Chapter 443
Chapter 443
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Into the Storm (2)
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"Ah, tracks."
Just as expected, the rails were not far from the coast.
Screech—screech—
"Not bad for a makeshift job."
"Not really. Unless it was a troll or aurorite-level strength, it wouldn't have budged anyway."
"Gruk. It's just rolling with the force from pressing the pulley that pulls the sails. Nothing that impressive."
"As long as it moves."
Fortunately, the simple handcar loaded with our four people and the salvage ship's magic engine managed to chug along somehow.
"The east side of the Blueline Mountains is split into three: Lordric Territory, Teldrat Territory, and the Free Trade Three Kingdoms' archipelago. Similarly, the west side's West Empire Territory is divided into the main island and the sub-island."
"Oh."
"The area commonly called the Magic Empire Territory, compared to the east of the current Deep Blueline Mountains, still has some natural features left on this western side."
"Ooh."
"Thanks to that, the mutant groups that absorb life force from the surrounding environment are larger in scale than in Teldrat. Accordingly, the trains are more heavily armed, and the service frequency is lower."
"Ooooh...."
Eggwil was unusually talkative, to a suspicious degree.
"You seem to know a lot about this."
"Eggwil wants to be a mage. During the Empire War, most mages defected to the West Empire. So many traces of ancient magic remain. Lots of interest. Asked crew from other continents too, read lots of books."
"Ooooh...."
Damn, thank you, Captain! Where did you pick up such a smart troll!
Eggwil was alternating with me in pumping the handcar, and every time his rest turn came, he'd sit beside me and ramble on about various stories of the old West Empire region.
Even to a stranger's eyes, Eggwil looked pretty excited.
Screech—screech—
"Huff, gruff...."
"Eggwil, something wrong?"
"....Hyde. See anything around here?"
At Eggwil's question, I paused and looked around.
The rails and our handcar, which looked like they could use some maintenance.
Beyond that, there were hefty rocks, and traces of what seemed like waterways along the tracks.
"Hmm.... Looks pretty livable? If there's exposed bedrock, it means decent rock formation here. Dried up now, but signs of a pretty big river flowed through, so dig right and you can expect groundwater veins too. Good spot? There's probably a fairly large fortress city not far off."
"Rock formation. Big river flowed. Near coastline. Gruuu. Special place."
"Special place?"
"Gruk gruk. Coastline is boundary of split continent. The shore we arrived at was land right next to where Blueline was mountains back then."
"Right."
"Next to Blueline Mountains. Follow big river to rock formation. Gruuu. Very famous place."
"By any chance.... are you saying this is near 'Storm Hill'?"
At Tarimus's question, Egg nodded vigorously.
"Right. Cursed mages, wind-weavers' final resting place. Pilgrimage path for mages trapped by incurable magic. Too famous."
"Eggwil, you have reason to get excited. If it's that place, it's where the largest traces of magic from this era remain."
"Tarim. Know what it is?"
"Of course."
Tarimus wet his finger with saliva to gauge the wind, then nodded toward Eggwil.
"Seems right. Rail direction matches wind direction."
"Grwohk. No doubt. These rails lead to the wind-weavers' tomb, the 'Floating Catacombs.'"
"Watch your words. If this really is that place, even calling it that could get you cursed."
"Uuu. What to call it then."
"Call it by its old name. Before the war disaster engulfed it, the name from when it brought all the Empire's news."
"....'Felix Home.'"
Whiiiish—
A gust of wind from somewhere brushed back Tarimus's long hair. As if affirming the words.
"Hmm. Don't love going into a place named catacombs or tomb without any preparations."
"No worries. If my memory serves, before entering Storm Hill, there's one village you must pass through."
"....That?"
"Er, my apologies. It was a 'village.' Before the Empire War."
Screech—screech—
....The perspective feels off. If that's the top of the walls starting to appear over the horizon, it shouldn't look that big.
"....A village?"
"It's the great city 'Windhall.' Originally a small village serving travelers to Felix Home, but due to various circumstances.... it grew into this massive fortress city."
"Whoa, no wonder the Warlord hit Lordric Territory first instead of West Empire Territory...."
Somehow, those monstrous walls that might even block the insane bombardment we saw from the sea earlier.
Squinting, I could see over 20 cannons lining the grand walls, visible at a glance.
And most of them were turning their muzzles this way.
"Hey, hey hey! White flag, white flag!"
"....Gruk?"
"Never ridden a magic train? Unauthorized magic trains approaching a city only happens when the opposite city is raiding it!"
"Hyde, even if they squint real nice, this ragtag thing we made ain't gonna look like a magic train."
"We loaded the engine in the back! From the ship! Common sense: wheels + magic engine rolling on rails = magic train, what else!"
"Ah, true."
"'Ah true' my ass! They could blast us right now and it'd be innocent until proven guilty!"
Meanwhile, the cannons were steadily locking on, and people starting to look like dots were bustling atop the walls.
"White thing! Anything white! Where's the sail?"
"Uh, gone! Left it spread out on the coast for the funeral!"
"That's why we're about to have our funeral now!"
Groooowl—!
