Chapter 433
Chapter 433
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Offroad (7)
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Troll Eggwil.
Navigator. Diligent, friendly. Unusually sociable for a troll.
“Don’t learn anything from that idiot Eggwil. You’ll pick up bad habits.”
“Idiot? You?”
“Gruk. Eggwil is stupid. That’s why he had to leave the tribe.”
And he had a self-deprecating streak.
The only troll among the crew who’d told me his name had taken my words about wanting to learn some ship work and started teaching me how to tie knots himself.
“He speaks so well, with good pronunciation too. Doesn’t seem stupid at all....”
“Speaking smoothly comes from life at sea. Greenskin races have a unique structure where the nasal cavity connects right above the bronchi, so they make nasal sounds on exhale. Goblins with their long, narrow noses cough. Orcs with their big, wide ones snort with snot. Trolls with their low, wide ones make that gruk-groo sound like swallowing phlegm. Eggwil got rhinitis from the sea winds. His nasal passages narrowed inside, so unlike other trolls, it doesn’t clog up and he speaks clearly.”
“I-I see. Still, he doesn’t seem dim-witted no matter how I look at him—”
“Not stupid in the literal sense, but from the troll tribe’s perspective. A cultural difference causing a mismatch in perception—something hard to grasp intuitively. Different knowledge means even the same words won’t meet.”
“Oh, right. ‘Cultural difference causing a mismatch in perception’... Ahahaha....”
Crunch!
‘Who in the world is the stupid one here!’
If this guy was stupid, then human society would be made up of just two kinds: retards and morons.
‘No, what troll rattles off an answer like flowing water to a single question! Something about racial facial structure differences causing variations in speech? Cultural differences this, perception that?’
What kind of idiot from where spouts specialized knowledge like that?
The exceptionally brilliant troll crewman Eggwil tapped his thick fingers on his chest and said,
“Long ago, there was a great troll. She brought knowledge to our race living wild lives, created culture and ways of living, traditions and society—the great mother acknowledged by all tribes with her tusks, Notum.”
“Oh, I know her. I’ve heard the stories.”
“We hear them before we even open our eyes. How Troll Notum lived, how she became a great forebear, why she abandoned all status in human society to return to the forest. The revered great mother, forebear Notum. She personally passed on her knowledge and talents for the future of trollkind.”
“Wow, what an amazing person. Teaching a totally different way of life back when trolls were treated as monsters must’ve been no easy feat.”
“Gruk. Amazing achievements. Truly prolific activity. Around 80% of current tribe chiefs carry her blood. Great blood, passed vigorously to smart, talented offspring, spreading and taking root quickly.”
“Y-Yeah... she really was ‘amazing’....”
In a truly primal and definitive way, she... well, anyway, she was undoubtedly the one who spread ‘wisdom’ to trollkind.
“Grooo. All trolls respect her. Truly great ancestor. So, trolls who can hear the ancestor’s words through exceptional shamanic talent are the wise ones. Eggwil has zero shamanic talent. That’s why he’s stupid. Primal blood—the ominous thing that dooms the next generation to stupidity. He’s discriminated against.”
“Hm. I thought troll tribal society was pretty familial.”
“Discrimination exists everywhere. You humans draw lines on the ground and discriminate. Different eye color, skin color—discriminate. The majority deeming themselves superior and invalidating the minority—it happens everywhere. That’s why Eggwil left.”
The ‘stupid’ troll Eggwil, lacking shamanic talent, had left his tribe because he couldn’t endure the discrimination.
“How’d you end up on a salvage ship?”
“The seas here pump mana even into worthless pebbles. Eggwil’s head is a rock too. Thought diving might infuse some mana into me, so I came on purpose. Even among trolls, mages are seen as smart humans. Eggwil will get smart. Once smart, mother, neighbors, friends won’t hate him. Can return home.”
He sailed to become a ‘smart’ mage from a ‘stupid’ self.
All that knowledge? Same context—wanting to be a smart troll.
‘Inferiority complex.’
The legacy of the great ancestor ‘Notum’ had left far too deep a footprint in troll society.
That legacy led straight to idolization of Notum herself, and worship of trolls famed as great shamans evolved into a class consciousness around shamanic talent itself. So they’d discriminate enough to drive away a bright guy like this just for lacking it.
