30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 265: How a Knight Deals with Beasts (1)

Merchants, mercenaries, scholars, and adventurers from other continents who entered the South were often most shocked by one thing—the climate and environment.

More precisely, by how different the weather and terrain were from one region to another.

For example, a southern territory they had visited just the day before might have had bright sunshine and refreshing breezes, yet another region could be perpetually covered in clouds, experiencing nearly three hundred days of rainfall a year.

Some villages nestled in the mountains felt as warm as spring all year round, while others—despite lacking any coastline or even a single river—were oppressively hot and humid.

It was an environment possible only in the South, blessed by Mysticism. First-time visitors often found themselves struggling to adapt and sometimes even collapsed due to the drastic differences.

Some scholars theorized that these erratic conditions were what made southern knights significantly stronger than their counterparts from other continents, though no definitive explanation had ever been found.

The South followed the natural cycle of four seasons, yet the conditions within each region were anything but predictable. No one could say what Mysticism had passed through a place and left its mark.

With that in mind—

Hooouuuk...!

It was not particularly strange for a domain to be covered in mist all year round.

Squelch, squelch.

Shrouded in perpetual fog, this land remained in a state of twilight even in the middle of the day.

To exaggerate slightly, one would struggle to find their way without a lamp, and when it rained, the water would pool and refuse to disappear even after half a month had passed.

Because of this, the people of the land habitually carried shovels and brooms, clearing out the accumulated rainwater the day after each downpour.

It might have seemed like an awful place to live, but that didn’t mean it had no merits.

"I heard this year’s cherry harvest was excellent."

"Not just cherries! The grape yield is amazing too."

"Hooh! I’m looking forward to this year's wine."

"Let’s have a toast with grilled trout to celebrate later."

"Sounds good. I’ll bring some bacon and vegetables."

The land was incredibly fertile.

Logic dictated that without enough sunlight, farming should be impossible, yet for some reason, crops flourished in this land.

Some claimed the mist filtered out only the beneficial energy from the sun and distributed it to the fruits and vegetables.

No one knew the truth, but the fact remained that the land produced bountiful harvests, which was blessing enough for its people.

Particularly this summer, thanks to a new high-quality fertilizer spread by Crown Princess Isis, the crops had yielded more than ever before, and the people had begun worshiping her—despite never having seen her in person.

"We should present the finest wine to the royal family."

"Of course."

Wales.

The territory of Mordred—notorious for its secrecy but also one of the South’s greatest wine-producing regions.

The grapes grown here couldn’t be cultivated anywhere else, making Welsh wine a priceless luxury.

Because of this, Wales had no shortage of master vintners and barrel craftsmen.

And yet...

"Hello!"

"...Ah, it’s you."

"Back again today?"

"Yep! The weather looked promising, so I thought the fish might be biting."

There were also quite a few fishermen.

Of course...

"G-good luck with your fishing."

"Want some grape juice?"

"Thank you!!"

...It was unusual for a child to be among them.

The young girl accepted the cup of grape juice with a bright smile and hurried off, her small feet tapping against the ground.

The adults watched her with complicated expressions.

"She’s only eight...."

"So mature for her age."

Carrying a fishing rod larger than herself, the little girl walked forward with grim determination, leaving the adults to gaze after her in mixed pity and admiration.

***

Wales had a large waterfall fed by a strong river.

Though hidden behind thick fog for most of the year, on rare days when the mist lifted, the waterfall revealed itself in all its majestic splendor.

The way the fog swirled around the falling water like clouds made for an almost mythical sight.

And when a rainbow appeared over it, there was nothing more breathtaking.

The villagers would sometimes visit the river just to catch a glimpse of this beauty.

But the girl had not # Nоvеlight # come for that.

Shwaak!

She cast her line with practiced ease.

Using a homemade fishing rod and bait, she stuck to the method taught to her by the old man who once looked after her.

It wasn’t long before—

"Hnngh!"

A sudden tug.

A trout broke through the water’s surface, writhing wildly.

For a child her age—and a girl at that—it would have been normal to scream or recoil in disgust at the flopping fish.

Instead, she gazed at it lovingly, then swiftly dropped it into a makeshift net of woven branches.

