made from the finest fabric in the kingdom.
Countless offerings found their place on the table.
“Chief Cook! Zigmeser!”
As many offerers came and went, Karem finally saw Zigmeser, who had been glaring at him, stepping forward.
That dwarf was the head chef?
With a huff, Zigmeser snorted loudly as he walked forward, proudly holding a platter in each of his hands.
The huge dish that could fit a whole pig was covered with a lid as large as a bucket, concealing its contents.
Naturally, Zigmeser wasn’t acting exceptionally odd.
Several offerers also had hidden their offerings.
But as Karem idly watched, he noticed the priests lifting the lid.
The piercing sound of metal being unsheathed rang out, revealing Zigmeser’s offering.
An impressive cylindrical creation, blending deep yellow and subtle red, rotated like a trigonometric figure, unable to bear its sheer weight.
The upper half was covered by a piece that gleamed with a light brown hue.
Upon closer inspection, the piece had countless tiny lines intricately woven like fabric.
The breeze carried a sweet aroma mixed with a faint floral scent, rippling across the uncovered parts of the surface, creating a wave-like motion.
‘Pudding!? Of that size, and it’s not even wobbling? No, it’s just that there’s no bowl, but that looks just like crème brûlée or any other dessert!’
Karem thought this to himself, instantly feeling a sense of self-reproach.
Remembering the modern civilization of his past life, he might have unwittingly looked down on this fantasy world, which was still caught in the medieval times.
Though different in era and civilization, it didn’t mean that people could be foolish.
Lack of knowledge did not equate to the absence of wisdom or intelligence.
If Leonardo da Vinci were brought to this modern age, people would surely nod and admire him, saying, “Ah, that’s da Vinci!”
‘More than anything, I doubt anyone other than Alicia would dare to mention pudding to the chief cook. Did he recreate that without a recipe?’
Karem was taken aback.
After all, most of the recipes he remembered were merely adaptations and modifications of dishes from his previous life; he never intended to claim them as his own.
Yet here was someone who had not only replicated a dish he had never tried but even arranged it into his very own creation. Talented chefs could replicate and enhance recipes with just a few hints, right?
When Zigmeser returned to his spot, he glanced at the royal seat and smiled like a satisfied bear.
“Pudding! A huge pudding! Brother!”
“Our adorable chub. It’s fascinating, but to overdo it—”
Just as he expected, Zigmeser’s anticipated reaction soon became evident.
Peering down from there, Zigmeser chanced upon Karem, who seemed captivated, but then he was startled.
‘Huh? That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting?’
Feelings of defeat, frustration, and fury surged within him.
That’s what Zigmeser had anticipated, but in Karem’s eyes was an entirely different emotion – respect. Wasn’t that a failure of sorts?
Zigmeser pondered for a moment, feeling unsettled, yet he chose to be satisfied for the time being.
Surely, Princess Alicia’s response would come in due time.
“Karem!”
Karem was called only after Iona summoned a few more names.
Unable to hide his shock, he could only come to his senses after Iona called him.
Stepping forward a beat late, Karem sighed to loosen up his tension.
He couldn’t afford to mess up with the magical tool covering the plate before Wintersend.
While preparing his offering, Karem suddenly recalled the magical tool he had heard about before.
A tool that stored bread in its best condition.
Then what would be the tool for preserving the taste of food best?
‘Hmm? There is one?’
‘Aha, as expected!’
‘But the rental fee will be deducted from your salary.’
‘Ehh—’
‘Ehh, what’s with the ‘ehh’? Hurry and prepare the offering.’
Surely, its effectiveness was certain.
The “Gourmet Lid,” which effectively preserved food, keeping it warm and delicious for a certain time.
Thanks to it, the porchetta he prepared remained warm and crispy.
Still, Karem didn’t particularly think he would be chosen.
After all, the offerings lined up were nothing short of impressive.
The priests had seen so many outstanding offerings that when they received Karem’s porchetta, they merely glanced at him with astonished eyes, as if they had seen a boy who hadn’t even had a coming-of-age ceremony.
“Um, Father Priest.”
“What is it?”
“Excuse me, but could I take that lid with me?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just that it’s a borrowed item…”
Once everyone else’s sacrifice was called and placed on the table, Karem returned to his spot while Iona put the scroll away.
“…With the offering preparations complete, I, the servant of the Lady of Winter, dare to ask. O conqueror of winter, please look favorably upon this humble offering. O exalted one, I implore you. O warrior deity, make your selection.”
As soon as Iona ended her prayer, the priests inserted their hands into their ample garments.
They brought forth swords, daggers, hand axes, maces, and morning stars – all sorts of weapons, and with a flourish, they threw them into the ever-growing fire of the campfire.
The aroma of burning firewood melded with the rich scent of metal.
As the flames flared higher and the heat spread throughout the plaza, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively with the excitement of the crowd.
As weapons caught fire and turned blackened in moments, a sharp, resonant voice echoed.
“Indeed! Festivals should not be solemn but lively!”