Eggwil’s advanced knowledge and habit of rambling on likely stemmed from that past. Branded a ‘stupid troll’ and chased from home, the fact burrowed deep in his mind, naturally spilling out as a desperate need to prove he wasn’t.
‘A troll at sea dreaming of becoming a mage....’
Anyway, ‘Troll Eggwil’s’ importance in my mind had shot up considerably. No better ally than a guy who spills everything to a few questions in an unknown place.
****
“Who’s that?”
“Gruk. That’s Elf Tarimus. Call him Tarim.”
“How’s this used?”
“Grooo. That’s tar mixed with mana stone dust. Deep Blue sea creatures all carry a bit of mana, so they hate mana stones. Coat every corner of the ship thickly. Otherwise, you’ll see a hull stripped to the bones.”
“Salvage ships’ main income is fishing out drowned folks and stripping ’em. They corrode fast, so check paths other ships passed carefully and snatch ’em quick.”
Crew profiles, ship work, even salvage side hustles I hadn’t wanted to know.
As expected, Eggwil taught ten times what I asked.
Like that guy over there.
The one dashing around frantically with an armful-sized box: Elf Tarimus.
Male, deckhand, sharp-eyed, neurotic.
“Ooh, aaah.... The forest, the forest is visible. My vanished forest.... Aaaah....”
Pupils dilated wide, drool pouring from his mouth, trembling hands and buckling legs. Sunken eyes under already gaunt elf features, withered to a twig.
“....That?”
“Gruk. Yep.”
“What the hell kind of elf is—”
And a druggie. Drug-addicted Elf Tarimus.
“....Living in this world, you really see it all.”
“Grooo. On salvage ships, this is daily life. Harder to find one who doesn’t.”
To my tongue-clicking, Eggwil said get used to it and shared some Tarimus facts.
Why Elf Tarimus boarded the salvage ship? Simple.
First, expelled from his elf community, his options for pricey drugs were male prostitution or salvage ship.
Second, he’d bought a real tree sapling—not dried mushroom stalk called ‘wood’—at auction for a fortune.
“Bought a real tree? He saved that much?”
“Nah, mostly debt. Tarimus works hard. Pays interest, buys drugs, buys quality soil for his tree too. That he’s carrying? His treasure. Follows the sun to give it max light.”
“....Makes sense. Never seen an elf without severe depression. Heard they need something like that to cope.”
“Don’t even joke about touching his tree. One of the funerals you did yesterday? Guy stole Tarimus’s tree to sell, got disassembled—head scalp only left. Found it barely in Tarimus’s fertilizer bin.”
“....Not a dark elf? Just elf?”
“Dunno. Maybe half-and-half.”
Druggie who turns unpleasant folks into tree fertilizer.
Hearing profiles of crewmates I’d sail this dangerous sea with tomorrow, I couldn’t shake the feeling this expedition would be memorable. Dogshit.
Plus three beastkin met while painting tar.
“Tuadal, Isena, Baimus. Siblings. All sea-related beastkin breeds, but hard to pin down. Won’t tell even if asked.”
“Mixed bloods, huh. They usually don’t.”
Webbed hands, faint scales and fur mixed. Taboo interspecies hybrids even among beastkin. Like Eggwil exiled for no shaman talent, probably abandoned as outcasts in beastkin society.
“Beastkin society treats kids of other-race roots as filthy, yeah. So nothing special otherwise?”
“Besides being wanted for serial killings.”
“Oh, that much.”
I’m wanted for train robbery and urban security violations anyway.
“Specifically, noble murders, I hear—”
“C-Can we do introductions later? Not like I wanna get tangled....”
‘Fuck, those are bombs that drag you down wholesale just for eye contact!’
Instantly got why they holed up below deck fixing gear. Noble killers? Bounty hunters’d be a truckload!
‘Three beastkin outcasts with beef against nobles... uh, countless reasons pop up! But noble murders!’
Even backwater nobles don’t wander stupidly alone, so those three sliced knight-level guards, took the noble’s head, and escaped—means they’ve got skills.
Salvage life has sky-high mortality even fellow sailors avoid, but perfect for vanishing from eyes. Confident in skills, chose it to hide.
