Legend of the Southern
Legend of the Southern
In this world, it wasn't as if every name was unique or one-of-a-kind.
What that meant was that somewhere in the world, there really could be an Eldmia, an Ega, an Eldmia Ega. So even if some guy whose jaw I'd just smashed screamed "Eldmia Ega" at the top of his lungs, the guild couldn't exactly stop him, and even if it really did refer to me, all I had to do was call it a joke and they'd have no choice but to let it slide. That was just how the guild had to handle things.
Even the ones who knew what I'd just done had scurried off into the corners like that, so would the guild just stand by and let it happen? It was a shitshow no matter how much they tried to stop it. I understood that much because I wasn't unfamiliar with the misery of being in charge.
So I was careful to hit them without wrecking the guild's property. It wasn't hard. All I had to do was break their jaw in one shot. After I'd beaten three of them, the ones gathered in front of the board voluntarily served up the fake Eldmia, and the whole thing was settled incredibly fast.
"Let me tell you now—the guy who impersonated me in the west got his skull split right in front of the city guard. Don't forget for a second that the biggest reason you're still breathing today is because I didn't catch you pulling that fucking imitation right in front of me."
Along with the fact that even just pretending could get your jaw broken.
The ones who were already too messed up to answer properly nodded frantically and fled the guild, and behind them the dogs who'd only been watching Laika's mood hastily chased after them. I turned toward a familiar face.
"We meet again. At least this time it's under better circumstances."
The guy looked like absolute hell, probably from getting the shit beaten out of him, but he just grinned at my words. Whether he was the type who couldn't stand injustice or whatever, he had genuinely helped with handling the fake Eldmia, so I pulled a gold coin from my pocket and pressed it directly into his hand.
"Get proper treatment."
Whatever his intent, it was also about planting the idea that picking a fight with a fake Eldmia could turn a profit, so I didn't mind the expense at all. Of course, the fact that I'd inadvertently made some decent coin out west played a part too. I waved casually at the guy who was staring in shock at the gold coin, then approached the receptionists. Faces I hadn't seen in a long while mixed with new ones. The looks they gave me made me slightly embarrassed, but to wrap things up, I stated the purpose of my visit.
"I'm Eldmia Ega, returned from supporting the guard request at Raviel pioneer village. I've come to report my results."
I was about a month late, but a report was a report.
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Unlike the new faces who gave me odd looks at my words, the existing receptionists moved fast. Almost as if they'd prepared in advance, I was immediately guided upstairs and took a seat, greeted by guild master Engrim and adventurer Garun.
While I took a chocolate from the tin—which was a lot emptier than the last time I'd seen it—Engrim set various items onto the table and spoke, his thanks formal yet sincere.
"Since it's already been nearly a month, we've shared the broad story with the royal court and have a firm grasp of the situation. Thanks to that, we also know that your contributions were exceptionally great, Eldmia."
Acting humble in that situation would've just been pretentious, so this time I had no choice but to simply nod.
Of course, word had it that there was a considerable share of ungrateful pricks out there claiming the orcs were still causing mayhem because I'd shut the gate and they'd lost their escape route.
But I could guarantee you—the number of orc villages I cut down and left in my wake as I crossed the great grasslands beyond that gate all the way to Kelbast was far greater than the ones that crossed over here, never fewer. If the situation back then, when even wyvern knights had been mobilized and we still couldn't push the front line easily, had dragged on just a few more days, Itisel might very well have faced orcs multiplying like the Soviet army—the kind that after 20,000 tanks got blown up, still cranked out 25,000 more.
Even if the gate's opening was only temporary, it was obvious Kakula, being a shaman, had opened it by shamanistic means. In the end, shamanism was an ability that gained more souls to use the more people died. Which meant if enough orcs died, they could've opened it 'temporarily' again. It would've been an endless wave assault of orcs, day after blood-draining day.
I was told it was Duke Lesrom and Princess Mesina who'd voiced opinions similar to mine and completely steamrolled all the discontent. In a different sense, I'd ended up getting help from two people I really didn't want to owe.
"As such, what we'd like to hear about isn't so much the incident itself, but rather the great grasslands you experienced during your return, Eldmia."
No matter how staggering the coincidence, when you got down to it, orcs—monsters that had been treated as little more than beasts—had attempted a large-scale surprise attack using a gate. Corpses presumed to belong to the Demonfolk were found in the cave where the gate had stood, so the possibility of Demonfolk involvement couldn't be dismissed, but it was also true that Kakula had the ability to repurpose it.