"F-Fire on the walls!"
"....Underwear! Dive suit undies! Those are white too! Everyone strip! Wave those!"
"No thanks. I'd rather die than bare myself before a crowd of humans."
"Didn't tell you to strip! One troll undie is enough!"
"M-Me? E-Eggwil too—"
"Argh, don't nitpick now!"
Thanks to the troll hack-engineer's genius design, the brakeless handcar barreled toward the walls lit by dozens of light orbs.
Small as it was, presumed magic train. If it overrevved the engine and smashed the gates, they could fly off, so the city guards showed no mercy.
—Flutter!
....Or rather, they were about to show no mercy.
For the bizarre magic train that had entered firing range at a leisurely pace, a human and troll suddenly stripped off their tops and were waving their undies on sticks.
"Don't shoot! Don't shooooot!!!!! We're just ordinary castaways!!!!"
"Grhk, hwoook...."
"Eggwil! Don't crouch, wave bigger, you!"
"Gruuu, skin without a single ritual tattoo, shame of a troll.... Uuuu...."
Flutter. Flutter—
After Eggwil endured those eternally shameful few seconds.
『....Halt! That train is approaching Windhall territory without permission! Stop immediately! State your identity and affiliation!』
Finally, a somewhat flustered voice from the walls flew toward them. Amid Tarimus and Isena's relief, my cheer, and Eggwil's gloomy sigh.
In a flash, Windhall guards formed ranks and surrounded our four outside the gates.
"Gruuu. We okay?"
"What we're riding is a manpower handcar, and we didn't do anything wrong. Eh, we'll be out in thirty minutes tops."
Clank!
"Unauthorized city approach and private train operation! Under these charges, you are under arrest! Surrender the train and submit to capture quietly!"
"Yes yes~ Thanks for your hard work~"
No reason to resist here.
We exchanged glances and raised our hands, submitting to the guards' arrest.
"....What is this?"
"Wooden.... handcar? Does this even roll?"
Behind us as we were dragged by the guards, their baffled voices rang out at the bizarre contraption.
****
Crack!
If you ask travelers the difference between Teldrat and West Empire regions, they'd first mention the food.
Crack! Crack crack!
Unlike the Blueline west where mushrooms dominate, due to mineral distribution differences, the mushroom stalks grow tougher but harder to eat here. Instead, mass-farmed edible moss makes up most of the diet.
"Gruuuu...."
"Um.... Hyde?"
"What! What!"
Right now, on Hyde's plate, steam rising appetizingly from moss stabbed viciously by his irritable fork—one of West Empire's representative dishes.
Bam!
"You fucking bandit bastard scum highway robbers!"
"Hyde. Yelling draws stares."
"Oh, yeah?"
Siiiip—
"Windhall guards are the scum-sucking bandit bastards second to none in the world—!!!"
He yelled it loud enough for all to hear, on purpose.
The packed tavern hushed for a moment, then buzzed back to life as if nothing happened.
....Yeah, a tavern. Not the guard interrogation room. A relic from the past unimaginable in Teldrat.
Half a day after entering the great city Windhall and being hauled off for interrogation by the guards.
"W-Well, 15 million isn't bad though...."
"Tarim, shut it! Why's this idiot opening his mouth like he did great!"
"Ahem...."
Our group sat around a hefty pouch of silver coins in the tavern.
Surprisingly, this money pouch was why I was so pissed off.
"Tarim. Gonna have to ask you something."
"Erhm...."
"We agreed before going in, right? We're 'crew of an intercontinental sailing ship who barely survived treacherous storms to reach the coast'! Not that hard, is it?"
"E-Elves can't speak lies—"
"Who said lie! Intercontinental voyage, sailed from Teldrat to West Empire! We're the crew! Suffered storms for days after departure! All true, why can't you say it!"
Contrary to my thoughts, things didn't go smoothly once arrested.
Or rather, from the Windhall guards' perspective, it went very smoothly.
"Hey, uncle at the next table! Wanna hear a fun story?"
"Ughk, uh, outsider?"
"Yes! Total outsiders! We sailed from way over in Teldrat, drifted three days on a wrecked ship through waves, and washed up here! Pretty amazing, huh?"
.
.
.
.
"Pfft, puhahaha! That bullshit delivery is top-notch!"
"From Teldrat to here? Across Deep Blueline? Drifted on a wreck from there?"
"Better believe a wind mage went camping! Wahahaha!"
As seen, bullshit no drunk would buy.
"See? That's the normal reaction. Even a pea-brain knows it's 'unbelievable tale'!"
"B-But it's the plain truth! We drifted three days on a half-sunk ship to here—"
"Yeah! And that's exactly why guards would never believe it!"
Indeed.
Smart Eggwil, beastkin Isena, and I gave plausible answers to the guards' questions, but our plant-addicted elf couldn't.
'Who are you?'
'How did you get here? What for?'
'Semeyren Port salvage divers, seven of us. Ran into the infamous Warlord and his minions mid-job on the vast ocean. Fought that murder gang and survived. Battle aftermath half-wrecked our ship, drifted calmly here three days without sea beasts or storms.'
