I Became the Gallery's Judak (4)

The emergency patients came flooding in all at once — and most of them were armed soldiers.

"Hahh... s-someone, please, get me some strong liquor..."

Among the ones who hadn't lost consciousness, a few were so overwhelmed by the pain they begged for alcohol. I'd wondered if a war had broken out nearby, but the wounds were too crude for blade work. It felt like I was looking at the same patients who'd been mauled by orcs not long ago.

I heard the orcs had all been wiped out.

The question nagged at me, but this wasn't the time to dwell on it.

"Gather the patients in one place."

While the soldiers shifted the stretchers, I slowly drew up my power.

The soldiers caught in the radiance had their wounds close over in moments, and the groans of pain died away one by one. That wasn't the end of it. No sooner had I finished treating them than new wounded came pouring in, one after another.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It wasn't until I'd cast Healing Wave about three more times that I finally got a chance to hear what was going on.

"A dungeon has been discovered within the territory."

"A dungeon, you say?"

It was the first time I'd heard the word. I didn't let on that I didn't know, and searched the gallery instead. I filtered the results once by tab, then flipped through several pages before I found what I needed.

The first two lines were enough to grasp the definition. What I really wanted to know was why the soldiers had gone inside one. I found that out from what a soldier confessed, glancing around nervously as he spoke.

"The truth is, His Lordship said he'd give a generous reward to anyone who found your belongings, Father. So we followed the traces the orcs left behind, and when we found a cave, we thought maybe your things were in there..."

"..."

"Of course, we had no idea the place we went into was a dungeon."

In other words, it was my fault. The soldiers had gotten hurt looking for luggage that had never existed in the first place.

"Please tell His Lordship this. It isn't valuable enough for people to get hurt retrieving it. And—"

A sigh escaped me on its own.

"If the day comes that you find my belongings and bring them to me, I'll simply leave for another city."

It was a bluff, of course. But given the lord's personality, it would land well enough.

"Your luggage is one thing, but you're going to have a rough time of it until that dungeon gets dealt with."

Priestess Margaret clicked her tongue as she said it. She spoke as if leaving a dungeon alone would lead to something terrible. I went back and finished reading the Dungeon Primer I hadn't gotten through earlier.

So that's why it felt familiar.

I already knew something like this.

The Tower. A structure of unknown origin that had one day appeared in my homeland. Dungeons resembled that structure.

It's basically just a scaled-down version of the Tower.

The Tower, too, was a chain of spaces unconnected to the outside world, and if you failed to update the floor count, it would eventually collapse and monsters would come pouring out. The dungeon described in the post wasn't all that different.

A coincidence?

There was every chance they were related, but I couldn't make that call without even seeing a dungeon in person. I considered asking on the gallery, but the users there didn't even know the Tower existed. Asking them wouldn't get me a proper answer.

In that case, the solution was simple.

"Priestess Margaret, I'll be heading out on a field assignment."

I'd just go see for myself. Margaret nodded slowly and said,

"We don't get field-work pay, so don't you come griping about it later."

"That's a shame."

I meant it, for the record. Though my face didn't show it at all.

"Please, get in, Father."

"Then I'll gratefully accept."

The carriage the soldier offered me was a shabby wagon loaded with supplies. The ride wasn't comfortable, naturally, but it still beat walking.

"Take care out there."

Margaret had come to see me off, and whether it was an old woman's fussing or genuine worry, her tone was concerned.

"And don't go yelling at the orcs the way you do at those damn patients just because you lose your temper."

"I'm not that fearless, surely."

I was.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't if you valued your life."

I did value my life. I'd still do it, though.

"Heh. Well then, I'll see you in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a few days."

"Off you go."

The farewell was brief. It was time to leave.

Clunk, clunk — the wagon's wheels began to turn, matching the pace of the marching column. Before long, Margaret's figure at the city gate had vanished from sight. That was when a soldier walking beside the wagon drew closer and spoke.

"At this pace, we'll arrive before sundown. Get some rest, Father."

It was the kindest consideration a soldier could offer. But with everyone else marching themselves ragged, I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I smiled easily and shook my head.

"I don't think I could sleep anyway. I'll just enjoy the scenery."

"Yes, Father."

At this speed, arriving before sundown means it's a fair stretch.

We'd left a little past noon, so the distance was probably around fifteen kilometers. Quite a ways from the city.

At this distance, you'd think they could just leave it alone.

Not that I had any right to say that, given I'd eagerly tagged along with the soldiers on this field assignment. Still, I couldn't quite understand why the lord had dispatched troops so urgently. But once I saw the landscape unfolding along the road, I understood.

There are farmers out here.

