Sleeping with the Enemy (1)

Location assessed. Done.

And with it, the main problem assessed as well.

The Valkyrie and I were in no position to bicker over ideology or who had killed whose comrades. We needed to worry about starving to death first.

No—starving wasn't even the real threat. Dying of thirst would come sooner. A person can last three weeks without food, but without water, they say you don't make it past three days.

That is, of course, if you have no skills or knowledge whatsoever.

"We need to replenish our fluids first."

The Valkyrie seemed to share the same thought about needing water. For now, I decided to watch how she handled things.

I followed the direction she pointed and walked alongside her. We had already agreed that, unless circumstances made it unavoidable, we would always stick together—there was no telling whether monsters prowled even during the day.

Neither the forest nor the land beyond it held any proper water source. There were a few puddles, but every last one was muddy sludge.

All that wandering had only burned through what little moisture we had left. The Valkyrie looked thoroughly exhausted. She exhaled a dry breath and opened her mouth.

"Fine. Just this once—I'm asking. Make me some water."

"What?"

I stared at her with a look that said, What the hell are you talking about? The Valkyrie weakly bent her hand into the gesture of someone drinking.

So, in other words—

"You're telling me to make water?"

The Valkyrie nodded. She probably couldn't understand my words either, but she seemed to be roughly piecing things together from my tone, expression, and body language.

"Thirsty."

"You're thirsty?"

Nod, nod.

"Water."

"You want water?"

Nod, nod.

We clearly didn't speak the same language, and yet somehow it felt like we were having a conversation.

Which only made it more irritating.

"I've heard some mages can make bread out of thin air. Water should be easy enough, shouldn't it?"

"I didn't catch a word of that just now."

She was probably saying something along the lines of, If you can't even make water, what's the point of being a mage?

I didn't like it one bit.

Still, the request itself was fair. I hadn't had a single drop since yesterday either, and my throat felt as cracked as the chairs in some rural orphanage.

"This way."

I carefully made my way down the slope of the crater rim. The incline was fairly steep, but if you picked your footholds carefully, you could descend without getting hurt.

Once I'd fully landed, I looked back up at the Valkyrie. She was diligently following behind me. Center of gravity low, moving slowly along the face of the slope—wait. Why was she wobbling?

The Valkyrie lost her balance and went down hard. She slid down the incline like she was riding a sled.

"Guh…!"

She tried to scramble up immediately—then went down again. A second, spectacular landing right on her rear.

"Guuuhhh."

She really was something else.

Having lost her spear, the Valkyrie clutched her lower back with one hand and her side with the other, groaning. Her contorted face was full of shame and agitation.

A moment later, our eyes met.

"Wh-what are you staring at?! Enjoying the show?"

So those eyes of hers could hold water after all. I'd assumed she had nothing in her emotional range except rage.

"Don't say a word. Not a single word."

"I wasn't saying anything."

I sighed and held out the iron club I'd been carrying.

"Here. Grab this and get up."

"…"

"My arm's getting tired, so hurry it up."

Tch. The Valkyrie clicked her tongue and stood up on her own. Feeling awkward, I shrugged and slung the club back over my shoulder.

Minor incident aside, we eventually reached the shore.

I scooped up some seawater in my hand.

The sunlight-caught waves felt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cool and soft. Crystal clear, without a single impurity. Judging by appearance alone, you couldn't tell it apart from drinking water.

"I'm dying of thirst over here. How about this for now, just to tide us over?"

"You got a death wish?"

The Valkyrie raised her spear with a look of pure disgust, so I immediately dropped the joke. God, seriously. Couldn't even take a little banter. Lightening the mood around her was harder than it had any right to be.

"Why'd you bring us this way? You know how to purify seawater or something?"

"Just wait."

This place was a gravel beach.

Dormant volcanoes, caves—and spots like this. Practically playgrounds for magic stone scholars.

I picked up a few suitable raw stones and poured mana into them.

A purification stone.

Also known as zeolite—a magic stone whose water-cleansing properties had saved countless lives across many nations.

And now it was our turn. Mine and the Valkyrie's.

Using ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠general-purpose magic, I hollowed out a pool of suitable size nearby and let a bit of seawater flow into it.

As I continued the Whieon and tossed in the purification stones, a whirlpool began to rise from the center of the rippling pool.

A type of porous sedimentary rock, the purification stone selectively draws in and traps specific ions. Those ions are usually sodium—which is how the salt gets filtered out.

And what about the other impurities?

That's where the honeycomb structure does the heavy lifting. When the empty layers inside the magic stone are stimulated by mana, they open channels to the outside, and fine particles get sucked in through those gaps—completing the purification.

Which is why a used purification stone is generally discarded. By then it's basically a lump of salt and filth.

Elves and other races capable of internal purification actually consider the spent stones a delicacy, using them in place of sea salt… but anyone who eats unrefined salt full of residual brine and calls it a "mineral-rich ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠treat" is a culinary deviant best left out of the conversation. Yes, absolutely.

I tossed in the remaining stones, then fished them all out the moment the vortex settled.

"That should do it. Want a drink?"

"…"

What was with that sullen look?

I was dying of thirst myself. The only reason I hadn't been as frantic as the Valkyrie was because I'd known I could get water this way.

Which was precisely why I was offering the first drink to the one who'd been more desperate.

"Weren't you the one who asked for water first?"

"You drink first."

The Valkyrie waved me off.

Honestly, Holy Church types were always like this. Even the same water—if it was purified by magic, they just couldn't bring themselves to trust it, could they?

"If you don't want to drink, go ahead and dry up right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here."

I gave her a crooked grin and brought my mouth to the pool.

