Somewhere on Mount Raza, where the thick, lush canopy blocked out most of the sunlight, Beric had been climbing for nearly an hour. He wore his backpack on his front, carrying Ian on his back.
It was rugged mountain terrain, difficult enough to climb unburdened, yet his movements were so light that Ian, riding on his back, felt little discomfort. His breathing was even, and his pace never slowed. His boast about training with ten backpacks at a time was clearly no empty claim.
Ian watched his own feet dangle and swing.
“Beric. Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. White trees, dark leaves.”
“…Everything around here looks like that.”
“No, no, I know it when I see it. It looks familiar. What, you hungry? Want me to get out some jerky?”
For a moment, Ian had forgotten. Beric had no sense of direction.
The way he’d charged off the moment they’d reached the mountain’s entrance, vowing to kill all the Mole-kin, had looked so confident. Ian had naturally assumed Beric knew the way.
Of course, Beric himself still seemed to believe he knew the way, but from Ian’s vantage point on his back, it was a hopeless situation. Ian tapped Beric’s shoulder.
“I think it would be better to go back to the manor and get a guide.”
“We’re almost there, really.”
“It’ll be hard to get down once the sun sets.”
Just then, Beric stopped, his gaze fixed on something in the distance as if he’d spotted it.
Ian looked straight ahead as well, but the scenery was no different from what they had been seeing all along. Trees, undergrowth, and a winding dirt path. There was no sign of the huge pit or traces of battle that Beric had mentioned.
“They’re here.”
“What is?”
“The mole bastards’ eyes. I can feel them.”
Beric set Ian down and whispered quietly. He didn’t know their exact location, but he was certain they were being watched from somewhere not too far away.
A mole-like appearance, and a habitat of underground tunnels. Perhaps they were beneath the soil. Beric stomped his foot hard on the ground and shouted.
“You remember me, don’t you, you mole bastards!? I’ve come to repay you for cracking my skull! This time, to be fair, I get the first shot!”
“Beric. Not ‘to be fair,’ you mean ‘equally.'”
“Equally! I get the first shot!”
Ian gestured for Beric to calm his excitement. It seemed he had detected the gazes with his Sword Master’s senses, but Ian couldn’t even feel the presence of a wild animal. His mana and physical abilities had truly hit rock bottom.
Ian carefully looked in the same direction as Beric and announced.
“Masters of Mount Raza, the Dera tribe¹. Are you there?”
“Come on out, you mole bastards!”
“We are envoys acting on the orders of the Imperial Palace. It seems there has been a misunderstanding. We ask that you show yourselves. We wish to speak with you.”
“Come ooout! Are you planning to sneak up from behind again, you cowards!”
“Beric, quiet.”
“…Come on out, you sons of bitches,” Beric muttered under his breath after Ian’s warning. But there was no response. No matter how reclusive a race they were, as long as they were in Bariel, it would be difficult to ignore the Imperial Palace. Beric was waving his identification card for all to see, but the surroundings remained silent.
“Beric. Are you certain you felt the Dera tribe?”
“Of course. I’m looking at them right now.”
Hmm. What is this? Ian was stroking his chin in thought when something flashed in front of him. Before he could even register its shape, something hard and unyielding grabbed his wrist.
Whoosh!
“Ian!”
“Ah.”
A powerful force yanked him forward. Ian instinctively twisted his body and came face-to-face with the visage of a woman carved into the trunk of a tree.
A Dryad!
Spirits of the trees, whose fates were tied to them. They were known to have quite an aggressive nature in order to protect themselves. Ian struggled, putting all his strength into resisting, but he was dragged along helplessly.
“You son of a bitch!”
Ziiiing! Ziiing!
Beric reflexively unleashed his mana and drew his Black Sword. Dragging around a kid who looked like he’d break if you so much as tapped him? Unforgivable!
The flow of air around him changed abruptly. With a light push-off, dirt, pebbles, and leaves were violently whipped up and pushed away.
“Let him go!”
I’ll sever this pathetic little branch in a single blow. As Beric swung his sword without hesitation, a hammer came flying out of nowhere. It belonged to the Dera tribe.
Fwoosh!
CLANG!
He wouldn’t let them get his head this time. Beric immediately altered his sword’s trajectory to parry the incoming hammer and ground his teeth. Of all the times for the mole bastards to attack!
“Beric!”
“Ian, just a second!”
Ian, who had fallen to the ground, was barely holding on by gripping a sharp rock. He could feel the strength draining from his entire body. What was it that Lady Lien had said back then?
“The horrifying life of having to devour the body of a loved one and live rooted in one place for the rest of your life.”
They absorb the living. Whether it was a beast or a human, that was the Dryad’s way of survival.
The moment Ian’s left hand slipped and he lost his grip on the rock, a vine wrapped around Beric’s ankle.
“Oh, crap.”
Another Dryad. So the gazes he’d been feeling from all directions weren’t the Dera tribe, but these things. Beric met the glare of the creature staring him down and gave it the middle finger.
“Can’t you tell the difference between what’s edible and what’s not!?”
He immediately lowered his stance, shifted his center of gravity, and prepared to swing his sword. They were just insignificant vines. There was no need for Ian to be struggling like this!
But just then, another hammer came flying.
Fwoosh!
CLANG!
“Ugh!”
This time, it struck him squarely on the temple. A ringing echoed through his skull, and Beric’s vision went dark. A second hit would knock him out, and then he’d have no chance.
Just as Beric focused his mind to amplify his mana release even further, a voice spoke.
“You squid bastard. Trying to cut it without knowing a thing.”
“A-A mole!”
