Bonds of Blood (1)

The scene that greeted me when I arrived at work the next day was, if anything, even more bewildering than I'd expected.

"Sir, incoming traveler! No cutting in line, please!"

"Spirits and fairies, please make your way to the open grounds! The Hearing Officer will conduct your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠screening over there!"

For a start, the place was as jam-packed as ever—packed to roughly twice its usual capacity, if anything, thanks to the flood of refugees displaced by the volcano's collapse.

Well, this much is practically business as usual.

But there was one difference.

"What is the purpose of your visit, sir?"

"Heading west."

"West!"

"The volcanic region—no, the volcanic ash wastelands!"

It wasn't just people fleeing as far from the volcano as they could. An enormous number of people were actually heading toward the west.

"Ugh, just stamp the permit already!"

"If we're late, someone else will claim our spot!"

Worse, they were hounding the officers and their aides as if something were chasing them down.

What stood out most of all was that every single one of them wore a face brimming with expectation and burning zeal.

And the man standing directly in front of me was no exception.

"Pleasure to meet you. My name is—"

"Anton Green, from the Mahalan Kingdom. I'm headed to the western volcanic region."

"...Thank you."

A man who streamlined the entire entry procedure down to a single instant. I ran my eyes over his appearance: a straw hat perched on his head, trousers worn limp and sagging, and calluses embedded deep in both palms.

A farmer.

The faint whiff of manure drifting off him and the soil dust crusted under his fingernails proved the point. But something about him was off.

Specifically, the small, rusted pickaxe hanging at his waist.

"Hmm..."

The moment I noticed it, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my eyes swept quickly over the surrounding travelers. Hammers, pickaxes, shovels—each clutched in someone's hand or strapped to someone's pack.

The Mahalan Kingdom had almost no mountains. Agriculture thrived there, but mining was hardly a major industry.

And yet every person standing in the entry queue—men and women, young and old, of every race—was carrying mining equipment.

Odd coincidence, that. They all look ready to turn miner on a moment's notice.

It was a rare sight—and a frankly bizarre one. It gave the impression of people utterly out of their element setting off on a journey for some purpose they couldn't refuse.

In that instant, a single word flashed through my mind.

Another gold rush.

A gold rush: the phenomenon where word spreads that something incredibly valuable lies in a particular region, and people come flooding in from every direction. Since becoming an officer, I'd seen something like it exactly twice.

Once when rumors spread that a diamond vein had been discovered in our own Crossline Kingdom. And once when a major bandit confederation was said to have buried a decade's worth of rare treasures somewhere up north.

Both times were utter hell.

I still remember that week of torment—more than two thousand visitors a day, for two solid weeks straight. Days that made the three-thousand-strong pilgrimage group look like a vacation.

Back then we survived by gnawing on raw mandragora roots the Foreign Ministry had rushed over for us.

Looking back, the whole thing was absurd. It wasn't even gold—since when does a vein of diamonds exist anywhere in this world?

If one did, the dwarves would have gnawed themselves half to death fighting over it and dug the whole thing bare ages ago.

And there was no reason for bandits to lose their minds and announce the location of their own hidden treasure either.

But whether the rumors were true had never mattered. No matter how insistently the Intelligence Department and the Immigration Office told the travelers "there is no basis for this, it doesn't exist," the words were simply ignored, like echoes vanishing into empty air.

To people blinded by a chance at instant riches, that plea could never be heard. Worse, the wild rumor even arose that "the Crossline Kingdom is trying to hog the diamond vein all for itself!"

"Right. No wonder things have been suspiciously quiet lately."

With a wry smile, I stamped the document. Their destination was all the same: the Western Active Volcano Region.

With an event as unprecedented as the volcano's collapse unfolding, it would be strange if the west—already drowning in superstition and legend—didn't spawn something like this. But the question remained: what was driving them toward a volcanic region that had just become lethally dangerous?

"All done. Welcome to the Crossline Kingdom. I hope you have a safe and pleasant journey."

"Thank you!"

"Ah—might I ask just one more thing?"

