How to Honor The Goddess

༺ 𓆩 Chapter 17 𓆪 ༻

「Translator — Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠂ ⚘᠃

“Vincent told me about the work he was doing, and where he lived. I never had reason to seek him out, but I’ve never forgotten it.”

Back when Uhule had still gone by the name Batar—

Batar had once served as the High General tasked with guarding the Goddess Lua. Because of this, Vincent had trusted him completely.

And for someone like Vincent, who had lived alone for so long, meeting someone from his homeland had loosened his tongue. The conversation between them had been long and flowing, filled with stories they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Uhule had cherished those memories ever since.

Now, speaking with conviction in his eyes, he left both Davitte and Norman visibly heartened.

“That’s excellent news.”

“The sun’s already set for today, but if you wish, I can guide you there tomorrow.”

There was no reason for Davitte or Norman to decline.

“That would be perfect.”

“You’re welcome to stay at my home tonight. It may not be much, but it’s surely better than a cold cabin in the plains.”

“Father! You’re thinking of letting them into the village?”

Lending an abandoned cabin on the open steppe for a night was one thing, inviting them into one’s home, within the village itself, was something entirely different.

These were followers of the goddess Lua, a group reviled and considered enemies across much of human society.

“The whole village is in a state of martial alert because of the Forestmen. If word gets out that we brought outsiders into the village, it won’t go over quietly.”

If Tamir, already quick to spread rumors about Uhule’s alleged collusion, got wind of it, he’d tear into them like a frenzied piranha.

To Hunbish, the safety of his father outweighed any concern for these outsiders.

“They are the only surviving kin of the family I once swore to serve with all my life,” Uhule replied. “If I can’t offer a warm room to such honored guests, how could I ever face the comrades who passed before me?”

Once a guest crossed the threshold of one's home, they were to be treated with generosity and respect, regardless of who they were.

And besides, Uhule owed a great spiritual debt to this guest.

Contrary to his son’s concerns, Uhule had no intention of hiding behind excuses for his own safety to mistreat those he considered sacred.

“There’s really no need to go that far…” Hunbish tried again.

“No. It’s a generous offer,” Davitte interrupted.

Bringing these outsiders into the village would undoubtedly place a heavy burden on both father and son.

Norman, sensing that, didn’t want to impose.

But Davitte silenced him before he could speak further.

“We’ve been relying on cloaks and campfires for far too long. A warm roof over our heads will allow us to truly rest for once. And for that, we’re deeply grateful.”

Davitte had grown accustomed to accepting the goodwill of others.

It wasn’t just because of the privileges and hospitality he had briefly known in childhood—

It was something deeper.

Rather, it was because after everything had fallen to ruin, the habit of using anything available to survive had become ingrained in his body.

"................."

When the two men reached an understanding, the other two fell silent.

"Just one night. If we leave the village before sunrise the next day, there shouldn't be any worry about others finding out, should there?"

"...Very well."

Hunbish had no choice but to accept their visit. Not only was Uhule's will quite firm, but Hunbish also recalled the customs of Olus that once guests were accepted, they should be treated wholeheartedly.

"I can only pray that nothing goes wrong."

𓇗

Uhule, who had returned home after several days away hunting, was busy organizing the game loaded on his cart.

Norman, without asking, had followed after him, insisting on helping.

Davitte was preoccupied organizing their supplies, which left Hunbish alone to prepare dinner for four.

‘If I return, let’s share a meal together.’

It was a promise his father had made before departing for the hunt.

Unexpected guests had found their way into their lives since then, but still, it had been ages since father and son would sit at the same table again.

Hunbish was giddy with anticipation and eager to show off his culinary skills.

Slurp—!!!

‘Did I put in too much salt?’

Once the food was done, Hunbish began calling everyone to the table.

“Dinner’s ready! Come eat!”

“We’ll be right there.”

The two people by the storehouse had almost finished organizing as well, so the timing was perfect. After calling them, Hunbish went to find Davitte, who was organizing his belongings in the living room.