“Shut up, before I decide not to let you just walk away.”
“What are you—!”
A member of the Dera tribe appeared.
A mole-man wearing a pair of carelessly slung overalls trudged into view. He glanced around, picked up the hammer from the ground, and then walked past Ian, approaching the Dryad.
“Hup!”
Once again, the muscles on his short, stout arms bulged. With all his might, the Dera hammered the Dryad’s face.
Clang, clang. After a few clear rings, the Dryad’s vines began to droop as if drained of strength.
“Ah.”
He was free. Ian clutched his bruised wrist and managed to get to his feet. All the while, the Dera continued to leap up and strike the Dryad’s face.
“Whether you’re cutting it down or picking its fruit, you gotta knock it out first. Otherwise, your eardrums will burst. I’m not exaggerating. If you’re a bit weak, you’ll bleed from your eyes, nose, and mouth.”
CLANG!
As if that was enough, the Dera turned toward Beric. The squid was sprawled on the ground, glaring daggers. Hah, should I help him or not? The hesitation was plain to see, but it didn’t last long.
“I’ll let you live since you said you’re from the Imperial Palace. Got it?”
If any trouble started here, he’d surely get entangled in something tedious.
The Dera deliberately stepped on Beric’s head before turning to strike the other Dryad’s face.
CLANG!
Beric’s ankle was also released.
Beric violently stomped on the branch, crushing it, then rushed over to Ian. His wrist was a mess, and he was covered in scratches from being dragged.
“Ian, are you okay? Whoa, you look like hell.”
“It’s fine, Beric. I’m alright.”
“Hey, you two. From the Imperial Palace, you said?”
The Dera pointed his hammer at them, his voice sharp with warning.
“I don’t know what you’re here for, but we have lived here since the beginning of Bariel. We will not tolerate any disruption to our lives. Above all, we are the victims in what has happened.”
As a beastman, he seemed especially wary. That was one of the reasons they had let it slide when humans made a ruckus on Mount Raza or occasionally stole things.
Even if they made an official complaint, who would listen to the claims of a mole-man? Shouldn’t they be grateful they weren’t being driven out as monsters?
“Victims? The true victim is my subordinate, who got lost on this mountain and was struck with a hammer by your people.”
Ian grasped the Dera’s position and circumstances in an instant but feigned ignorance and pressed the point.
“…Subordinate?”
The Dera’s button-like eyes narrowed. He looked back and forth between Ian and Beric.
No matter how you looked at it, they were a combination of a boy who hadn’t yet had his coming-of-age ceremony and a burly, ill-tempered man. The blond kid was the superior?
“…Then again, judging by the way you speak, it seems plausible. When I heard a common ruffian was from the Imperial Palace, I did wonder if the country was going to the dogs.”
“What? You finished talking?!”
As Beric lunged forward, the Dera took a stance, ready to fight. Ian stepped lightly between them.
“Do you know someone by the name of Lien?”
“Who?”
The Dera froze. He seemed to be wondering what on earth Ian was talking about.
To gain the trust of a reclusive and wary opponent, one often needed the right kind of external leverage. Ian smiled faintly and continued.
“Lien. Her name may have changed, but she surely exists in the memory of the Dera tribe. The one who inherited the blood of the Dryad, who fled after cutting down her own mother. I heard she was close with you all, too.”
And finally, the name of that piece of scrap metal that no unrelated person could possibly know.
“She told me she also received a Dripper.”
“…!”
“Don’t feel too bad. Lady Lien owed me a debt, and I received it as repayment. In any case, it is a pleasure to meet the renowned masters of Mount Raza. Let us introduce ourselves.”
Ian extended his hand and introduced himself.
“I am Ian Hielo, Minister of Magic of Bariel. The one over there, who was struck by your hammer, is Sword Master Beric of the Imperial Royal Guard.”
You’re so dead, Beric mouthed, making obscene gestures with both hands. The Dera wrinkled his nose at the sight but shook Ian’s hand without another word.
“…Pim.”
“What a fucking weird name.”
“Your face is weirder.”
“Hey, now! Look who’s talking!”
Pim² casually ignored Beric and beckoned with his head. He wanted to hear more about Lien, and especially about the Dripper.
“Do you have anything to treat your wounds?”
“Of course—! Mmph!”
Beric was about to shout, Who do you take us for? We’ve got plenty of first-aid supplies in this massive backpack! but Ian clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish.
“We would be grateful for your help.”
“This way.”
Swish.
Pim pushed through the undergrowth to lead the way, and Ian gestured with his eyes for Beric to pick up the backpack. The Dera tribe. They lived the same day over and over, yet in the end, they created a different future. They had been invited into their tunnels.
***
Romandro, who had been frantically organizing documents, suddenly lifted his head. The light outside the window was unusually bright today. He could guess at the warm breeze from the slow swaying of the tree branches.
The noon sun shone directly on Ian’s empty seat, illuminating a faint layer of dust. No matter how many times they wiped it, it was like this because no one ever sat there.
Just as Romandro was looking for something to wipe it with…
Knock, knock.
“Lord Romandro. Are you busy?”
“Hm? No, not at all.”
“I’ve come to inform you that it is almost time for the great assembly.”
“Ah, thank you. Let’s go together.”
“Ah, and also…”
Romandro tucked a stack of documents under his arm and gave the man a questioning look. Something had happened.
“What is it?”
“A rather strange carrier pigeon has arrived.”
“Strange?”
“Yes. I believe it would be best for you to check it first before reporting to His Highness.”
The subordinate handed Romandro a single sheet of paper. It was crumpled and creased, as if it carried the full weight of its author’s story.