She cast her line again. And again.

Fishing, over and over.

To an observer, it might have looked simple, but in reality, it was anything but.

The river’s current was strong—a single slip could send her tumbling into deep waters.

And trout were no weaklings. If she wasn’t careful, a thrashing fish could strike her in the face, leaving a nasty wound on her delicate skin.

This was a dangerous task for any adult, let alone an eight-year-old child.

And yet—

Shwaak!

She continued.

Only when she had caught enough fish to fill her net did she finally gather her things.

"This should be enough to earn at least one silver coin..."

Two hours.

Two hours of fishing through the mist—a task that, to some, would have been a matter of life and death.

Yet as the girl calculated her earnings, she smiled in satisfaction and left the river.

For others, this might have been a deadly ordeal.

For her, it was the best source of income she had.

‘I need to work hard before winter sets in.’

Even now, the weather wasn’t exactly kind for standing in the water.

She pretended not to notice, but her feet were numb.

She had been in the freezing river for over an hour.

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If she weren’t naturally resilient, or if she didn’t possess a stubbornness beyond her years, she might have broken down in tears, complaining about the pain.

But she never once cried.

She simply went about her work.

More than anything—

"Ma’am, how much will you pay for these?"

She had a reason to grow up quickly.

And so, she did not find it difficult.

Not at all.

***

"Hehe, a silver coin!"

She was ecstatic.

A whole silver coin in her hands.

Since fewer people had been fishing for trout lately, the innkeeper had offered her a slightly higher price than usual. With this rare bit of good fortune, the girl’s face lit up with pure joy.

But...

Step, step.

With each step she took, her smile faded, and a shadow of sadness crept into her eyes.

The closer she got to home, the heavier her heart became.

‘I don’t want to go back...’

Her footsteps faltered.

The thought of returning home made her want to run away. If only she could just—

"—Miss Louise, what are you doing there?"

"!!?"

"Out playing outside again, I see."

"......."

"Haaah... Why can’t you just stay in your room and behave?"

"......."

The young girl—Louise—instinctively shrank at the voice of the elderly maid scolding her.

She clenched her fists, tense and nervous. Why did she have to run into her here, of all places? Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst.

She feared this woman.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for whatever was coming—

But then, instead of harsh words—

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. My name is Santa Rihan."

"...??"

—a gentle, soothing voice spoke.

Louise’s eyes snapped open.

And what she saw—

"...Wow. Pretty."

—was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"...Huh?"

She hadn’t even realized she had said it out loud.

And the moment she did—

"Ah...!"

Louise slapped her hands over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

But the man...

"Haha, thank you. That’s quite the compliment. ‘Pretty’—I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before."

He only smiled gratefully, as if genuinely pleased.

Louise’s face turned bright red.

"R-really? You’ve never heard that before?"

"No, this is the first time in my life."

"But... you really are pretty...."

For all her maturity, Louise was still a child—too young to fully suppress her thoughts.

Normally, the elderly maid would have scolded her for speaking so carelessly.

But instead—

"Hoho, she’s not wrong. I’ve never seen a man as pretty as you either."

"...I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It is one. Such delicate features... If you were just a little shorter, I’d hire you as a maid myself."

"...Glad to hear my height saved me from that fate."

"Oh-hoho!"

The old maid laughed behind her hand, and Louise blinked.

It was the first time she had ever seen this woman laugh.

Even in fairy tales, the wicked old hag never smiled this much.

So she had to ask—

"Who... who are you?"

Her question carried many meanings, but Santa Rihan—still smiling calmly—answered without hesitation.

"Please, my lady, there’s no need for formality. As of today, I am but a humble servant, proudly serving House Mordred."

"......."

His words were firm and unwavering, but—

‘He doesn’t look like a servant.’

‘More like... a knight.’

A knight far more impressive than the ones she had seen in her own household.

"A pretty knight...."

"My lady?"

"Huh?!"

"......."

Louise quickly clamped her mouth shut again.

And the so-called "servant"—

‘I only compressed my muscles and bones a little... This is kind of weird.’

—found himself feeling increasingly awkward at all the "pretty" comments.