Strange Omens
Cotton sank into despair. It was just like that time in the past when the Nasdaq that Eden had bought crashed in the middle of the night. But he couldn't wallow in frustration forever. Fortunately, he still had a few gems stashed secretly in his pocket. So he wouldn't starve to death just yet.
Cotton turned toward the barbarian entering the tavern. “S-so, which city did you say you're heading to?”
“Mordelan.”
Eden swept the dust off the table as he spoke. “Five servings of whatever there's to eat.”
“Stew okay?”
As Eden nodded, the tavern keeper headed back behind the counter. The menu was the perennial stew that had been simmering since the place opened.
“…Mordelan, huh.”
Cotton muttered, but Eden paid it no mind. It wasn't his business anyway. But Cotton smoothly dragged a chair over to the table where the group sat and tried to join them.
“Five servings? More people coming?”
“I'll eat three bowls.”
“…Innkeeper, make it one more here.”
Catching on that Eden had ordered excluding his own share, Cotton quickly added a bowl for himself. And before the stew arrived, he attempted to negotiate with Eden.
“H-hey, big guy.”
Cotton rubbed his palms together with a sleazy grin. “Mordelan's the closest city from here, right?”
Eden nodded, and Cotton clapped, shouting as if it were perfect timing. “Exactly! Mind if I tag along? Think of it as saving one poor soul.”
“Why should I?”
“Well, you wouldn't have gotten that axe without me. Please, I'm begging ya.”
Eden stared at Cotton without responding. Cotton swallowed dryly under that gaze. But his situation was desperate too. Whether selling gems or finding work, he had to get to a city. And if bandits stole them on the way, he might lose the will to live altogether. He couldn't pass up the chance to travel with a legendary barbarian, even to avoid that danger.
Eden smirked at Cotton. “What can you even do?”
“...H-hey, I can handle a knife pretty well.”
Cotton glanced at the barbarian's axe. That wasn't the point he needed to sell. “I stand watch like a pro, pick locks smooth as butter, pickpocket... er, I mean, I've got great dexterity, so don't get the wrong idea.”
Cotton quickly made excuses, glancing at the paladin at the same table. Close call.
As the mood grew awkward, Cotton broke into a cold sweat, racking his brain for his usefulness. What? What do I have...!
“R-right! The village chief was prepping a cart to the city earlier, yeah? I'll go ask if we can hitch a ride!”
Cotton bolted from his seat without waiting for a reply. His octopus-headed silhouette vanished in a flash.
Eden let out a hollow chuckle at the retreating figure. What a noisy guy.
Having failed to secure a spot on the cart, Cotton grumbled in an aggrieved tone. “...Gotta be a lie, no doubt.”
He kept venting his frustration. “Mordelan's the closest city from here, but they're not going? Does that even make sense?”
As he spoke, Cotton made moves like he was heading back to the village. “This won't do. Instead of walking, let's just go back and talk to the chief...”
“Shut it.”
“...Got it.”
Cotton clamped his mouth shut, remembering how similar talks always ended with “or get beat.” Fair enough—the chief had his reasons. Less cargo space with passengers, and traveling with strangers was scary, even if they were the paladin who saved the village.
Cotton eyed the group. If he weren't desperate to protect his gems, he'd never approach them either.
First, the paladin looking like she'd just stepped off a battlefield. “Walking has its own charm, doesn't it?”
A massive two-handed hammer slung over her shoulder. No concept of casual clothes—she traveled in full armor.
Second, the hulking barbarian. “It's just boring.”
To Cotton, he seemed over seven feet tall. (Of course, if Eden heard, he'd correct it to 210cm.) His glare was so fierce even a seasoned vet like Cotton hesitated to meet it. And he wielded with one hand an axe that others needed two for—a monster.
And finally... “Still, I'm content. Plenty of chances for carts later.”
The only one on a mount—a donkey bought by Eden in the village.
...Damn, she's gorgeous. But Cotton quickly looked away. Don't stare at fruit you can't reach.
Thus, the group trudged along the plains. Golden fields shimmered under the sun, dazzlingly vast. Footsteps echoed for a while.
“...Ahem. Come to think of it.”
Cotton spoke up again in the end. “We haven't properly introduced ourselves yet, have we?”
“Wasn't your name Octopus?”
“...What kinda talk is that!”
Cotton raised his voice without thinking at Neb's words. Even an inland dweller like him knew octopuses—and their slickness.
“Name's Cotton.”
Fran asked lightly upon hearing it. “So why's your head shaped like that?”
“...Fuck.”
The 'cotton' muttered a low curse. Fran must've been joking—a small laugh echoed from her helmet.
“Fran, paladin of the Sun God.”
