Windmill City Talen
Across the broad, open plain, the tall grass began to bow and sway with the wind.
I stared into the distance with my mouth half open, watching the breeze roll forward like a living wave. The unbroken view stretched all the way to where earth met sky, and a pure sense of freedom washed over me.
Prrrrt—!
Nightmare seemed to feel the same. The horse stamped the ground in mounting excitement, every restless shift of its body screaming the urge to race straight ahead without a care in the world.
I wanted that too—to ride the wind itself—so I gave the reins a light flick.
"Let's go!"
Hiiing—!
Nightmare let out a clear, ringing cry and launched forward, hooves hammering the earth. With nothing in the way, there was no need to turn or slow. The black horse tore across the plain faster than I had ever felt it run.
Thud-thud-thud— Thud-thud-thud— Thud-thud-thud—!
The heavy beat of its crystal hooves faded behind us only to surge up anew. Monsters lurking in the thick grass flashed through my vision now and then, but our eyes met for no more than a heartbeat. Nightmare left them all behind before they could even react.
As we flew onward, a new wind rose at our backs. It swept across a vast stretch of the plain, and the grass changed with it. Blades that had lain flat suddenly turned as one, rising into a green wave that chased after Nightmare's heels.
For a moment it seemed the wind itself might catch us. Then Nightmare poured on still more speed, pulling clear of the pursuing green tide.
We outran the breeze, crested a low hill—and a new landscape opened before us.
Windmills. Dozens of them, turning in perfect unison with the cool, steady wind, lined the horizon as far as the eye could see.
"Whoa..."
Nightmare never slowed. We left the nameless grassland behind and plunged into wide, rolling farmland. Unknown crops, heavy with ripe grain the color of sunset, swayed gently in the breeze, their full heads hanging thick and golden.
Beyond the fields came a riot of flowers. Blooms of every color spilled across the land in wild, natural beauty, free of any gardener's order.
And past the flower fields rose a massive city wall that cut across the view. Above it, the peak of an enormous windmill peeked into the sky, marking a city clearly powered by the wind itself.
"Halt!"
I reined Nightmare in and approached the gate. Guards stepped forward at once, weapons drawn, eyes locked on the horse. Its sheer Hairan bulk had clearly made them mistake it for a monster.
I stroked Nightmare's mane and smiled lightly.
"We've stopped."
"Uh... well..."
"Th-that thing, is it...?"
When I kept my distance and stayed put, the guards huddled together, whispering. Even though they tried to keep their voices down, the faint breeze carried every word straight to my ears.
Isn't that a monster?
You think that little girl tamed a monster and rides it around? Don't be ridiculous. That's clearly a Hairan bloodline horse.
What's a Hairan?
You know—the kind the lord always rides...
Ahh... those big ones? But this one's even bigger...
You're shorter than me, aren't you? Horses come in different sizes too.
Hmm...
After a long, muttered debate the guards cleared their throats and sheathed their weapons. Only then did Nightmare finally relax.
"Ahem... What is your purpose here?"
"Sightseeing."
"Do you happen to have identification from elsewhere?"
I held out the bronze plaque I had received in the Karuma Empire. The guard examined it carefully, then nodded.
"Issued in the capital. Your identity is confirmed, but if you intend to work as an adventurer here you'll need a new rank plaque."
"So I can go in?"
"Cause any trouble and you'll be thrown out on the spot. Especially with that horse..."
In other words, yes. I nodded and led Nightmare through the gates into the city.
The first thing that filled my vision was, of course, the great windmill. I wandered deeper while taking in the sights. The city felt utterly peaceful. Faces free of worry, little boys and girls racing about with tiny pinwheels clutched in their hands.
Farther in, a canal cut straight through the heart of the city. A broad bridge spanned it, lined with merchants who had set up stalls catering to tourists and adventurers.
I guided Nightmare onto the bridge.
Clack, clack, clack—
Pinwheels, miniature windmill figurines, and every other souvenir that screamed this town's identity crowded the stalls. Just looking was half the fun.
Then one of the merchants called out to me.
"You there, miss."
"Me?"
He nodded. I led Nightmare over. The man wore a wide-brimmed hat that shaded his face from the sun.
"A face I haven't seen in Talen before. Adventurer, are you?"
"Yes."
