Martha didn't like Winter. Besides the biting cold, she was always hungry. Her father often lost his job during this season, too. After all, few people hired builders to repair their houses in the Winter.
If no one was repairing houses, her father had no income. And with no income, Martha would have to follow her father to yet another unknown place—a strange city, strange people, and strange food, if there was any at all.
She had thought this year would be different. Her father had found a job two months ago. If things went smoothly, he could deliver the work before January and receive a handsome payment.
But even so, something had gone wrong. That detestable Norman had broken their agreement, and now her father had to spend extra money just to chase down the debt.
'Those Normans are so wicked.'
'I hope Father can get his pay.'
Martha hated noise, but right now, she preferred to stay in the marketplace. The fragrant aroma of food wafting through the air helped to ease her hunger, at least a little.
Standing at the entrance of a roast meat shop, Martha stood on her tiptoes, closed her eyes, and savored the intoxicating scent of meat.
She kept her eyes closed to avoid getting greedy. If she opened them, she might really just rush inside.
But she couldn't help but peek every now and then.
On one of her many peeks, she suddenly saw a thick slice of roast meat appear right in front of her.
She bit down on it almost instinctively.
A shrill scream then erupted from the crowd, but it was quickly swallowed by the surrounding hubbub.
「Five minutes later...」
Eric clutched the right side of his rear, grimacing in pain as he sat sideways on the roof of a building in the marketplace. He then looked over at Martha, the little girl beside him, who was now rapidly devouring a piece of roast meat.
She was the culprit behind his injured butt.
Just now, he'd been happily stealing... no, wait, he'd been completing his daily little quest, when suddenly—WHAM!—he, a venerable 20-year-old Priest, had been ambushed.
Martha seemed to notice Eric's gaze. Like a small, territorial animal, she bared her teeth and shook her little head, resembling a bristling kitten protecting its food.
A moment later, she came to her senses and realized how outrageous her behavior had been. Her little face, already red from the cold, turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Priest. I was just so hungry. I must have been hallucinating. That's why..."
"Are you cold?"
Eric looked at Martha's trembling legs. Her thin clothes offered little protection against the cold.
Before Martha could reply, Eric cupped her cheeks in his hands. A warm sensation instantly spread across her face.
"Warmer now?"
Before Martha could enjoy it for long, Eric let go. He then placed two small packets in her hands. The warmth on her cheeks had come from these.
"Peel off the paper and stick this to your chest. You won't be cold anymore."
As he spoke, Eric demonstrated for Martha, sticking one of the heat packs to the inside of his Monastic Robe.
"It's true. It's much warmer."
Martha did as he said, and the cold was instantly driven away. It felt like embracing the spring sun, a perfect, gentle warmth.
She squinted her eyes slightly, hugged her legs, and rested her head on her knees, trying to let the warmth fill her entire body. The unprecedented comfort made Martha feel a little drowsy.
It had been so cold last night that Martha hadn't been able to sleep, even while her mother held her. It was just too cold.
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Suddenly, her consciousness broke through the drowsiness, and she quickly lifted her head to look at Eric.
"Mr. Priest, my name is Martha. Thank you... thank you for treating me to this food. Really... I should be the one apologizing."
"Who said this was a treat? You have to pay it back! And if you can't, then you'll just have to become *my* food! Didn't your parents tell you not to take things from strangers? Now you can't escape! Mwahahaha~"
Eric raised his hands and postured like a hungry tiger about to pounce, striking the pose of a villain ready to leap at Martha.
However, he was met not with a frightened scream, but with Martha's innocent, girlish laughter.
For some reason, Martha felt Eric had a certain comical air about him.
"Hahahaha, but... Mr. Priest, you're not like a villain at all. You're actually really funny, and that laugh is so weird."
Martha poked Eric's cheek with her greasy finger, leaving a little smudge of oil.
"Really? It's not scary?"
