Red Sword
Turn off the square into an alley that did not lead to the inn, and the street opened into something like a market.
Behind the space where grain and flour were sold stood the merchants of fish and meat. A little farther on, others were selling salt, spices, and bread.
What was a little unusual were the places that sold chickens and ducks. They were not selling birds already dead. When a customer came, they killed one on the spot.
Eggs were bound up in straw and sold by the bundle. Twelve to a bundle.
Some had proper shops. Some had only a tent. And some merchants simply laid their goods out on the ground and sold them there.
Lizzie and Dorothy were beside themselves. Everything, this and that alike, was nothing but a wonder, and no sooner did the two of them seem to linger here than they had drifted over there, only to come back again a moment later and go on staring. Watching them was enough to make a person's eyes spin.
Lizzie went about asking the merchants how much this was, how much that was. All the while she kept one hand clenched tight around the coin purse at her waist.
It did not take long before Dorothy, who only a little while ago had been making a great fuss about how splendid the women adventurers were and how she meant to become one herself, began declaring that she would be a merchant.
Lizzie and Dorothy were wildly excited, but to Juhwan's eye there were not so many goods or merchants after all. The place had the air of an old country market. Even so, to the two of them it seemed there was far too much of everything.
He ambled along after the pair as they buzzed this way and that like honeybees. Only a few days ago he had come into this world naked and fought goblins, and already it felt like a distant past.
This is good.
Picking his way around the dung and urine animals had left here and there, Juhwan let a quiet smile slip out.
Seeing the two of them hurry about, bright with pleasure, he thought that this must be what happiness was.
While they looked, the appointed hour seemed to have nearly come. The bell had not yet rung, but the sun stood directly overhead.
Lizzie had already come back several times to stand before a merchant who sold bread stacked in piles. For some reason she seemed deeply interested in that bread.
"Lizzie, it's time. Let's go to the guild."
When he spoke, she nodded, reluctance written plain on her face. She was still fretting as she turned away, and the merchant called after her.
"Hey. Buy two, and I'll throw in one more."
Lizzie made a small troubled sound and looked at the bread again.
Juhwan looked too.
One great lump of bread, hard as it looked, was said to cost a single copper coin. A rina was two coppers, and he still could not tell whether the loaf was cheap or dear.
Even so.
It was large enough that once you bought it, it seemed as if it would last a long while, but it looked so unappetizing he could hardly believe anyone took money for the thing.
This was nothing like the white, soft bread he knew from Earth. Barley or oats, perhaps — the color was dark and dull, and it looked so hard he thought a person might die if you struck them with it. To call it bread felt like stretching the word a very long way.
To his eye the herring, twelve fish for a single rina, looked far more nourishing and far cheaper.
Because Lizzie still could not let the bread go, he glanced at it once more. He wondered if he had misjudged it. He had not. Whatever else it was, the thing that wore the name of bread was a weapon. Terribly hard. He was not even sure a tooth could get into it.
"Lizzie, the inn serves food. Why do you want to buy bread?"
Asked, she answered a little shyly.
"If we eat it with what we buy at the inn, we can cut down a little on how much we get there. And if any food is left, we can eat it later."
Hm. Lizzie seemed bent on turning herself, all at once, into a ninth-dan mistress of the household. That was a good thing. Thinking so, Juhwan grinned.
He tapped her shoulder in encouragement, but she had already turned her head again to stare at the bread.
He scooped up Dorothy, who was racing about with the horned rabbit perched on her head.
"Kyaa! A bandit's here!"
In the game, Dorothy was a merchant selling rabbits, and Oz was the meat on offer. Lizzie was the wicked customer who walked past without buying, and Juhwan was the bandit who robbed them all.
"Save me!"
Dorothy's shrieks put him in a slightly awkward spot. Hey. Keep that up and the police will come for your father.
When they left the market alley and came out into the square, the three women adventurers were still quarreling with a man. The fallen man's companions seemed to have arrived. No one had drawn a weapon, but rough shouts and fists were flying.
Juhwan tucked Dorothy — still screaming with laughter that he was a bandit — under his arm and went into the Adventurer's Guild.
"Oh! You've come. Welcome."
The guild clerk seated in the middle beamed and greeted him.
As Juhwan stepped farther into the office, every eye turned toward him.
