Misunderstanding and Prejudice
Thomas was a merchant. A traveling peddler who journeyed between cities.
This winter was especially long…
And harsh enough to linger in his memory for years. Not because the actual temperatures were lower than usual. It just meant people's hearts had grown so cold that he'd had to scrape by on his last silver coins. The war between the Kobold Empire and the Ksaruna Duchy was the main culprit.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, the war between the Kobold Empire—which dominated the continent's heartland—and the Ksaruna Duchy at the continent's southern tip had ended with Ksaruna holding out. Considering that every region around here fell under Kobold Empire territory, it was no wonder people's moods soured. Still, with the empire's immense power and influence, it wouldn't collapse anytime soon. That didn't mean they could ignore the aftermath.
At least there were no battles around here. Small mercies.
Thomas couldn't fathom how a war like a clash between dwarves and giants had ended in the dwarves' victory. Whatever the case, the war was over, and the weather had warmed. Which meant it was time for Thomas to resume his peddling.
"Whoa, whoa…."
Thomas was still better off than most. He had a weathered but well-maintained cart and a young, healthy, sturdy packhorse. Recalling the feed costs for this beast over the winter, he figured he'd be busy all year earning back the silver. The horse brought in plenty, though. A playful one, too. Thomas had never told anyone, but he'd named it after the mythical creature from legends: Unicorn.
Hiiing!
Suddenly, the horse reared up on its front legs. The cart shook violently, nearly flinging Thomas from the driver's seat.
"…You! What the hell?!"
Thomas yanked desperately on the reins. It seemed the packhorse had been spooked by two people walking along the roadside. One was a giant of a man, the other a slender woman. With their light luggage, they looked more like city-dwellers shuttling between towns than travelers.
Maybe mercenaries. Yeah, he's got axes at his belt.
Pfft. Thomas let out a small chuckle as he sized them up.
"Rookies."
010. Misunderstanding and Prejudice
As a veteran peddler, Thomas knew that to gauge a mercenary's skill, you checked their gear.
No shield, no proper armor at all. First time I've seen a merc without even a gambeson. And why two axes?
That massive build had almost fooled him. Thomas was convinced: they were greenhorn mercenaries. Plenty of farm boys dreamed of adventure and signed up. Light luggage, crap gear. Checks out.
The only difference? The big one ahead looked more like a woodcutter's kid than a farmer's.
Someone's fresh start was always thrilling. Thomas remembered his own early days peddling—endless hardships.
He glanced at the sky, estimating their position.
Cart'll get me there quick, but on foot? Next city'll take hours.
Not that big a deal. With the city so close, bandits in disguise were unlikely. Thomas decided to offer these newbie mercs a friendly lift.
"Hey, friends!"
He sped up alongside them.
"Walking to the city from here? At least a few hours. Hop on back, keep an old man company…."
Then he locked eyes with the hulking newbie merc (or so he thought). Thomas froze, reins in hand.
It felt like stumbling on a mountain beast. Terror gripped him—no escape. Sweat soaked his back; that instant stretched into eternity.
B-barbarbarian merc…?
Even with the war's ripples, these were rare sights. Thomas had heard rumors aplenty in his travels but never seen one.
Tavern tales flooded his mind:
— "Barbarians? Stare more than three seconds, it's a challenge. Careful. For women, it's a come-on—so still careful. Call the guards quick."
— "Meals gotta be bloody rare. No blood? Insult."
— "Sleep hugging a sheep? Innkeeper I know's raising extras just for that."
— "Fight one? Bare your belly in submission. See this scar? Didn't, and…."
Trembling, Thomas panicked. Three seconds eye contact? Shit—show my belly now?!
But luckily, the figure ahead wasn't a real barbarian. Rumors aside.
Eden shook his head calmly.
"…Thanks for the offer, but we'll pass."
"Th-thank you! Hya!! Run, Unicorn!"
Thanks for what? Saved by those words, Thomas seized the reins. The horse, mirroring his panic, hauled the heavy cart at unbelievable speed.
Watching the vanishing cart, Eden stifled a laugh.
