Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Taming the Fireballs (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Honestly speaking, the Gustatory Officer's summons didn't particularly worry me.
'What kind of major issue could a rookie who's been here for less than a month possibly come up with?' I wondered.
A month was still far too early to experience the true bitterness of border work.
It usually took about half a year before they managed to cause a *significant* incident.
The worst I could imagine was something along the lines of, 'The visitor's dog bit my hand!'
'Sudden situations always *seem* serious, no matter what... I understand,' I thought.
It was natural for panic to cloud judgment, especially for a newbie.
She had probably freaked out over her first unexpected crisis and called me in a flurry.
And, just as I'd predicted, the Gustatory Officer's emergency call wasn't just a minor issue.
It was a goddamn *massive* one.
-Fwoooosh!
"Kyaaang! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
Right now, it was the cool, crisp dusk of late autumn.
So why, then, were fire spirits blazing in front of me, spewing blue pillars of flame high into the darkening sky?
Scorching winds, hotter than a sauna, blasted every which way, and the freshly paved stone ground from just a few days prior was now charred black.
Thankfully, the fire spirits were raging in the open lot outside of the building, at least.
For elemental beings like spirits, it was always wiser to conduct inspections outdoors, away from any easily flammable papers and materials indoors.
The real problem was *why* these fire spirits, who typically turned docile with just a few logs, had become blue with rage.
"...What the hell is going on *here*?"
It was all so absurd that I found myself asking the Gustatory Officer's attendant, the one who had guided us to the immigration inspection lot.
She replied brazenly.
"No idea. Those 'fire lumps' suddenly went berserk."
If *you* don't know, are they going to magically calm down? That's literally what we're here for.
And "fire lumps"? That's blatant racial discrimination, and she was spouting it casually as a *state* attendant?
My own attendant must have read my face, because she quickly added,
"Perhaps you should speak with the Gustatory Officer first, Central Officer. You'll be roasted alive at this rate."
No sooner had she spoken than a girl, who appeared to be barely enduring the spirits' fury, spotted me from afar and threw her hands up.
"C-Central Offiiiiiicer!!"
It was exactly the face of a child who'd gotten lost from their parents at the market and been reunited after three hours of abject terror.
The Gustatory Officer dodged the blue flame pillars and sprinted toward us at incredible speed the moment she saw me.
She grabbed my pant leg and wailed, bordering on hysterics,
"Save me, please save me, I'm begging you to save meeee!"
Screw the dignity of an immigration officer; she begged *piteously*.
A burning hair smell wafted over, acrid and unpleasant.
Looking down, I saw that the Gustatory Officer's already curly nomad hair had exploded into a full-blown afro.
"Gustatory Officer," I said, trying to regain some semblance of control, "You indicated you required assistance, so I am here."
State the *purpose* first. Procedure still mattered, even in this chaos.
"I will cooperate fully within my discretion. What, specifically, do you require assistance with?"
"Everything!" she exclaimed, her voice bordering on a sob.
I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. A lifetime of headaches surged within me.
When she couldn't even *specify* the problems or her struggles, just "everything?"
Re-education confirmed. It was back to the hellish basics for this one.
'First, I had to resolve this current mess,' I thought.
I sighed deeply, unbound my hands from behind my back, and pried the girl's grip off my leg.
"You certainly *look* like you require a significant amount of help. What in the world did you do?"
Her bright eyes immediately welled up with tears.
"W-Well, I... no, I mean, this official doesn't even know for sure... There were visitors from the north, and I simply asked them to tone down the heat, to be polite..."
Hmm. Rage like *that* over a simple request? It didn't add up.
Fire spirits were generally among the most gentle and amiable of the races.
One common nickname for them was "friends of the hearth."
They were usually well aware of their heat output and were always careful to restrain it around people.
"Is that all? Is there anything else you might have done that could be considered rude, even unintentionally?"
"N-Nothing else that I... this official is aware of..."
She didn't seem to be lying, at least. Perhaps she erred somehow without realizing it.
"It sounds like a potential cultural misunderstanding. Did you at least attempt to talk it out with them?"
"Uh, w-well..."
She hemmed and hawed, avoiding eye contact.
"Did you at least politely request a dialogue, as an immigration officer is supposed to?" I pressed.
She mumbled the words reluctantly.
"Th-They don't speak the common tongue... so I wasn't able to."
"Pardon?"
I reflexively repeated her utterly outrageous answer.
