“Get a move on!”
“I’m going, aren’t I? I told you to stop pushing!”
“Tsk, you’re all lagging behind.”
Langdres’s men, handaxes at the ready, led the way up the mountain. But with each man dragging his feet, their pace was painfully slow.
Langdres kicked his men’s backsides repeatedly, urging them to hurry. At this rate, they’d be heading back down with nothing to show for their efforts.
“Boss, how much further do we have to go?”
“Just as far as we’ve already come. Keep your eyes peeled for the Dryad, and don’t ask any more questions! I’m exhausted.”
Sweat dripped endlessly from Langdres’s fleshy chin. He was at his limit. It was a miracle that a man of his size, for whom walking itself was an ordeal, had even made it this far.
One of the men glanced at his struggling boss and whispered to the man next to him.
“So, what’s so special about this Dryad wood that’s got him so worked up?”
Judging by the way he was pushing himself to tag along, it had to be worth a pretty penny. But when he’d seen it back in the warehouse, it hadn’t looked any different from a regular pile of firewood.
“You didn’t know? Burn a piece of that, and it’ll last for a good two months.”
“What? Two months? You mean it doesn’t burn?”
“Oh, it burns, but very, very slowly. In the winter, three bundles are all you need to get by. That’s why the folks in the market are always begging for even a single branch, and the passing merchant caravans pay a handsome price for it. I don’t know the details, but apothecaries seem interested too, so it must have some medicinal use.”
“Huh, that’s something else.”
So that was it. Otherwise, there was no way the boss would have endured such a miserable climb up the mountain. He was probably just here to make sure none of them tried to pocket a branch for themselves.
“Think it’ll be easy to cut? I heard it lets out a sound that can shatter your eardrums every time you strike it with an axe.”
“Yeah. A few guys have gone deaf from it.”
The man glanced back at Langdres. Sure enough, wads of white cloth were stuffed into his ear canals.
“But it should be fine right after the Mole-kin come out of their tunnels.”
“Why’s that?”
“Every few months, they come to harvest the Dryad’s fruit. The Dryad only screams when someone tries to take its fruit. When there’s nothing to protect, it’s as quiet as if it were asleep. That’s why he’s trying to time the chopping for right then.”
“Ah, I see.”
If not for that, the boss would have been up here every other day, trying to chop the Dryad down. A man obsessed with money like him would never leave a gold mine untapped, would he?
Just then, one of the men at the front waved his hand.
“Boss! We’ve got tracks!”
“Tracks? What kind of tracks?”
“Footprints! And the undergrowth is a bit trampled. Looks like they went this way. Uh, two people.”
“Not Mole-kin?”
“No, sir. They’re human. The width of the foot is about right.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Langdres’s eyes gleamed with greed. Could it be Holt and that outsider who went missing this morning? Or two outsiders? He flicked his fingers, signaling them to follow the trail.
Rustle.
Snap, crackle!
Not far from there, they found a deep pit trap and two men sprawled on the ground. It was Holt and a red-haired stranger.
“Holt! Are you okay?”
“Good heavens, what happened here?”
“Who’s this guy? Holt, snap out of it.”
While his men shook Holt awake, Langdres opened the man’s heavy-looking backpack.
It was stuffed to the brim with dried meat. He casually pulled one out to eat while rummaging through the contents. The man was clearly an outsider, yet he didn’t have a single decent set of clothes.
“Hm?”
A thick pouch! Langdres instinctively felt its weight, and his breath caught when he saw the glittering gold coins inside.
My, oh my. What is this? For a moment, he was so overjoyed he thought he might faint, but then he spotted an identification card at the bottom of the bag.
- Beric, Sword Master, Imperial Royal Guard.
“…!”
“Boss. What should we do with this one?”
“Shh! Shhh!”
One of his men grabbed Beric by the hair and gave his head a light shake, causing Langdres to panic and wave his hands frantically. That idiot!
“Let go of him, now!”
“Huh? Ah, yes, sir.”
The Imperial Royal Guard was the most elite unit, tasked with protecting the Emperor himself, wasn’t it? And a Sword Master, no less? The kind of warrior who, with a single swing of their sword, could split the earth and, with a second, tear the heavens asunder?
With trembling hands, Langdres calmly assessed the situation. His hands weren’t shaking because of the gold anymore; they were shaking because his own life was now on the line.
It looks like Holt ran into a Sword Master by chance and, not knowing who he was, tried to swindle him, only to get taken down himself. But why is the Sword Master out cold? And what is someone from the Imperial Palace doing all the way out here? This doesn’t make any sense.
“Boss?”
“…Kill him.”
“Ah, yes. Understood.”
At Langdres’s mumble, one of his men tightened his grip on his handaxe.
“No, not him! Holt.”
“What? Holt?”
“What are you waiting for? Kill him. If you don’t, we’re all dead. This man is a Sword Master from the Imperial Royal Guard.”
It was a classic case of cutting off loose ends. By killing Holt, he could prove they had no connection to the one who tried to cheat the Sword Master.
The story would be simple: the Sword Master was tricked and taken down by an unknown assailant, and Langdres and his men just happened to find him and lend a helping hand. Yes. That was the most plausible scenario.
“And we’re taking this man back to the manor.”
“Are we heading down? What about the Dryad?”
“Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how much this man is worth? We’re pulling out!”
What to do about the backpack? Should he lie and say it wasn’t there? No. His opponent was a Sword Master. There was no telling what abilities he might possess. A reckless lie could make things worse. For now, it was best to be cautious. With a heart full of sorrow, Langdres put the pouch of gold coins back into the backpack, tied it securely, and handed it to one of his men.
“We’re heading down the mountain!”
