Chapter 158: Flowers, Pretty Rocks, and Fried Food

By the time Mirabelle reached Steinstein, she had almost managed to push the Territory Core to the back of her mind.

Almost.

It helped that Steinstein seemed determined to overwhelm every single one of her senses at once.

The settlement had never looked like this before.

Mirabelle had always found its layout unusual compared to the towns she remembered from Earth. Steinstein wasn’t packed tightly together behind narrow streets and rows of adjoining houses. Most homes stood roughly in the middle of long plots of land, their fronts facing the road while the property stretched considerably farther behind them.

There, families kept small fields, vegetable gardens, fruit trees, chickens, or whatever else helped supplement their income and feed the household.

Toward the street, many properties had another purpose.

Stalls.

Workshops.

Open counters built onto the fronts of houses where families sold whatever they produced, grew, crafted, baked, carved, sewed, or otherwise managed to turn into something another Beastman might want.

The plots were narrow enough that neighbors remained relatively close to one another, yet their length gave the settlement an openness Mirabelle had rarely associated with towns.

And today, almost every available meter seemed to have been decorated.

Colorful ribbons stretched between houses, fluttering and snapping whenever the warm wind caught them. Paper lanterns in red, orange, yellow, and green hung from ropes crossing the streets, some painted with flowers or stylized animals, others carrying the crest of Luchsenstein.

Someone had even tied ribbons around trees, fences, balconies, and one extremely confused goat.

Music came from everywhere. Not one organized performance, but dozens of smaller ones scattered throughout Steinstein.

At one corner, several Beastmen played drums while another produced a surprisingly lively melody from an instrument Mirabelle still couldn’t name. Two streets farther down, someone was playing strings, accompanied by clapping and the rhythmic stamping of feet.

People laughed.

Children screamed.

Someone cheered somewhere behind her.

The air smelled incredible. Smoke from cooking fires hung between the houses, carrying the scent of roasting meat, fresh bread, melted fat, herbs, caramelized fruit and spices.

Mirabelle’s stomach tightened painfully. She had been starving before. Now it was torture.

But this was exactly why she’d insisted on coming here.

Her mother and grandmother had been considerably less enthusiastic about the idea.

Especially after Mirabelle had finished telling them what had happened on the way back from the Territory Core.

Neither woman had known what to make of her strange new awareness.

Her grandmother had asked Mirabelle to describe the sensation three separate times, apparently hoping that somewhere between I felt the tree before it fell and I think I could feel water underground, the entire thing would suddenly start making sense.

It hadn’t.

Her mother had been even more concerned.

Whatever the Territory Core had given Mirabelle, neither of them had heard of a Duchess possessing anything similar.

And once again, they’d all reached the same conclusion: Nobody else could know.

Mirabelle was beginning to suspect that becoming Duchess mostly consisted of acquiring increasingly impressive secrets and then being told not to tell anyone about them.

They had all wished Silas were there.

Perhaps he would find something during his research that could explain not only the transformation of the Goddess’s statue, but what was happening to Mirabelle herself. There were simply too many strange things occurring around her at once for her mother to believe none of them were connected.

Until then, Mirabelle was supposed to observe.

Carefully. Her grandmother had emphasized that last word.

She should pay attention to the sensations, see whether they changed, determine what triggered them and how far her awareness extended.

But she was not supposed to become so fascinated by them that she stopped paying attention to her actual surroundings.

Mirabelle had found that slightly insulting. Then she’d nearly walked into a tree while trying to feel another tree. So she’d decided not to argue.

For now, the strange white current remained quietly in the back of her awareness, and Mirabelle was doing her best to leave it there.

There were considerably more pleasant things demanding her attention anyway. Like the fact that half of Steinstein apparently wanted to touch her.

"Duchess!"

Mirabelle barely had time to turn before an elderly rabbit female took both of her hands.

"May the Goddess grant you a long reign."

"Thank you."

The woman squeezed her fingers before disappearing back into the crowd.

Mirabelle had taken perhaps three more steps when someone else called to her. Then another.

"Welcome, Duchess!"

"May Luchsenstein prosper beneath your rule!"

"Long life to our Duchess!"

"May the Goddess guide you!"

Mirabelle smiled so much that her cheeks were beginning to hurt. She’d expected bows. Formal congratulations. Perhaps people standing at a respectful distance because she was now technically their ruler.

She had not expected hugs.

