Enter, Pursued by a Memory
Enter, Pursued by a Memory
Two days after the unexpected meeting with Sheryl and Seneran, we—Asilie and I—had finished the quest registration procedures at the guild and prepared to head for Raviel.
"Right, well, look after the place."
"Take care."
I mounted my horse, seeing off Yen Tie, whom I'd ended up hiring at the perfect moment. After a final check of the new winter gear I'd purchased, I looked down at Laika, who was getting ready to depart beside the horse.
Unlike usual, Laika was wearing clothes. I had spotted something I liked while buying my own new gear and bought it on the spot. Looking again, it suited Laika so well that I found it deeply satisfying.
"You're not uncomfortable?"
Laika looked up at me, kitted out in something like a tactical vest for military dogs I'd seen in my past life. Honestly, I was pretty surprised they had something like that here. The merchant had explained it was a quite popular product in kingdoms with many people who train and fight using canine monsters, wolves and the like.
Of course, tailored to otherworldly specs, what was attached to the vest wasn't pouches but leather panels and such that were completely useless to Laika. I'd had those removed and pouches attached, which incurred some extra costs, but that didn't matter at all.
Because it was adorable.
Just as countless cats escaped death on cuteness alone, Laika had used that cuteness to offset the additional expense. According to the merchant—who had made a tidy profit from me and was kind enough to explain—people who used these tactical vests were called monster trainers. Yet the design was so similar to what I remembered from my previous life that it was hard to believe it had arisen independently in this world. It made me wonder whether, besides Siegfried and me, there were more reincarnators than I had thought.
Come to think of it, even just looking at the Empire, there were a few cultural artifacts that seemed to have skipped several stages of civilizational development.
Thanks to that, the possibility that cases like mine, besides the Hero, existed somewhere else on the continent had suddenly jumped. But I decided it wasn't an immediate concern. It could simply be a legacy left behind by past Heroes who'd flowed in, and there was no way to confirm it anyway.
Anyway, after spinning in place with ochre-colored fur and a vest of a similar shade as if it were color-coordinated, Laika gave a few more bouncy hops, cocked the little dog's head, and answered.
[Eh, it's okay.]
...I hadn’t even fed Laika extra Magic Power, yet the vocabulary Laika used to express those emotions seemed to be subtly changing. Had Laika gone and eaten something strange somewhere?
Just as I was about to fall into reasonable suspicion, squinting my eyes, Asilie, who had likewise finished preparing, mounted her horse.
"Will it be alright to leave without greeting Ragnis this time?"
"Ah, I stopped by briefly when I went out to the market, but they said she was away training with Sir Radnelbandes."
Last time I saw her, she was already half-dead from exhaustion. Where and what kind of training she intended to do in this winter was beyond me.
From what Sir Renisa had described, it sounded like a thoroughly spartan curriculum. By the time we met again, she might well have become a genuine 'combat' mage. As we started off at a slow pace and I explained these thoughts and the situation, Asilie gave a peculiar eye-smile.
"You said Ragnis had considerable magical talent, right?"
"From what I heard. Enough to surprise students at the Imperial Academy."
"They say born mages grow at speeds you can't ignore. I'm looking forward to it. How strong will Ragnis become?"
"...Why look forward to that?"
"Her becoming so zealous about magic was largely Eldi's influence, wasn't it? Isn't it obvious that charging into the middle of Demonfolk alone has a lower survival rate than having reliable allies by your side?"
I thought that, given her position as margrave, fighting directly was a bit... but what crossed my mind alongside that was the thought that since she was placed in a situation where she had to prove her own abilities, it might actually be possible.
Ragnis was in a tough spot as it was, and the reality was that most of those around her were just trying to use her.
Honestly, when the royal family used her as a scapegoat to strike at Envelde, I'd wondered if Sir Radnelbandes was part of it too. But seeing how passionately he was training her now, he either had some other intention, was disinterested in politics and hadn't foreseen the fallout she'd suffer, or something similar.
Anyway, aside from Sir Radnelbandes, the only real force genuinely supporting and helping her right now, rather than trying to exploit her, was the Ogatorf household.
Of course, Sir Renisa was a solid ally. And as for myself, I wasn't someone who could stand idly by if something happened to Ragnis. Esmue would also likely provide what help she could within her realistic limits.
But that was all just background for the figure known as Margrave of Levien. Sir Renisa and I couldn't single-handedly slaughter the Demon King's Army, and Esmue couldn't freely abuse the power of an imperial princess to mobilize armies or funds. If the Empire's influence became excessive, that would cause its own problems.
We couldn't provide much help with the manpower and funds Ragnis would need later.
Even if she coordinated with the royal family and reclaimed her territory, what followed wouldn't be a cheerful territory-management life full of laughs. It would be nothing more than the start of new trials and tribulations—protecting a territory that had nothing, while supporting the front lines. And all actions taken to do so, like procuring supplies and securing funds, would ultimately come back to her as debt.
That alone was enough of a headache, but it wasn't the end. If she couldn't guarantee, after reclaiming the lost territory, that it wouldn't be taken again, the most important people would never return.
Trust the margrave's private soldiers and the kingdom's military? Why had they been pushed back before, then, if not for a lack of them? No matter how much one missed their homeland, the ones who truly missed it had mostly died there. Eventually, they'd have to settle refugees pushed from other places into the margraviate, but who would voluntarily walk into a deathtrap? The war that had dragged on for seven years had already reached a point where those who fled could no longer be reassured by normal means.
