Chapter 55 Alton

Clang!

The bottom of the iron pot struck a small stone hidden in the dirt.

The pot landed heavily on the grass.

A rich smell immediately spread through the air.

“Come eat!”

The small figure behind it straightened proudly.

“I cooked this forever, so it has to be good!”

The person standing in front of Xia Nan barely reached his waist.

His eyes were light brown and bright beneath the fading dusk.

He had fair skin with a healthy rosy tint, short curly brown hair, and a pointed soft cap decorated with a feather.

His clothes had the clean, practical cut of an adventurer’s outfit.

The colors, however, were much more cheerful than usual.

A closer look revealed small decorative touches everywhere, including the four-leaf clovers embroidered on his boots.

Alton.

A Halfling.

And one of Xia Nan’s companions on this mission.

He was nothing like the Dwarves Xia Nan had seen before.

Those men looked as though someone had taken a normal person, compressed them downward, then stretched them sideways until they became solid as tree stumps.

Nor did Alton resemble the Gnomes, with their oversized heads and light frames.

Halflings were short as well, usually only three or four feet tall even as adults.

But their body proportions were much closer to Humans.

Their limbs also tended to grow brown fur, almost like small animals.

Alton appeared to be a Lightfoot Halfling.

That meant he had less body hair than most Halflings.

Possibly only his legs were furry.

Xia Nan couldn’t actually confirm that part.

Alton wore thick linen trousers, after all.

“Carrots, honey, and I even added some of the secret pepper blend I brought from my village!”

Alton held the pot lid in one hand and planted the other proudly on his hip.

His whole face shone with confidence.

“You’ve definitely never tasted anything like this!”

Xia Nan immediately took two large bites of jerky and began chewing with great seriousness, trying to look as though he were already almost full.

At the same time, he recalled what he’d learned about Halflings lately.

Dwarves had many subraces.

Hill Dwarves.

Mountain Dwarves.

Gray Dwarves.

Their differences could come from living environment, ancestral clans, and all kinds of other factors.

The Halflings of the Aifala Continent were much simpler.

They were mainly divided into two groups.

Strongheart Halflings and Lightfoot Halflings.

Strongheart Halflings had thicker body hair and somewhat stockier builds.

They preferred comfortable, settled lives.

Most chose one place, made it home, and stayed there for years.

Friendly neighbors.

A warm hearth.

A freshly baked walnut pie.

That was the life a Strongheart Halfling dreamed of.

Lightfoot Halflings were almost the opposite.

They loved to travel.

Not necessarily because they were chasing some grand goal.

They simply enjoyed everything interesting that appeared along the road.

And when a Halfling willingly left the safety of their community to become an adventurer, running from one job to another across the continent, that Halfling was usually a Lightfoot.

Interestingly, unlike the bitter feuds that sometimes existed between the subraces of other peoples, Lightfoot and Strongheart Halflings got along very well.

They might argue because of their different lifestyles.

But Halfling society treated the entire race like one enormous extended family.

At worst, their disagreements were like siblings bickering at home.

Nothing serious.

Unfortunately, Xia Nan’s attempt to avoid the stew failed.

Alton turned toward him.

His eyes were bright.

Expectant.

Almost painfully hopeful.

The look on his face practically screamed, Please tell me it’s good.

Xia Nan surrendered.

One bite.

Just one.

He scooped up some stew and tasted it.

Then paused.

Huh?

It was actually good.

Really good.

There were a lot of seasonings in the broth, enough that Xia Nan had expected the flavors to clash horribly.

Instead, they somehow balanced each other out.

What remained was a mild, warm fragrance in the orange-red soup.

The meat had a good balance of fat and lean flesh and had been stewed until tender enough to break apart easily.

The carrot slices had soaked up the broth and carried its flavor through every bite.

Xia Nan looked genuinely surprised.

He gave Alton a thumbs-up.

“This is actually pretty good.”

He took another bite.

“Not much worse than tavern food.”

Alton’s entire face lit up.

“Hahaha! Thank you!”

Then, with the cheerful modesty typical of his race, he added, “It’s not really that good.”

While saying that, he immediately dumped two more ladlefuls into Xia Nan’s bowl.

Xia Nan had nothing against Alton.

It was just that, over the last two days, the Halfling had displayed a personality that was hard to ignore.

Like most Lightfoot Halflings, Alton was friendly, open, and curious about practically everything.

Carriage wheels.

How they worked.

How much fodder a draft horse ate in a day.

How traps were built.

What everyone in the caravan did for a living.

From front to back, nearly every person in the caravan had been dragged into a conversation with him at some point.

He had tried driving a wagon.

He had persuaded one relatively good-natured adventurer to teach him how to set traps.

The results were usually…

Not ideal.

Alton was also a little superstitious.

Xia Nan had personally watched him remove his hat and bow solemnly to an unremarkable roadside bush.

According to Alton, he had been paying his respects to Sheela Peryroyl, one of the Halfling deities, a Nature Goddess who held authority over agriculture and weather.

All things considered, Alton was a little strange.

But at least so far, he seemed like a genuinely decent person.

Gulp.

Xia Nan swallowed another spoonful of stew and casually continued the conversation.

“So you worship your race’s Goddess of Agriculture?”

The Aifala Continent had many deities.

Far too many, really.

Its divine pantheons were complicated, overlapping, and tangled together.

Different gods could even possess authority over similar domains.

The Halflings alone were protected by seven deities who governed different areas.

Together, those gods formed the Hin Pantheon.

“Hin” was the Halflings’ own name for their race.

It had supposedly started as rural slang before gradually spreading across the continent.

That made Xia Nan curious.

To Halflings themselves, what did these racial deities feel like?

They were protectors.

Almost like parents.

Yet at the same time, they were distant divine beings ordinary people could barely hope to contact.

Alton shook his head.

Halfling communities functioned like huge families.

And because of that, the gods who protected the Halfling people were also treated as members of that family.

Under those circumstances, expecting ordinary Halflings to worship with the intense devotion of professional priests elsewhere felt strangely inappropriate.

“So you…”

Xia Nan was just beginning to assume that Alton, like him, didn’t actually worship any particular deity.

Then the Halfling smiled.

He reached into the pouch at his waist and took out a metallic coin.

Ting!

His thumb flicked upward.

The coin shot into the air.

It spun.

Rose.

Fell.

Alton opened his hand.

The coin landed faceup in his palm.

An image was engraved on its surface.

A long-haired woman.

Her features were indistinct, but the faint upward curve at the corners of her mouth was unmistakable.

The Smiling Lady.

The Goddess of Fortune who held authority over fate.

[Tymora].