NOVPUB
Chapter 37 - Tears on Silver Fur
Night fell as Vaerik, Siv, and several knights sat in the dining hall eating dinner.
Several dim oil lamps were lit, casting light on the simple meal spread across the wooden long table.
Smoked fish with a faint aroma of wood smoke, steaming hot wheat porridge, alongside several chunks of coarse wheat bread and a bit of pickled sauerkraut.
The entire dining hall lacked any luxurious decorations—wooden tables and chairs, slightly yellowed oil lamps, and even a few cracks visible on the wooden walls.
Siv looked at it all with some surprise in her heart.
This was completely different from the noble life she had imagined.
In her understanding, a noble's dining table should be covered with gold-embroidered tablecloths, plates piled high with exquisite delicacies, gleaming silverware, and wine glasses filled with sweet wine.
But the reality was that Vaerik's dinner, though slightly better than that of ordinary subjects, was far from luxurious.
Vaerik noticed her subtle change in expression: "Not to your taste?"
Siv quickly shook her head: "No."
Although she had once been a tribal princess and eaten better than now, the Northern Province was naturally scarce in resources, so it hadn't been luxurious either.
She picked up the wheat porridge and took a sip. The warm wheat fragrance spread through her mouth—the taste was quite good.
Halfway through the meal, Siv looked up and casually asked: "What are you going to do tonight?"
Vaerik said while chewing the smoked fish: "Wolf training."
"Wolf training?" Siv was stunned for a moment, then her eyes lit up.
Vaerik nodded: "Mm."
Now Vaerik would spend several evenings each week at the beast training grounds training the dire wolf Cold Edge.
After several weeks of training, Cold Edge had begun responding to Vaerik's commands, but to achieve complete obedience still required more coordination.
Today's practice was hunting whistle commands.
Hunting whistle commands were a specialized whistle system used for taming wild beasts, commonly used in hunting, combat, or patrol.
It utilized different tones and rhythms to make animals understand and execute instructions.
Vaerik raised his hand, pressed the whistle to his lips, and blew a long, high note.
Cold Edge's body tensed slightly, then crouched low, limbs pressed against the ground, ready to ambush prey at any moment.
Then Vaerik blew two short, sharp notes.
Cold Edge suddenly leaped up, swiftly pouncing toward the target ahead, sharp fangs biting into the cloth dummy, tearing violently!
The cloth strips shredded as the wolf let out a low growl from its throat.
Finally, Vaerik blew a series of rapid trills.
Cold Edge suddenly halted its movements, alertly scanning the surroundings, then released its fangs and quickly retreated back to Vaerik's side.
The entire sequence flowed smoothly and decisively, already possessing a certain degree of tactical coordination ability.
Vaerik nodded with satisfaction, extending his hand to gently stroke Cold Edge's neck.
"Well done," he said quietly, then reached to his waist and pulled out a piece of cut meat, offering it to Cold Edge.
Cold Edge licked its fangs but didn't immediately pounce.
Instead, it first looked at Vaerik, confirming its master's permission before suddenly opening its mouth to bite the meat, throat rumbling with a satisfied growl.
"There's already some method to it." The beast trainer Aiger respectfully approached from the side, his tone carrying some relief. "Your progress in taming it is faster than I expected.
However, to make Cold Edge completely obedient still requires more coordination. After all, dire wolves are different from ordinary beasts—trust and obedience must be built bit by bit."
"Mm, I know," Vaerik responded.
Siv watched the dire wolf in the training ground, her expression gradually darkening.
When she was in the tribe, she too had a dire wolf.
Lone Moon.
It was a dire wolf she had raised from a pup. They hunted together, ran together through blizzards, and kept each other warm during cold nights...
But now, it was probably already...
Siv's palm unconsciously tightened, fingertips digging into her palm.
Dead, most likely.
Since waking from unconsciousness, Siv had deliberately tried not to think too much about these tragedies, but she still couldn't help herself.
Vaerik glanced at her, seeming to sense something was wrong, and asked softly: "What's the matter?"
Siv was silent for a moment, but finally couldn't help saying: "I used to raise a dire wolf too. It's already dead."
Her tone was calm, as if she were stating something unrelated to herself.
Vaerik pondered for a moment, then pointed toward a group of dire wolf pups in a distant pen: "Then would you like to pick another one to raise?"
Siv was stunned, as if she hadn't registered what he said.
She looked toward that group of fluffy little wolf pups, some sitting, some lying, softly huddled together.
Her gaze slowly swept over each one, finally stopping on a small wolf pup in the corner.
Its fur had a faint silver-gray tint, and its pupils were ice-blue, somewhat similar to Lone Moon in her memory.
She stepped forward and gently extended her hand.
The young wolf timidly sniffed her fingertips, then cautiously stuck out its tongue and licked her palm.
In that instant, it was as if she was pulled back from the maze of memory.
Siv's eyes slightly reddened, her fingertips slowly stroking the young wolf's soft fur: "Then you'll be called Lone Moon from now on."
The small wolf let out a soft whimper, as if responding to her.
Siv's throat tightened slightly.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't make a sound.
The next moment, warm tears silently fell, landing on the wolf pup's soft fur.
...
And so the night deepened during training.
Vaerik stood at the edge of the training ground, casually stretching, then turned to look at Siv: "Today's work ends here. Remember to record my schedule from today when you go back."
Siv nodded, turned and left, returning to her small room.
As one of only three literate special talents in the territory, Vaerik had specially arranged a private room for her.
The small wolf hadn't been brought back yet, as it hadn't completely accepted its master.
Siv sighed softly, dismissed her stray thoughts, walked to the desk, and lit the oil lamp.
She opened her notebook and began writing down today's record line by line:
Morning: The lord personally trained soldiers, who showed him great respect.
The lord inspected farmland and fisheries, proposing development suggestions.
Showed care for injured knights and promised to provide better potions.
Discovered the potential of birch sugar, attempting to promote sugar industry development.
...
After Siv finished writing Vaerik's schedule for the day, she stared at these lines of text for a while, complex emotions arising in her heart.
Clearly a lord, yet without the slightest noble arrogance.
Wherever he went, he was deeply respected.
Her pen tip lightly tapped, and on another piece of paper she wrote four words—"He's a good person."
After writing it, she looked at this sentence and suddenly felt somewhat defiant, muttering proudly: "Probably just an act."
But in her heart, she no longer thought so.
She casually tossed a piece of birch sugar into her mouth.
The sweetness melted in her mouth, carrying a unique woody fragrance.
Siv leaned back in her chair and softly murmured: "Mm, so sweet."