Naturally, guards pegged us as 'highly suspicious multi-species group.' What should've been 30-min questioning turned into half-day deep interrogation with threats galore.
"....Hey, gimme some water. Throat's parched as hell."
"Gruk."
Gulp, gulp—
"Khaaa."
....Truth is, our innocence was probably proven already. They surely magi-comm'd the opposite rail city right after we arrived. They'd have someone dispatched there, confirm no train left from there. What we brought wasn't even a magic train—just handcar with salvage engine slapped on.
"....15 million only! Even an old model, still active intercontinental magic engine, sold for half of half price!"
Reason guards got high-handed: our salvage ship engine and parts.
=========
'You.... Hyde? Looks like you're the leader. Suspicious how your testimonies clash.'
"Eh? W-Who?"
'Ah, elf brains glitchy, old news. No real danger or charges, could let you go.... But clashing stories mean jail time possible.'
'....Tch. What do you want?'
'Quick on uptake. Magic train parts always short. Especially engines—money can't always buy.'
'You son of a—'
'So, 15 million. Cash now.'
'....Think I'm stuck here cuz weak? These bars I'd shatter like cookies with a side-roll—'
'Tut, buying for me? For lord and nobles. Gotta sell here anyway. Bluntly, if lord says [exile anyone who buys], who bids? Resist, get branded criminal, can't sell shit, leave empty-handed.'
'....Fuck.'
=========
Escaping's easy, but then all four of us, penniless and homeless, get criminal tags. No choice.
Trade salvage magic engine and parts for 15 million silings to let suspicious quartet go.
All because Tarimus gave them an opening.
"Ugh, pisses me off."
"Gru. Don't overdo it. Noble eyed it anyway, had to sell somehow."
"Coulda got 30 million! No excuse vs. leverage—depth differs! Already tight on cash, split four ways 4.7 mil each, whose nose to paste it on?"
That's why my fork massacred the [fresh moss lightly stir-fried in chicken fat, traveler's special].
Tarimus, severe plant addict, flinches at poking grass. So he's picking at thumb-sized chicken bits as his meal.
'....Anyway, paid dearly but now official Windhall visitors. Dumped the parts too.'
At least we have eating money now. Bankrupt sword shattered soon after Kaiwen fixed it, whatever.
Come to think, amid the earlier chaos, missed something.
"...Eggwil. You said big interest in mages? Know a lot about it."
"Gruk, ugruk, don't talk while eating."
"Chew and talk. You said Windhall's a village bit off Storm Hill. So where's Storm Hill? Catacombs, cursed mages, pilgrims—what's that?"
"Grum? Uh, that—"
"I'll handle that story! Rare chance, customers ordering pricey menu."
Answer came from tavern owner, not choking Eggwil.
"Name's Hans. Our family ran inns since Windhall was a village, so we know wind mage tales from old to now, in detail."
"Ah, yes. Thanks. So, what's the deal? Everyone seems wary of wind magic."
"Naturally."
Thud.
Middle-aged man set down Tarim's extra orders for us, voice low like sharing secrets.
"Wind mana is a curse dragging its host on a death journey, no different."
"Curse?"
"Yes! Moment it nests, safe city goodbye, wander mad mires. Curse itself, right? Coal miners, moss pickers suddenly wind-mazed out the gates, scream to death somewhere unknown. Worst curse imaginable."
Innkeeper spread arms with a sigh.
"And all those cursed pass through here, Windhall Fortress."
"....Mages can't be that common. If they all die like you say, few reach here, no?"
"No. Most don't know, but post-worldfall, most common mages aren't earth—wind mages. Most deaths too."
"Wind mages?"
"Trapped in cities, barely alive—who hasn't dreamed 'escape this prison city'? Wind mana nests in that longing. They leave, they die."
"Hence the curse."
"Gruuu. Right. Eggwil wants mage but not wind. Curse of wandering mire threats forever. Luck can't hold. Wind mages never die old."
Somehow, felt personal.
My situation no different.
"Storm Hill is the sole destination and waypoint for all wind mages on that death pilgrimage. Even if only foundations and traces remain from long destruction."
Thud!
"What?!"
The yelp burst from my throat unbidden.
"Storm Hill, Felix Home.... only traces left?"
"Ah, not completely gone. Shall I show?"
Innkeeper pulled a twice-folded paper scrap from his apron, placed on his palm.
"Ahem.... 'Sent on the wind.'"
....Flutter.
"Saw it? Floated up then settled."
"Gruuu. Sorry. My nostril gust."
"No, that's the point! Proof 200-year-old letter magic faintly lives! Prepared for visitors like you or mages! Recipient: Beekeeper George. Lives here too."
Innkeeper joked, but my eyes nailed to the letter on his hand.
Along with the memory, nothing but a signpost.
=========
....Flutter flutter!
=========
It was letters dancing across dawn skies, and amid them, rising balloons.
Flutter, flutter,
Letters filling crimson-blue dawn sky contrasted starkly with the trembling scrap on the man's palm.
"....Where do I go for Storm Hill?"
Probably, I'd visited back when it was intact.
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