Chapter 35: Childbearing

Contemplations Under the Moon

In her past life, she’d never even been in love—marriage was someone else’s affair. Wenger glanced down, imagining the small belly beneath her clothes. Children? Would raising one she bore feel different from raising one she found? No way… Why was she even thinking about this? Her giving birth? A joke. Those kids were already enough trouble, with a pile of responsibilities. Thankfully, the one she’d taken in wasn’t an infant—she wasn’t that selfless.

All these years, Wenger still saw herself as a child, which was why she got along so well with kids. It felt a bit childish… Vick sipped his tea, gazing at the moon, occasionally glancing at the daydreaming girl beside him.

Idleness bred anxiety, a worry for a foreseeable future. For Vick, all he had to do now was wait. He’d gone to great lengths to fulfill his promise to find that person—searching from Greenmbark to beyond Snowgreet City. For him, there was a simple way to resolve his dilemma: ask the girl before him if she was the one. The answer was clear—it couldn’t be. If she’d forgotten him for some reason, he’d already done more than enough to honor the promise.

He could find “her.” In the days to come, he’d fulfill that promise. If it wasn’t Wenger, it just meant more waiting until he left to complete his deal with Kyle. The royal court’s mess was something he’d rather avoid, but with the Elindor family involved, he couldn’t stay entirely detached. His health was deteriorating, and he needed Kyle’s royal authority to seek rare elixirs.

He’d support Kyle, lending his stance without needing to act. A simple, fair trade. The king was dying, stirring such tension. If Vick died, he’d merely be a pawn in an exchange. In the past, aside from due courtesies, he’d had little expectation of the royal family and avoided deep involvement.

Strength didn’t come from nowhere. Without decades of grueling training, how could he have reached this point? His current state was his own doing, but he had no regrets. Thoughts always drifted far.

The two sat, lost in their own minds, occasionally glancing at each other. That night, Wenger warmed her teacup twelve times, looked at the moon thirty-one times, and turned her head… countless times. At the break of dawn, they realized they’d done nothing all night.

“Would being neighbors disturb you?” “There’s actually a guest room here.” Wenger pondered, recalling a room high up in the tree trunk, dozens of meters up. She’d found it too high and bothersome, so it had been left unused. It was probably covered in dust.

Vick shook his head. “Miss Wenger, you’re not betrothed, are you?” “Haven’t thought about it.” She shook her head instinctively, pausing as she grasped his meaning. Even if her mindset differed from this era, the environment invited gossip. Vick was concerned about her reputation. It could easily be misunderstood, so Wenger let him do as he pleased.

After Vick left, she finally stretched comfortably. Entertaining guests was exhausting, no matter the time. Returning to her room, she suddenly remembered something and opened another door. Viyi was sprawled on the alchemy table, drooling in her sleep, with Peach rising and falling on the table beside her. Wenger scratched her head helplessly, draping a small blanket over her before gently closing the door.

In the room, she saw the manuscript on the table and Viyi’s concocted potions. Were they urgently needed in the village? Instead of resting, she sat quietly on the platform, absently catching a beam of faint light. The air was damp, mingled with the village’s smoky scent.

The cyan-blue gem gleamed in the sunlight. Wenger pondered how to retrieve the items her mental probe detected, taking some time to figure it out. A sack appeared in midair, and she hurriedly caught it to avoid it crashing and waking those inside. It was quite heavy. Good thing the platform was sturdy, or that drop might’ve sent her tumbling below.

Compared to the energy of colorless crystal shards, the dark gold dragonvein stone barely registered any power. Its energy was condensed into something minute, like a mung bean in a clenched fist. But destroying the stone might disrupt that delicate balance. Next, she needed to consider how to fuse them. In a game, you’d just click “combine” and be done, maybe retrying a few times for success. ( ╯□╰ ) This was tough.

No matter—she had plenty. Wenger placed some dragonvein stones under the dragon egg. Not knowing what to do, she figured it was a symbolic gesture. She didn’t need a dragon; Peach was enough. Seeing no reaction from the egg, she reined in her thoughts. Before attempting fusion, she’d handle some village affairs. Today, like always, was full of tasks.

Village Duties

After a quick cleanup, she headed straight to the mines. A lingering concern needed repeated checks for peace of mind. Thankfully, the guarded area showed no signs of cracks, and the Church had added a few more runes. They seemed like protective measures to prevent further incidents.

Confirming it was safe, she told Kailos to focus less on the mines and bolster the self-defense team’s training. On her way back, she lingered at the workshop, noting the steady resource supply and the blacksmith’s return to its usual focus. She’d need to practice “forging” when she had time.

Her sword was too effective, cutting so cleanly it made her feel magic wasn’t as useful. Basic magic was like an extension of her limbs, far surpassing the Nameless Sword. But its material was undeniably tough, still sharp after eons sealed in the stone hall. External tools remained external. Wenger instinctively wanted to avoid the so-called curse, hoping disaster would fall only on her.

She’d handled recent matters a couple of days ago, so she didn’t seek out Rhine. Later, she could increase the frequency of trade caravans—money wasn’t an issue, but the village’s construction materials had to be secured. Those new buildings would form the foundation of a future city. In time, she’d see it take shape.

Halfway back, she remembered Viyi’s work from last night and detoured to the church. The back door was ajar, its half-open state somehow lonelier. Just one person gone, yet the village felt emptier. No children’s voices echoed in the courtyard. The orange tree was neatly trimmed. Wenger stood beneath it, plucking fruit to stuff into her inventory. [Heavy Oranges *3]

She wasn’t sure if they were ripe but planned to try one. If they were, she’d pick the rest tomorrow. Likely due to her pre-advanced [Harvest] skill, the tree was laden with fruit, far beyond the usual tenfold yield. It was about five times, as described at her third tier. But this year’s autumn harvest would be affected. If it was just a tenfold increase in quantity, this era’s crop yields were still acceptable.

For fruit trees, the increase clearly applied to individual weight. Otherwise, a tree packed with oranges would make her nauseous just looking at it.