Chapter 171
Chapter 171
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 171
Chapter Title: Ghost City (6)
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"I'm... I'm not entirely sure about the details!"
Seeing my expression, the innkeeper waved her hands frantically and added hastily.
"I only heard what the villagers were saying. I don't know the finer points."
She'd spoken so definitively about 'divine punishment' and all that, yet now she claimed ignorance of the details? I scratched my chin and stared at her. She wiped down an empty table for a good while, but eventually, unable to ignore my reaction, she spoke up again.
"As an innkeeper... I just pick up bits and pieces from travelers coming and going. You should ask someone else for the full story."
"I see."
"Yes, exactly. Truth be told, I didn't even see the fire myself."
"Then who did witness the fire?"
"Hmm, the village chief and some of the men from the village..."
"Did they say it was 'divine punishment'?"
The innkeeper hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding. Even though the inn was quite a ways from the village center—far enough that no one would casually pass by—she lowered her voice as she spoke.
"You're not mages, are you...?"
"No. I'm a druid who serves nature, and these two are knights."
"Phew. That's a relief. Mages make everyone really uncomfortable."
"Because of the Dawson couple?"
"Yes, because of the Dawsons..."
"What on earth did that couple do?"
"They used the power of the gods."
"The power of the gods..."
"They blasphemed against the gods, and that's why they received divine punishment."
"......"
"If the village chief hadn't been there, our whole village might have... No, never mind."
The magic wielded by mages was mysterious, powerful, and impressive, but it was distinctly different from the power of the gods. Magic involved constructing formulas according to set rules and manipulating mana accordingly to produce results. It was a kind of mathematical process. There was a defined procedure, a required cost, and a predictable outcome.
The power of the gods, however, was an absolute force that completely ignored the 'rules' so crucial to magic. It was a miracle, plain and simple. Gods could achieve their desired results without paying costs or following procedures one by one. Why? Because they were 'gods.'
Thus, a mage's magic and the gods' power were entirely different things. Claiming a mage had used divine power was as absurd as saying a dog had breathed fire.
Yet the innkeeper firmly believed that mage couple had wielded godly power. Not all that surprising, though. In a small village like this—far from any big city—superstitious nonsense often ran rampant.
'...I need to trace the origin of this ridiculous rumor first.'
I didn't press the innkeeper further. Instead, I just gave her a small smile and finished my meal.
"Ayla!"
The moment we stepped out of the inn, I called Ayla in a stern voice.
"From this instant on, you are not to act on your own without my permission. Absolutely not."
-Kruuung...
She knew she'd done wrong. Her ears flattened against her head as she looked up at me with her big, round eyes, wagging her tail ever so slowly. It was an adorably puppy-like sight, but I hardened my gaze and stared down at her sternly.
"We don't know what might happen. Don't stray from my side."
-Kruung...
"Pity won't work on me."
Did my warning get through? Ayla drooped her tail and followed dejectedly behind me. Pipi, oblivious to Ayla's mood, perched on her head, preening his feathers and dozing off with little nods.
As we rounded the corner into the village center, we saw it bustling with people—unlike the previous night. Folks hauling goods, others bargaining—everyone busy with their own tasks. It all looked perfectly ordinary.
If only the charred mansion wasn't looming in the background.
"Good day."
Even in a small village like this, mercenaries must pass through occasionally, as there was a shop dealing in monster byproducts. I stopped by to chat and pulled out my pouch of magic stones I'd collected. The hefty amount made the shopkeeper's eyes widen in surprise.
"Th-this is..."
"Haha, nothing too impressive. Mostly goblins and orcs."
Even so, the quantity was substantial, and they'd been preserved well, so the quality was high. One perk of using a bow as your main weapon: you could harvest most byproducts, like magic stones, without damage.
"I'm not asking for a fortune. Just pay a fair price..."