I caught the man as he made to hurry past. "Why is everyone heading west like this? As I understand it, the west has become extremely dangerous right now."

"Officer, you're rather behind on the news. The dragon is dead!"

"...I beg ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your pardon?"

Completely unexpected. "The... dragon, you say?"

No, hold on. How does this man know anything about Mnassil?

Seeing my expression, the farmer spoke up in a voice quivering with excitement. "The western volcano collapsed, right? And they say it's because—what was it again—its 'master of so-and-so' died. And apparently that dragon's nest is just bursting with treasure!"

"Ah... I see."

A gold rush is built on rumor. A story plausible enough, and fiery enough to kindle greed in the human heart, gathers the crowds—and so most such rumors turn out exaggerated or outright false.

Unfortunately, the rumor spreading among these people was, to some degree, true.

The dragon had not died. In fact, she was currently staying in my house.

But the dragon's very existence had been revealed to the whole world—and everyone now knew there was nothing left in the west. A twisted version of the truth was spreading far and wide.

"...I understand perfectly. You may go through."

Why did I have this sinking feeling that yet another headache-inducing affair was about to begin? Suppressing the unease creeping up my spine, I called out.

"Next!"

Because right now, there was a procession of travelers far more terrifying than any foreboding.

About five hours later.

"Neeeeext, pleeeeease..."

This is hell. "Please state your name, your place of origin, and why you are traveling west."

"Milia Noken, from the Mahalan Kingdom. There's treasure in the west, so—"

"Approvedddd..."

I couldn't take it anymore. Three hundred minutes of repeating the same words, at the same pace, in the same posture.

"Aide, I'm going to step out for ten minutes..."

In the end, I broke before the travelers did and dragged myself out of my seat. My destination: the recovery room.

- Creeeak.

"Erzena, are you in here?"

If ever there was a day I desperately needed your divine power, it was today.

But the recovery room itself looked like a field hospital on a battlefield. "Nathan... welcome..."

Erzena was in a pitiable state herself. Her cheeks were so hollowed out it was heartbreaking—as if her holy power had been drained clear down to the marrow. The cots around her were already packed full with aides who had collapsed from exhaustion.

And between the two of us, the Taste Officer and the Hearing Officer lay sprawled face-down across the table.

"Central Officer, sir..."

"I see you two were resting as well."

"The Smell Officer and Touch Officer took over for us, so we only just got here..."

Soldiers fallen on the field of battle, laid low by a brutal working environment.

- Thud.

I collapsed into a seat beside them and promptly planted my face on the desk. "Haaaah... I thought nothing like this would happen again after the pilgrimage group."

"A gold rush. I truly never saw it coming."

The Hearing Officer murmured, having caught my deep sigh. "When a natural disaster strikes, shouldn't there only be refugees fleeing from it?"

"A rumor is circulating about the dragon. That the master of the volcano has died."

"Could that really be true? If it was the master of the volcano... it must have been an ancient dragon. Even in death, it wouldn't have caused a spectacle like this. Simply waiting quietly for its time would be the natural way of things."

Leave it to an elf of the long-lived races—her sharply accurate reading of the truth left me silent for a moment.

"...It does catch me off guard. A dragon. I thought such things existed only in legend."

I deflected, quickly. There's no need to tell the others anything about Mnassil. Staying silent about the dragon at the center of the rumors was the safer path. The fewer people who knew, the lower the risk of the egg being discovered.

Fortunately, the Taste Officer glanced behind me and changed the subject. "Come to think of it, the Princess didn't come in today, did she? Is that why? Compared to a few days ago, the travelers are being difficult in a whole different way..."

"That's true. Normally the Princess would be quietly keeping people from abandoning the line. No wonder the travelers are being insufferable today."

The Princess was at home right now, with Mnassil.

In a long life—no, a long dragon life—perhaps play was a first for Mnassil, because her curiosity was immense. The moment she realized the three of us were heading to work at the Immigration Office, she threw a fit insisting on coming along.

And so I had left with solemn instructions to Hannah and Elaine to keep Mnassil inside the house.