If this world were a territory-management genre tale with Ragnis at the helm, then countless talents might have flocked to her as vassals, managing to somehow contrive a plausible situation. But with the capital itself suffering from a talent shortage, such a thing wasn't even a dream.
It wasn't a problem one or two people could solve, nor something a few coins could settle. If it were a simple territorial war, maybe, but as long as the enemy was the Demonfolk, what followed after Ragnis was mostly uncertain profits and massive debts. The nobles were aiming to roll over those debts for long-term gains.
Ultimately, the best scenario for her was to personally forge a grand epic that would pass as one of the many story clichés from my past life—the kind where she personally goes out and makes things happen.
Becoming a hero who distinguished herself on the battlefield, possessing both martial and intellectual prowess, gaining wealth, fame, and connections, and laying a solid foundation.
If that really came true, then the idea of her charging the frontlines alongside me, as Asilie had said, wasn't completely out of the question either.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
"Nothing. I was negative about it at first, but thinking it over, I thought maybe it could happen."
"Hohoho. See?"
It felt like for some reason, I was only ending up surrounded by women who knew how to properly fight.
Thinking that at this rate, I'd soon be in no position to say anything to Siegfried, I spurred my horse onward.
◈
It was a goddamn cold day. A fucking frigid day made even worse by a blizzard so strong it put the campfire blazing beside us to shame.
That was just how winter was, but the cold bit even deeper because I'd been spending most of my recent activities in a warm indoors. Maybe it was because I hadn't even planned on experiencing this cold in the first place. I was out here on an unscheduled external request, but I didn't particularly hate it. It was better than dying in some shitty luck.
Abnam, a red-rank adventurer who had been based in Englem but had to flee out to the eastern outskirts—a fate he never wanted—because Eldmia showed his face, knew all too well that a life shivering in the cold was far better than being a corpse that felt nothing.
"Ugh, maybe it's 'cause we're closer to the north than Englem. It's fucking freezing, boss."
One of his subordinates standing watch with him spouted nonsense as his body trembled. Yeah, Raviel was indeed further north than Englem. If some other ignorant bastard had said that, he'd have clicked his tongue, but since it was one of his relatively sharp-witted close men, Abnam just burst out laughing.
"You little shit, your talent for making people laugh with bullshit is top-notch. Throw more firewood on. We're still a long way from being done."
"Rooooger, two nice warm logs coming right up~"
Abnam kicked the clowning subordinate in the backside and told him to add one more log. The man hammed it up even further as he cheerfully obeyed, bringing a little laughter to the bleak atmosphere. He was undeniably useful. It was hard to dislike someone who could play the fool like that and still wield a blade with terrifying skill.
"It's easier, doing guard work after only doing the hard job of butchering people."
"When your body's comfortable, your pockets get tight, you idiot. We wouldn't have done this if there weren't rumors about making money in Raviel."
Just moving the fifteen subordinates alone, not counting those he'd left behind to maintain their business establishment, cost money.
But he couldn't exactly tell the bastards who'd stubbornly followed him when he'd originally intended to flee alone to fend for themselves with their own money. So Abnam naturally had no choice but to find work that could earn money for the group while keeping risk low, all while he himself was lying low.
"In winter, things as dangerous as a berserk monster are rare. For a life-risking job, it's on the cheap side. Didn't they say two other guys got taken out by goblins yesterday?"
"It was orcs."
"Ah, was it? They were slightly more respectable opponents, then."
Fuck. An orc pack near the gate city. It seemed the refugee trail caused by the Demonfolk wasn't exclusive to humans. It was clear he'd be busy for a while even after returning to Englem at this rate, but for the moment, Abnam decided to empty his head and enjoy a not-quite-rest.
But even that didn't go smoothly. The blizzard, which hadn't let up even as he let out a long yawn, threw a mouthful of snow into his maw. Chewing the snow, Abnam frowned and let out a sigh.
"When's this god-awful blizzard gonna let up?"
"You said it... Boss. Someone's coming."
The subordinate who had been giggling and clowning around smoothly but with a remarkably swift motion drew the sword at his waist and spoke. The three other subordinates around him drew their swords as well. Because he trusted them, Abnam, instead of tensing up alongside them, gazed into the forest that was hard to see through the blizzard, putting on a face that said he was bored with everything.
"Can't see well. Two? And mounted, I assume?"
"Yes. One's bulky... and one's a bit slender. Could be a woman."
Raviel officials always traveled by carriage, so they were likely passing travelers, or adventurers who'd taken a request and were coming to provide reinforcements. There was an extremely low possibility they were lunatics approaching to destroy the village, but Abnam didn't bother discussing that possibility.
"Tch. Nice life. Strolling around with a woman in tow. Can't even remember the last time I smelled a pussy."
"You smell it every day, though."
"Sweat smell from you bastards is something I get enough of from my own armpits, dickhead."
He lightly smacked the back of his subordinate's head, and everyone burst out laughing, himself included. Meanwhile, the visitors had pierced through the blizzard and reached their position, which served as a temporary checkpoint. Once close enough to identify the other party, his subordinates simultaneously felt admiration, wariness, and bafflement.
Admiration at the sight of the elf woman, wariness at the warrior beside her. And finally, bafflement at the dog running between the two horses, panting.
Only Abnam, this time too, had to feel a different emotion than his subordinates.
'Fuck, why the hell is Eldmia showing up here?!'
The emotion of terror.