"Haaah."

The clean, clear taste felt like it was purifying both my stomach and my soul. I wasn't exaggerating. Anyone who gulped down water after sweating buckets for a full day would agree with me.

I took two or three more mouthfuls, then gestured to the Valkyrie.

"Just drink already. Stop being so suspicious for no reason."

Only then did the Valkyrie, who had been hovering uncertainly, crouch down on the opposite side.

"…!"

For someone who'd been hissing like an angry cat moments ago, the second she took that first sip, the Valkyrie started inhaling water like she was about to dive into the pool itself. The speed wasn't human—it was pure animal.

"Don't drink too much at once. You'll get water poisoning if you're not caref—hey! Your hair's in the—! Ah."

The Valkyrie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and lifted her head. Water dripped in rivulets from the strands that had dunked into the fresh water.

"You missing a few screws?"

"Haaah. I feel alive again."

"You're not doing this on purpose just to mess with me, are you?"

"I hate to admit it, but… not bad."

The Valkyrie stood up. Her face looked noticeably fresher than before.

Drinking water had woken up my hunger. My stomach was back on the job. The Valkyrie seemed to be in the same boat—a rumbling sound rolled out of her like a music box.

"Ahem."

She shot me a sidelong glance and forced out a cough. I opened my mouth.

"Food."

"You want something to eat?"

Nod, nod.

"I handled the water, so food is on you, wouldn't you say?"

If you take, you also give. For any modern person equipped with a basic sense of decency, that was common sense among common sense.

And mages—people for whom engineering-minded thinking was second nature—were a breed that dearly loved the proverb about giving an inch and taking a mile.

Water might be more critical for survival, but food was usually harder to come by.

"Being by the ocean's got me craving fish."

Not that the Valkyrie would understand those words at face value. In the end, it looked like I'd have to secure my own meal.

But then the Valkyrie picked up her wooden spear and headed for the sea.

"Fishing is my specialty. Just wait."

She was going to catch fish, apparently.

But could she even land a single one properly? Her tools were crude, and fish weren't exactly slow—

She could.

The Valkyrie drove the wooden spear she was holding into the water like a harpoon.

FWOOOSH!

A sudden boom erupted. It sounded like a naval mine going off.

Beyond the settling spray, the Valkyrie came into view. A blue fish was thrashing on the tip of her spear.

She gave the spear a casual shake, her expression blank.

"One down."

"Holy hell."

Was that seriously a human's speed?

Cold sweat ran down my back. If I hadn't proposed a ceasefire when I did, it wouldn't be a fish on the end of that spear right now—it'd be me.

After that, the Valkyrie kept snatching up fish with her lightning-fast reflexes.

"…She's using her blessings for that."

At that speed, she could catch my share and then some. She seemed to be trying to repay me for the water. Fine by me—I was grateful.

I didn't just sit around while she hunted, either. Using rocks and reeds, I fashioned a square-pyramid-shaped basket.

The Valkyrie dumped fish into it one after another and said,

"Let's head back, mage."

We snapped off branches for firewood and returned. We cleared the ash left in the campfire and loaded in fresh fuel. Finally, we skewered the fish on sticks and set them over the flames.

"…Ugh."

The Valkyrie edged a little farther from the fire.

She'd done the same thing yesterday. What was she, some kind of wild animal?

I got to work on the cooking in earnest. Not that there was much to it—just turning the skewers this way and that so the fish wouldn't burn.

Meanwhile, the Valkyrie sharpened her dulled spear while the food cooked. I'd lent her my knife. I'd been a little worried she might try to stab me with it, but thankfully there was no sign of that.

Around the time the fish were browning nicely, the Valkyrie pointed at the skewers.

"You come over and grab them."

"Just hand me the fish and go sit over there. I'll eat here."

"No."

Look, if you want to stay away from me, just take your food and go by yourself. Why make me do every little thing?

I was still thinking that when the Valkyrie glared at me.

"…Fine."

Nothing about this sat well with me, but it was a petty rebellion at best.

I was already starving. Being snippy with the person who'd brought back the food just wasn't an option. Besides, this was practically a feast.

Getting into a staring contest with someone I couldn't even talk to felt childish, so I handed over the skewer without a fuss.

After that, we each focused on demolishing our own portions.

"This takes me back to when I was a kid. My mom used to make grilled fish all the time."

"Back in school, my professors used to treat us to grilled fish constantly."

"I miss my mom."

"I miss my professors."

Chirp-chirp-chirp.

Sitting out in the open, picking apart freshly caught fish while listening to the insects in the grass—it almost felt like camping.

This feeling… wasn't bad. It was one of the things I'd always wanted to do someday, once I had a wife and kids.

Of course, in a situation like this, that was a distant dream—or maybe a story that would never happen at all…

"Ah, right."

The Valkyrie, who'd been chewing away diligently, lifted her head.

"What about sleep tonight? Those monsters will come again."

I scratched a diagram into the ground with a leftover stick, conveying my intentions. Who would take first watch, and roughly when the other would turn in.

That settled most of the outstanding issues.

We decided not to move camp. This spot had a perfect view of the ocean.

It also meant we could see clearly where the monsters were coming from. Sitting at the gateway between shore and forest made gathering water and food efficient, too.

And above all, we needed to keep watch for any ships or aircraft that might pass by.

This was a civilized age. If we waited long enough, maybe we'd spot a vessel on the horizon. I clung to that thin thread of hope.

Well. That was that.

But right now, the most important problem still remained.

Namely—the sleeping arrangements.

I steeled myself and made the Valkyrie a radical proposal.

"How about… we share a bed?"