The first one had caught her completely off guard. A broad-shouldered Beastwoman Mirabelle vaguely remembered seeing near one of the workshops had simply opened her arms, apparently realized halfway through the movement that perhaps one did not casually embrace one’s Duchess, and begun awkwardly pulling them back.

Mirabelle had laughed and stepped into the hug herself. That had been interpreted as permission by everyone watching.

After that, there had been several more.

Careful ones. Enthusiastic ones. One elderly woman had patted her cheek afterward.

Mirabelle loved it.

It was warm and chaotic and so completely different from the distant formality she’d associated with nobility that something inside her softened every time someone approached.

Only the females dared to hug her, though. The males kept a respectful distance, usually after a quick glance toward the two mates at her side.

That didn’t stop several younger Beastmen from throwing her rather longing looks from across the crowd. Mirabelle decided to ignore those. .

The children were even worse.

Or better. Mirabelle hadn’t decided yet.

A little fox girl had solemnly presented her with three yellow flowers.

A boy with round bear ears had pushed a beautifully striped stone into her palm and informed her that it was the prettiest one he’d ever found.

Mirabelle had accepted it with appropriate seriousness.

Then came a feather.

Two more flowers.

A small wooden bead.

Another stone.

Something Mirabelle suspected was technically just an unusually round acorn.

At some point, Lucien had taken over. He now walked beside her carrying an increasingly ridiculous collection of gifts against his chest.

"Don’t lose the striped stone," Mirabelle warned.

"I wouldn’t dare."

"The little boy said it was his prettiest one."

"I understand the responsibility entrusted to me."

Her heart felt so full of warmth and joy that she thought it might burst, and the wide grin on her face was proof of it.

The central square was even busier.

For the celebration, it had been transformed into a sprawling market. Temporary stalls stood in rows across the open space, their awnings creating patches of shade beneath the midday sun. Local families occupied many of them, but an entire section had been reserved for traveling merchants.

Mirabelle slowed as they entered it. Now this was interesting.

Fabrics hung from wooden frames in colors she rarely saw produced in Luchsenstein. Deep blues. Brilliant reds. A purple so rich that Mirabelle immediately wondered what had been used to dye it.

Nearby, strings of jewelry glittered in the sunlight. Hammered metal bracelets lay beside polished stones, beads, carved bone and delicate chains.

Another merchant had covered his tables with pottery painted in geometric patterns unlike anything Mirabelle had seen locally.

There were baskets.

Leather goods.

Tiny carved animals.

Glass bottles filled with oils.

Dried herbs bundled with colored string.

Spices formed little mountains in open bowls, filling the air with scents Mirabelle couldn’t identify.

Warm.

Earthy.

Peppery.

Sweet.

One made her nose itch.

She sneezed.

"Bless you," Lucien murmured.

"Thank you."

One merchant had traveled all the way from Torsa, a smal country behind Zasar, while another stall proudly displayed goods brought from Bregenz.

Mirabelle immediately wanted to inspect everything.

The city planner in her wanted to inspect the market organization.

The Duchess wanted to speak with the foreign merchants.

The woman who hadn’t eaten since early morning wanted everyone to get out of her way so she could find whatever smelled like roasted meat.

Her stomach made the decision.

GRRRR.

Kaelith’s head turned.

Lucien looked at her.

Mirabelle stared straight ahead.

Neither said anything.

"I know."

Kaelith’s mouth twitched.

"What do you want to eat? I’ll get it."

Mirabelle looked around.

’That’s the problem.’

She could see skewers covered in something glossy and dark.

Flat potatoes disappearing onto hot stone.

Small golden pastries stacked in baskets. It looked like Lonan had contributed something to the citizens’ festivities, and Mirabelle could hardly wait for the first bakeries to open.

Something sizzling in an enormous iron pan.

A Beastman walked past carrying a bowl filled with chunks of browned meat and vegetables, and Mirabelle nearly turned around to follow him.

"I don’t know."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow.

"Anything."

"That’s not helpful."

"Something with meat."

His eyebrow remained raised.

"Something crispy," Mirabelle clarified. "But juicy. Something that looks like it was fried in a completely unreasonable amount of fat."

Now Kaelith smiled.

"And something sweet."

"Anything else, Duchess?"

Mirabelle considered it seriously.

"A lot of it."

Lucien laughed.

Kaelith stepped ahead of them. Being considerably taller than Mirabelle suddenly proved extremely useful. His red-brown ears rose above most of the crowd, and he could apparently see exactly what was being prepared several rows ahead.

"This way."