There seemed to be more adventurers at the tables than before. With every step he took, the words mage and magical beast rose from one side or another. Perhaps they had come to gawk after hearing the rumors.
The noon bell drifted faintly through the closed windows. The clerk's face grew troubled.
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait a little. The adventurers who are to teach you the work for a month haven't arrived yet."
The clerk sighed.
"Honestly. We finally found newcomers who fit just right, and those people... A match this good isn't easy to come by. Please wait just a bit. Adventurers are like that, you know. Plenty of them don't work to the hour. Those ones are better than most, though. They usually keep their appointments, so I don't know what's gotten into them today. If they're much later, I'll look for someone else."
Dorothy set about exploring the guild at once. With Oz she crept carefully from corner to corner, whispering something. Perhaps the bandit game was still going. Now and then she caught sight of Juhwan and darted into hiding.
Keeping an eye on the child, Juhwan asked the clerk, "Is there some problem with the adventurers assigned to us? It sounds as if there is."
The clerk looked a little flustered and waved a hand.
"No, no. The party isn't a bad one. Quite the opposite. We've put them in charge of training a few times, and every time they get stuck with rotten bastards. In a way, I suppose it can't be helped."
The clerk let out a long sigh.
"You're a family, and I thought pairing you with them wouldn't cause trouble, so it seemed all right. The thing is, that party is made up only of women."
The clerk stole a glance at Juhwan.
"I'm sorry to say it, but adventurers are a rough lot. Yes. There are a lot of rough people. I don't only mean that they fight. There are plenty who are that way with women, too."
This time the clerk glanced at Lizzie, then dropped his voice until the whisper reached only Juhwan.
"They go after them at night."
"What?"
Seeing that Juhwan did not understand, the clerk said it again.
"When night comes, they force themselves on the women. Among adventurers, plenty have done everything short of murder. There are more murderers than you'd think, quietly enough. Even the ones who aren't that sort find it amusing to jump a woman in the middle of the night."
The clerk shook his head.
"Men like that don't care if the other person is an adventurer too. They think it's even better that way. Disputes between adventurers aren't judged under ordinary law. Cripple someone, kill someone — no one interferes. Of course, if things get truly outrageous, the guild does step in."
"...So every woman adventurer faces that danger?"
At Juhwan's words, the clerk shrugged.
"Well, yes. That's why you rarely see a woman going about alone. It's dangerous. Adventurers don't often work alone in the first place. Usually they form a party."
He shrugged again and went on.
"It's dangerous work. There aren't many trades where people die as readily as adventurers do."
Just then the door banged open and someone came in. Juhwan turned his head. Three women were hurrying inside in a fluster.
"Oh."
Lizzie started.
The women who had entered the guild were the same ones who had been beating a man in the square.
They must have fought for a long time. Their faces were a mess. One had a split brow with blood running down it. Another had a bloody nose. The third had almost no mark on her face, but her hand seemed to hurt.
Ah. That woman.
The last of them was the one who had been pounding her opponent with her fists. Most people did not seem to know it, but if you struck a forehead or a skull wrong with a bare fist, the one you hit was not the only one who got hurt. The striker's hand could be injured as well.
Maybe the man they were hitting was one of the ones who went after a woman at night.
If so, they could beat him to death and he would have nothing to say for himself.
The clerk looked at the women with open relief.
"Oh, you're here. This is Red Sword. They'll be guiding you for the next month. A party made up entirely of women — very rare."
Dorothy stood in a corner with her eyes round.
"It's the women who were hitting the man!"
The air went awkward. Into it, the clerk spoke up brightly.
"Well, well, a good deal of time has already passed, so let's hurry and get on with it. First, introductions. This side is the Rank 3 party called Dorothy and Oz. Over there, Red Sword is Rank 5."
The adventurers seated at the tables snickered. The woman of Red Sword with the injured fist bit her lip.
What am I supposed to do? From the very start, the mood was thoroughly bad.
Most mages took part in war not by fighting with their own bodies, but by laying power upon things.
A fire mage set his strength into the fire-arrows loosed at the enemy. A mage who governed wind used his power on arrows and spears to heighten their speed and force.
A water mage could not bring great power to bear alone, but if a river was dammed into a lesser channel, several of them together could join their strength and direct that water.
