Dreams, Memories, Voices. (4)
The procession of mountain folk seemed endless. They entrusted everything they owned from the highlands to Recor Dak—bundles on their backs, carts loaded with grain, livestock they'd raised.
—It's not much, but please take good care of us.
—Thank ya kindly! We won't cause no trouble!
—Hey! Say hello proper-like.
—H-hello...
Ifrin heard those simple, earnest voices flickering in the air.
They reminded her of her own rural childhood.
"...".
Memories? Or recollections she didn't want to dwell on? Lost in thought for a moment, Ifrin soon turned to Deculein.
"Warden."
He called over one of the wardens.
"Yes, Professor."
"From now on, select the commoners I choose."
"Pardon? Ah, yes! Understood!"
Ifrin watched Deculein intently.
He first scanned the surging crowd of residents with meticulous care. Then he singled one out, and the warden shouted on his behalf.
"Hey! You there! Come here!"
"...Pardon?"
"Come."
"Ah, yes..."
The residents caught in Deculein's radar were sorted into a nearby clearing. They all wore frightened expressions.
"You there! You too!"
After that, he picked people like he was selecting livestock.
"You as well!"
"You, come here!"
"Come quickly! No hesitating!"
The mountain folk numbered easily over ten thousand, but fewer than a hundred were marked by Deculein.
"Huh? Jupan!"
Among them was a kid Ifrin had met once before.
His name was Jupan. Occupation: herbalist. A gutsy little guy who, even in the near future, would still be scraping by in the northern mountains.
Mixing equal parts fondness and worry, Ifrin said,
"What're you doing here?"
"This area's my hometown originally."
"Ah~ But you've got fast legs—you coulda run away, right?"
Jupan shook his head. His face was dry and emotionless, unusual for a kid.
"Got six little sibs."
"...Ah. I see. That's a ton... Everyone make it here safe?"
"Yep."
"Good thing—hey!"
Someone shoved Ifrin then. Deculein.
"This will do. No more selections."
"Yes."
The warden nodded. Ifrin wondered why these people had been chosen.
Deculein spoke.
"Each of you, write down any notable skills you possess and submit them. Duties will be assigned based on those skills, with commensurate rewards."
He had sorted those who caught the eye of a great magnate.
Being worth money meant, in other words, being useful.
Even non-named individuals surely had their talents and specialties.
"You're something else?"
A voice called out then, footsteps approaching. Ifrin turned that way.
"...Even taking in commoners reeking of dirt."
Ihelm, Julie, and Deculein's other peers from the academy. They watched the procession with varied expressions.
—Warden! Take this fer ya. Heh heh. It'll taste good.
—Hee hee. As thanks~ We would've been goners without you folks.
Deculein silently received the skill lists from the selectees. Ifrin sneaked a peek at the contents.
Herbalists, archers, woodcutters, apothecaries, shamans, hunters... Plenty of highland specialties.
"Hey, Deculein?"
Ihelm spoke again. Deculein clicked his tongue in annoyance and replied.
"Labor is required, nothing more."
"...Hm? Labor? Supplies are... Ah. From the food these commoners brought? Looks a bit short, though?"
"That is no concern of yours."
Ihelm frowned ambiguously but nodded grudgingly.
"Fair enough. You've always said commoners are a class that dies in place of nobles... Dying in their stead counts as labor, I suppose."
Julie flinched slightly at that, but Deculein offered no rebuttal. Truth be told, it was a sentiment he could somewhat agree with, personality-wise.
To the warden glancing nervously, Deculein said,
"Distribute transit passes for Recor Dak to the selected commoners. They have much to do."
"Yes! Right away!"
Deculein's acceptance of the mountain folk sparked much talk. It was that exceptional a situation, but the imperial knights who had seen his ideology and actions in the conference hall earlier didn't take it positively.
"Still, with more people, even if things go south, you buy time to escape... That's probably why he took them in."
"What changes with thousands of commoners? Just more mouths to feed."