“Dinner’s ready — wait, what’s that?”

Davitte was meticulously polishing a dagger adorned with intricate decorations.

The handle, made of bronze, was shaped like a coiled serpent. Strange characters and stars were etched into the blade.

“This is a ritual dagger inscribed with the Seal of the Sea,” Davitte explained. “It allows me to perform a slightly rougher, but much faster, version of the ritual I used on you earlier today.”

“It looks… unusual.”

Hunbish couldn’t shake the same unease he’d felt when first meeting Davitte and now that same discomfort radiated from the dagger.

“But… why bring that out now?”

“You remember what I told you about the lycanthrope? I have a feeling he’s deeply entangled in all this.”

“Ah.”

Hunbish recalled that even the dwarf had warned them of such a being.

“He was once human, but through soul magic, he was reborn as a monster. This dagger was forged specifically to face him. I suspect it will prove useful soon.”

“I see.”

“................”

Davitte didn’t say it outright, but it was clear he believed an attack was not just possible, it was inevitable.

That’s why this night mattered.

In a properly built house, there was far less risk of being attacked while they slept.

And launching an assault inside a village would be a significant risk even for the attacker.

Since losing everything, Davitte had treated every moment as a tightrope walk for survival. Being banished from a village didn’t even register as a concern anymore.

Creak—!!!

The sound of footsteps signaled the return of the two men from the storage room.

“Mmm, something smells delicious.”

Norman entered with a broad smile, thinking about filling his hungry stomach.

“Looks like everyone’s here. I’m done with my part too, so I’ll be right there.”

“Please, have a seat. I’ll serve you myself.”

Before long, bowls of steaming meat stew were placed before each person at the table.

“..............”

Norman took a spoonful of the stew — and nearly spat it out.

The broth, rich and milky-white from long-simmered lamb, and the melt-in-your-mouth tenderness of the meat were, by all accounts, superb.

But the salt — oh, the salt.

In his eagerness to impress rare guests and to honor his long-awaited dinner with his father, Hunbish had used an excessive amount of precious salt, a rare commodity in Olus, to mask the gaminess of the lamb.

“…Ahem, hm.”

Davitte, too, was caught off guard.

Had they been the sort to disregard etiquette, they might have stood up and left right then and there.

But both men knew that in many cultures, rejecting a host’s food simply because it didn’t suit one’s taste was considered a grave insult, enough to warrant expulsion from the house entirely.

And so, they swallowed their pride, and the stew.

“This is…”

When Uhule took a sip of the broth and paused, the two guests glanced at him with faint hope.

Surely, someone would comment on the salt. Perhaps even gently suggest a correction. It would help improve things for the next course, or at least for tomorrow.

“…You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this for our guests.”

That hope was dashed.

“It’s my first time cooking for this many people, so I wasn’t sure if the seasoning was right.”

“No, it’s excellent. You’ve done well. When entertaining guests, one must always be generous with the ingredients.”

Thinking Hunbish had gone all out to treat their visitors with grandeur, Uhule beamed with pride.

“Young master, please eat plenty. I used a generous helping of Uvs Mountain salt. It’s hard to find in the central continent, some even say that if you feed it to a horse, it won’t fall ill for an entire year.”

“A truly luxurious meal, then. I’ll savor every bite.”

Watching Davitte gulp down spoonfuls of salt-heavy stew like it was water, Norman was quietly in awe.

In the end, Norman resolved to face this meal like a soldier.

Slurp—!!! Gulp—!!! Gulp—!!!

In a flash, he’d emptied his bowl. Desperate to rinse his briny mouth, he reached for the clear liquid in his cup and downed it without hesitation.

“..............!?”

This time, his mouth was overtaken by a sharp, sour tang.

“That’s airag,” Davitte explained, calmly.

“Yes. You’ve had it before, haven’t you, young master? It’s the local traditional liquor, made from fermented mare’s milk.”

