Alexander surveyed the butcher shop's interior with barely concealed disgust. Iron hooks and wooden beams stretched across the ceiling for hanging carcasses, with several cuts of pork wrapped in stained linen cloth suspended overhead. At the room's center stood a massive chopping block, scarred from countless cuts and stained dark with old blood.
Buckets of blood and murky water sat nearby, drawing clouds of buzzing flies. The stench was overwhelming—a mixture of raw meat, old blood, and something that might have been rotting offal.
Alexander's face contorted as he tried not to gag. How does the butcher endure this environment day after day?
He waved away a persistent fly and noticed shelves lined with jars of rendered fat, sausage casings, and preserved scraps. More flies crawled over everything, completely undeterred.
This is what people eat... The sanitation here is absolutely horrific. No wonder disease runs rampant in this world. The sight reinforced his determination. As future lord, I absolutely must introduce proper hygiene standards to this village.
Lammert and Wulfger entered behind him, with Wulfger closing the door firmly and fixing Alexander with an intense stare.
"We're safe from prying eyes now, so there's no need for pretense," Wulfger said bluntly.
Lammert looked between them in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Reveal your true identity," Wulfger commanded, ignoring his friend's bewilderment.
"What do you mean?" Lammert asked, raising an eyebrow.
Wulfger turned to explain. "This boy isn't some common village child, Lammert."
"This boy?" Lammert gasped, pointing skeptically. Is Wulfger losing his mind? He studied Alexander more carefully—the hood concealed his hair, revealing only his face and amber eyes. He seemed handsome for his age, but nothing particularly remarkable stood out.
"You've already guessed, haven't you?" Alexander looked directly at Wulfger with obvious approval.
That confirmation was all Wulfger needed. "It wasn't difficult to deduce." He paused meaningfully. "You're Alexander Godric von Eisenberg, aren't you?"
At first, Lammert didn't react. Then, as understanding dawned, his eyes widened in pure terror. "Wh-what?! This boy is our Young Lord?!" He stumbled backward, remembering how he'd grabbed the boy's wrist and accused him of theft.
Alexander smiled and pulled back his hood. Immediately, his distinctive silver hair caught the dim light filtering through the shop's small windows—short for a boy his age, but unmistakably the unique silver hair that the young lord was known for throughout the region.
"By the saints... it really is him!" Lammert's voice shook with fear.
"The silver-haired young lord..." Wulfger murmured gravely. The boy rumored to possess incredible intelligence but lack any aptitude for knighthood. Alexander Godric von Eisenberg himself.
Without hesitation, Wulfger dropped to one knee in a respectful bow. "Young Lord, please forgive our earlier rudeness."
Lammert quickly followed Wulfger's example, but threw himself down on both knees with his forehead pressed to the filthy floor. "Please forgive me for accusing you earlier! Please don't have me executed!" His entire body trembled with terror.
Alexander understood their dramatic shift in attitude perfectly. In this medieval world, offending nobility—even accidentally—could result in severe punishment. Commoners who insulted or laid hands on nobles might face flogging, heavy fines, imprisonment, or in extreme cases, execution. The fact that Lammert had grabbed his wrist and accused him of theft could easily be considered assault on a noble's person, punishable by losing a hand or worse.
"It's fine. Both of you can stand up. I'm not the type to punish people for minor offenses," Alexander said with a reassuring smile.
Both men visibly sagged with relief. Lammert beamed as he rose. "Thank you for your mercy, my lord! You are truly wise and benevolent beyond your years! Such grace and kindness at such a young age—truly the mark of a just and noble heart!"
Wulfger smacked the back of Lammert's head. "Enough. You're annoying his lordship with your babbling."
"Ah, sorry, sorry!" Lammert said, rubbing his head sheepishly.
Alexander smiled with genuine amusement. "Now then, about the business I mentioned... Can I purchase that pig fodder from you, Lammert? What do you think of my offer?"
Lammert and Wulfger exchanged glances, their expressions now serious rather than mocking.
Wulfger cleared his throat respectfully. "What exactly do you intend to do with the pig fodder, my lord?"
"As I said before," Alexander replied, "I want to inspect and study it more closely."