Eric dropped his pose and sat back down, propping his chin on his right hand as if deep in thought.
"Actually... I'm a Norman."
"Holy shi—Nor—HICCUP——"
The little girl's laughter came to an abrupt halt. Her small body turned to stone and instantly toppled over. Her eyes rolled back, and something resembling a soul drifted out of her mouth.
Eric: "..."
"I was just kidding."
"Oh, so you were kidding. You scared me to death! Mr. Priest, don't make jokes like that."
Martha instantly returned to normal and happily went back to enjoying the rest of her roast meat.
It was as if nothing had just happened.
"Are you that afraid of Normans?"
"Of course. Everyone hates Normans. Normans are the most despicable scum in the world. Every single one of them should be roasted alive."
"You hate every single Norman?"
"Of course! All Normans are bad people! It's because of Normans that Father can't find work and so many people are homeless," Martha insisted, as if stating an undeniable fact.
"What if there are good people among the Normans? Would you want to roast them alive too?"
"Umm..."
Martha was a little unsure. Her little brain couldn't figure out such a complicated question.
Suddenly, a loud crash and the sound of a horse neighing erupted from the street.
Somewhere on the street, the dense crowd was forced to part. A shabbily dressed middle-aged man was holding the Warhorse of a Norman Knight, and the two seemed to be in a heated argument.
"Didn't my Attendants make it clear to you? I don't want the house anymore!" Ede roared from atop his Warhorse at the middle-aged man. His hand was already impatiently stroking the Longsword attached to his saddle.
This was exactly what Tom had feared. He had still been holding out hope that Ede had simply made a rash decision in a fit of anger and could be persuaded to change his mind. He tried his best to speak in a friendly and reasonable tone.
"But so much work has already been done," he said. "Why let what's been spent go to waste? You'll have a use for the house someday."
"I don't need you to teach me how to handle my own affairs, Tom the builder,"
Ede raised his voice again.
"Not just you, but you, and you—you're all fired." He pointed his riding crop at the five or six Master Craftsmen standing behind Tom.
He then yanked sharply on the reins, but Tom still held onto the horse's bit.
"Get your filthy hands off my horse."
Ede said in a threatening tone.
"You wretched slave! I'll count to three. If you don't get out of my way, I'll take your life!"
Tom's wife was instantly terrified by the Knight's aura and pulled on Tom's arm.
"Let it go, husband. Just do as the lord says."
Although the onlookers were also intimidated by Ede's Identity, they still began to whisper amongst themselves.
"This damn Norman, leaving no way for people to survive."
"The English are hopeless. In the hands of the Normans, England is doomed."
"Oh, come on. You know what these craftsmen are like. They probably tried to jack up the price mid-project, pissed off the Norman lord, and picked a fight with the wrong person. Serves them right."
"When has England ever been any different? It was just as rotten back in King Alfred's time. It's the same whether the Normans are here or not."
"What's it got to do with me? I've still got work to do, and now I have to take the long way around. Fuck!"
There were those who supported Tom, those who slandered him, and those who couldn't care less.
But Tom knew he absolutely could not let go. Otherwise, how would he survive this Winter? His entire family would freeze or starve to death this Winter.
If that was the outcome, he would rather be a "brash fool" who stood up to a Norman and was cut down in one blow. At least that would be a quick end.
"Then you can just die!"
Ede raised his Longsword and swung down at Tom without a shred of mercy.
"Father! No!"
Martha's cry could not stop Ede's Longsword.
Tom closed his eyes, awaiting death.
But in the next moment, his entire body was lifted and pulled backward.
"CLANG——"
With a deafening clash of Metal, the immense force sent Ede's Longsword flying from his grasp.
Eric clapped Tom on the shoulder.
"Brother, you have my admiration."
He brandished a Nail Hammer, his eyes narrowed as he quietly watched Ede.
"And you, insolent Norman Knight! Your actions defile justice and disregard the law. Your tyranny brings shame upon God!"