"Nah. Even one second per person adds up plenty. Plus, they brought all their worldly goods packed up. Use that for supplies, dump the risky jobs on them—best of all worlds, right?"
"Hm... True. Considering that professor's cleverness..."
Such whispers blew through the somber Recor Dak like wind, but Deculein paid them no mind.
No—he knew the rumors but made no effort to quash them.
He simply added their names quietly to the kill list.
...A long tail chokes a man to death.
Like a noose.
In any case, part of Recor Dak's grounds were redeveloped with the residents' entry.
Ifrin, Drent, Ihelm's squad, and various imperial mages—fewer than forty in total—conjured hundreds of communal housing units in a flash.
"...Whoa."
Along with that, Recor Dak's new headquarters was finally complete.
Julie, Reylie, every knight—they all looked up at the structure.
"A building like this... It's too good for the front lines, isn't it? Kinda get why that professor threw such a fit... How much would it cost if this got wrecked? How much down the drain?"
Too tall and it'd attract flying beasts, so the headquarters' height was moderate.
Its broad, sturdy facade evoked the North and winter in pure white, accented by sparse black Yukline engravings for an antique touch.
Trees grew nearby like a natural barrier, and to either side sprawled dorms, armories, training halls, and more facilities.
"...He really poured the investment in. Heh."
Even imperial knight Delik let out a hollow chuckle.
Just then, Deculein appeared.
At the new headquarters' entrance, he said,
"Everyone, enter. Assignments of individual offices for knights and mages begin now."
Not just knights and mages—the Red Garnet adventurers and Premien among other uninvited guests followed him too.
...Office assignments were based on merits at Recor Dak.
I lined up hundreds of knights in order by objective metrics and granted fitting offices.
"Where do we adventurers bunk?"
"I haven't been assigned yet either."
But these were unexpected.
Lia, Leo, Premien. They'd trailed me persistently, then asked with grumpy faces as assignments wrapped.
"The barracks."
"As deputy security chief, don't I need an office?"
"Right, yeah. Us too. We're an adventure team. Our members'll arrive soon."
"...".
I glanced at Ifrin. Half-asleep, she yawned hugely—haaawn—and listed the leftovers.
"Third floor, rooms 301, 303, 306 left."
"Take your pick. First come, first served."
"Ack, got it! Leo! C'mon! I scoped 'em out!"
"Okay!"
Lia and Leo bolted at her words. Premien snagged their ankles with magic.
Thud—!
"Ugh!"
"Ow!"
The deputy chief in her early thirties smirked smugly at the kids sprawled on the ground.
"...Hey! What the heck!"
"Hmph. Yielding is a virtue, brats. 303's biggest—take 301 or 306."
"Ain't no such rule! Let go!"
Ignoring their bickering, I opened my office door.
—Let go!
—Watch your tone.
—Grr... Leo! Get ready!
—Okay!
—Stay put... You wanna try me? Stop right there.
—Run!
—Hey. I said stop. Hey.
Something chaotic brewed outside, but the interior was satisfactory.
Hardly different from Tower floor 77. I'd decorated it familiar on purpose.
"Ooh. Totally like 77. Miss it already. Feels like a couple months passed. Three?"
"Your spot's here."
I tapped a desk.
"Okay, where..."
Ifrin's face stiffened instantly.
"...".
A secretary's desk in one corner.
Allen's old seat.
Snort!
Ifrin made a piggy snuffle and turned away.
Sniff—sniff—
Sniff—sniff—
She sniffled obnoxiously several times, then sat with her back still turned.
"...Sorry. I'm sorry."
Her reddened eyes were annoying, but I said nothing.
I began writing immediately. Drafting a dispatch for the palace.
To Sophien and the ministers—a matter of some import...
...Scratch scratch.
...Scratch scratch.
The fountain pen's scribble.
Ifrin slowly closed her eyes, then opened them.
Haaaawn—
She stretched her stiff shoulders with a yawn.
"Ah, almost got caught."
All thanks to that white noise.
"Nngh..."
Hand to her nape for a stretch, more yawns, then she jolts and mutters.
