A Man's Growth, Remarkable to Behold (1)
"…What?"
He had simply slept like the dead.
I overslept? As a butterfly or a bee cannot help itself before a fragrant flower, Lee Han had closed his eyes in the maid's arms without the slightest resistance, and when he opened them it was past eight.
More than eight hours. He could not even remember how many years it had been since he had slept so deeply, and the realization left him dumbstruck.
…Even so.
"I feel incredible."
His mood was as clear as it could possibly be. Something warm lingered at the edge of his senses, something that cleared his head beyond all words.
It smelled of lilac. Fresh lilac, the kind that opens in spring just after the rain, when the buds have only just unfurled.
"…Ahem."
The scent still clung to the tip of his nose. Heat rose in his face as he set down feet that felt strangely light.
"Nureongi. Let's eat."
He meant to share that warmth, and to treat his guard dog gently for once.
Except…
"Hm?"
Gentle treatment or not, Nureongi—no, Orthrus—was asleep with its eyes rolled back. It lay sprawled as if it had lost consciousness, and it looked to be sleeping very thoroughly indeed.
"Why are you sleeping all twisted up like that?"
A soft shhhk answered him.
"Only the tail's doing its job. I try to treat the thing well, and it turns me down. Typical."
Shhk…
The tail seemed to be trying, somewhat aggrieved, to get something across, but Lee Han left the dog to its life of luxury and moved on to the day's plans.
"Fishing first, then."
For the record, Layla's favorite side dish was fish.
Shaaaa!
Say "a river running down a mountain," and one might expect it to carry itself with a little dignity. Vulcan's river had none of that. It ran as fierce as the Amazon, and one wrong step would sweep a man under and swallow him whole. Even Vulcan's savage, vicious wildlife rarely came down to it. A single mouthful of water could be the last thing you drank in this world.
And yet…
Splash!
People were always chasing extreme sports, or so they said. Lee Han dove into the current like a man mad for the thrill. It was a dive without the slightest hesitation, and for a moment it looked as if the river would simply carry him off.
Slash! Slash!
He swam at his ease and took the fish as he went. His body moved like a dolphin's, and resistance was impossible. Even a giant eel that had no business living in a mountain stream—well over two meters long—was flung out of the water as if it were nothing. Other fish, swollen in size and ferocity under Vulcan's influence, met the same end. Every one of them was caught. Was this even fishing? It was so effortless it looked more like gathering.
And so.
"Hoo."
Drip. Drip.
Vulcan's new predator, soaked to the skin, climbed out with a satisfied look and set to cleaning what he had caught. Fish had to be dressed the moment they were taken, and he was already a little late, so his hands moved without pause.
"…Did I get greedy?"
Gutting them and draining the blood, looking at how many he had taken, a man could learn that he ought not to overreach.
Got excited and went too far.
He was still reflecting on himself when—
Thud.
"—Mind if I help a little?"
"……."
"Looks like a lot for one man."
A soft tread, and a low voice.
"Hm."
Lee Han glanced at him. It was the sort of situation that ought to startle an ordinary man, but Lee Han was not particularly surprised. He simply looked, as if this were to be expected.
A moment later—
"Then I'll take you up on it."
"Hah. In return, grill me a few. I haven't eaten much since yesterday."
"That much goes without saying. Ah—do you drink?"
"Can't drink what I don't have."
"Good."
"Hah!"
The man let out a hearty laugh, settled in at once, drew a dagger from his coat, and started cleaning fish.
Scrape. Scrape.
Clean work. He split the bellies quickly, pulled the guts, and washed out the blood—thoroughly practiced hands. He did not look like a cook, though. If Lee Han had to name him—
"…A mercenary?"
The man's eyes widened a fraction.
"Hm? How'd you know?"
"The dagger says it."
An old dagger, the sort that had clearly been carried a long time. What mattered was not that it was old. It was the mark cut into the blade.
"Standard kit they hand out when you join the mercenary union, isn't it? I got one too. Broke not long after I received it, mind you."
"Hah, how'd you lose it? These are sturdy enough."
"Melted in some spell-slinger's fire while I was fighting him."
"…And what became of that spell-slinger?"
"I beat him to death."
"Splendid!"
The man declared he had heard a thoroughly entertaining story and laughed again, wide and loud.
In that fairly friendly air the two of them finished dressing the fish. The moment they were done, Lee Han gathered firewood and the man struck a flame, and in no time they had whittled skewers and set six fish to roasting. Lee Han shook on a generous amount of the salt he had brought from home, then took out a lemon, cut it in half, and held it out.
"Use it if you want."
"Obliged. More than that…"
"The proof's a bit high."
"Now that I like!"
Somewhere along the way Lee Han had produced a bottle of vodka. Northern-style vodka, a gift from a knight of the North, and something he also carried for medical use.
And then the man—
Gulp!