“I remember tasting it when I was young. It was much milder back then… but the distinct aroma is still the same.”

Davitte took his time, sipping the airag slowly, lost in the familiar pull of nostalgia.

The nostalgia from a time when there were no worries or conflicting interests made Davitte's heart feel at ease. However, Norman, who had no such nostalgia for airag, had no tolerance for the suddenly sharp sour aroma that hit him.

"...Thank you for the meal. I'd like to wash my face - where should I go?"

To Norman, who was sweating profusely as he stood up, Uhle pointed out the direction to a stream around the house.

𓇗

"Phew!"

After rinsing his mouth with the flowing river water and washing his face, Norman finally felt like he could live again.

'Still, it's been a while since I had what you could call a proper meal.'

Compared to previous meals of only chewing dried, shriveled bread and jerky, this was much better both nutritionally and in terms of satisfaction.

"Whew."

Norman sat down on the ground, facing the cool night breeze as he gazed across the waterway.

He thought he understood why Uhule had brought them to his house without any particular concern. Most of the buildings were clustered on the other side of the stream, while only a few houses were scattered sparsely on Uhule's side.

Unless there was special business, people wouldn't cross the stream to come to this side during the night.

"Are you alright?"

Hunbish approached from behind Norman.

He had come out because he was worried about Norman, who had hurriedly left after finishing the meal.

"Did the food perhaps not suit your taste?"

"Oh, no. It was an excellent meal. I seem to have caused unnecessary worry."

"That's a relief."

After confirming that he was fine, Hunbish approached and sat down beside him.

"I have something I'm curious about - Davitte called my father Batar."

"That's right. General Batar. He was once called by that name. Batar means 'Hero' in our homeland's language, he told me."

Until Norman was around ten years old, Batar had been the one who most steadfastly guarded the temple that served the goddess Lua.

It was because of him that they endured countless trials, and because of him that they earned the respect of many.

“Now, anyone associated with the goddess is either purged or on the run. But less than twenty years ago, every human still worshipped the two goddesses — Lua and Soma.”

The forgotten history of gods, no longer taught.

“Back then, humanity was weak. They survived only by clinging to the knowledge the goddesses shared. And it was in those days that General Batar raised his sword at the goddess’s command, to fight for humanity.”

Norman’s face glowed with quiet reverence as he recalled the past, as though he genuinely missed those times.

“You seem to truly admire my father.”

“Of course I do. Without General Batar, humanity wouldn’t be where it is today. He was a Hero in every sense of the word, worthy of the name.”

“..................”

To hear that one’s father was admired and respected by others, who wouldn’t feel proud?

But Hunbish couldn’t bring himself to feel joy, not purely.

The “Batar” Norman described and the “Uhule” Hunbish knew were two completely different people.

Uhule was a dead man walking.

He kept to himself, never involved himself in anything that didn’t concern his own survival. He showed little interest in anything, including his own son.

Hunbish wanted to relate to Norman’s admiration. He truly did.

But he simply couldn’t.

“Maybe my father trained me just so I could help you someday.”

Maybe that was the purpose all along. Chapters fırst released on novel★fire.net

He had ruined it himself, but before the accident, he believed that had been his father’s intention.

“…That doesn’t make much sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I spoke with him, he said once spring comes and you leave this village, you’d finally be free to live your life, without being dragged down by a disgraced father.”

Tilting his head, Norman seemed to mull over the odd dissonance in their relationship — then he realized what it was: a lack of communication between father and son.

“Someone like him wouldn’t try to burden us by sending you along with us.”

“He said that to you?”

“He did. That fearsome general? Turns out he’s a doting father too.”

Norman grinned as he looked directly into Hunbish’s eyes.

“You saw all that dried meat stacked in the storage? When I first saw it, I thought he was preparing for war. But no, he said he was grinding it all down into meat powder for his son. For the long journey ahead. Now tell me, if that isn’t love, what is?”

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