I had planned to start making my Papyrus-like Paper right away with the stems I'd had collected, but the problem was I couldn't get to it immediately.
"
"Wha—!?"
"Where do you think you're going? I told you we're starting Winter Preparations today."
Just as I was heading to the well to strip the plant stems and extract their fibers, my mother grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and stopped me.
I understood that we needed to prepare for the long winter, since this area would soon be cut off by snow. But why did even someone as utterly useless as me have to be dragged out?
No matter how hard I searched through Myne's memories, they were basically nothing but catching colds and wandering around being useless. In other words, I was completely useless too—just slightly less so than when I was bedridden with a cold.
"Myne, you're helping your father. Come along."
"Father, what about work?"
"I'm off for a while. We have to take turns getting time off, or we'd never get the winter prep done."
...So they actually gave winter prep time off? Was the workplace surprisingly decent, or were the preparations so grueling that they were helpless without every able-bodied person?
Either way, it was rare for Father to be home and paired up with me. As his Soldier occupation suggested, Father was more on the brawny side and typically took Turi—who was healthy and easy to drag around—along with him.
Since the whole family was home, there was no escape route, and on top of that Father had specifically called on me. I had no choice but to resign myself to being his companion.
"So... what do we do for Winter Preparations?"
Standing in front of the kitchen window, Father pulled out what looked like tools and began explaining.
"First up is inspecting and repairing the house. When the blizzards hit, we'll be shutting the wooden doors, so I need to check the hinges for looseness and rust, and see if there are any holes in the doors. After that, we clean the chimney and the stove to make sure everything works properly through winter."
"Mm."
I understood the job description, but what exactly was I supposed to contribute? I couldn't hold a screwdriver, couldn't turn one, couldn't carry heavy loads—could they not see these frail little arms of mine!?
Still, I had to show at least a little enthusiasm and prove my worth, or my standing in this household would never improve.
Spotting loose or rusted hinges was easy enough with my modern knowledge.
"Father, this hinge and this nail are both rusted, aren't they?"
"...That one's still fine."
No way—that thing looked completely decrepit and on the verge of falling apart!?
For a moment I debated whether to trust Father's judgment. These were the wooden doors that would need to hold up against winter blizzards. If they gave out midway, we'd be in real trouble.
I climbed onto a chair and gave the door a good shake. If nothing happened, I could trust Father's assessment. But if it broke, I'd know to go by my own judgment from now on.
After a few shakes, there was a sharp crack and the lower of the two hinges split apart.
I looked at the door swinging precariously back and forth, thinking, just as I expected. Father, meanwhile, had gone pale and was staring at the wobbling door.
"M-Mine!?"
"See~? It broke. There's no way this would've lasted through winter. Now then, Father. Fix it properly."
I pointed firmly at the wooden door. Father, sweeping his misjudgment under the rug, helped me down from the chair and let out a heavy sigh.
"Mine, go help your mother."
He apparently didn't like having his misjudgment pointed out by his own daughter very much.
I shrugged and shook my head. But Mother had given her orders, so I was obligated to stay by Father's side and keep pointing things out.
This was all for the sake of spending winter in safety and comfort.
"Huh? I'm keeping an eye on Father. If you leave rusty hinges unrepaired through winter, they'll just fall apart again."
"We don't have enough money to fix everything, and with you around, you'll probably break the rest too. Go to Mother."
...Money again!? As always!
Having broken the hinge that Father had been planning to use a bit more carefully, I obediently followed his orders and headed to the bedroom where Mother and Turi were.
The two of them were airing out blankets and quilts so they'd be ready to use, moving the bed as close to the stove as possible, and rearranging the room's interior to make it as warm as they could.
"What's wrong, Myne?"
"Father told me to go help you..."
"Really? We're finished here, so we need to prepare things for light. We happened to gather a bit of beeswax this year, right? On top of that, we'll make lamp oil and candles from tallow and tree nuts."
Just hearing the description was enough to know this would be incredibly smelly work. For the past few days, every household on the block had reeked of animal fat, so the thought of our own kitchen starting to smell the same way was deeply depressing.
Turi set to work extracting oil from nuts in the storage room, but since I didn't have the strength to wield a hammer properly, there was no escape for me.
I could only stand beside Mother, watching the beef tallow being loaded into the biggest pot and set over the fire.
It stinks!
Endure it, me.
But while I was barely managing to stand the stench, Mother had simply melted the tallow over heat and skimmed the impurities floating to the surface, apparently ready to call it done.
"Wait, Mother. That's it? Aren't you going to salt it out?"
"Huh? What did you say?"
Uh oh. "Salt out" was second nature to me, but it clearly didn't register.
Mother gave me a look that clearly asked "Got a complaint?" and I flinched a little, but I tried to explain salting out in the simplest terms possible.
"So, um, you add saltwater, simmer it a bit longer over low heat, and strain out the impurities several times, right?"
"Saltwater?"
"Yeah. If you leave it, it'll cool and separate—the oil solidifies on top and the saltwater settles on the bottom. You drain the water underneath and only use the oil on top. It's a little extra work, but the smell improves a lot, and the oil comes out much better quality."
Maybe the mention of better quality caught her attention, because Mother began the salting process. Improving the quality of oil that would be used all winter was a matter of life and death for me too. After all, it would be burned in sealed-up rooms. I couldn't stomach a house that smelled of rancid fat all winter.
I couldn't exactly say what concentration of saltwater to use, but it had to be better than nothing, right?
The concentration was pretty much a rough guess, but thanks to the salting, the slightly yellowish tallow turned pure white.
This tallow was divided into a portion for candles and a portion to be used for making soap once spring came around. The candle portion was put back in the pot and melted once more.
