26: Memories of the Slaughterhouse
The slaughterhouse, located beside the Altrein River, a little distance from the royal capital.
A processing facility for slaughtering livestock, obtaining meat and hides, and converting them into butchered meat and leather.
A facility that was sometimes treated as part of the “back alley” and sometimes as being ‘outside’ the royal capital.
The importance of facilities for processing livestock was high for the Kingdom of Eustasia, which relied on processed meat for its winter sustenance.
However, it was also regarded with distaste due to its odor and sanitary conditions.
Perhaps because of this, Knight Commander Felix frowned at my sister’s statement that she ‘worked at a slaughterhouse.’
His light brown eyes fixed on my sister’s blue eyes.
“A slaughterhouse… is not a place for a noble young lady… or even a woman… to work.”
“There’s no difference between men and women,” Leticia declared, her smile unwavering.
…While her smile was as adorable as ever, it simultaneously conveyed something unfathomable, sending a chill down my spine.
I had undergone training as the head of the family, so I wasn’t showing such emotions on my face… I was sure.
But conversely, it meant I was facing someone who required the demeanor of the head of the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals.”
I knew she wasn’t just an ordinary girl.
The protagonist of [Moonlight Liberium].
A ‘trump card’ who would navigate the coming calamity with her status as a noble from the “back alley” and her pure heart…
But even so, she should just be an ordinary girl.
She should just be a girl with no special abilities.
And yet, the strength in her words was something I was unfamiliar with.
“Wanting to eat today. That feeling has nothing to do with being a girl, or anything like that.”
“If it’s work, there’s plenty of other…”
“Is that how it is in the ‘front’?”
The term sounded familiar.
Just as we… and the residents themselves… called that area the “back alley,” those who lived there called other areas the “front.”
The “back alley” was an area officially designated as the ‘old town district’… and officially, there were no residents there.
It was merely a distinction on paper; in reality, there was no clear line drawn on the map.
Yet, I felt as though I could see the line drawn in people’s hearts.
“—The only stable work we could do in the ‘front,’ we who didn’t pay the poll tax, was odd jobs at the slaughterhouse and cleaning sewers.”
That was the reason the “back alley” didn’t disappear.
Convenient people who would do the jobs that most people avoided.
The capital would collapse without these facilities, but few people were willing to do the work.
Because there were those who would ‘willingly’ do them.
“…Leticia, you were…”
“Just doing odd jobs. Even at the slaughterhouse, there are specialists for butchering, and sharpening knives is a craftsman’s work. I’ve washed knives before, though.”
An untraceable past.
…Day labor at the slaughterhouse was not recorded. It wasn’t spoken of.
But perhaps, among the meat I ate on a daily basis, some had been processed on a day my sister had worked.
Perhaps my sister had even washed the knives that carved that meat.
“Since I’m a ‘girl,’ as Sir Felix says, and also, people were careful around kids our age, we mostly just washed buckets or cutting boards. It was easy work.”
…’Easy work.’
She said it lightly. Certainly, no special skills would be required.
However… conversely, because no special skills were required, it was physically demanding work.
Work that anyone could do, that no one wanted to do.
Those who didn’t—couldn’t—pay the poll tax, occupation tax, or farmland use tax had very few jobs available to them.
Those who were critical of the “back alley” called them tax-evading poor people.
Those same people likely ate processed meat and used the city’s water and sewage systems.
And when she said ‘kids our age’—how old was that?
How old were children from the “back alley” who were treated with care even there?
How old was my sister when she started such work?
“Besides, work at the slaughterhouse was popular because you got ‘souvenirs.’ The meat after work was delicious.”
…The gloomy feeling I had been experiencing, reflecting on the dark side of this country, lessened slightly.
“Everyone would gather driftwood by the river, grill it on an iron plate, or boil offal in a large pot… Ah, I feel nostalgic now. I want to eat it again.”
It was a warm, friendly anecdote, far from what one imagined when hearing the term “back alley.”
However, it made me want to give her something better to eat.
…Could I give her anything?
Anything that could surpass the taste of those memories?
Anything comparable to what she had earned herself…?
“They don’t eat much horse in the ‘front,’ apparently, so all the leftover meat and hides went to us. Sometimes it was tough and stringy, but everyone would laugh, saying it was good because it filled you up.”
She was resilient.
And… they laughed?
I couldn’t quite imagine there being laughter in such days.
“So, um… I feel bad saying this to a Knight Commander who likes horses, but I used to eat a lot of horse meat, and I really like it… it’s a taste of memories.”
Her memories were heavy.
“No, really… I’ve never eaten it… is it… good?”
Did the Knight Commander really need to ask?
“Yes, it’s delicious… But, I shouldn’t have said that to a member of the Knights, should I?”
Leticia looked at me apologetically.
I agreed, but since I had heard her story, I forgave her.
If the Knight Commander had said anything disapproving, I would have crushed him with the full might of the Vanderwaals.
I couldn’t entrust my sister to such a narrow-minded man.
――However, unexpectedly, he showed a surprising breadth of character.
“…You don’t hate horses themselves, then?”
“No. They’re cute.”
Being able to reconcile ‘delicious’ and ‘cute’ showed strength of heart.
She gently reached out to Lillie, who was standing next to her, and stroked her neck.
Horses sent to the slaughterhouse were farm horses, and I doubted military horses from the Knights or noble’s riding horses would ever end up there… but still.
“Do you like riding?”
“Yes. Today was my first time on a horse, but I really like it.”
Good.
I had worried about what I would do if I had instilled in my sister a dislike for riding.
“Today’s your first time… I see.”
He nodded.
The setting sun illuminated his faded blonde hair, making it look like a lion’s mane as he relaxed his expression and narrowed his eyes.
And, smiling, he continued.
“[Leticia, would you like me to teach you how to ride properly?]”
…We were back on the [Official Scenario].
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