The World Tree
The World Tree
The journey of about a week after leaving the Mekelin territory could not have been more peaceful.
There was no pursuit charging after me swearing vengeance for Count Mekelin, no assassins after my life, no passing elf hunters appearing, and no getting tangled up in the fucked-up schemes of demon worshippers.
There were only small-time bandits, as common as stones on the roadside.
"Hyaaak!! R-run! It's Eldmia Ega!"
"The Whistling Demon has appeared!!"
With bandits appearing without fail every single day during the week of travel, I had forgotten to even get angry and blew my whistle with a businesslike attitude, sending my needles flying. Seeing their wailing echo even louder, I couldn't help but sigh.
"Wow, Itisel was mild compared to this. What's with all these bandit bastards?"
I said that, but I already knew the reason. As if this were some Warring States-era Japan, the western kingdoms and the nobles under them fought tooth and nail practically every day, and people who were slash-and-burn farmers and bandits rolled into one were springing up like weeds after rain.
The problem was that the landmass here wasn't small, so their numbers were at a level that truly couldn't be ignored.
Contrary to my expectation that things would improve once we left the borderlands, their numbers only increased the farther inland we went. Maybe the hooded elves looked like pilgrims, because most of the bastards charged us as if they'd lost all sense of fear.
And having beaten down every single one of them, I had even come to learn their ecology. If you let them live, rather than repenting and trying to live honestly, they crawled off to other groups like goddamn goblins.
"...Now they outright know who you are."
The result was the sorry sight that had just unfolded before my eyes. Just a few days ago they'd mindlessly attack before some tried to flee, but now we'd reached a point where they screamed and bolted from their hiding spots the moment they saw us.
The elves watched the bandits get injured or killed with uneasy expressions, and their gazes seemed to hold all kinds of meaning. Of course, their impressions weren't particularly important to me. I grumbled as I blew a hole through the shoulder of the bastard who had called me the Whistling Demon.
"Comparing people to cockroaches, the fucker."
Killing him might have been the better choice to stop that bizarre nickname from spreading, but for a bastard who had immediately fled while leaving behind the ones who'd drawn their swords against me, that felt like excessive treatment, so I held back. Watching the scene, Cellevian burst into a hollow laugh and shook his head.
"We're almost at the city, and who would've thought we'd run into bandits."
"...It's a complete shitshow."
Of course, even that 'almost' was by elven senses, but it was close by human standards too. A distance an ordinary person could reach in half a day on foot.
Just pass the city whose outline I could now barely make out in the distance, and we would reach that 'forest located not far away' that Cellevian had mentioned. But because we'd been dealing with bandits the whole damn time, the sun was already about to set, so we ended up staying an extra day in the city.
At least I was less pissed since I could cover the lodging costs by looting the bandits' pockets.
"Huh, I'm starting to understand why that orange-haired magic girl used to loot bandits... no, was it auburn hair?"
Recalling memories of my past life that were now growing hazy, I gathered up the visible valuables and hurried my steps before the city gates closed.
Fortunately, the elves were thoroughly accustomed to walking, so we arrived faster than ordinary people. The gate inspections seemed to be winding down. The line, made up of adventurers, merchant caravans, and farmers who had come to sell village byproducts, was longer than I'd expected.
"We'll get in quickly."
"...Indeed."
Well, 'quickly' by elven standards, anyway. I had so much I wanted to say, but what was the point of picking that fight with elves who'd barely just come out to see the world, so I let it slide appropriately. When we stood at the back of the line, the caravan owner ahead of us, who'd been yawning endlessly with a disinterested face, greeted us with a good-natured smile.
"Oh my, hello there! Good thing you came before the city closed up."
His attitude was more about being pleased to have a new conversation partner than any ulterior motive, so I smiled and returned the greeting.
"We ran into some bandits on the way here, so I didn't think it was all that good, but hearing you say that, there is a bright side."
"Ah! So you came through where those godforsaken bastards are? Truth be told, I ran into 'em on the way here too. Lucky for me they were the type that just take a toll, though. The cold sweat I broke out in then still hasn't dried."
Ah, so this man had a stake in the money sitting in my pocket. While the elves' gazes shifted toward where my coin purse was, I appropriately humored his words and continued the conversation.
"Did you just arrive recently?"
"Not quite. The line was awfully long. But this city's fairly big for these parts. Thing is, the line was moving along real well until suddenly it's completely jammed and not budging."
"Think some troublemaker is holding things up?"
"Come to think of it, there was a bit of a commotion... hey, wine friend! Caught wind of anything?"
Apparently I wasn't the only one he was talking to, as he waved his hand toward a person who looked to be four or five teams ahead of us and shouted a question. Wait, did they all gather for a meal or something in between? How the hell did he chat with someone that far ahead?
Anyway, the man called wine friend turned at his call, cupped his hands around his mouth, and answered.