“D-Down the mountain…”
“You two, take care of Holt properly and then come down.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Tch. He didn’t feel good about ordering the death of a man who, just yesterday, had eaten and slept alongside them. But what could he do? Such was the life of a slave. They lived without a say in their lives and died without a say in their deaths.
The man spat on his palm, then firmly pinned Holt’s head to the ground with his foot.
***
“I’m starving.”
The words escaped Beric’s lips unconsciously as he opened his eyes. He patted his stomach, which felt hollow. It had clearly been a long time since his last meal. Staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling, Beric wondered, Why am I here? Where is this place?
…Ah! That Mole-kin bastard clocked him with a hammer, didn’t he? As the completely forgotten memory resurfaced, Beric shouted and threw off the blanket.
“Those sons of bitches! You’re dead!”
If there was one thing he believed in, it was paying back a blow for a blow. Just as Beric grabbed his Black Sword, which was placed neatly in the corner of the room—
Creak!
“You’re awake, sir?”
As if they had been waiting, servants flooded into the room, carrying clean clothes and a tray laden with food.
“Huh?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“The hell is this?”
“Our master found you unconscious and brought you here. Did something happen in the forest? We had to open your backpack to confirm your identity, so please don’t be too offended. Oh, but first, you should eat. It’s been a full two days since you were brought here.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He had been unconscious for two whole days? Beric grimaced, pressing his fingers into his still-throbbing temples. He remembered the hammer that had struck him. It had looked ordinary, but it had to have been a special item. What was it?
Ah, who cares. Beric naturally took the tray and grabbed the bowl of rice. Without a hint of suspicion, his attention was completely captivated by the meat soup before him.
“Please enjoy your meal. I will go and fetch the master.”
“Hey. Wait a minute.”
“Yes?”
“More food.”
“…?”
He had emptied the rice bowl in just a couple of spoonfuls. The servant rubbed his eyes, unsure if he had seen correctly. When the servant didn’t move, Beric seemed to have a moment of realization and nodded slightly.
“I get it, I get it. You gotta pay for your meal. Here, take it.”
Clink!
Three gold coins spun through the air. By his standards, that should be more than enough for one meal.
The servant scrambled to catch the coins and backed out of the room. In truth, it was more like he fled.
Thump, thump!
“What’s that noise? Sounds like a wild boar is charging this way.”
“Oh, Sir Sword Master! You’ve finally come to your senses!”
“Heh. It really is.”
Having heard that Beric was awake, Langdres rushed into the bedroom. His hands were clasped tightly together, and his back was bent in a deep bow.
Beric held up the empty bowl by way of greeting.
“You the owner of this house?”
“Yes, yes. Are you feeling alright? What on earth happened? If we hadn’t found you in the forest, it would have been a disaster—”
“Thanks for the help, but you’re seriously short on food. I paid, so keep the meat coming, don’t stop. Beef would be great. You got any?”
Beric waved his hand dismissively, as if explaining the situation was too much of a hassle. He wasn’t the type to recount the events on the mountain in detail, and besides, he needed to fill his stomach quickly so he could go hunt down some moles.
Langdres seemed taken aback by his unexpected behavior for a moment, then simply broke into a hollow laugh.
“That’s the ‘I’m short on cash’ laugh. I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
“I apologize for bringing this up as soon as we’ve met, but we aren’t particularly well-off. We had to hire a doctor and an apothecary to treat you, Sir Sword Master… and my people couldn’t even work because they were taking turns watching over your bedside.”
“Ugh, you talk too much. Let’s just get to the point. So, how much?”
“T-Ten gold coins should suffice.”
“Fuck, what a rip-off…”
Even as he muttered the curse, Beric flicked the gold coins toward Langdres. In any case, he had received help, so it was up to the other party to name the price.
In reality, no doctor or apothecary had ever been called, but Langdres cheered inwardly as he picked up the gold coins.
See? There was no need to take such a risk! As expected of someone from the Imperial Palace, he sure is a big spender!
Beric drank the meat soup down to the last drop, carefully observing the man who claimed to be the master of the house.
“Hm?”
Strangely, his eyes were drawn to Langdres’s tunic. It was so tight it looked like he’d stolen it from a child, and the seams on the back were completely split open. But still…
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“That. Is that your shirt?”
“Ah, yes, yes. It is mine. We haven’t touched a single one of your belongings, Sir Sword Master.”
It looked familiar. It was worn and stained, making it hard to discern its original color and shape, but it was incredibly familiar to his eyes. It wasn’t like it had a unique pattern or anything; it was just an ordinary-looking garment.
“Hmm. Why is that?”
“W-What is it, sir?”
“Come closer.”
Langdres hesitated for a moment before shuffling cautiously toward Beric. With each step he took, the frown on Beric’s face deepened. Huh? What’s this?
Clang—!
Beric tossed the tray aside and buried his nose in Langdres’s tunic. Sniff, sniff. At the blatant sniffing, Langdres shrieked and covered his body with his hands.
“Aaargh! Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Stop being so dramatic. Hold still. This is disgusting for me too, you know? This smell, it’s so…”
“You can’t do this!”
“Goddammit, seriously. Then take off the shirt.”
“The shirt? Me? Why?”
Beric gripped the struggling Langdres firmly by the shoulders and focused on a stained patch. Looking closer, he realized it was blood. And it was a scent he knew all too well.
“…Ian.”
Grip.
It was Ian’s. Years had passed, but it was the scent of blood he could never forget.
Beric grabbed Langdres by the collar and growled.
“Gack! My goodness! I-I have no idea why you’re doing this—”
“You. Where did you get this?”
“…What? What thing?”
“This shirt! Fuck. The one that got its side ripped to shreds because of you bastards!”