Pioneer Wizard's Notebook

A celebration of victory and harvest is being held at the Sunflower Farm.

Amidst the warm fire of a bonfire, a hanging stove simmers a rich soup, its fragrant aroma rising with the bubbling of white steam.

Militia members and women danced joyfully, hand in hand, around the bonfire.

This is a traditional whirling dance on the ice field, performed by couples who spin and leap, their movements showcasing a beauty of strength and vitality.

The joyous and lively atmosphere dispelled the gloom of the Icefield Ghosts and the victims of the past few days.

The food in the warehouse and the lord's promises brought smiles to everyone's faces.

Compared to the hunger and cold of previous years, life is visibly improving now.

The residents looked at the Son of the Sun at the very center, recalling the miraculous wheat field they had seen that morning, and their smiles became even brighter, for the first time they felt hope for the future.

As the center of attention, Lind naturally felt their gazes and responded with a smile and a raised glass.

Now that we have food, the celebratory feast after defeating the Ice Demons is of course indispensable.

Therefore, he brought out the only remaining dried meat and a few barrels of ale from the estate, which were used to supply his own meals, and cooked meat soup to share with the residents.

Although the food was not plentiful, in this icy and snowy landscape, the steaming hot broth was enough to make the residents sing, dance, and celebrate excitedly all day long.

The banquet was very effective; the fear instilled by the Ice Demons had been minimized, which was exactly what Lind wanted.

Seeing that the residents were engrossed in the feast and no longer looked at him, he noticed that they were no longer paying attention to him.

Linde put down his glass, looked up at the heavy snow in the sky, and the smile on his face slowly faded.

You don't seem happy.

Old man Hilbert came to his side. "Is it because of Pullman? As the manor's butler, he committed an unforgivable crime, but it's not incomprehensible."

"I don't blame him," Linde said after a moment of silence. "I'm just a little sentimental. Things didn't have to escalate to this point."

Hilbert adopted an attentive listening posture and waited quietly.

Lind continued, "I know Pullman's character, his greed and his love for his family, and I should have realized long ago that I needed to have someone supervise his work."

"The grain in the warehouse was running out, and I failed to give him the confidence to persevere, which forced him to take a desperate gamble. His death was my dereliction of duty as a leader."

The second son's life was mediocre; he was just an ordinary person in his previous life, and his memories of his time as a wizard were fragmented, with only his interactions with golems remaining.

Strictly speaking, this was Linde's first time in a leadership position.

The feeling of personally executing his subordinates was terrible, and it also made him realize his many shortcomings, which inevitably made him feel somewhat emotional.

Hilbert didn't judge, but simply asked, "What do you intend to do with his family?"

"During the winter, I plan to let them work on the manor as usual. After we get through the Ice Demon crisis, I will send them to a southern city with Pullman's pension and never let them come back."

Hilbert raised his glass to him and said, "You are a benevolent lord."

"In the northern ice plains?" Lind shook his head with a smile, clinking glasses with him. "I hope you're not criticizing me."

"Of course not."

Hibbert took a swig of ale and began to recount the stories of the king that circulated in Triumph, the capital of the Kingdom of Rosa.

"The current king, Rahman II, is known as the Iron King by his courtiers and the people. Popular rumors say that this once least favored youngest son was able to ascend the throne through ruthless killings and cruel exploitation of the nobility."

"But in the western part of the kingdom, in the Isaac County, the original territory of Raman II, the commoners and nobles on that great plain called him 'benevolent Raman' and followed him to the death."

"Behind the iron-fisted throne lies a sword maintained with the gentlest sword oil."

After hearing his story, Linde clinked glasses with him again: "It seems my instructor has approved of me. I'm so glad you can stay."

"It is my honor," Hilbert said, bowing. "Now you should enjoy your banquet; the ladies are eagerly awaiting it."

"Really? Then why hasn't anyone asked me to dance?"

Linde followed his gaze and saw teenage girls from the town gathered around a campfire, glancing at him furtively from time to time.

When they noticed him looking over, the girls blushed and quickly turned their heads away.

Lind was somewhat disappointed; it seemed he would only be able to sit and drink tonight.

As he was thinking this, he suddenly saw a girl with her ponytail tied with a strip of cloth jump up and bravely run towards him.

"My lord, I, I am..."

Just as the girl was nervously preparing to introduce herself, Linde smiled, stood up, and took her hand.

"Mara of the Alc family, is that right? It's a pleasure to dance with you tonight."

"Sir, you've remembered my name?"

Upon seeing Linde, he did not refuse her invitation and even remembered her name.

This special attention made Mara's heart race; she couldn't believe it, and a blush rose on her face, a blush unique to young girls.

The two held hands and danced around the fire.

With each occasional physical contact, Mara seemed to smell the fragrance of flowers and feel the warmth of the sun, completely immersed in the experience.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her companions and noticed that they were biting their handkerchiefs and staring at her with envy and jealousy.

This made Mara even happier, and she couldn't help but raise her forehead, enjoying the attention she received.

Unfortunately, it's as if this wonderful time was stolen away by someone.

Mara felt as if it were only the blink of an eye, and the banquet was already coming to an end, with the dance about to conclude.

At the end of the whirling dance, the man and woman will embrace each other for warmth and kiss.

Seeing that the others had already started kissing each other, Mara nervously looked up at Lind.

Only at this moment did she pierce through the veil called "Lord" and truly see the face of this great man.

Her flowing golden hair shone brilliantly in the firelight.

His handsome, fair face seemed to have been meticulously sculpted from marble by the god of art, and his sapphire-like eyes were clear and transparent, without a trace of impurity.

Faced with this handsome young man, about her age and as prince-like as herself, Mara's excitement was suddenly extinguished, and she stood there stunned.

Through their tightly clasped hands, she could feel the softness of the other person's palm.

It was these delicate hands that severed the head of that terrifying monster, protecting everyone.

And what about herself? She was just a peasant woman's daughter.

Mara knew that her hands were calloused from years of work and felt as rough as tree bark.

Her already ordinary appearance aged prematurely under the ravages of the cold wind, making her look like an old maid in her twenties.

Feeling the gap between them clearly, she suddenly became afraid and took a step back.

"Sir, I'm sorry, I think I..."

Mara tried to explain incoherently, but her mind went blank in the end. She stammered and could only run away in a panic.

"Um?"

Lind, left behind and puzzled, returned to Hilbert's side and asked, "Am I really that bad at dancing?"

Although banquets don't distinguish between different social statuses, it's still a bit much to just leave a lord like him standing there like that.

Hilbert replied, "That's a question you'll have to answer for yourself."

"Well, it seems this is a profound and complex problem."

Linde shook his head helplessly; sometimes, a girl's complicated thoughts are more perplexing than witchcraft.