Of course not everyone lived inside the city. And when you factored in the surrounding farmland, the lord's position made sense.

"Wheat fields."

I must have been lost in thought, gazing at the scenery. The soldier, apparently thinking I was interested in the wheat, struck up a conversation.

"Those are my parents' fields, actually. Come early autumn, they always brew beer from the leftover wheat they couldn't sell. It's a completely different taste from barley beer — something special."

"Just thinking about it is making my mouth water."

"Haha. For you, Father, I'd serve it anytime."

The soldier who'd started talking was remarkably warm. But just as I was thinking he might be a little too familiar, I realized why his face looked familiar. And if a soldier's face looked familiar to me, there was only one category he could fall into.

"...You're one of the soldiers I treated last time."

"Haha, that's right. You remember."

The soldier's face lit up the moment I recognized him.

"I owe you my life from back then. And I wasn't just being polite just now — please do come."

"I will."

The soldier glanced around, then returned to the formation. He'd apparently stepped out of line just long enough to say thank you.

Homemade liquor from wheat they grew themselves, huh.

That wouldn't be half bad. What appealed to me more than the drink itself was the fact that they'd brewed it from wheat they'd grown with their own hands.

I'd heard that if you cast Heal on crops, they grow well.

If I ended up receiving a church of my own, keeping a vegetable garden didn't sound like such a bad idea. We arrived at our destination while I was still pondering what to plant in that garden.

"We've arrived, Father."

The soldier's call snapped me back to attention, and I looked around. Not far off, a cave emanated a suspicious aura.

"That cave you see is the dungeon entrance. We've posted sentries, but please be careful. I don't imagine you would, but you must not go inside under any circumstances."

"Understood."

I accepted the soldier's warning. Even I didn't have the confidence to take on multiple orcs alone.

Two, maybe, if I pushed it.

That didn't mean I wasn't going in, though. I decided I'd find a decent pretext to enter alongside the soldiers later, and in the meantime I pitched in with the grunt work — hauling supplies, pitching tents, and the like.

"Ah— Father, you don't need to help!"

"How could I just stand around watching when everyone else is working so hard?"

Besides, I'd done my own share of military service. I knew how it worked. Nothing pissed people off more than one person sitting pretty while everyone else busted their ass. But this apparently looked pretty unfamiliar to the soldiers.

"Are all priests like that?"

"No way. I did mercenary work for a long time, so I know. Priests who can work miracles usually have heavy feet and even heavier necks."

"Hey, what if the Father hears you?"

"Priests always live so quietly they can barely hear a thing if there's even a little noise. Don't worry about it."

"R-really?"

For the record, I heard them just fine.

Looks like healers get the same treatment here.

Back in my homeland, people called healers Heal Dragons. The name came from the way they held their heads so stiff and high, even though they were climbing the Tower alongside everyone else — just like the soldier said.

But that's exactly what you shouldn't do.

There was no point needlessly rubbing your companions the wrong way when you were climbing a place that was as good as a death trap together. Because when things actually got dangerous, it was obvious what choice those companions would make.

"Whew, that's everything, Father. Thank you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for your hard work."

Once all the supplies had been moved, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the soldiers pitching tents finished around the same time. I was assigned a tent immediately after.

"This will be your tent, Father."

The tent was spacious. But when I looked inside, I couldn't help frowning. In that wide tent, there was nothing but a single blanket. It wasn't that I was unhappy about the lack of blankets.

"It looks like I'll be using this entire tent by myself."

"Haha, you should rest comfortably, Father."

I shook my head. While I was playing priest, I had no intention of openly accepting special treatment.

"You don't need to do that. I'll sleep with the soldiers. I have no intention of receiving special treatment even in a place like this."

"But won't that be uncomfortable for you?"

"If I was going to whine about something that small, I might as well just cut my dick off."

"Pfft—"

The soldier hurriedly covered his mouth. Fortunately, the crude joke did the trick — his demeanor eased considerably. In the end, a few more blankets for the soldiers were brought into the tent.

"...Ah, right. The dungeon raid is scheduled to start before noon tomorrow."

"We're not going in today because it's late?"

"The time of day doesn't matter much. I don't have a lot of dungeon experience myself, but the time of day inside a dungeon is fixed."

The soldier paused for a moment.

"The reason we're not heading in right now is that it's better to go in at full strength, and also because there's still someone who hasn't arrived yet."

"There already look to be quite a lot of soldiers here. More troops are coming?"

"Not troops, exactly..."

The soldier glanced around, then lowered his voice.

"A knight is coming."

A knight. Was it some high-ranking knight, perhaps? He seemed far too intimidated for it to be just any knight.

"And she's His Lordship's daughter."

Yeah. That would do it.