The Prince Doesn’t Cry From Mere Onions - Chapter 4.2 Chapter 4.2

Bertram scraped up what little tact he had left and contemplated, and he decided to accept the offer of these poor vigilantes, who must have bravely stepped up to protect the village.

“I understand. I will abstain from hunting. Please tell me where I can find something to eat, and where I may stay.”

Without knowing his inner thoughts, the men rejoiced.

“So words aren’t completely useless to you, huh?”

“Yes. After all, using your force on me would not work. As much as possible, I would like to do what you ask me to.”

“…..Though you would be better off not talking. Now, first take this and eat it.”

One man handed over a completely dried up ship biscuit. Biting into it as it would break the average person’s teeth.

“If you go to the open area over that mountain ridge, there’s gonna be a light brown mushroom as big as a hand that grows there, okay? Flip it over and heat it up even a little bit, and juice will just spill out from it. It’ll taste amazing if you soak the biscuit in there and eat it. You have a flint?”

“I have basic cooking utensils.”

“Then there’s nothing else to worry about! If you take the mushroom and go all the way up, you’ll see an abandoned building at the mountainside. You can rest there for today.”

“I thank you for your kindness. Then, I will see you tomorrow.”

Bowing his head to the men, Bertram began running to the direction they had told him about.

After the black locks of hair and his cape melted into the darkness entirely…

The men lowered their heads and talked in whispers.

“That mushroom, it doesn’t kill you right?”

“I’m pretty sure three to four hours of laughing and crying like crazy should be all? His life wouldn’t be in danger. Probably.”

“’Probably’ isn’t okay.”

“Oh well. With that build, I don’t know if that mushroom’s gonna have an effect. Okay now, we’ve got the job done! Let’s go back!”

The younger men looked at the direction Bertram had gone up, a bit anxious.

As the older man had said, the problem wouldn’t get worse just because that giant ate a mushroom, but…..

***

Carla handled the mountain of peeled onions very simply. She poured them into the cauldron* and boiled them into porridge.

*This cauldron is a Korean traditional one where they made rice in. Not sure if this is important lol

While it was true that boiling them would reduce the amount, looking at the onion porridge occupying half of the cauldron was enough to make you lose your appetite.

“Mom, how are you going to finish this off!”

“If you and I eat it for about three days, wouldn’t that be enough?”

“Do you want to die together from onion farts? Onion farts smell so strong that even I can smell it, you know?”

Ultimately, Anna resolved to settle the consequences of her own actions herself.

In other words, she put the onion porridge into a huge pot and left the house.

She ladled out a bowl to every person she made eye contact with, and at Dieter’s house, she forcefully poured some into their cauldron before she came back out. However, there was still a lot left.

“Ah, shucks. I gave him the job since I was amazed at how he could slice up those onions without shedding a single tear, and now….!”

As she went out of her way to blame Bertram.

Belatedly, Anna’s thoughts continued on to think of the situation regarding Bertram’s stomach.

‘Now that I think about it, we sent him off without dinner. He must be hungry. Should he have reached the next village by now? Does he have money? He must really be a beggar, right? Our neighboring village lives better than we do but they act like penny-pinchers with their food….’

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Perhaps because he was a loafer she’d picked up for the first in a long while—

Or because it bothered her that she couldn’t feed him at the last moment—

She felt exceptionally wretched.

‘….If we meet again, I’ll at least give him meat to eat the next time.’

The moment Anna made this very magnanimous resolution.

In the middle of the night, she saw some kind of flame shimmering on top of the hill.

‘Is it the vigilance committee?’

No, the flame was not moving. It was a campfire someone had lit up.

With a bit of a beating heart, Anna headed in that direction.

It would be a lie to say she had no fear. But a certain joyful hunch moved Anna’s feet along.

In the place she reached at last, with her pot of onion porridge hugged to her chest—

In front of a warm fire, a man akin to a large wolf lifted his head.

Bertram, the man who had been polite only at the beginning.

“Hello, it’s a good evening.”

“…..Hello. Mr. Bertram, did something good happen to you?”

“I have not. That was just a greeting.”

Of course it was.

But maybe because of the orange flames wavering in front of him, his face looked strangely peaceful.

Moreover, laid out in front of Bertram was….

“Mr. Bertram, you know how to cook too?”

In a small camping pot, a variety of contents were boiling and bubbling away. Bertram crumbled ship biscuits into it as he spoke.

“Just enough to make ingredients edible to eat.”

“Wow, I’m amazed. I thought you wouldn’t be able to do anything like this.”

“I am competent.”

“….Oh, yes. I know very, very well of your competence. Then can you solve this with that skill of yours, too?”

Anna held out the pot of onion porridge she’d carried there. Possibly understanding the situation, Bertram wordlessly scooped a ladle of the onion porridge and poured it into his pot.

White smoke rose fiercely at first, but as Bertram alternated between adding water and onion porridge and nameless spices, the contents of the pot slowly took the form of a cooked meal.

And had he perhaps hunted?—when he stirred his ladle, plump bird meat bobbed up and sank down.

Soon, a soup of assorted goods that looked quite delicious was completed.

When Anna was swallowing without meaning to, Bertram spoke.

“Here, I have solved it as you have asked. Please have a bite.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you asking me to make the unsavory-looking onion porridge delicious?”

“No! I meant we have too much onion porridge leftover, so please take a share and eat some.”

“….I see.”

Bertram turned the ladle handle that he’d held out in Anna’s direction back to himself and spoke.

“…..Yes. I do not get hurt even if you refuse.”