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SMW C7 Punishment
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 14:13:57 +0000 UTCAlexander sat quietly behind his uncle on the horse, clutching his precious bundle of potatoes. Excitement coursed through his veins as he imagined the culinary possibilities. Potato stew, roasted potatoes with herbs, potato bread mixed with regular flour, boiled potatoes seasoned with salt and wild garlic, even potato porridge for the sick and elderly.
He could barely wait to reach the castle and convince the cook to help him prepare these dishes.
"Young Lord, this is your first time seeing the village for yourself. What did you think of those lowly peasants? Did any of them displease you?" Reinhard asked as they rode, making no effort to hide his disdain for the common folk.
"Displease me? Why would they? They didn't do anything wrong," Alexander replied in his child-like voice, though inwardly he felt uncomfortable with his uncle's obvious discrimination.
"Did you interact with any of those peasants?" Reinhard pressed.
Alexander remembered his conversations with Lammert and Wulfger, and nodded. "Yes, and honestly, they were quite kind to me. They were easy to talk with and very respectful."
"Really? That's good," Reinhard smiled, though his tone remained cold. "If any of them had dared to harm you—or even touch you inappropriately—they would have faced punishment befitting their lowly station."
Alexander felt a pang of guilt for the commoners. Remembering how Lammert had grabbed his wrist and accused him of theft, he swallowed nervously. I absolutely cannot tell them about that incident!
Hearing Reinhard's true feelings toward commoners made Alexander realize this world's social thinking was even more backward than he'd imagined. "Uncle, may I ask why we nobles must look down on commoners so much? Is there a reason we should act superior to them?"
Reinhard snorted. "Listen, Alexander—there exists something called the 'Great Chain of Being.' It's a divine hierarchy: God at the top, then the King or Emperor, then nobles, and finally peasants at the bottom." He continued with conviction, "Why is it structured this way? Because our Creator, in His infinite wisdom and power, placed and ranked all men according to His will."
"Peasants exist to serve us. There's an old saying: 'They toil so we may rule.'"
He went on to educate his nephew further. "In the Holy Book, when Issakar was ready to bless his firstborn son Askar, he intended to make him master over his younger brother Jaelon. However, despite Issakar's choice of Askar as heir, God had already chosen Jaelon for greatness. Through divine intervention, Issakar was deceived."
Reinhard recounted the familiar story: "Jaelon, with his mother's help, disguised himself as his elder brother and approached his nearly blind father. When Issakar laid hands on him, believing him to be Askar, he blessed Jaelon saying: 'May God give you heaven's dew and earth's richness—an abundance of grain and new wine. May nations serve you and peoples bow down to you. Be lord over your brothers, and may your mother's sons bow down to you.'"
"When Askar arrived later seeking his blessing, Issakar realized the deception but declared the blessing irrevocable. To Askar, he could only say: 'You will live by the sword and serve your brother. Your dwelling will be away from earth's richness, away from the dew of heaven above.'"
Alexander listened quietly, recognizing the story of Isaac from his previous life, though here the patriarch was called Issakar.
"Do you understand?" Reinhard concluded. "The peasants descend from Askar's line—born to serve. Kings and nobles come from Jaelon's lineage—born to rule. We are the rightful masters by divine decree."
"Therefore, as a noble, you shouldn't lower yourself by associating with those beneath your station."
Alexander cringed inwardly. Despite his own faith, he found this interpretation of social hierarchy deeply disturbing.
"Looks like we've arrived," Reinhard announced as the castle came into view.
The gates opened, and they rode through into the familiar courtyard of Castle Eisenberg.
---
In the Great Hall, with its high stone arches and tapestries depicting the Eisenberg family's heraldry, Baron Aldric and his wife Ermelinde waited in tense silence.
The hall's long oak table, polished dark with age, was surrounded by carved wooden chairs befitting a lord baron's station. Tall windows let in sunlight that illuminated the family coat of arms hanging prominently on the walls.
Ermelinde sat rigidly in her chair, worry etched deeply in her features. Beside her sat their three-year-old daughter, Adelheit von Eisenberg, who had inherited her mother's striking silver hair—evidence that Ermelinde's genes were particularly strong.
Despite her tender age, Adelheit displayed a charming blend of both parents' features: her mother's delicate, feminine bone structure softened by her father's warm amber eyes, creating an adorably pretty combination.
The family sat together at the high table, anxiety filling the silence as they awaited news of Alexander's whereabouts.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors swung open. Aldric and Ermelinde turned expectantly, and there they saw Reinhard entering with the boy they'd been desperately seeking.