"…His horse is named Unicorn?"
Medieval sensibilities. Beyond comprehension.
* * *
The city's walls loomed ahead.
"How long since a city?"
Not even inside yet, and people swarmed the outskirts. Not everyone's goal was the city proper—street vendors laid out wares, beggars knelt here and there.
Market-gawking was fun, and some goods caught his eye, but Eden had priorities.
"So tiring…. At this rate, this goddess will die from sore legs…."
"People don't die from that."
"What did you say…!"
Treating her like a goldfish. Eden docked Neb mental points—down to five.
But her whining persisted.
"That's why I said hop on that guy's cart earlier!"
"Couldn't do that to him."
Not to a guy drenched in sweat like he'd fallen in a river. A kind soul offering a ride to strangers, no less.
"…If this goddess's legs break, the blame falls squarely on you…!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll carry you forever then."
"……Forever?"
Something intrigued her; Neb looked up, eyes sparkling with hope.
Instantly, every gaze nearby locked on them. Just from her lifting her head.
"…Hey, look over there."
"Some noble…?"
"Nah, outfit's off…. Hmm. Barbarian slave next to him? Merc maybe."
Eden alone drew stares, but now it was different. Some held lechery.
Sighing, he approached a nearby fruit stall.
"…Hey! Eat my fruit without paying, I'll call the guards!"
Classic medieval reaction. Eden hefted the fruit sack.
"I'll take this whole thing."
"Uh, y-yeah? Fruit's fine, but I need that sack…."
"Keep the change."
"Thanks, sir! Stay healthy!!"
Eden flicked a silver coin; the vendor bowed like a reed. Silver equalized prejudice.
Fruits were cheap staples here; even the crude sack cost a coin.
Red fruit. Apples?
Shape differed from what Eden knew, but sour-sweet. He pocketed two, dumped the rest before a beggar.
"Th-thank you…!"
Now an empty sack. Neb sidled up, curious.
"Why buy that suddenly? This goddess just thought it, didn't say…."
Didn't need to. Eden handed her a fruit, mouth full of his own.
"…Th-thanks."
Then punched three holes: two small, one large.
"Tastes decent."
He plopped the sack over Neb's head.
"……What's the intent here?"
Fury leaked through the sack. If her beauty drew eyes, remove the cause. No full helm handy— this'd do.
"No choice. Bear it till we buy proper clothes inside."
"No need for this…!"
"Rats swarm pretties. Toughen up."
"…Just this once."
No idea when his barbarian picked up persuasion, but it worked easy. Puzzled, Eden headed for the walls.
One barbarian, one sacked woman. Still stares, but fewer.
"…Lunatics?"
"Shh, quiet…!"
Yeah, better. City gates were stricter inside. Two lines: one for heavy loads like carts, one for light baggage or locals. Lighter line moved faster.
Eden joined the end, waiting patiently.
"ID?"
"…Hey, Henry. I went out yesterday, right? Asking again? This is a free city! War's basically over—how long we staying cooped up?"
"ID?"
"…Sigh, stiff as ever. City resident. Here."
The guy ahead bickered but flashed his resident tag, passing.
"Purpose?"
"Checked outer stalls, heading home now!"
"…Hans, like I said yesterday, lord's orders: tighten security. Stop wandering, be careful…."
"Screw it, I'm in!"
Tsk. The guard clicked his tongue, watching him go.
Next: them.
Where'd he stash his mercenary papers…? Eden prepped his answer.
But the guard's words diverged slightly.
"…Barbarian slave trader? What are you?"
Same question, but "identity" vs. "what the hell." Common for barbarians in medieval times.
…Bribe time.
Casual, he reached for silver pouch and papers.
"Or… yeah! Kidnapper! Damn. Heard barbarian heads were off, but this crazy…?!"
"…?"
What the—?
"Release the hostage now! Or I'll show you justice lives in this city today…!"
Eden tilted his head at the delusion. Then it hit him.
He turned slowly.
There stood Neb, sacked head cocked just like his.
"Ah."
Yeah, totally misunderstandable.