“...So, Lady Fran?”
“Call me whatever. We both serve the Sun.”
Cotton turned to Eden. It'd only be a few days anyway—what intros? Eden sighed and introduced himself. “Eden. That's Neb.”
“Heard Torgard names are unique, but yeah, kinda exotic. Never heard anything like it around here.”
Cotton muttered cheekily. Unique? It's a president's name.Eden thought of the president with the 'Ba' surname.
Then Eden halted. Looking back, Cotton grinned awkwardly up at him, feet sore. “...H-hey, big guy? I just said unique, not weird. Sounds like a solid name to me—”
“Someone's coming.”
But Eden's gaze wasn't on Cotton. “...Huh? Who'd come to this backwater?”
Cotton saw nothing. The plains stretched far, visible for miles.
A few minutes later, Cotton realized the barbarian was right. Thud thud thud—the ground shook. Knights in armor galloped down the road on horseback. Not targeting the group, they passed without a glance at the sidestepped travelers.
Cotton muttered uneasily, watching them go. “...You heard that sound?”
Is he even human? Cotton wondered. Fair point—the guy crumpled steel statues barehanded. Maybe better to assume otherwise.
Cotton recalled the knights' emblem in haste. “That's the Ksaruna ducal crest. Even after winning the war, didn't expect 'em strutting this far in.”
The empire-ducrow war was infamous even among commoners. And the tiny duchy as victor? Huge.
“Probably looking for something... Eh, none of our business.”
The war was over; a few knights couldn't restart it. Not their problem. Unaware of the barbarian's hardening expression, Cotton resumed walking. Different directions anyway—no chance of meeting again.
Over hills, across plains, along forest paths—human presence grew.
“That there's Mordelan.”
Stone walls came into view, mossy and unkempt, but undeniably city-scale beyond a village.
“Man, been a while.”
People bustled at the gate. As the group approached, murmurs swelled. A dented-visored paladin, hulking barbarian, stunning donkey rider—natural stir. (Cotton? Invisible.)
Checks weren't strict—no lines. Guards just glanced at passersby. Fine by Eden; stricter meant more suspicion on barbarians.
They entered without fuss.
“Got here quicker than thought. Figured it'd take another day or two.”
Cotton scanned the city, sheepish. “Anyway, thanks to you, paladin lady, and... uh, miss. Appreciate it.”
Avoiding names, he expressed thanks. Fran asked, “Where to now?”
“Tavern for a drink first, business later. You guys...”
Cotton eyed Eden striding ahead. Eden waved without turning. “Fuck, guy's ice-cold.”
He'd only begged a ride to Mordelan. And the full-course treatment promise wasn't empty. Cotton bowed to Fran, then yelled at Eden's back. “Hey! Golden Duck at the alley end's solid for an inn! Catch ya next time!”
Cotton watched him vanish into an alley, then dipped into another. Gems to the bank first.
Back to three.
“Straight to the church?”
“Yeah, gotta cleanse the evil god's traces on her.”
“As this goddess anticipated.”
Fran seemed accustomed to Neb's odd speech over days, striding confidently. She grabbed a passerby. “Where's the Sun God church?”
Eden sighed at the sight. First time in the city for her too, apparently. Good thing—in a small city, everyone knew the church spot.
They reached a grand bell tower by the square. Sun God emblem atop it.
“This is it.”
“I can tell standing next to you.”
“...Ahem.”
All first-timers, yet... Eden stopped behind Fran, hearing her awkward words.
...Churches usually closed? Others he'd seen were open at this hour.
Thud, thud. Iron gauntlets rapped the door. Long wait later, footsteps inside. Door creaked open with age.
“Who?”
Rude tone, but Fran replied politely. “Paladin of the Sun God, Fran. Here to verify with the priest inside.”
“...Paladin?”
The surly man squinted, scanning them—staring hard at her dented visor.
“Proof?”
“Of course.”
Fran rummaged her armor. “...”
Nothing. Eden forehead-palmed as she even shook off her cloak.
“...Lost it?”
“No, it must be here... Can't be gone.”
No proof after ages; the man scowled, spat on the ground. “Stealing paladin armor's a heavy crime.”
“No, wait. Can you fetch the priest? Talking directly proves it.”
He shook his head. “Priest ain't here. Come back later.”
Slam! Door shut. Clear boot.
Eden sensed wrongness. Blocking entry outright? Where's the priest?
But Fran seemed too shocked for suspicion, frozen.
Neb eyed her back, incredulous. “So, what's the plan now?”
“...”
No reply.
“S-something's off.”
“Shocked from getting kicked out, looks like.”
“No, really...!”
Fran looked on the verge of tears, indignant.