I am angry and I am pissed. Inside my head, I am devising a plan to have my revenge on Barth. That sneaky piece of shit. He may be smart but he is a sniveling weakling. Oh yes, I smile with such delight at the prospect of making him beg.
Soon, I find myself having the creepiest grin imaginable. As I turned my body, I bumped into a man in a suit of fine fabric. Must've been expensive silk but my orange juice probably ruined its value now.
"I'm sorry!" startled, I quickly try to mend the spot with my palm.
The other guests mustn't have noticed yet, the man grabs my hand, "No worries, don't bother."
"It was an accident!" talk about blunders, now every highborn in this region will think we are lousy upstart orphan nobles.
"I know, stay calm," he said, "I can always remove the vest, I can feel the garments underneath are not that affected."
Good. I don't want to pay you for that, but what would a normal kid say in this situation… "I see, but please… Allow me to compensate…"
"Compensate?"
"Yes?"
"I refuse, little one."
Great. I look up to see his face, he looks rather young and kind, "T-thank you!"
All of our fancy guests are now inside the next room, a few remain on this corridor where I stand. I can hear one of the priests leading the introductory prayer.
The man in fine silk looks back at me, "Are you Arys?"
"I am…"
"I am Ansel," like a highborn, he bows, "My family sends their condolences, I am sorry for your loss."
I don't have any idea who he is. I return the gesture with a smile, "Apologies, sir, but which family are you?"
He pauses for a moment, and he smiles back at me, "My family owns half of this town's farmland, little sh—"
Suddenly, the audience in the next room started to sing along with the choir.
"Come again?" I didn't quite catch what he said. The singing intensifies.
"I said, my family owns a farmland on the other side of the town, little one." Ansel said in a slightly louder voice, "Just like you and your family."
"Ah, I see. Forgive me, Lord Ansel…"
He gives a hearty chuckle, "No need to address me formally. But if you insist me to call you Little Lord, then I shall,"
I faked a laugh, "Well, the title belongs to my big brother,"
The choir ends its melody. A second speaker comes to the podium, I can't discern their speech. But I can sense that the guests are all seated, listening, while there are only two of us outside the room, standing in the corridor.
"So, should I address this brother of yours as Lord Garth?" his tone shifted mockingly.
The social structure in this world is feudal, like the Medieval era of the real world. I suppose it originated from families who elevated themselves exploiting others here as well. At the very least, the system evolved enough for others with money can purchase land and buy themselves a title unofficially. It is backward but I'm not the right person to judge since technically my parents bought off lands from fellow small farmers. It is the way of life in this country.
"I don't think it is official," he is trying to get a reaction from me, "But if you must, then do so…"
Ansel removes his spoiled fancy vest, "Well as you said, it is not official." He drops his clothing, "Do you know why?" he puts his hand on his waist.
I actually don't know and this situation is getting shifty. Why would a grown man ask that to an eight-year-old like me? But, then again, I am no mere child, "No. Why?"
He narrows his eyes, "It's because this place has been under my family's hands for decades. My ancestor was an Imperial captain during the Tenth Resurrection War, when the war ended, he settled here and never left. We owned all of this, little one. All of it."
Cool. A little history lesson, very nice, "Then what happened?"
"You and your old parents happened," his highborn demeanor breaking, "In ten years, they became rich harvesting potatoes? They even had the time to multiply that fast, in a very late age?"
"Well, they saw a high yield of potatoes during that time…" I sound like I jest but it is the standard response to someone asking about our mysterious fortune as instructed by our parents.
"Potatoes?"
I smiled, "And corn!" not true, Howie hated corn.
Ansel slowly grew restless, it is evident on his face, "They bought off more land just to plant potatoes? I didn't see any of your workers on the way here."
"W-well, Garth is strong, and he—"
"Yes, yes, I heard. I heard about it. A child doing all the farm work alone. It is a wonder that people believed that lie. What else are you trying to make us believe?"
"Actually, all of us were helping our parents tend the farm… Garth just did the hard stuff…" I answer with a cheerful childlike tone, I wish he would leave me alone now.
"Enough!" he exclaims, hopefully, no one from the other room heard that, "How did a family of simple farmers even have the fortune to buy vast acres of land in just ten years?"
"Eight."
"What?"
"It was only eight… eight years of hard work…?" The gold came when I was only two years old then we received another one after another two years.
Silence. Ansel looks like he is through with me. I wish he would let me go now. I would miss Garth's eulogy. The choir starts to sing again.
"Listen here," Ansel moves closer to my face, "The reason why our family doesn't have the Barony is because we lost the claim when the old man of yours contested it eight years ago. Imagine the embarrassment we suffered when an old peasant claims he is more deserving of the title?"
I remember that day. Howie got himself drunk and went around the village parading himself with gold and stuff. It was the first time some people had their suspicions. Imelda, of course, straightened him out and now we have to live a comfortable lie.
"My family's years of hard work disappeared because of your family. I guess you don't have the slightest idea how hard we cultivated these lands and how we built a village for our farmers, it was thriving under us!" he continues with his dramatic highborn flare.
"If it's thriving then why was it only populated by your farmers?" I ask, once again, my curiosity grows.
"Farmers with means, mind you. After serving us, some were able to buy small portions of land from us, including your parents. These lands weren't free but they are financially capable, you know?"
I wonder how much of that answer is true. I admit, that I didn't dwell much on my adoptive parent's background. I think one of my siblings knows, I wish they did, maybe I'll try asking one of them after this. For now, I want to say something back.
"But it was our parents' generosity that turned the village into a town," I blurted without thinking, I need to appear stupid.
But Ansel looks taken aback by what I said.
"Barth said we didn't have bakeries before but when our parents started investing in the village, we now have three of them!" is that stupid enough, damn it, I feel like I messed up. I should stop.
And yet Ansel's reaction is making me say more!
"What did your family do when you were the only rich family back then?" I am digging myself a grave.
He is clenching his fist; I need to say more!
I uncontrollably smile, "Did you—"
Ansel suddenly grabs my shirt's collar, and I spilled my glass of orange juice on my clothes "Enough," he said, "You little shit."
From the other room, the priest calls for Garth's name, and then everything becomes silent. Ansel stops his hold of my collar, tossing me aside.
"You can't keep lying," he turns around and starts walking away, "Someday, all of us will return to our rightful places and we will have what we deserve." He steps on his vest on the floor, "My family shall take its rightful place once more."
He said so calmly like he didn't just lose his cool just now, he disappeared from my sight, and I turned myself towards the other room where Garth was already at the podium. I step inside and see my other siblings seated at the front. I walk to them while thinking.
I feel like I won that one with Ansel but at what cost? I probably provoked him. It is my fault, now I am worried. I feel guilty but that rush I felt, it was something familiar. In the real world, a loser like me would've loved that feeling. But here, it seems inappropriate. This feeling of righteous rage, have I been feeling this all this time even in my past life?
Once again, I am lost in my thoughts. From time to time, I wander off to contemplate. I wonder if my life here is influenced by the life I made in the real world. Fate likes to remind me of my disdain towards my real father. Thinking back, I should've listened to his stories more now that I am in Evereal. His stories must've been useful if I actually remember them, funny how I grew to believe he was just lying when he insisted on the truthfulness of the stories that I thought were only for children's bedtime.
Within me, is a voice that just calls me a hypocrite, here I am embracing a comfortable lie.
I wonder how many bottled-up emotions I brought into this world. I wonder how many more words that I will say here than in the real world.