The Salamander Forge (2)
After meeting the fire spirit Salamander in the half-dwarf's workshop, I was quickly able to piece together a rough picture of what had been going on.
About a month ago — recently, anyway — the mana in the atmosphere had started dwindling bit by bit, and by roughly two weeks ago it had dried up entirely.
And along with it, the wind spirits and light spirits that had been drifting through the air had vanished as well.
According to the Salamander, it had been barely clinging to existence with the faint traces of mana left in the forge, and just as it stood on the verge of dissipating, it had caught the scent of mana leaking from my body and come bursting out.
That much of the story was more than enough to let me guess what was happening to this village.
Some kind of wide-area mana drain spell…?
For now, judging purely from what this spirit was telling me, that possibility seemed the most likely.
On top of that, the Salamander's explanation had also clued me in as to why the villagers' energies had looked so wretched earlier.
No natural mana in the atmosphere. Of course that's what happens.
Just because magic could only be wielded by nobles in this world didn't mean commoners and animals had no mana flowing through them — though it was true that this world's setting wasn't quite that simple, either.
By default, mana flowed through the body of every human being. A commoner's maximum mana was admittedly a trickle compared to your average noble's, but the point was that it flowed at all.
And the humans of this world were constitutionally built to draw vitality from constantly cycling the mana they generated inside their own bodies with the natural mana they absorbed from their surroundings.
With the atmospheric mana gone, every soul in the village now wore an expression steeped in exhaustion. They were producing and releasing mana without end while receiving nothing back from nature, so any ordinary person would flag in no time. In my case, the mana I generated internally outpaced whatever leaked away, so I was fine — but still.
Dwarves, meanwhile, were a race whose condition depended far less on mana, so they'd naturally remain relatively hale. Even a half-dwarf carried half a dwarf's constitution.
But then… why did Ethan suddenly turn so gloomy the moment we entered the village?
He was a noble too, with a larger mana reserve than ordinary humans — hardly the type to be dragged down by an environment like this.
That was something I'd need to look into separately, later.
At any rate, drawing in the ambient mana of the atmosphere was a skill no ordinary human could use. It was the kind of magic generally reserved for demonkin, whose existence was bound tightly to mana, or for spirits.
That said, spirits weren't typically the sort to descend into human society and cause harm, and frankly, anything capable of absorbing a whole village's worth of mana in a wide radius would have to be a Spirit King among spirits.
Since no such being would ever descend upon a tiny village like this, the rational conclusion was a demon.
A fairly high-ranked demon, at that.
"……"
The moment the thought of a high-ranked demon being involved crossed my mind, I could practically feel my internal crisis-detection sensor blaring to life.
My gut told me that getting any further involved here would end badly, and so I bid the Salamander farewell.
"Thank you for the story, Mr. Salamander."
'Do you know what's going on, by any chance?'
"I do. I've more or less figured out what's causing it."
'Yahoo! So you're going to help?! If you follow the faint flow of mana you can feel, the place it's all gathering is probably on the other side of this mount—'
"Young Master Ethan, I believe we should return to the Blackwood Estate as soon as possible. Something rather sinister seems to be unfolding in this area."
As I'd said before, I had no desire to stick my nose into troublesome business.
Defeat a demon dangerous enough to drain an entire village's mana, and cure the townsfolk of their mysterious fatigue?
Anyone could see that was a job for the hero. Not something a mere maid should come bouncing forward to volunteer for.
'Wh-wh-whyee?! Weren't you going to help?!'
"What's wrong, Lilith? Does the spirit say it's dangerous?"
"Yes. The Salamander says it may be hazardous to remain in this area any longer, and urges us to leave the village at once."
'I never said that! Why are you lying?! Why are you just leaving?! Whyee?!'
"The total disappearance of a village's mana is unmistakably an omen of an anomaly. At our level, we can't afford to intervene rashly. We don't even know the source of this phenomenon."
'It's on the other siiide of the mountain! I told you the mana's flowing that waaay~! I'm begging you, help me~!'
God, you're a noisy little thing.
Clawing at me and pleading all you want won't do a lick of good. I was not the charitable sort who'd risk my life in battle for a stranger I'd met for the first time today — or rather, a spirit I'd met for the first time today.
