Dark Elf Mercenary Redhood #6
"Hah..."
I swallowed dryly and held my breath. Wedged between sacks of grain until my lungs burned, I somehow managed to endure it.
The supply wagon loaded with provisions had already left the territory and was rolling toward the frontline base. Under ordinary circumstances, a peaceful delivery of army rations would have been ideal. Even if this was someone else's civil war—something I normally would not have given a second thought—it had drawn close enough that I could feel it on my own skin.
Whether that was fortune or misfortune, I could not say... but by the time the supply line had reached roughly the halfway point, the chaos began.
"They're here! It's those elf bitches! Run— ghhk?!"
The supply unit had been split into several detachments and sent along different routes—a natural precaution to minimize losses. Relying purely on luck made it a passive strategy, but the real problem was that there simply were not enough men to spare for the supply trains. Pulling strength from the main battlefields would only open gaps elsewhere.
"They—they've come out!"
"I know! Just keep a firm grip on your sword and stay quiet."
I had originally meant to urge them to run for it at once, but I changed my mind when they told me their own side might execute them for desertion. The supply soldier I had first met back then had gaped at me in pure shock, as if the possibility had never even crossed his mind. Of course, I had been just as surprised myself. In the end we settled on a more passive arrangement: the soldiers would hide in my shadow. The other men, facing the prospect of certain death either way, seemed more than willing to take the gamble.
"Whoa..."
When I finally pushed my way free of the grain sacks, the sight that met my eyes was nothing short of astonishing. Ash-gray skin that glittered under the moonlight. Long, graceful limbs. Some of them drew the strings of compact bows with expert ease; others cut throats with magic. The rough howl of wind suggested magic of that affinity, yet I heard no chanted incantations. It looked like the work of spirit magic—the kind that had all but become the exclusive domain of the elves.
Spirit magic was classified as magic for convenience's sake, but it was said to stand on an entirely different plane from ordinary spellcraft. Where regular magic required a somewhat complex process, spirit magic was closer to the free manifestation of one's will—a power in its own right.
I watched a dark elf finish off a supply soldier and close the distance in a rush, then took a single step forward. Behind me the remaining soldiers crouched and trembled behind the larger sacks of grain. With death so near, their fear was only natural. As the saying went, a man who had already died once died well a second time—and those without that experience were bound to be clumsy.
"Stop!"
I raised my voice the moment I sensed the other party preparing to cast. Thanks to Steel Mental, my fear was muted and my composure held, but I had no intention of dying absurdly here.
Under ordinary circumstances, people did not stop simply because someone told them to. That was why the whole "stop right there" cliché had become an endless source of mockery—something people used online to snark at each other or just to make a situation funnier. So I fully expected this band of dark elves to ignore me and loose an arrow or a spell.
Reality, however, refused to match my expectations. They approached slowly instead, a spark of interest gleaming in their eyes.
Wait. They're actually stopping?
"Well. You told me to stop, so I stopped... but you're even more insolent than I imagined. Or are you just that green?"
"Could be. But something else about you bothers me more."
They conferred among themselves, then dismounted and came right up to my face. The moment that long, alluring body filled my vision, I nearly swallowed a useless breath without meaning to. Even by any objective standard, she was extremely attractive.
"You don't look very old, and with that pretty face and air about you, you don't seem like the type who'd be out here at all. Who are you?"
The woman with the particularly foxlike outer corners of her eyes smirked and brushed her fingers along my jaw. The gesture carried the unmistakable message that she already held my life in her hands, so I had better behave myself. In a low, steady voice, I answered. A shiver ran down my spine at the soft, moist touch of her fingers, but I kept my expression carefully blank.
"I am Zion Altram. I come from Soter, next to Bluenail."
"Soter...? And why come all the way out here from there?"
"I came to meet you... more precisely, to meet Ellen."
Dark elves were usually scorned as filthy because of their distinctive skin. From a modern person's perspective it might seem absurd—what was the problem with ash-gray skin, really?—but the people of this world could not see it that way. No matter how captivating their features, it made no difference. To understand how they thought of it, one only had to imagine getting close to a woman who had smeared herself head to toe in filth.
"Ellen...? You know Ellen?"
"I've never even seen her face. But Redhood isn't her family name, and I don't think she'd much care to be called that, so I intend to use her given name."
I answered the woman who tilted her head, packing as much sincerity into the words as I could. Elves, like any other nobles, bore surnames—but unlike humans, they typically took the name of the village they lived in. If the village were called Green, for instance, she would become Ellen Green.
The two women seemed to catch the earnestness in my tone; for a brief moment a strange look crossed their faces. It lasted only a heartbeat, but within it I thought I read something almost friendly. It might have been my imagination, yet I was certain I had felt that flicker.
"...And where did you learn something like that?"
"From rumors and books. I assumed that you and Ellen, being elves, would naturally follow the custom. You're elves, and an elf's surname is simply the name of their village."
I put deliberate weight on the word elf. The composure the women had just recovered cracked again. They looked ready to lose control of their emotions and spill something at any moment. Realizing it themselves, they flinched, then their expressions suddenly hardened. It was not anger exactly, but something that clearly grated on them.