The bits of meat that came up during straining became ingredients for a delicious dashi soup. Dinner was served.
After lunch, it was time to make the candles.
"All right, Turi. You handle the candles, okay? Father and Mother are going to start preparing firewood."
"Okay."
...Wait. What was my job?
With the three of them each setting off to their tasks, I thought for a moment, then decided to follow Mother as she headed for the front door. The "help Mother" order might still be in effect.
But Mother noticed me and pointed back with her finger.
"Myne, you're making candles with Turi. Don't get in the way."
"...Fine."
Why was there absolutely zero trust in me?
When I returned to the kitchen, Turi had already cut wicks to equal lengths and prepared several wooden branches with multiple strings hanging from them.
She dipped the finished wicks into the pot of melted tallow and pulled them back out. Over and over, the oil coating each wick gradually solidified, making them a little thicker each time until they took on the shape of candles.
"Huh, so that's how candles are made."
"Don't just stand there watching—help, Myne!"
After getting scolded by Turi, I began tearing up odor-masking herbs and pressing them onto the half-formed candles. If this actually worked to reduce the smell, I'd make sure to soak the herbs properly next year.
"Myne! Stop playing!"
"...I'm only doing this part. Wouldn't you rather have candles that don't stink? Please, Turi?"
"...Really just this part?"
Turi double-checked, and I gave a big nod.
I had no idea whether this would work or not, so I wasn't planning to scent all of them. I'd try different herbs on each of the five candles and compare to see which one came out best.
While Turi and I worked on the candle preparations, our parents handled the firewood. Running out of firewood during winter could mean freezing to death, so it required meticulous preparation.
Father took the wood Turi had gathered, plus several bundles they'd purchased, and split them all down to roughly fifty-centimeter lengths with an axe. Then Mother carried the cut firewood to the room used for Winter Preparations.
"Mother, where are you going?"
I was shocked to see Mother entering a room I hadn't known existed, and I chased after her.
It was a room I'd only just learned about—behind the storage room we normally used, there was another storage room. It was apparently used only for Winter Preparations. Half the room was already packed with enormous stacks of wood.
"Huh? What is this room?"
"It's the winter prep room, Myne. What are you saying all of a sudden?"
Come to think of it, I'd been wondering where all the baskets of firewood Turi had been bringing home ended up. They'd been stored in here. The firewood we used day to day was kept in the regular storage room, so I'd never noticed this room deeper inside.
"...It's cold."
"Well, sure. It's the farthest room from the stove."
Our house didn't have anything as fancy as a living room with a fireplace—the kitchen stove was the only heat source. We basically spent all our time in the kitchen.
And the bedroom shared a wall with the stove, with the bed pushed right up against it. While the fire was burning—which was while the children were sleeping—it was surprisingly warm.
It was only warm when first going to bed. Mother always put the fire out before sleeping, so by morning the room was freezing.
Conversely, this Winter Preparations room was the farthest from the kitchen stove, making it bitterly cold. It was apparently the perfect place to store preserved food, provisions, and oil for winter use—a natural refrigerator that couldn't afford to get warm.
"Wow, so much firewood."
"Even so, it's barely enough."
It takes up half the room!
Looking at the firewood stacked in the Winter Preparations room, the issue of deforestation crossed my mind. If one family burned this much, how much did this entire town go through?
"Myne, stop zoning out. It's time to prepare the handicrafts."
I wasn't zoning out!
I was thinking about something pretty important!
But by the time I could protest, Mother had already headed back to the kitchen. I hurried to follow. I didn't want to be left alone in a dark, windowless room.
"Mother, what kind of handicrafts?"
"Let's see. The men probably tend to their work tools? If anyone's planning to make furniture, they need to gather materials first."
"So these are things we do during winter?"
As I spoke, Mother counted spools of thread while nodding.
"That's right. For women, making clothes is the biggest job. We have to spin weaving thread and embroidery thread, prepare dyes—all of it. Since Mother's job is dyeing, the thread preparation is already done for us. But in our case, we need to prepare wool and plants like niruen to spin next year's supply."
"Mm."
"And besides, next summer is Turi's
Mother checked her list with a demon-like expression, making sure nothing was missing. I was clearly going to be in the way, so I decided to move over to where Turi was.
"Turi, what kind of handicrafts are you doing?"
"I'm making baskets. I'm going to sell them once spring comes."
Turi began preparing the materials for her basket-making project. She carried wood she'd gathered from the forest over to the well and started peeling the bark. Then, she apparently cut along the fibers with a knife.
"What about you, Myne?"
"I'm making my Papyrus-like Paper."
"What's that?"
"Hehehe~ It's a se~cret."
Following Turi's example, I decided to prepare fibers for my own Papyrus-like Paper as my winter handicraft.
This was serious handicraft preparation.
It was perfectly legitimate work that nobody could fault me for.
The fiber extraction process should work the same way as what Turi was doing—peel the bark off the grass, soak it in water, and dry it.
There hadn't been many days before Winter Preparations, so I hadn't collected a huge number of stems. But since I had them, I might as well turn all of them into fiber.
"Turi, I want some water too."
"...Okay."
"Turi, how do you think I should go about extracting just these fibers?"
"Huh? Um..."
"Turi, if I dry them here, will they blow away?"
"..."
I bundled up the finished fibers and held them. There wasn't a lot, but I could probably make at least one or two sheets as a test.
And with that, my own personal Winter Preparations were essentially complete.
Whew, I worked hard today.
Huh? Why does Turi look so grumpy?
Myne is sometimes useful, but is basically useless.
That was the family's verdict. (lol)