Honestly, saving Rizzie — who would have died in the original story — had been a whim as much as anything, and it had been closely tied to preserving my own hide besides.
I'd intervened because it gnawed at me to think of a character I knew from the game possibly dying. If it had been some noble lady whose face and name I'd never known about to be ambushed, I naturally wouldn't have lifted a finger.
But risk my life for a spirit — not even a person — for a being that was immortal, resurrecting within a few decades even after dissipating?
No matter how I turned it over, I had neither the justification nor the reason to get involved. On the contrary, I had excuses to flee stacked to the ceiling.
'You're a mean human! I told you everything because I thought you'd help me! Traitor! Liar!'
"I fed you mana and saved you from dissipating, so you could stand to show a little gratitude instead of clinging to me and being a nuisa—"
"…Lilith? What are you murmuring about with that spirit?"
"…Nothing, Young Master Ethan. It seems this spirit has taken a liking to my mana and refuses to let go of me."
'I did not say that! Your mana does taste good, thouuuugh!'
I fobbed off Ethan's questions about my conversation with the Salamander as best I could.
Just as I was forcibly peeling the relentlessly stubborn spirit off my arm, preparing to stuff it back into the dragon furnace, the half-dwarf craftsman's voice sounded at my side.
"You said just now that you'd identified the cause."
"…Pardon?"
"It's been two weeks already since the furnace stopped running right. And in a month comes the harvest, when farm tools are in highest demand. Our village may be small, and I may be the only half-dwarf in it, but this place is like a second home to me."
"Ah, yes…"
"If you fix it, I'll forge the first blade you use and put it in your hands myself. From the blisters on your fingers, I'd guess you favor daggers."
"……"
"If you know the cause, you know the cure, don't you? Or is it beyond the power of the two of you to fix?"
…Ugh, honestly.
Why does this man suddenly start reciting his sad backstory out of nowhere and put all this weight on a person?
He looks at me while saying all that, and suddenly I'm the villain of the piece.
Don't get me wrong — a dagger forged by a dwarven master craftsman was no easy thing to come by, and if this were a game, I'd have accepted the quest without a moment's hesitation. But accepting a mission without thinking, in a situation where I might actually have to risk my life, would be profoundly stupid.
Unlike a game quest, which you could accept now and clear at your leisure, this quest had become reality — and reality attached deadlines in every sense of the word.
The moment I accepted, this suspicious offer would practically become a binding contract, and I couldn't just swallow it without a thought…
'M-me too! I'll help make the sword too!'
"…I beg your pardon?"
'H-humans love weapons even more when we spirits bless them, don't they?! I'll add my blessing to whatever that dwarf makes! So please! Pleeease~!'
"……"
A fire spirit's… blessing…?
On a dagger hammered out by a dwarf, no less…?
'That's… that's basically epic-tier gear….'
Faced with the combined offer of a half-dwarf and a Salamander — enough to make even me hesitate — my heart couldn't help but war with itself.
Scraping together every last shred of willpower to hold my desires in check, I carefully sought Ethan's opinion.
"What are your thoughts, Young Master Ethan?"
"Hm?"
"Do you intend to aid the dwarven craftsman here and help restore the village to normal? Or would you rather leave this village behind, wary of walking into unknown danger?"
"…What do you think, Lilith?"
"I merely follow your judgment, my lord."
"……"
Hearing my answer — the very model of a devoted personal maid — Ethan rested his chin in his hand, pondering.
At that moment, not only mine but the eyes of the half-dwarf and the Salamander were fixed upon him as well.
From Ethan's lips came a carefully cautious, yet deeply diplomatic reply.
"…If it's just an investigation, for now."
"I'm sorry?"
"We investigate the cause first. If it turns out to be something we can resolve, then we resolve it — and only then. If it's the sort of affair beyond our ability to fix, we avoid it."
"Understood. If that is your judgment, Young Master Ethan, I shall follow it."
'So you'll help?! Really?!'
"You'll lend us your aid, then?"
"For now, merely an investigation to identify the cause. Whether or not we can resolve the matter is a decision I'll make once we understand the problem."
"…Right. Fair enough."
'Woo-hoo~!'
It did seem like the kind of event that would be a little too dangerous for Ethan and me to investigate alone, just the two of us.
But epic-tier equipment was far, far too precious an offer to refuse outright and never look back.