Ah, and of course I'd explained the situation to the fortress commander as well, now that he had finally started functioning again. If he could keep the Princess's secret, he would certainly stay silent about the dragon too.

"By the way, who usually starts rumors like this, anyway?"

The Taste Officer asked with a thoroughly baffled expression. "The diamond vein affair too—if it had been real, whoever found it would keep it all for themselves. Why on earth spread it across the whole world?"

A fair point. It was the Hearing Officer who answered.

"Because something bigger rides on top of it."

"Pardon?"

"The diamond affair was fake. A freight cart loaded with precious metals simply fell off a cliff, and the transport company that witnessed it spread a fabricated rumor to drum up business for their own cart services. A con, swindling miners into digging up empty dirt while ferrying them around at insane prices."

"Th-that's what it was!?"

She waved her hand loosely as she went on. "And the northern bandit affair? There was an unexplored frontier up north at the time, and the bureaucrats of the Skadi Empire planted the rumor—managing to pull off a colonization project almost entirely for free."

That was the truth of the gold rush: deception and trickery. And seduction.

"The reason a gold rush happens is simpler than you'd think. It's started by people looking to set fire to human desire. To achieve some other purpose. In the end, everyone charges in like moths to a flame, never knowing what's real."

She spat out the cold facts without a hint of sugar-coating.

The Taste Officer fell deep into thought, then posed one more question. "Then... what could the person who spread the rumor about the volcanic region be after?"

"Hard to say."

The elf shrugged. "Maybe there's something more important than treasure buried in there. Or... maybe they're simply out of their mind."

"..."

A sharp observation. Something more important than treasure...

I quietly turned the words over in my mind. What could be more precious than treasure in a dragon's nest?

That was when it happened.

- Knock, knock.

Someone knocked at the door. "Central Officer, sir. So this is where you were."

"I've been in here less than five minutes."

Surely my break isn't over already? But the aide shook his head, looking extremely flustered.

"No, sir. You need to come out to the grounds for a moment."

"What is it?"

"Well... there's someone insisting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they must see you, Central Officer. Personally."

"Me?"

I thought for a moment. Who could be after me, that insistently?

Let's see. The Minister. The Director. Melanie. Mohaim. The Queen's proxy. Margrave Reyes. The Academy head. Mnassil...

The list went on forever.

"Did you at least find out who it is?"

"They refuse to say anything unless it's to you directly, sir."

Why did people of this particular breed always appear one every other day?

"Haaaaah..."

There was no way around it. With a deep sigh, I heaved my leaden body upright. If someone had summoned me by name, I had no choice but to answer.

"Let's go. If they're so eager to see me, the least I can do is show my face."

Whoever you are, I am going to give your entry screening the most rigorous treatment of your life today.

The moment I left the office building and stepped onto the grounds, a shrill voice reached my ears.

"Ugh, what's taking him so long? Don't tell me that man told you he was in when he really wasn't?"

A woman's voice, crisp and biting. The aide pointed at her with a defeated look on his face.

"That would be her, sir."

"..."

I turned my head in silence.

The woman standing before the line of enormous wagons looked somehow familiar. Black hair, mischievous jet-black eyes, light makeup—a woman like a black cat.

That presence, so achingly familiar. The kind one could never pretend not to know.

"...Huh?"

An inane sound escaped me before I could help it. Our eyes met.

"Huh? Big brother! Big brotheeeer! Nathan!!!

Her face lit up all at once, and she came sprinting toward me. With every shrinking step of the distance, that familiar, familiar face came into focus.

"Hi! Looks like you've been doing well."

The woman who finally stopped in front of me—bearing the very same features I did—smiled softly. But I couldn't answer her. I could only stare down at the woman before me with wide, stunned eyes.

Faced with the appearance of someone I had never expected, I murmured in a daze.

"...Noah?"

Noah Kell. The next Head of the Kell Merchant Company, a house whose caravans crossed the entire continent—and my long-unseen kin.

My little sister.

"I missed you, big brother."

Her soft laughter rang out across the grounds. And behind her, from one of the wagons, a flag bearing the crest of our family fluttered in answer.