"The guard's in an uproar! Seems some big shot showed up!"
Ha, a fucking noble. Then getting jammed up because they were kicking up a finicky fuss made sense. The caravan owner seemed to think the same, briefly met my eyes and shrugged, then asked once more.
"Did a noble show up!"
The people in between should have been bitching about the noise, but perhaps everyone had gotten curious, as they just listened in on the two's conversation. It was a rather amusing sight, and while I was laughing briefly, an unexpected answer burst from the wine friend's mouth.
"I dunno! Eledemia Degara or Ega or something!"
"...Fuck?"
A curse spilled from my lips aloud without me even realizing. At that, the slightly startled caravan owner looked at me with a face where curiosity and puzzlement coexisted, and asked.
"A name you know?"
"...Quite... well... I know it."
Because it's me, goddammit.
Instantly, the memory of the fucked-up impostor I'd dealt with at the Itisel Adventurer's Guild came flooding back, and my expression rotted on the spot.
No, I mean, what the fuck is there to mooch off here that an impostor popped up?
"I think I'd better go take a look."
"Oh-oh, be careful now!"
I appropriately acknowledged the warm concern of the caravan owner who treated me so kindly despite being a first acquaintance, and stepped forward. The gazes of the people standing in line with discontented expressions focused on me, then turned away at high speed as if they'd seen something they shouldn't have.
That was how perfectly my face reflected my mood at the moment. Not that I had any intention of hiding it.
"...Hoping we'll do the same here?"
The murmuring grew louder the closer I got to the gate. By the time my eyes confirmed that the line, which had been continuing normally, was cut off with a wide gap from the gate as if there were hazardous materials there, I could make out the back of the unidentified person's head who was confronting a dozen or so guards.
He was big, and the axe and sword on his back were correspondingly large. Though they were only a one-handed axe and a one-handed sword, they were made to match that massive frame and were quite hefty.
"W-wait! I told you from the start, if you'd at least show me the identity guarantee badge from the Lord of Kelbast..."
"You mean I should go all the way back to look for something I lost while fighting Count Mekelin's knights? It'd be faster to just smash through here."
Huh, was the rumor already spreading? Honestly, I'd thought it was some motherfucker pulling a scam based on what happened in Kelbast, but this was a motherfucker with exceptional intel at least.
I couldn't see his face, but judging by how the guards were going pale and readjusting their grip on their spears, he must have been scowling. What a goddamn pathetic sight. But the even more preposterous sight was the two knights standing in front of them.
Those bastards were cowering too. It was so utterly ridiculous that the curse slipped right out.
"Oh for fuck's sake, you muppets. You call yourselves knights and you're pissing yourselves just at the name of some brat? Does that even make sense?"
The moment I stepped forward, both the murmuring that had been happening and the trembling movements of the city forces confronting the fake Eldmia stopped dead.
"...Brat?"
The only one moving there was the big fake Eldmia. As if aiming to exude intimidation, the bastard slowly turned his body, and his face was truly menacing.
And far uglier than me.
"Fuck, with that face calling him a brat is a bit off. Should've called him a bastard who looks like a bandit chief."
"...Are you saying that knowing I'm Eldmia Ega?"
The moment he turned to glare at me, I heard the sound of the already backed-up line retreating even further. Wondering what was up, I looked back and saw everyone had fallen back as if they believed the fake Eldmia and thought they'd seen something terrifying.
Among them was Cellevian's group, who had leisurely followed along and were watching with interest as if enjoying the world's most entertaining show. Fucking hell, seriously.
"I'll bet my goddamn hand that you are not Eldmia Ega. What can you bet? Your life?"
"Ha, it seems Cacula’s axe, following on the blood of knights, gets to drink the blood of a whelp who's lost his guts too."
This bastard, maybe he was actually an actor with a face like that? At that level, he had to be seen as either a genuine madman who believed he was me, or a theater actor deep into method acting. When he drew the axe from his back and showed it off, even the guards and knights fell back as if he were about to cast some kind of spell.
"Haaah..."
I mean, even if Kakula was an orc bastard, at least have a battle axe.
Wielding a slightly large woodcutter's axe and going on about Kakula was so absurd I couldn't even laugh.
"Hey there... Mr. Fake Eldmia. First off, this axe was taken from Kakula, not ‘Cacula.’ More importantly, there's a ton of shit I hate, and very recently, a new thing got added to that list. You know what that is?"
"Fake...what?"
When I said that, gripping the genuine Kakula's axe on my back, the bastard's eyes went to the axe. Apparently he'd been going around impersonating me without even knowing properly what the axe looked like, because the sentiment that appeared on his face wasn't doubt or anything, but just something like 'Are you seriously gonna try me?'
"That would be impersonators, you motherfucker!"
And that became the last sentiment the bastard ever felt in his life.
I closed the distance in a flash, charged at him, and poured my rage into swinging the axe down onto the crown of his skull.