"Even without speaking the common tongue, couldn't you at least have tried communicating with them using other languages?"
The world was full of them, after all.
There were Elvish runes, ancient pictographs...
Even simple picture signs would have worked.
Spirits often used those themselves. Had she forgotten them entirely?
Basic officer qualifications required at least three languages, minimum.
Her eyes widened, as if suddenly enlightened by a brilliant idea.
"Oh, that method!"
Oh, dear lord.
-Wobble.
"C-Central Officer!"
My attendant caught my staggering body; I didn't quite fall, thankfully.
"You didn't even *try* that and then decided to call *me*—your superior officer—right before the end of your shift?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice level.
I forcefully tamped down my rising rage as she visibly shrank in front of me.
"S-Sorry! You were the only one I could think of..."
Her direct attendant interjected, cutting the tension.
"Actually, I did try those other methods, Central Officer."
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"While the Gustatory Officer was panicking, I attempted to communicate with runes and gestures with those 'fire lumps'," she said, emphasizing the derogatory term.
'Fire lumps' again. The woman was just discriminatory on autopilot at this point.
The nomad needed some serious etiquette retraining.
Anyway.
"And the result?" I asked, wanting to move forward.
"Total failure. They didn't understand a single word I said or seemed to comprehend what I was trying to convey. It seems... they only speak spirit tongue."
My attendant frowned thoughtfully.
"Spirit tongue... That would explain the communication breakdown," she said.
"Ah." the Gustatory officer echoed, finally understanding the seriousness of it.
My face twisted as well. This just got a whole lot more complex.
Spirit tongue.
It was the oldest language in existence, generally considered impossible for human mouths to form, as it was primarily composed of pure mana.
I briefly recalled the strange feeling from the fire spirits' words earlier.
It wasn't exactly heard, but rather, the words were forcibly stabbed directly into your mind.
Spirits typically lacked true vocal cords, being primarily composed of pure elements.
Even their current forms were just vaguely humanoid constructs made of swirling flame.
Normal spirits usually understood basic runes at the very least, given the Elves' tongue was rather close to pure mana.
'If runes fail to work, it means these are an ancient strain,' I realized.
These were definitely an archaic type, only capable of communicating in spirit tongue.
And that was the trickiest kind.
The clueless Gustatory Officer naturally lacked the experience or the inherent sense to properly handle such a situation.
Could she have even begin to guess at the reason for their extreme anger? Probably not, it was expected from her lack of experience
'Calling me urgently was honestly the best course of action she could have taken,' I realized.
My rage eased slightly at that thought.
There was no point in fuming even more. She was trembling like a drowned rat right now anyway—it was almost pitiful to watch.
'I'll have to talk to them directly anyway,' I resolved.
Having a better grasp on the situation, I took a deep breath and consciously relaxed my posture.
"Fine. I'll handle it from here," I stated with confidence.
"Huh? Are you sure about that...? They look *really* angry..." she said, her voice laced with doubt and fear.
"It's fairly obvious that they are," I replied, giving her a dry look.
I eyed the two still-blue-blazing spirits, who were now standing some distance away.
'Alright, now what,' I thought.
Normal fire spirits were often depicted as youthful beauties made of flickering orange flames, with warm and welcoming smiles.
These spirits, however, were made of harsh blue flames, with vaguely discernible muscular male forms.
They also weren't bothering to dial down the heat despite the brisk winds; instead, they were spewing huge pillars of blue flame directly from their heads.
'Yeah, they're seriously pissed,' I thought grimly.
It was a rare sight from my long career. Almost nostalgic, in a twisted way.
They looked as though they were just itching to torch everything in sight if they were given even the slightest provocation.
I absolutely had to calm them down before that happened. Otherwise, those small pillars would quickly turn into a raging firestorm, engulfing the entire area in an instant.
Spirits were often too honest when it came to expressing their emotions.
My attendant cautiously suggested, "Should we call in the Border Guard? If they don't comply willingly, the situation could escalate very quickly."
"There's no need for that," I stated firmly.
It would be absolutely insane to summon those boneheaded blockheads.
They would just inadvertently spark violence, potentially causing a full-blown arson. That would cause the entire incident to blow up and become a thousand times worse than it already was.
"I'll go and attempt to talk to them. A civil dialogue might still be possible," I said, trying to sound optimistic.
"B-But, I'll come with you too! I need to apologize if I messed something up—"
"Absolutely not. You are to stay right here," I commanded.
"Eek..."
