Elena's territory

Alistair 's pork

I was drinking grape juice, standing on the highest point of the castle, overlooking my territory from above. It looked very much like a village. The slaves were all working, and from this angle, I could easily tell who was working hard and who was slacking off.

Watching some of the slaves use the excuse of going to the toilet to slack off, I smiled knowingly. 
Butler: "Oh! Those lazy slaves! They haven't been disciplined in a long time! I'll go and teach them a lesson right now!" 
Me: "No need, what's the point of disciplining them? It's useless." 
The butler earnestly advised: "Lady! You can't be so merciful, or they'll slack off even more!" 
Me: "... I never said I wouldn't punish them." 
The butler blinked, eager to hear what kind of cruel punishment I could come up with. 
Me: "For those who work hard, they can have some extra beans and bran with their meals, and tomorrow, reward them with a piece of bread each." 
"As for the lazy ones, just punish them by cutting back to one meal a day, like before. When they stop slacking off, we'll restore their normal rations." 
I looked at the butler: "What do you think?" 
The butler thought about it and, realizing that hunger was harsher than a beating, strongly agreed: "You are truly merciful and wise!"

Just as I was about to take another sip of grape juice, a loud roar suddenly came from the forest! 
The roar was as loud as thunder, filled with the terror of impending death. If you listened closely, you'd find the sound quite delectable—it was the squeal of a pig! 
I swallowed my saliva, immediately thinking of a fat pig, and then of pork. 
"It must be Alistair hunting!" I excitedly gripped the railing. "He's amazing!" 
The butler pursed his lips: "Lady, when I was young, I was even better than him!" 
I ignored the butler's words entirely: "If there's more than we can eat, we can make smoked meat. That's delicious too." 
The butler wasn't too enthusiastic: "The amount of smoked meat would be too small! It would be better to hang it by the window." 
Me: "...It'll spoil! How can you eat spoiled meat?" 
The butler sighed: "Lady, that too is a flavor of the meat. Just add more spices, and it will turn back into a delicacy." 
I had nothing to say. I felt like I would never understand what the butler was thinking or whether his sense of taste was normal.

The huge wild boar lay dead on the slope, and Alistair wiped the blood off his dagger. The boar was still twitching, letting out a dying squeal, its two menacing tusks broken. Its dark eyes shed two tears before it gradually stopped moving. 
Alistair stood up, looking at the boar, thinking that even in a world of werewolves, the wild boars probably weren't as massive as this one. 
He watched for a while, then reached out and closed the boar's wide-open eyes. 
In the end, the slaves were the ones to carry the boar away. 
The slaves weren't tempted at all—they had never eaten meat and didn't know what it tasted like. 
Here, if a slave could eat their fill of porridge made from beans and bran, they were considered extremely fortunate.

Since the wound was small, the boar didn't bleed much, and it didn't attract any more dangerous beasts. 
I ordered the cook to gut the boar—using a stone knife, since iron knives were prone to breaking and the cook was reluctant to use them. 
The process of making a stone knife was simple: find a piece of red stone by the river, a type that makes a metallic sound when struck. Then, smash it on the ground, and the sharp edge becomes the blade. If it gets dull, just smash it again, until it can't be broken anymore. 
The cook had already broken five stone knives to the point where they couldn't be broken any further, but she still refused to use her iron knife. 
This boar was enormous, so aside from what we were about to eat, I had the cook and servants turn the rest into smoked meat. 
I was also reluctant to use salt, so smoked meat was the best option. 
The only disappointment was that this boar was all muscle, with no fat to render into lard.

"Let the slaves have a taste of meat too." I was excited, already thinking of eighteen ways to cook pork. 
But soon, I received some devastating news from the cook. 
The only seasonings we had were salt and a bunch of spices I'd never heard of before. 
I deflated: "Just let Anna cook however she wants." 
After all, it was pork. No matter how bad it tasted, I could still eat it—as long as Anna didn't put it in a soup. In that case, I'd rather starve. 
This time, the butler didn't offer any advice. Surprisingly, he didn't react to me suggesting the slaves eat meat, which made me suspect someone had taken over his body. 
"Do you have no opinion about giving the slaves meat?" I stopped the butler. 
The butler, with an expression of righteous indifference, said, "You are the lord. You can issue any orders you wish. I am merely your butler and have no right to question your decisions." 
I was confused and started doubting my life. 
That's not what you said when you were begging for favors.

That night, I ate pork roasted with various spices, paired with grape juice. Though the seasonings weren't to my liking, when I bit into the pork chop, I felt like it was the most delicious food in the world. 
Alistair sat across from me. 
I suddenly remembered something, though not very clearly, just a vague sense that Alistair shouldn't be sitting there. Oh, right, that seat was reserved for my future husband! 
"What's wrong?" Alistair asked, holding a knife and fork, his eyes fixed on mine. 
I was too embarrassed to ask him to move. 
The servants were also enjoying a pork feast tonight, though theirs was a broth made from bones with no seasoning. However, because there were always small pieces of meat in the soup, even without flavor, they ate with great relish. 
The slaves were also given some broth. They sat together and received their bowls from the servants. 
Their broth was even thinner, with hardly any meat. But as they drank the warm broth and ate their daily porridge, they felt it was the happiest day they'd had in years. 
Only the lazy ones felt miserable. 
"Why do we only get broth and no porridge?" One of them didn't dare question loudly, only whispering his complaint to a servant. 
"Broth won't fill our stomachs," he muttered, rubbing his belly. "We only had a bowl of porridge this morning, and we're already starving!" 
Servant: "You want another bowl of porridge?" 
He quickly said, "Yes!" 
Servant: "Then you won't even get this bowl of broth!" 
The servant stopped serving him and called for the last people in line to come forward. 
He became angry: "Why won't you give me broth? Why won't you give me porridge? This isn't fair!" 
"Yes! It's not fair! Aren't we as good as the others?" 
The servant put down the ladle and picked up a whip. 
They flinched but didn't back down. 
The servant cracked the whip in the air: "They've all been working hard! But you, you stupid, ugly slaves, have been slacking off! Do you expect Lady to feed you for free?!" 
"You want to eat without working! Either go to another territory or shut up! From now on, you only get one meal a day. When Lady decides you've reformed and stopped slacking, you'll get your two meals back!" The servant raised his head proudly. 
"Even we servants, who serve Lady, have never slacked off!"

He said nothing, not able to lie. The cleverest thing he could think of was using the excuse of needing to pee to slack off. 
Some of them began to cry, promising they'd never slack off again.

I finished my last bite of meat and said to Alistair, "We won't lack meat this season. Is there anything you want? Consider it payment for your hunting." 
Alistair smiled: "No, Lady, I've already received my reward." 
I tilted my head: "What?" 
Alistair licked his lips: "It's a very good reward." 
For some reason, I suddenly felt a little ashamed. My face turned red, and I stammered: "Well, well... as long as you're satisfied..." 
If Alistair would kiss my hand once for every pig he brought me, then I'd say that's a deal worth making. 
For pork, I'd give up my pride.