Wulfger stroked his chin thoughtfully, doubt creeping into his expression. It's rumored that the young lord possesses remarkable intelligence, despite his lack of martial talent. They say he's so brilliant that his tutors quit in frustration. Surely a simple inspection of pig fodder isn't his real purpose. But given his reputation for cleverness, maybe he genuinely wants to study it for—
His train of thought was interrupted as Lammert blurted out, "Ah! If that's what you want, my lord, you can have it all for free!"
Alexander was pleasantly surprised but shook his head. "No, I can't take advantage of your generosity just because of my rank."
"It's perfectly fine!" Lammert insisted with an eager smile. "I can gather plenty more of that pig fodder from the riverbank. It's not worth much—barely more valuable than grass, except for how well it fattens the swine."
Alexander winced at those words, feeling genuine pity for the maligned potatoes. "At least take these two Pfenning." He held out the copper coins.
"No, really, it's fine!" Lammert refused stubbornly.
Alexander sighed. "Alright, if you insist, I'll just take a portion."
"You can take it all! Let me fetch it!" Lammert hurried outside and returned shortly with the heavy burlap sack. "Here you are."
Alexander hefted the coarse hemp sack and immediately felt its weight. This is too heavy. I can barely lift it, let alone carry it any distance.
"I can't manage all of this," he admitted. "Could you give me just a couple of pounds' worth?"
Without hesitation, Lammert nodded and portioned out a manageable amount into a smaller cloth bundle.
Alexander tested the weight—much more bearable. "Perfect. This will do."
Wulfger watched silently from the side, careful not to interrupt or risk offending the young lord.
Alexander glanced through the small window, knowing he needed to find Uncle Reinhard before his family grew too worried about his absence.
"I don't want to impose on you further. I should go." He adjusted his grip on the potato bundle.
After Alexander left, Lammert exhaled heavily. "Thank goodness. I was terrified. If the young lord hadn't been so merciful, I might have lost a hand—or worse, my head."
"Exactly why you need to watch who you offend," Wulfger said grimly. Then his expression darkened further. "Though giving the young lord that cursed food might still land you in trouble."
"What?" Lammert's eyes widened with fresh worry.
"If something bad happens to the young lord because of that cursed root, you'll be blamed. I might get in trouble too, but I can always claim I wasn't involved in the transaction—that you were the main culprit--" Wulfger didn't finish before Lammert grabbed his shirt.
"Oh no! What should we do?" Lammert looked genuinely frightened.
"Well," Wulfger sighed, his own worry evident, "we can pray that nothing terrible befalls the young lord. There's not much else we can do now."
---
Alexander carried his bundle of potatoes as he scanned the village square. He spotted his uncle interrogating villagers alongside his squires and castle guards.
He raised his hand and called out, "Uncle! I'm here!"
Reinhard was questioning a merchant when the familiar voice reached his ears. He turned and saw Alexander in the distance, clutching what appeared to be a cloth-wrapped bundle of some kind.
But the contents didn't matter—what mattered was that he'd finally found the young lord. "Alexander!" Without hesitation, he leaped down from his horse and rushed toward his nephew, his squires and guards following close behind.
Reinhard reached Alexander and gripped his shoulders, his face stern with worry and anger. "Who gave you permission to sneak out of the castle? Do you have any idea how worried your father is? And Lady Ermelinde—she's been crying since we discovered you missing!"
Alexander flinched at the scolding tone. "I... I'm truly sorry, Uncle!"
Reinhard sighed heavily and shook his head. His gaze dropped to the bundle in Alexander's arms. "What's that you're carrying?"
Alexander didn't want to mention cursed roots, so he said simply, "Oh, this? Just something I purchased. I plan to have the cook prepare it later."
"Is this why you snuck out? To buy something from the market?" Reinhard asked, his tone still disapproving.
"Um, yes..." Alexander nodded sheepishly.
"If you wanted something from the market, you could have simply ordered a servant to fetch it," Reinhard said with exasperation. Though curious about the bundle's contents, he was more concerned with getting his nephew home safely. "Anyway, let's go. I'm taking you back to the castle immediately."
Alexander nodded obediently. Reinhard lifted him onto his horse, then mounted behind him. With his squires and castle guards forming an escort, they began the journey back to Castle Eisenberg.