She gave me a pathetic, pouting look.
"Don't even think about sulking right now. You'll just be a burden to me if you come," I said, dismissing her attempt at guilt.
"Uw... You're so mean, Central Officer..." she grumbled, her cheeks puffed up in childish indignation.
Ignoring her pathetic attempt at a guilt trip, I confidently strode toward the enraged fire spirits.
They saw me approach, and the flames around their forms immediately jetted even higher, more aggressively than before.
-Fwoooosh!
Their displeasure was palpable. The roaring winds surrounding them grew even fiercer, whipping around me with intense force.
"Ngh!" I grunted as the heat intensified.
"Central Officer!" My attendant called out worriedly
"Stay back! That is an order!" I replied sharply.
The heat was no joke. But retreating now? Absolutely not.
Properly greeting and hosting visitors was the foremost virtue of any border official, especially a ranking one.
I took a bolder approach; the fire spirits menaced even closer, seeming ready to incinerate me on the spot.
Finally, I was just one step away from them, standing face-to-face with their intense, fiery fury.
Their uncontrolled heat was almost unbearable; sweat was pouring down my face despite the relatively cool autumn air.
But I wouldn't dare wipe it away. It would be terribly uncool to display any sign of discomfort in the heat.
I straightened my fixed attire and cleared my parched throat slowly and deliberately.
"Ahem!" I said, projecting an air of authority
Focusing my mind, I steadied my breathing, trying to remain calm under intense pressure.
"Huuu..." I inhaled deeply.
I channeled all of my body's energy to gather at my throat, focusing on my vocal cords.
The feeling was familiar, yet alien at the same time.
The raw power of untamed mana scraped against my vocal cords in an unusual and slightly painful way.
"Siiiip," I inhaled deeply, preparing myself for what was to come.
Then,
Standing defiantly between the twin, raging pillars of blue flame, I opened my mouth and spoke.
Meanwhile, the left-behind Gustatory Officer was practically dying inside from anxiety and guilt.
"Wh-Wh-What do we do!? The Central Officer's in terrible danger!" she stammered, her face pale with fear.
Spirits were usually rather mild-mannered, rarely exhibiting real rage—but when they did, it was often on the scale of a natural disaster.
After all, they were beings made of pure elemental energy.
Her own inexperience and lack of foresight had resulted in her direct superior having to confront them alone.
She wanted to rush forward, bow deeply, and take on all of their anger herself—but the Central Officer's attendant gripped her shoulder, utterly calm despite the obvious danger.
"He looks like he's got this covered," she said, completely confident.
"How do you 'persuade' enraged spirits that can barely communicate—or rather, *can't* communicate!? I should be calling the Border Guard right now!" she protested, her voice bordering on hysteria.
"Ah, you've only just enlisted, so you wouldn't know much about these things. It'll all be fine. I promise," the attendant replied, trying to reassure her.
"Aren't you at all worried? What if he gets roasted into golden-brown crisp? Will we have to plan the funeral then?"
"The state handles all the paperwork and proceedings in situations like that, so don't worry about it. And anyway, that isn't going to happen," she replied, remaining oddly confident.
"But..." the Gustatory officer protested weakly
The Central Officer's attendant simply shook her head at her worst-case scenario thinking and continued to smile
"Gustatory Officer, do you even know *how* he became the southern border chief after only four years on the job?" she asked, changing the subject entirely.
"Uh? Well, it's because he's incredibly amazing at his job, right..." she said uncertainly.
"That's certainly true. But there's one more thing you should know about. Namely, his unique ability," the attendant said, a hint of pride in her voice.
"Unique ability?" the Gustatory officer repeated in confusion.
The attendant grinned knowingly.
"He's one of only ten people on the entire continent with this kind of gift. The official designation is 'Talent Manifestor'. In simpler terms, he can basically speak every language that has ever existed."
"Whaa?" the Gustatory Officer exclaimed, her jaw dropping in shock and confusion
Her wide and bewildered eyes turned back to look at the Southern border chief.
"That even includes languages considered impossible for humans to pronounce," the attendant added dramatically.
Almost simultaneously, the Southern Border chief, Nathan Kell, opened his mouth and began to speak to the raging fire spirits.
[Ihalla, Haiho Henha Harahin Nathan Kell!]
(= Nice to meet you. This official is Immigration Officer Nathan Kell!)
The air around him churned visibly, as the impossible mana waves, generated by his human tongue speaking the spirit language, visibly echoed across the entire lot.