"Thought so. I've got something that might be of use to someone like you. Care to take a look?"
He gestured at his stall. So that was all it was—simple sales talk. Still, I did as he suggested and browsed the goods. Every time my gaze lingered, he launched into an explanation.
"As you can see, I sell storybooks by the score. An adventurer like you must know how the heart races when you chase the secrets of the world into the unknown."
"Are the stories in these books true?"
"Of course they are. Here, what about this one?"
He smoothly changed the subject and pointed to a battered volume in the corner.
"In the old days, when dark clouds gathered across the wide sky, people thought of a certain being—one that appeared clad in lightning from a pitch-black heaven..."
"The Thunder Bird?"
"Ah, you already know that tale? Then how about this... the wicked dragon that sleeps in the snowy mountains... the story of Kashipa, who brings endless winter."
"A story about a real dragon?"
"Indeed. Every tale I deal in is grounded in fact."
I let out a soft laugh—not mockery, but genuine amusement—and the merchant laughed with me. When the little burst of laughter scattered on the wind, I nodded and held out my hand.
"Sounds fun. I'll take one."
"Excellent choice!"
While he wrapped the book in paper he was already grinning and recommending the next.
"Next, how about this? The incarnation of fire that once scorched the world...! The recorded footsteps of Calvein, who no longer exists..."
"Anything else?"
"Hmm, not to your taste, I see. Then this one. The tale of the elves who fled to the edge of the world. Rumor has it they soar through the sky with the wind as their companion, looking for all the world like spirits themselves..."
"I'll take that one too."
Selling the old books had clearly put him in high spirits; he kept chuckling the whole time. There was something so pure and happy in that slightly foolish-looking smile that I simply stuffed the volumes into my bag. The price came to three silver. A bit steep for battered secondhand books, but I was in too good a mood to haggle.
"Safe travels! Welcome to Talen, and may fortune favor your adventures!"
As a free gift the storybook merchant handed me a pinwheel woven from reeds. It looked crude, yet the moment the wind caught it the thing spun with cheerful vigor—just like the great windmills of this city.
I found a reasonably priced inn and went straight to my room, eager to dive into the books I had bought on the street. The inn staff brought a meal up, so I could eat while I read.
Toward the Edge of the World, Beyond the Storm Wall
That was the title stamped across the worn cover. I chewed a soft piece of bread and turned the pages.
Toward the Edge of the World, Beyond the Storm Wall
Chapter 1: Elven Culture and Language
1. On the Elven Tongue, Kampra
2. Spirits That Walk Beside Us for Life
Chapter 2: The Burning Great Forest
1. The Black Mage Who Bargained with a Demon
2. The Battle Between Spirits and Demons
3. The Captive Souls of the Elves
Chapter 3: The Storm Wall
1. Toward the Edge of the World
2. The Elves' Final Refuge
3. The Storm Wall That Severed the World
Chapter 4: The Vanished Elves
1. The Spirits Left Behind
2. The World Tree and Its Seeds
3. The Grimoire the Demon Left Behind
With every turn of the page the quiet scent of old paper drifted into the air. Time passed; the sun sank and full night settled in. I lit a small candle and bent my head over the book once more.
The first tale, just as the table of contents promised, spoke of the culture of the long-vanished elves and of Kampra, the language they once used. It was here that I finally understood what the name Galad truly meant.
1. On the Elven Tongue, Kampra
This is knowledge already fading from every living memory.
The long flow of time carried the elves' songs away upon the wind. When the vast Great Forest itself vanished without a trace, the world began to forget both the elven race and the tongue called Kampra.
Yet some humans still carried their knowledge forward. Here, then, are the vital truths that must never be lost.
The word Galad means the grace and unyielding strength of a tree; it was also the title bestowed upon those who stood as guardians of their people.
Those who inherited that name never leave the World Tree's side even in death. Over the long ages their worn souls forget even their own existence, and at last they slowly fade away...
The word Eres means the many-colored freedom of the wind, unbound by any chain...
The more pages I turned, the heavier my eyelids grew. Reading by a single candle in a small room was hard work—especially in the body of a young girl.
I closed the thick book and rubbed my sleepy eyes. A long, lazy yawn slipped out, the final punctuation mark on the day.
I set the volume on the table and climbed onto the bed. As always, I drifted toward sleep with quiet anticipation for tomorrow.