"…Ah, hell."
He knocked it straight back, and a lament rose out of Lee Han of its own accord. He was already picturing fire pouring from the man's throat.
Sure enough.
"Ghhh—! Th-this is northern vodka! M-my throat…!"
"Even I didn't expect you to drink it straight, uncut. Honestly."
Lee Han moved to hand him water.
But—
"No, I'm fine. You don't foul northern vodka with something like water. This pain has to be put out with the drink itself. That's the courtesy owed to the North."
"…What kind of damn courtesy is that?"
"The North is that sort of place."
"……."
What kind of place was the North, exactly? The stray thought was still turning when the fish finally came out golden-brown. Salted just enough, with a light flick of lemon, and when he tasted one—
"Mm. Not bad."
"This much is a feast."
The skin cracked crisp under the teeth, and the flesh inside was soft. Between the salt and the lemon, the muddy taste peculiar to freshwater fish was almost gone, and because they had been roasted over a wood fire there was a faint smoke to them as well. That was fine too.
The two men ate in quiet, taking the crackle of the fire for music. The fish were large, and they had roasted six of them, and still the two polished off every last one.
If anything—
"Just right."
"Want me to grill more?"
"No. Get old enough and you start eating light."
"You still look hale enough…. Well, I'm in favor of eating light."
He looked as if he could have eaten more.
Crack.
"……."
"Hah. This is good."
Lee Han dried himself blankly in the heat of the fire, and the man wet his throat with vodka, and they did not have anything that could be called a conversation. There was plenty they might have said. They simply did what they were doing, in silence.
And that—
"Nothing you want to ask me?"
—was enough to make the man himself find it strange.
"Something I'm curious about? …Does there have to be?"
"Hmm. Shouldn't there? A suspicious fellow just turned up on Vulcan. You ought to be on your guard."
"Calling yourself suspicious is a bit…"
"…Huh."
The man could not tell whether this was boldness or simple numbness, and let out a baffled little laugh.
To Lee Han it was only natural.
"This mountain has no owner. What does it matter who climbs it? You can run into another climber by chance."
"Hah. That thought's the stranger one."
"Strange how? More than that, you haven't shown a scrap of hostility the whole time. I don't feel like wasting energy being wary of a man like that for no reason."
"You're certain there's no hostility?"
"I trust my gut."
"You've a quality that matters in a warrior."
The man nodded, as if admitting he bore no ill will.
Even so.
"…Still, I ought to say this. I did come to meet you."
…?
"I'd heard about you. Wanted to meet you once, so I climbed Vulcan on purpose. This mountain is still a damned hard climb, hah."
"It shouldn't be that hard, should it?"
The terrain was rough, he would grant that, but hardly so rough that a master of that caliber ought to be complaining. Lee Han put the question with that meaning in it, and the man wore a bitter smile.
"You don't seem to know. Vulcan isn't a mountain just anyone can climb. Only a Hero acknowledged by Vulcan may."
"…Me?"
"You think they call it a spirit mountain for nothing? This mountain chooses its people. No—it keeps them from climbing at all."
"You sure you're not mistaken? My students climbed it."
"Because you brought them. That's why the mountain allowed it."
"……."
"Have you ever driven off someone who meant this mountain harm?"
"…A slaver. A bit."
"That would be it, then. I envy you. I never had the chance, and this mountain still hates people. …Four days is probably as long as I can stay. Any longer, and the mountain will try to kill me. Hahaha!"
"……."
He laughed, hearty again, and each time the trees around them shook for an instant. Wild beasts that had been drawn toward the river by the smell of fish on the fire flinched as one and began to back away. He had shown his presence only once, and that presence called to mind the wind across a wilderness.
…Why a wilderness, of all things?
Lee Han was less startled by the man's overwhelming presence than privately puzzled that the image had come to him at all. The man seemed to live so openly, so gladly, and yet the solitude of a vast empty plain showed through him.
And then—
BOOM!!
The man brought his hand down hard on a rock standing beside him and seized Lee Han's attention.
"It wouldn't do to take such fine drink and food and never give my name. Good to meet you, Ihan Turtle. Fine warrior who beat that moron Edmund."
Crack…!
He had only struck with his palm, and the rock began to break. No—not merely break.
Crumble.
Weighted Strike Method?
A technique that called Baltar's Weighted Strike Method to mind was destroying the rock from the inside, not the surface. Lee Han could have done it himself if he set his mind to it, but to do it so casually from a seated posture would be a little tricky.
Where did a man like this come from….
To put it plainly—
He's above the marquis. Above that man.
A strength that might well surpass Marquis Jenimia. Curiosity about the stranger stirred in Lee Han despite himself, and as if to answer it, the man revealed who he was.
"Good to meet you, young man. My name is Caesar. Caesar de Wolf. I lead a small mercenary company, and out in the world they also call me…"