And if Allen was being honest, he was just a little drawn to the skewers themselves. It had already been several hours since he’d woken up. Having gathered intel nonstop since morning, he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and his hunger was starting to catch up to him.
Half lured by the savory smell wafting through the air, Allen made his way over. As he approached, the man behind the stall noticed him, flashing a friendly smile as he called out. “Hey, there! Welcome! How about a skewer, young man? Cheap and tasty, guaranteed!”
“Sure. I’ll take one, then.”
“Got it! One coming right up!”
With a broad grin, the man turned to begin grilling the skewer. Apparently, he didn’t serve precooked items but grilled them fresh after receiving an order. The savory aroma wafting from the flames stirred Allen’s growing hunger even more.
While pretending to make casual conversation, Allen leaned in.
“Excuse me. Mind if I ask you something while I wait?”
“Hm? Well, it’ll take a few minutes to cook, so I don’t mind. But as you can see, I’m just a humble skewer vendor. Whatever you’re curious about, I probably won’t be of much help.”
“That’s fine. It’s nothing complicated. I just heard that something a little unusual happened here in Westfeldt, but I couldn’t find out what exactly. I figured someone who lives here might know.”
“Something unusual, huh? Hmm...”
The man tilted his head, clearly not feigning ignorance; he genuinely seemed to be drawing a blank. So then, maybe nothing significant had happened after all? Allen had assumed something serious was going on, especially with the impossible claim that Brett had become the duke. That alone seemed like a sign that something major had occurred.
“Ah, well, now that you mention it, there was that little incident with the empire poking around. Maybe that’s what you’re talking about?”
“The empire?” Allen blinked. That was news to him. And frankly, it didn’t sound “little” at all. It sounded like a major event. An imperial incursion, even a small one, could spiral into open war between the kingdom and the empire. The latter shouldn’t have the resources for that right now, or at least, last Allen had heard, they were still tangled in internal conflict. Then again, he wasn’t exactly up to date on imperial affairs. He couldn’t say for sure that it was impossible, but...
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Apparently, it was nothing serious. Just a small scuffle with some soldiers poking their noses in where they shouldn’t. Duke Brett drove them off in no time.”
“Brett did that?”
“Sure did. Can’t thank His Grace enough. Thanks to him, we get to live peacefully like this every day. Craig—the previous duke—he wasn’t bad or anything, but I gotta say, Westfeldt’s never been better than it is now.”
Allen furrowed his brow at the man’s offhand comment. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that Brett becoming Duke of Westfeldt is somehow acceptable. It wasn’t, but fine, if there had been some extraordinary circumstance, maybe it could be explained. Even so, in that case, it should’ve been Riese who was called “the previous leader.” Why was this man talking about Craig and not her?
Allen stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. The vendor, perhaps interpreting his silence as unease, gave him a reassuring smile.
“Whatever it is you’re worried about, don’t be. As you can see, this is a peaceful, happy town. Nothing to lose sleep over.”
“I see...”
There was no hint of deceit in the man’s words. At the very least, he seemed to believe what he was saying wholeheartedly. And that, more than anything, was what made it so difficult to accept. Clearly, Allen would have to hear from others as well.
Just as he was thinking that...
“Oh, speak of the devil. Hey, look over there, young man.”
“Huh? Over where? What do you mean?”
Allen turned to look in the direction the man was pointing, and the words caught in his throat. A young man was standing there. He looked to be right around the age of adulthood, perhaps a little younger, and there was still a hint of boyishness to his features. And yet, the smile he wore radiated a quiet strength that seemed to put those around him at ease.
For a moment, Allen couldn’t believe his eyes. The change was that stark. But there was no mistaking it. He knew that face. It was Brett, the current head of the Westfeldt family.
“That’s Brett, our new duke. Pretty amazing, right? He makes the rounds through town personally like that, every day, checking that everything’s in order. If something happens, he’s the first to act. Even when those imperial soldiers came sniffing around, His Grace handled it himself. Didn’t miss a beat. See? Nothing to worry about.”
Allen barely heard the man’s words. His attention was entirely consumed by the sight of Brett. He’d heard the rumors, but to see with his own eyes that Brett really was the Duke of Westfeldt—that was a shock like no other.
Even more than that, what truly stunned him was the way Brett carried himself...and how the people responded to him. The vendor’s tone had made it clear, but now Allen could see it for himself: Brett was genuinely respected as a duke. It wasn’t as if people were swarming around him, but they greeted him with warm, trusting smiles. And Brett, in turn, responded with a gentle, warm smile of his own. From time to time, a child would wave to him and he’d wave back without hesitation. He was the very picture of an ideal ruler.
Allen averted his eyes, unable to keep looking. The image of Brett before him now was completely unlike the Brett he remembered. Consumed by an emotion he couldn’t quite describe, Allen let out a slow, unsteady breath.