Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 1 Luck and Misfortune

At eight o'clock in the evening, Fafnir Beckett was kneeling in the hallway wiping the floor.

The walls on both sides of the corridor are adorned with exquisite oil paintings, depicting numerous handsome and dignified faces gazing calmly ahead—all possessing the pointed ears unique to the elven race.

Cold water, wooden bucket, old cloth... The 150-step stretch required dragging back and forth several times, leaving the seven-year-old boy exhausted.

I'm a child now! Child labor is illegal... Fafnir was speechless.

As a time traveler from the 21st century, he was born in this kingdom where elves were the main inhabitants.

Fafnir is unfortunate; he is now not only a lowly servant, but also carries the blood of the ratmen, who were once considered "untouchables" by the elves.

At the same time, Fafnir was fortunate; his parents were respectable treasurers among the servants, and his bloodline wasn't overtly reflected in his appearance—he looked like a pure-blooded human. Moreover, overt racial discrimination was prohibited by law, and the Lorraine family he served was relatively enlightened.

In the empty, silent corridor, the only sound was the soft hissing of a cloth wiping against the wooden floor. The flickering candlelight on both sides of the corridor made Fafnir's shadow appear exceptionally long.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of "tap, tap" came from behind Fafnir. The familiar, rhythmic footsteps were light and steady, carrying a certain natural ease.

Fafnir quickly stood up and turned around, but instead of looking up, he leaned forward toward the tall figure.

Normally, that figure would walk straight ahead, but today it stopped in place, as if waiting for something.

Fafnaughton paused for a moment, raised his head to listen to Lord Lorraine's instructions, only to find another person standing beside Lord Lorraine, who walked without making a sound.

It was a middle-aged man wearing a black robe, with pointed ears, not very tall, and many wrinkles on his face. His gray eyes were looking at him without curiosity or disgust, just with his head down, calmly watching him.

"Mr. Lorraine, is your servant... a rat-man?"

Fafnir paused for a moment.

Rat Man —

How did he recognize him? A superhuman with magical abilities? Hearing those two words from a stranger always felt like a bad thing.

Lorraine glanced at Fafnir, then looked at the man in black robes, her tone light: "Mr. Andrei has a good eye. He is the son of two of my servants' treasurers. You know, seven years ago, with the Treaty between the Holy Kingdom and the Nunns Empire, many humans came here—under the guise of being employees."

His bloodline is... a bit mixed, but he's hardworking and doesn't cause trouble.

"A bit of mixed blood," Fafnir repeated these words to himself: Mr. Lorraine was a good man who never spoke harshly, so "a bit of mixed blood" was probably the highest compliment he could receive for his status.

Fafnir could see the man's robe without having to look down; the edge of the black robe was worn and faded.

"He seems to have some kind of spirituality," a few seconds of silence fell in the corridor, "Mr. Lorraine, let's go."

Lorraine smiled and nodded at Fafnir, seemingly satisfied with his cleaning work, and signaled that they were leaving.

"My esteemed sir, your servant Fafnir sends his regards."

Fafnir leaned forward as he said goodbye to Lorraine.

He understood that the reason he didn't greet Lord Lorraine at first was because a servant shouldn't disturb his master; a bow was sufficient to show respect, and remaining silent after the master had stopped was disrespectful.

The two walked past Fafnir, their footsteps gradually fading into the distance.

Fafnir remained leaning forward until the footsteps completely disappeared before slowly straightening up.

The corridor was empty, but the candlelight still flickered.

He looked down at the cloth in his hand, then knelt down to wipe the remaining floor—it had taken a little longer, and it would probably take another half hour to finish.

……

"Phew—" Fafnir breathed a sigh of relief, "Finally finished wiping."

He picked up the bucket and the old cloth, skillfully went to the corner of the corridor and went downstairs, from the second floor to the basement.

The lower level is the underground storeroom of Lorraine Castle, capable of storing vegetables—mostly tubers and beans—for extended periods; it also stores meat and wine. Of course, it also houses the common quarters for most of the servants, and Fafnir's home.

Fafner stopped in front of a partitioned, separate room. He knocked on the dilapidated wooden door, and footsteps and a cheerful response immediately came from inside.

"Haha, my little Fafnir, you're a few minutes late today. Come on in," Clint Beckett said with a smile as he opened the door for Fafnir, then called back into the house, "Elisa, open the lunchbox, our little Fafnir is home."

In the very center of the room was a small dining table, on which sat wheat bread as the main dish and several lunchboxes.

A candle sat on the table, serving as the only light source in the room. The dim light made only the outline of the mother standing at the dining table in front of her visible. It was much darker here than in the second-floor corridor.

Fafnir sat down at the table, ready to eat; he was very hungry.

When it was time to eat, Fafnir often felt grateful that he wasn't living in a world similar to or worse than the early Middle Ages of his previous life.

— Just like his current staple food, although it is wheat bread with too much bran and no added salt, and often mixed with other wheat flour, it is at least much better than dark bread made from inferior coarse grain flour.

"Tonight the kitchen is preparing pea and carrot soup, and there should also be a small piece of beef," Elisa explained to Fafnir with a smile.

In the dim light, Fafnir saw the face of his mother in this world—a soft, pale face.

"Dad, Mom, when I was wiping the second-floor corridor floor just now, I saw a person in a black robe next to Master Lorraine. He immediately recognized me as a ratman."

After Fafnir finished speaking, he picked up a spoon and scooped up the still slightly warm soup to drink, while tearing off a small piece of bread with his other hand and quickly stuffing it into his mouth.

"He is Mr. Andrei, Zero Andrei, the new bishop of the Church of the God of Death in Lorraine, and the guest of Lord Lorraine at today's banquet."

I'm standing in a corner of the banquet today. If Mr. Andre wants to chat with Lord Lorraine about the manor's and castle's finances, I might be able to exchange a few words with that important man.

"That little piece of beef cheek in your bowl is just scraps from the banquet, hehe," Clint, already seated next to Fafnir, replied casually.

"As for why they could see your bloodline, I think those senior priests must have some kind of magical ability. He's a big shot."

Elisa picked up the thread: "Tonight's dinner was truly extravagant, costing at least ten gold pounds. Although I wasn't there, I saw many precious ingredients in the purchasing ledger from the past few days, including some spices that are more valuable than gold."