Alexander stood in the doorway with an awkward, sheepish expression, still clutching his bundle of potatoes, knowing he was about to face his parents' mixture of relief and scolding.
"My dear boy!" Ermelinde leaped from her chair and rushed to Alexander, embracing him tightly. Her overwhelming relief made her hug perhaps too forcefully.
"Mother—I can't breathe properly!" Alexander said awkwardly, trying to pull back slightly.
"Oh! Forgive me!" Ermelinde laughed with relief and gently cupped his face in her hands. "I'm just so glad you're safe and well! I was beside myself with worry! What would I have done if something had happened to you?"
From his seat, Aldric cleared his throat meaningfully. "Enough, Ermelinde. Your coddling is exactly why our son lacks strength and discipline."
Ermelinde's expression hardened. "What do you mean? I'm simply caring for our child!"
Aldric's eyes flashed with authority. "He needs to learn to be a man! And today he disobeyed us by sneaking out of the castle. Such behavior demands consequences."
"What... what do you intend to do?" Ermelinde asked fearfully, instinctively moving closer to Alexander.
Aldric fixed his gaze on his son. "The steward will administer a light correction—nothing more than what any father would give for such disobedience."
"No!" Ermelinde pulled Alexander protectively against her side.
Aldric sighed heavily, disappointment evident in his features. Such a disappointment. My first son Edmar was obedient and gifted with a warrior's spirit. If he were still alive, he would inherit everything without question. What a tragedy.
He nodded to his steward. "Konrad, carry out a light correction for the young lord's disobedience."
Konrad, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, approached reluctantly. "Forgive me, my lady, young lord. I must follow the baron's orders."
Ermelinde could only step aside helplessly as Konrad administered three light swats with a leather strap—the standard correction for a noble child's disobedience, more symbolic than painful.
Alexander endured the brief punishment without crying out, though his jaw clenched with both discomfort and indignation. When I become lord, everything will change! I'll educate everyone about their backward thinking and ensure no child faces arbitrary punishment like this.
The experience only strengthened his resolve to be nothing like his father when his time came to rule.
After the punishment, Aldric continued his stern lecture, his face firm and voice carrying absolute authority. "You must learn obedience and never sneak out of the castle again. Do you understand how dangerous it was to venture out in this early spring weather? The sudden cold winds and unpredictable rains could have made you seriously ill, or you could have slipped on the muddy paths and injured yourself. The spring mists can make travelers lose their way, and with the rivers swollen from snowmelt, even familiar routes become treacherous."
Alexander nodded as if he understood completely, but inwardly he knew he couldn't simply comply. However, he resolved to request his father's permission next time he wanted to leave the castle—that would save him considerable trouble. More importantly, he still had the potatoes with him, and he couldn't let his father notice them or they'd surely be thrown away.
Ermelinde felt overwhelming relief that Alexander was unharmed. She gently held him and fussed over him, checking for any signs of distress from his punishment, though the correction had been light.
Little Adelheit looked at her brother with innocent confusion. "Are you hurt, Alexander?" she asked in her adorably childish voice.
Alexander smiled and patted her head, playfully messing up her silver hair. She got annoyed and swatted his hand away, which only made him laugh more.
Just then, Ermelinde noticed the linen bundle in his hands. "What's inside that cloth?"
"Oh, this? It's nothing important!" Alexander realized that dismissing it outright would only arouse more suspicion. "I found some interesting plants and herbs while I was out. I thought I might study them to better understand what grows in our territory."
Ermelinde remained silent for a moment but ultimately didn't think much of it, accepting her son's scholarly interests.
---
After spending time with his family, Alexander made his way through the corridors to the castle kitchen, located on the ground floor and separated from the Great Hall for safety and convenience.
He entered with his precious bundle of potatoes in hand.
The kitchen featured a large main hearth built against the stone wall, with a spacious preparation area nearby. A brick oven dominated one corner, while storage areas and a washing station completed the layout. The cooking tools looked primitive to Alexander's modern eyes, making him think, Perhaps I should create better cooking implements later. I'm not particularly knowledgeable about metallurgy, but maybe I can purchase some tool blueprints from the System Store.
Just then, a deep voice interrupted his thoughts: "Oh, young lord? What brings you here? Are you hungry already?"
Alexander turned to see a black-haired man in his thirties. Wrinkles already lined his weathered face, and he was quite short in stature.
Fritz, the head cook, Alexander thought. He was already well-acquainted with the kitchen staff, which would make things much more convenient when he asked Fritz to help prepare potato dishes.