"Ah. No way. I absolutely didn't nap. Just tired... Huh?"
Ifrin belatedly looked around. Her eyes widened.
It wasn't the office.
"Here..."
This was the old Luna estate.
Yes, back when the family still had the house. Before Gilteon took it...
"...My room."
Ifrin blankly surveyed the room. She'd never noticed before, but it was pretty spacious.
Bed. Carpet. Wardrobe—luxuries too...
"Come again."
"!"
Ifrin snapped her head up.
At the door: Deculein—no, Mokgangcheol.
"Phew... You scared me."
She patted her chest. Swept the room again and asked.
"This another dream of mine?"
"Indeed. Soon, Dikailen bolstered by the 'Voice' will come."
"...".
Ifrin sat on the bed with a complicated look. Gripped the bedsheet.
The feel and scent of this place tugged at her, even knowing it was a dream. Real or fake, who knew.
"...Hey."
Ifrin looked at Mokgangcheol again. The Deculein-lookalike was reading a book.
Just like Deculein.
"How do you think and move so perfectly like him?"
"Clear mutual understanding with the master, your high-quality abundant mana sustaining me, and above all, this being your dream."
"Mutual understanding?"
"Yes."
Curiosity sparked in Ifrin.
"So, you know everything the professor thinks?"
"Yes. Up until I was given to you—that is, until parting from the master."
"Oho..."
Mokgangcheol turned to her.
"Curious? How the master views you."
"...".
She flinched, body trembling on instinct.
"Wh-what're you saying."
Pretending otherwise, but yeah, she was curious.
What Deculein felt for her... Wait, that sounded weird.
Less 'feelings' and more... 'thoughts'?
"Wait. Can you even tell me?"
"I can."
"How? Professor won't mind?"
"Irrelevant. I live on your mana now. In a sense, you are my new charge."
"Oool~"
Ifrin smirked slyly, waggling her brows.
"Obey me then!"
No reaction.
Mokgangcheol just read.
Making her feel awkward for nothing.
"...Why not obey?"
"Correction: Not master, but child to care for. Thus, I refuse."
"...Jeez."
Ifrin bristled a bit, but couldn't argue. Spot on, hundreds of times over right now.
"Anyway, that is interesting. What the professor and my dad thought of each other. What happened."
Casual tone for a sensitive question. Her father and Deculein.
Mokgangcheol's hand stopped. In turn, Ifrin's pulse spiked.
"...".
"...Why not say? You know? Ah~ Guess not."
"I know."
"...Yeah? What? What is it? Not that curious, but whatever, spill~"
"...".
What did he know? Would he say? She peeked sideways, fiddling with bed toys for show.
Bunny and puppy.
"...".
But no matter how long she waited.
"...".
No words followed.
"...".
Ifrin chewed her lip, looking at Mokgangcheol. He was already staring somewhere.
"...Whatcha doing?"
Suddenly, an alien voice boomed through the space.
The eerie timbre spread.
Ifrin bolted upright, eyes bulging. Part of the wall blackened, metallic aura rising around Mokgangcheol.
"...Who the hell are you."
Phlegm-rattled rasp as the darkness birthed a figure.
A monster resembling Deculein's exterior—no, the one who'd passed his looks to Deculein, but older, more grotesque.
"...Dikailen."
Ifrin spat the name like poison. Mana preheated through her body. Primed to fight any second.
Dikailen smiled.
Sagging, blackened flesh. Corpse-like face twisting grotesquely.
Ifrin nearly retched.
"Shut up!"
Mokgangcheol reached out to silence him. He shot metal at Dikailen, but it phased through—the thing had no substance.
Instead, Mokgangcheol told Ifrin,
"Ifrin, cover your ears."
His warning went unheeded.
Dikailen's voice seeped into her ears.
Ifrin's mind blanked out for a moment.
She unconsciously furrowed her brow.
That much—whatever she'd heard.
Unthinkable nonsense her brain rejected.
To Dikailen pressing on, Ifrin snarled one line.
"Don't spout bullshit, you fucking bastard—!"