Something we'd thought completely impossible had actually happened, so now they had to prepare thoroughly for the possibility of the same thing recurring. What Engrim wanted to hear from me included my personal opinion on that.
"You want to know if individuals like Kakula are common."
"Exactly. It's not that Itisel has no orcs... but they're very different from the ones on the great grasslands."
When monsters of a certain intelligence maintain their own ecology over a long time, they develop their own form of civilization.
In that process, just as geniuses are born among humans, if a mutant that could be called a genius appeared among monsters, it often accelerated their development. In fact, there was even a historical record of a goblin village that had clumsily begun forging weapons and armor.
Yet their hostility toward humans remained constant, so from the human perspective, they had to constantly exterminate and tear down monsters to stop them from building civilization and becoming a troublesome enemy. It would've been nice if we could drive them to extinction like animals, but like dungeon creation, nobody knew where monsters' roots began, and their seed never dried up. Persistently continuing the pest control was the best choice right now.
And Itisel was a nation that had diligently carried out that pest control. With the Demonfolk right in front of them, if a problem broke out and monsters broke out at the same time, there'd be no answer—so from the nation's founding, they'd always worked adventurers to the bone.
Well, that didn't mean the western kingdoms were lazy. It was just that the great grasslands themselves weren't human territory, so they'd had no choice but to keep their hands off. If anything, you could say they were extremely diligent in that they'd even built a barrier city like Kelbast and served as humanity's defense line.
Nevertheless, Kakula had surged forth. Obviously, they had no choice but to be on guard. But even after understanding all of that, I could say with confidence.
"Personally, I absolutely don't think so."
If pushed, it was more correct to view that bastard as something like a Hero their ancestor god had granted the orcs.
But for that to be the case, the premise that the ancestors of all those dead bastards had properly settled into their Valhalla—the heavenly great grasslands—had to hold first. With shamans who wielded soul-destroying sorcery mixed in, could those orcs' spirits even properly pass on? The shit those fucks believed was clearly nothing but contradiction-filled nonsense.
So my conclusion was that Kakula wasn't the arrangement of an ancestor god, but merely an irregular born of pure coincidence. When I presented this opinion while keeping it within reasonable bounds, both Engrim and Garun listened with interest and nodded.
"A reasonable conjecture. Perhaps it's right to see it as simple bad luck that the Demonfolk got tangled up in it this time."
"Especially since even those Demonfolk were killed by the orcs, so it's hard to see them cooperating. Or if they were cooperating, they got stabbed in the back, so the same thing is even less likely to happen in the future."
It might've been too optimistic, but there was no need to be needlessly pessimistic. The details would get debated and concluded by the real professionals anyway. For a while after that, the three of us talked and tossed out various hypotheses, but no variables came up that could really shift our opinions.
Meanwhile, Engrim's chocolates dwindled, and after I'd drunk the tea he'd specially served about three times, right around when I started feeling the need for a bathroom, we were able to wrap up the conversation.
"This seems sufficient. Now, as for the reward... it looks like this will be given to you along with the compensation the royal court will provide later."
Saying that the royal court had to give proper treatment to a hero who'd resolved a major incident, Engrim handed over a money pouch.
"So consider this not payment, but a separate token of the guild's gratitude. Hearing how you handled this incident made me realize... if it hadn't been for you, Eldmia, it certainly wouldn't have ended with so little damage. Truly, thank you."
"...Isn't this a bit much for a token of gratitude?"
He wasn't wrong—it contained more than triple the original request fee. But Engrim shook his head with an awkward smile.
"Actually, that's not only a token of gratitude but also an apology. An apology for not being able to completely prevent the unsavory incidents caused by the self-styled Eldmias."
Hmm. I had zero intention of holding the guild responsible, but there was no need to refuse money being offered, so I nodded along and accepted it. Engrim added quietly.
"Still, those sorts will disappear the moment the royal court officially bestows the reward, so please just bear with it a little longer."
Impersonators wouldn't simply vanish just because the royal court handed out money. Engrim's words were closer to indirectly tipping me off that this reward would involve an honorary medal or a title.
A title would actually make moving around a colossal pain in the ass, so from my perspective, a medal was better... but if I waited without knowing what was coming and ended up with a title, it would get very, very troublesome. So the person I ultimately had to meet was already determined if I wanted to find out anything.
There was no way to contact that clingy princess and arrange a meeting first, so it was time I headed to the Noble Council.