When mages of many attributes combined their power, there was still more they could do, and in a great war they accomplished greater things still. On the battlefield, a mage held a role of the highest importance in defeating the enemy.
Mages were precious in other domains as well, but here in Bern, facing the enemy across a border, they were more precious still.
And because war came so often, Bern was also the place where the most mages died.
For that reason the Bern Margrave was desperate to secure them.
What he sought most eagerly of all were healing mages.
On a battlefield, closing wounds mattered, but simply restoring another mage's vigor was help enough in itself. Most healing mages were used for exactly that.
The lord of this place, the Bern Margrave, was himself a wind mage. He went into war and fought in person. All the more, then, did he need healing mages.
The Margrave's aide clicked his tongue at the shabby village visible in the distance. The palisade had burned away entirely.
This place, called Goblin Village, had suffered goblin raids more than once before. From the look of it, the same thing had happened again.
The aide urged his horse harder. The soldiers following him picked up speed as well.
A letter sent by a city information broker had reached the margrave's manor several days ago. It reported that a healing mage had been found. The letter said the man's power appeared to be strong, though whether that was true could not be known.
The aide had ridden here to confirm it. If the power was truly great, he meant to take the man at once. Hire him with money, if money would do it. If not, bring him by whatever means were required. That was the mission.
What in the world happened here?
Entering the village, the aide grimaced at the stench rising on every side. Dead goblins and the corpses of people filled the place.
"I need to know what happened. This was no ordinary goblin raid. Find out who killed these goblins. And drag that man they call the village chief here."
He gave the order, and with brisk answers the soldiers scattered in every direction.
A short while later they returned, dragging several villagers. The one in front, they said, was the village chief.
"They say a goblin settlement was found, and adventurers were called."
A soldier threatened a villager with his sword, and after that the chief and the people kneeling behind him answered. But their account did not match what he knew.
"Wait. Wasn't that forest keeper a healing mage?"
"What? No. He wasn't, not that... I—I don't really know."
It was the villagers who answered. Aside from the chief, they seemed to know the forest keeper only as a mage who used fire. The chief himself did nothing but tremble.
When the aide turned his gaze on him, the soldiers hauled the man forward and threw him to the ground.
"Didn't you tell the information broker, quite clearly, that he was a healing mage?"
"Th-that, well, the truth is... y-yes."
"Then how did he become a fire mage?"
"I don't know either. I saw a wound close quickly, and I thought he was a healing mage."
He might be hiding something. The aide ordered the soldiers to seize every villager.
After that he pressed the chief and the villagers hard, but they only repeated the same words. It seemed they were telling the truth.
Don't tell me he's a mage of two attributes.
Such mages were exceedingly rare.
He pressed the chief and the villagers for what the mage looked like, where he had gone, and what sort of man he was.
They were so frightened they could barely speak. Only when he promised that telling the truth alone would bring no punishment did they finally begin, one by one, to open their mouths.
He was tall. His bulk was like a mountain. His face was fierce. While they were saying such things, one of them ventured carefully.
"...And, um, my lord, that forest keeper's face was a little different. How should I put it. The shape of him was a little different. A bit flat, you might say. Not much rise and fall to it."
The aide, who had been listening in silence, tilted his head.
A flat face? I heard the enemy kingdom's heroes look like that.
Some thirty people, most of them, knelt on the ground with their heads bowed.
"Do you know that man's name?"
"He said it was Juhwan, sir."
"Juhwan."
The aide signaled the soldiers. They dragged the village chief forward.
"This man tried to sell a mage's information to a noble of another domain. The information broker denounced him. Selling a mage into another domain, or concealing one, is a grave crime."
"Aaah! F-forgive me! I didn't know! I didn't know a thing!"
Weeping, the village chief clung to the aide's leg. The aide kicked him, but the chief held on and would not be shaken off. The soldiers peeled him away.
"This man will be executed here and now. If any of the rest of you speak of the mage to anyone else, or try to sell information about him, you will receive the same punishment. Do you understand?"
While the chief wailed, the villagers trembled and bowed their heads.
The aide nodded, and a soldier drove a sword deep into the chief's chest.
He ordered one soldier to report the matter to his superiors, then decided that he himself would make for the villages nearby.
There were several villages close by. If the man had gone with his family, he would have had to stop somewhere to replenish their food.
If only I can find a trace.
The aide muttered it inwardly and spurred his horse.