‘Lemme see. Slender builds, thick finger joints.... Scales and fur obscure, but flexible muscles. Assassin types, same style.’
Just a side glance, and one noticed, met my eyes. Sharp eyesight.
“....Will.”
“Gruk. Called?”
“Told you before.... Don’t blab our story to outsiders.”
“If you didn’t greedlessly hand salvage to us, I’d have killed you off long ago.”
We talked pretty far off, but she heard and bristled with killing intent. Good ears too.
They rose, claws, daggers, awls at ready—gearing for a real fight.
Sure, wanted noble killers caught by a stranger? Normal to silence ’em.
“Hey. Eggwil.”
“Gruk.”
“You said it loud on purpose?”
Obviously, Eggwil long sailing with the beastkin trio knew their hearing.
“The youngest of the three is anxious daily. Can’t stand outsiders nearby, nags to kill all voyage long. So they’ve killed plenty.”
“So?”
“They’re gonna kill you anyway. If too weak to win, harbor’s better than sea. Can flee harbor. Can’t flee sea.”
He’d spilled their dirt loud enough for them to hear, baiting attack before sea.
“Three against one? Can’t flee, I die?”
“If that weak, you’d die at sea anyway. Stabbed hurts less.”
“Damn, how kind.”
“Thanks.”
Veteran crewman preventing sea strife early. Showed Eggwil’s character perfectly.
Crack,
Crack crack!
“Oh, what if I beat them?”
“Simple. Sail together like other crew.”
If they always pulled this on newbies, remaining crew all outfight these noble-killing siblings.
‘Initiation rite. Like magic train hazing.’
Druggie elf, ‘stupid’ troll, stubble-faced captain salvager.
All stronger than these noble murderers. That’s the baseline to dive this notorious sea and return alive.
Unlike train rites where bad luck might kill, but whatever.
“Compared to magic train ‘boarding brew’—dwarf shoes unwashed a month mixed with crap—”
“Damn chatty troll, curse yooouuu—!”
Smack!
“—Ack!”
“Simple, clean, no lag. Good.”
Just Eggwil’s ‘courtesy,’ if threatened by this, shouldn’t sail as he said.
To me with hands in pockets, no hesitation—she lunged dagger-first. Perfect counter to her jaw.
Crash clang!
Oh my, blood.
Meant light, but bit tongue maybe.
“Youngest!”
“Oh, the hot-tempered youngest is her?”
Figures. Good stance, quiet leap for ambush—then yelled charging. Yell ‘Die!’ mid-ambush? Not ambush, duel challenge.
“Damn, not just any priest!”
“Now temples hunt us too! Church in bed with nobles!”
“Told you over and over, I’m an aura knight with special circumstan—”
“Die, fallen priest!”
“Can’t get caught here!”
....Crack!
“Aura knight, you deaf bastards!”
Again, I’m an ‘aura-less aura knight.’ Can’t use aura, but body’s certified aura knight level. All admit it even sans aura.
Frontline, hefted house-sized stones to fix walls! Swung sword with terrifying strength! Tanked basic mana shots barehanded, no biggie!
“The violent prodigy pitting raw physics against shard knights!!!”
Thwack!
Smaaack!
Half-ass aura knight or not, not on par with poison-dagger assassins.
Why obsess over shitty ‘impact bankruptcy blade’? Foes everywhere are named master-levels; no aura means output lag, so cling to inefficient relics.
“Gaaah! Never caught again! Never!”
“Argh, just lie down, bitch! Already holding back lest I wreck the ship!”
“Diiiie!”
“Do your pre-kill warning first, youngest!”
Whatever—Eggwil baited, captain urged mingle, or foreseen.
They reached to kill, I’m no saint to let pass.
“Kraaak!”
“Damn, pile on! Just one priest!”
“Yeah, priest! Your all-in-one death-to-funeral priest!”
Thud! Thud
Splurt!
Above all, my tangled head cleared crisp with fierce punches.
“S-Stop! We misunderstood—gurgh!”
“Hahaha, brothers! This priest doesn’t get crude words!”
“Kaaaagh!”
A good long while. Until the beastkin siblings wailed in forgotten racial howls, drumbeats from salvage ship Whale’s cabin signaled departure ready.
****