Delicious Sweet Milk Baguette - Chapter 8
The Fighting Dog of Calantus
Klimt was born to a dancer from Calantus and a nameless wandering knight. His parents had met by chance and had a brief but intense love. The knight left without knowing Klimt’s mother was pregnant.
The stories Klimt heard were passed from his mother so perhaps it was tinged with embellishments and there was no way of knowing if it was true.
His mother, a former dancer, was expelled from her troupe for bearing a child out of wedlock. Having never done anything beyond dancing and singing, she eventually fell from grace, becoming a cheap entertainer in a disreputable district.
Though she only had enough to scrape by, she never relinquished her talents. She endured countless hardships, and when her value as a dancer was gone, she continued to survive by taking on all sorts of grueling and brutal jobs.
As Klimt grew older and his appearance increasingly diverged from the typical Calantus people, both Klimt and his mother found themselves with fewer and fewer places to go.
Klimt’s mother’s health deteriorated year after year. Although it might sound like an excuse, the only way Klimt could support her was through theft, given that he had no other skills.
A bastard child of a third-rate dancer in the filthy backstreets of a pleasure district—that was how Klimt was defined at that time.
Klimt, living a hellish life, meeting the noble young lady Roa Eckladen from a powerful central family, might be seen as a divine mercy to save a wandering soul.
‘Why is that child there?’
‘He’s a thief who touched the merchant’s carriage. Due to his young age, instead of having his arms severed, he’s being sold as a fighting dog.’
‘Fighting dog?’
‘In the north, there’s a culture of pitting humans against each other as fighting dogs. He’ll likely be raised as a human fighter there.’
‘To raise such a young child as a fighting dog…’
A child crammed into a cage meant for beasts. His green eyes, staring back, held an empty void. Was it due to the seething rage or his pitiful fate?
After all that had happened, it was perhaps through a journey of sorrow and helpless frustration that the child came to have such eyes.
‘How much is it?’
‘What?’
‘I asked how much. The little boy.’
Even now, Roa cannot recall what exactly moved her heart in that moment.
The events Klimt experienced were commonplace in the unjust empire, and at that time, Roa had thought that not being able to rescue everyone made it a luxury to afford special mercy for one individual.
This was the lesson Roa had learned as a noble and the virtue she held dear.
‘Please don’t sell him as a fighting dog. I’ll take him.’
Roa glared at the merchant who intended to sell Klimt. Her eyes were sharper and more reproachful than ever before.
Whether it was the whims of a noblewoman enjoying herself in a foreign land or a mercy born from compassion, it was thanks to her grace that Klimt was saved that day.
* * *
“I never imagined we would meet again like this.”
“Like this?”
“That Roa would come to taste my bread…”
“No, no. The tasting bread was a real misunderstanding!”
“I don’t mind. Whether it was a misunderstanding or not, I’m just glad to see Roa again.”
Klimt seemed genuinely moved, his ears turning red as if flowers were blooming on them. After their intense and passionate affair, Roa also felt a late blush of shyness.
“So opening the bakery…”
“Yes, it was solely because I wanted to see Roa again.”
Klimt nodded as if it were obvious. Everything—from learning baking, training daily, mimicking noble manners, to everything else—was done with the aim of being the person Roa would want to see when they met again.
[You there. Take this and go. Start again.]
[Start what?]
[Anything.]
Before Klimt, who had been freed from slavery, was thrown a heavy pouch of gold coins.
With silver hair that seemed to hold starlight and gray eyes with a detached air, the girl overflowing with noble grace had bestowed such overwhelming mercy upon him.
[I want to know your name.]
[It’s Roa. Roa Eckladen.]
[I didn’t expect you to give me your full name… Nobles always have so many secrets.]
[What does a name really matter?]
Roa shrugged, seemingly not understanding it. Klimt, however, repeatedly whispered her full name, as if trying to commit it to memory.
[Roa… Do you have any favorites?]
[Favorites? Not particularly.]
[Anything at all. Anything you like…]
Klimt asked with a pleading tone. After a brief pause, Roa replied with a simple answer, as if a thought had occurred to her.
[Bread.]
[Bread…?]
[Yes, bread that’s so famous and delicious that even if you stand in line, it’s hard to get.]
[Famous and delicious bread….]
[If you’re done with your questions, go when the sun rises. This place has a reputation for monsters appearing at night.]
[Thank you, Roa.]