"You seem to know more about elves than most humans... but did it never occur to you that hearing that would piss us off? Dark elves aren't elves in the first place—"
"I have no intention of judging you by the color of your skin. My apologies to the ordinary elves who cling so tightly to the superstitions about dark elves."
They were feared and despised as symbols of ill omen and filth—that was the gaze turned upon dark elves, as far as I knew. If I refused to look at them that way, I thought I might win even a little goodwill. Of course I spoke with as much genuine sincerity as I could manage, not mere pretense. And sincerity, as they say, finds a way through.
The woman with the foxlike eyes smirked and pointed at me, her expression the picture of someone teasing another.
"Fine. I'll take you. But I'm going to restrain you so you can't try anything stupid. That work for you?"
"Yes. Please do."
"Wow... you answer right away without even flinching? I like that. Refreshing."
Still pointing a finger at me, she called up a spirit. I could not see it, but the tremor in the air and the shift in mana announced its presence. Before I had any leisure to savor that sensation, I found myself completely immobilized—more precisely, a crushing pressure as if my upper body had been bound tight with rope. It was clearly a magical restraint.
"Olivia. Are you really going to take him?"
The other woman—softer-looking, who had remained silent until now—spoke up. It was the first time I had heard her voice since she had voiced her initial doubt, and it was a pleasant one. She clearly did not much care for the idea of bringing me to Ellen. Between my claim of coming from a neighboring country and the fact that I showed not the slightest panic even while bound, her suspicion was only natural. Excessive composure was bound to invite doubt.
"Yeah. It's fun, isn't it? Even when I casually touched him earlier he didn't look the least bit put out—if anything, he was looking at me with those begging-puppy eyes."
"He was... what?"
"What, you didn't see? I'm telling you he did. And you can feel the sincerity in his words, too. Don't you?"
"I can tell he isn't lying, but that doesn't mean—"
They suddenly began arguing among themselves at raised volume. They were so completely at ease that it was hard to believe these were the same people who had buried so many in this place—hard to believe they stood face-to-face with an enemy at all. Their sheer leisure was enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Anyway, we're taking him. He wants to meet Ellen, so we should at least hear him out. I can guess the content easily enough, but I'm curious about the terms."
"Well... if he came to make a request, we can't exactly turn him away."
They reached a clean decision to take me along. As people who had survived war for a long time, their decisiveness was impressively swift. An ordinary person would have been swallowed by suspicion and dragged the matter out far longer. That directness was more than welcome to me—but before we left, there was one request I had to make. I asked them not to take the lives of the soldiers who had trusted me enough to bring me this far.
"Hmm... the soldiers, huh. Fine. Even if they talk about you, they're the only ones who lose out, and if they just say they managed to escape somehow, their side will probably let it slide. We cut the supply line, but we didn't wipe them out completely."
The woman—Olivia—spoke with a nuance that suggested she deliberately avoided total annihilation. Because of that, even as I accepted her help climbing onto the horse, even as the animal carried us somewhere into the night, I sank deep into thought. The question of why she would do such a thing kept circling through my head.
"You're really something, you know that? I'll grant the fingers, but you're fine even with me pressed this close against your back?"
"I wouldn't say I'm fine. Having another woman hold me like this when I already have someone I'm involved with... it pricks my conscience."
I answered while a twinge of guilt rose at the soft pressure of flesh against my back. It was not quite on the level of Helena's, but it was more than enough—enough that it felt uncomfortably like cheating. On top of that, whatever she had been eating, the scent that drifted from her skin was sweet enough to dig into my nose.
"Oh? You've got a girlfriend? Who is she?"
"Her name is Helena. She's a captivating woman. You're more than beautiful yourself, Miss Olivia, but still not quite on her level."
"...Ah. Is that so?"
It might have sounded like the tiresome bragging of a man with a lover, but I packed into it the meaning that she, too, was quite pretty. My whole body cringed as if my limbs were curling up like octopus tentacles, yet I steadied myself for the sake of even a slightly higher chance of success. Fortunately it was not entirely ineffective; an awkward note crept into Olivia's voice. The easy composure left her, and a certain stiffness settled in—half a success, at least.
"We're here."
Beneath the quiet night sky, where only the sound of hoofbeats had been ringing, Olivia reined in at the edge of a forest. The high ground was not far; a surprise attack through the trees would have been entirely feasible. Of course, the people fighting this war almost certainly knew that as well. But the fact that the masters of the high ground still stood unshaken suggested any such attempt had probably failed—at least under the assumption that the forest would serve as a path for ambush.
"You stay here."
Olivia had me dismount and seated me in the shade of a suitable tree. Her touch, unlike before, felt surprisingly considerate.
"Dana. I'm going to go fetch Ellen, so you keep an eye on this man and make sure he doesn't try anything. I don't think he will, but you never know."
"Mm. Don't worry. Go on."
After entrusting me to the other dark elf, she spurred her horse alone toward the high ground. She had left saying she would bring Ellen—which meant that in the makeshift camp up on that ridge waited the person I had come all this way to see.