Meaning he could take a generous cut as commission. The shopkeeper grinned, clearly getting the hint, and began sorting the stones. In a little place like this, magic stone trades wouldn't be frequent unless mercenaries stopped by now and then. No wonder he was thrilled.
"By the way, sir."
As he separated the green and purple stones by size, I casually brought it up.
"What's the deal with that mansion? Smoke's still rising from it."
The shopkeeper glanced up at the mansion, then back to the stones. Adjusting his monocle, he smacked his lips appreciatively while handling them.
"Don't worry about it."
"I was thinking it might be profitable."
"Haha! Selling these alone will line your pockets—profit's the last thing you need!"
"No way. Just paying off our meal tabs would eat up half. And that's if we're lucky. Weapons need maintenance, the cart too, horseshoes aren't free... Then renewing our mercenary badges soon? What's left in hand is pennies."
"......"
"So, what I'm saying is... any paying jobs around? Village headaches, maybe. That mansion looks like one."
"Hmm."
"I make money, the village loses a problem. Just so you know, I'm an undead specialist—skeletons, zombies, ghosts. Didn't see much action from Solen here, no undead on the road."
At 'undead specialist,' the shopkeeper's eyebrow twitched up. He glanced between the stones and us. Sizing up our skills from the haul, perhaps? He cleared his throat a few times, then spoke lowly.
"Hmm, not really something to entrust to outsiders..."
"Come on. That's why you hire mercenaries—for the tough, messy jobs."
"The village might not have the funds for that, tsk..."
"Just let me talk to them."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded after a long pause. He finished sorting and settling the payment, grabbed his coat, and headed out. No other customers around, so he had no qualms leaving the place empty.
"Follow me."
We trailed him down an alley. Up a well-paved brick path stood an old but large, well-kept house.
'That must be the village chief's place.'
The innkeeper had mentioned him, and the shopkeeper talked about the village as a whole—it seemed everyone moved as one. The chief was likely the one pulling the strings. I recalled her words: 'If the village chief hadn't been there, our whole village might have...'
'Meaning the chief was involved in the mansion incident.'
The shopkeeper opened the door first and went in; we followed into the house. While he explained to what seemed the lady of the house, I glanced around the interior.
'...Not exactly prosperous.'
Not unusual. In tiny villages like this, even 'chiefs' often lacked wealth. The title was mostly for show.
'But he seems to have a tight grip on the villagers nonetheless...'
Before I could dwell, a cough echoed from deeper inside. A shadow parted the thin curtain. I looked up instinctively and met the figure's gaze directly.
The man stood propped up by his wife. He leaned slightly askew, looking down at us, his two eyes different colors. Actually, his irises weren't the only mismatch.
Half his face was melted skin dripping away, hair mostly burned off. One eye was a milky white, pupil indistinguishable from the sclera; half his lips gone, teeth fully exposed.
"......"
It was obvious what had happened. Severe burns, not fully healed. Makes sense—no temple here. The nearest was too far to be practical, so they'd given up on proper treatment. Common in this pseudo-medieval land.
"Come in."
"Pleased to meet you, Village Chief."
He nodded, sat on the sofa, and after a few hacking coughs, finally looked at us properly.
"Mercenaries?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"We're..."
"The sort who'll do anything?"
"......"
I paused mid-sentence and met the chief's eyes. His good eye bored into me. Realizing what answer he wanted, I smiled.
"...Yes."
"Good."
The chief glanced behind me. I instantly knew what he'd spotted: Ayla, glued to my back. He seemed to be looking at me, but really at her.
"I hadn't planned on hiring outsiders..."
"..."
"But you look capable enough."
"Thank you for saying so."
"You saw the mansion on your way in?"
"Yes. Hard to spot in the fog, but smoke was still coming up."
"Indeed. That damned place is still..."
He trailed off, coughing repeatedly. Like the burns, the cough was clearly a lingering effect from the mansion fire.
"Undead specialist, was it?"
"Yes."
"That simplifies things."
What the hell was going on?
"Exterminate those mad ghosts for me."