Duel #1
The dark elves who had been away from me returned.
They came back carrying a decision: they would go with us. I could not have been more relieved.
"Haaah…"
I let out a long, hot breath and savored the moment of ease. With this, we had already half won the fight, so a measure of relief was only natural. It was still too early to relax completely, but it felt as if we had crossed one great mountain.
Even before she obtained the Heritage, we had managed to pull in one of the three pillars who could shake the world.
"That's wonderful news. When do you plan to leave, then?"
"We're leaving now. No point in dragging this out."
Ellen swung herself up onto her horse alone and answered without hesitation. I appreciated a decisive mind, but I had never imagined she would set out in the dead of night. It was genuinely startling.
"But I can't just vanish without a word. I'll go speak with them myself. The rest of you wait here."
And so it was Ellen alone who rode toward the camp on the high ground. From what I gathered, she was following the arrangement they had already discussed, while also preparing for the worst. Most likely she meant to avoid being cast aside the moment she was no longer useful.
The dark elves who remained behind seemed to understand that as well; even astride their horses, the tension on their faces was plain. I, too, sat mounted on Olivia's horse and barely dared to breathe, ready to spur forward the instant trouble broke out on the ridge. Of course, the best outcome was that nothing would happen at all—but the world never guaranteed such things.
"Oh—there she is."
Olivia's bright voice cut through the rigid air. She even waved cheerfully at Ellen riding toward us from afar. It was a strangely loose reaction, which, if anything, meant we were safe.
"How did it go? No trouble?"
"They weren't happy about me leaving. For a moment I thought they might try something, but they backed down in the end. Probably figured that if I caused a scene, the damage would be too great."
Ellen answered the questions flying at her the moment she drew near, her tone perfectly composed. From the sound of it, she had been on the verge of becoming a hunting dog about to be discarded—but by guaranteeing that she was leaving the place for good, they had grudgingly let her go. Had she tried to hedge or stall, she said, they might well have risked a surprise attack even at the cost of casualties.
"Anyway, it's settled without incident, so let's move out at once. I already know the direction—no need for a guide."
"That's welcome news, at least…"
I sighed, remembering the wagon and the money I had handed over to a merchant before coming outside. I had passed them on in advance, thinking that if everything succeeded I would not be able to take them with me—but now that we were actually leaving, I felt the sting of regret. Still, I told myself it could not be helped and tried to rationalize it away.
The city gates were already shut tight; even if I had kept the goods, we would have had to wait until they opened. That would have wasted an enormous amount of time. Leaving now was far better. And I had at least secured my coin purse beforehand, so the loss did not cut quite as deep.
We undertook a journey that was not quite a journey, and along the way conversation came easily. Thanks to that, I naturally picked up information about Ellen and the dark elves.
What surprised me most was how little money Ellen had set aside. She had prepared emergency funds, of course, but given her career, the sum was a drop in the ocean. I did not press for details. We were not close enough yet for that kind of question, and I thought it might come off as rude. With my limited imagination, I could only guess that, like most mercenaries, she simply spent freely.
"Vegetables?"
On the first night we camped after leaving the war zone, Ellen tilted her head while I pulled ingredients from the wagon we had bought with what money remained and started cooking. The sight of nothing but various vegetables and potatoes must have struck her as odd.
"Yes. Elves don't eat much meat, do they? Or am I wrong?"
"That's only true of ordinary elves. We aren't that picky. We take whatever's given to us—as long as it isn't filthy, it's fine."
Ellen sat by the campfire with a bitter little smile. Seeing the weight of a hard life written so clearly on her face, I dropped my gaze to the pot of soup simmering over the flames. It was uncomfortable to look at that expression for long. She had probably never had the luxury of being selective about food, and so she had forced herself to change her tastes.
"Being able to eat something isn't the same as liking it. And vegetables can taste perfectly fine if you cook them well, so don't worry too much."
I peeled a potato, sliced it thin, and set the pieces on the cutting board with a small laugh. Even if I had grown used to a diet built around meat and wheat, the foundations of long habit never truly disappeared. Vegetarian cooking still came naturally to me.
In an ideal world I would have prepared something careful and refined, like temple cuisine—but unfortunately we were camping. The environment was far too cumbersome for the dishes I had in mind. Settling for something modest was the wiser choice.
"Here—nothing fancy, but dig in."
I ladled soup into bowls and handed them around, leaving the thinly sliced, pan-fried potatoes on the board for people to help themselves. I did not have enough dishes to portion those out individually, and more than that, I simply could not be bothered.
"Mm. Thanks for the food…"
Ellen and the other dark elves sniffed cautiously at the soup, their manner almost delicate. Soup in this world usually meant a thick meat broth with chunky vegetables; the finer restaurants stripped out the solids and concentrated the stock. Not that mine was weak—I had simmered mushrooms, cabbage, and onion until the flavor ran deep, and the seasoning was solid enough that no one should have cause to complain.
"It's… good!"
The dark elves took a careful sip and clearly liked what they tasted. The way their eyes lit up as they ate was proof enough. Thanks to that, I could finally relax and enjoy my own meal. Just because something suited my palate did not mean it would suit another race.
Fight fire with fire. The old saying about beating summer heat with more heat—but the weather here did not require such measures. It was only pleasantly warm, infinitely more comfortable than summer on the Hellfire Peninsula.
"Thank you. That was delicious."
Ellen and the dark elves around her wore crescent-moon smiles of pure satisfaction. My suspicion that they preferred vegetables to meat had been proven once again.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. In return—though it feels a bit much to call it that—would you mind helping with the dishes?"
"Of course. We should."
I had meant only to ask Ellen to help me wash up, but they all reached for bowls and cooking tools at once. What was supposed to be a little assistance turned into them taking over the entire job, and I felt oddly guilty.
"Ah—I'll do it, so don't take everything. I only wanted a bit of help…"
"It's fine. We just got a wonderful meal. Sitting around doing nothing would feel wrong. Humor us."
Ellen stepped in front of me before I could start washing and used spirit magic first. A thin stream of water poured from empty air like a miniature waterfall—clearly the power of Undine, the water spirit. She had done something similar earlier when she supplied the water for the soup.
They washed with the water spirit, then flicked away the remaining moisture with the wind spirit. Watching that clean, efficient process, I could not help but be impressed. They could shower anytime, anywhere, and would never die of thirst. The usefulness of it was almost excessive.
"You worked hard."
When I came back from stacking the clean dishes, Ellen smiled brightly and held out a leather water skin. The water inside—made by Undine and then chilled—was crisp and refreshing. To have something like that in an age like this, in summer, outdoors no less… it was nothing short of a blessing.
"You all did the washing. But I'll gladly take this, thank you."
"I'm not thanking you for the dishes. I'm thanking you for making dinner."
Dinner. An employer feeding their people was only natural, and Ellen knew that as well as anyone. Even so, she thanked me for the meal. Not simply because I had given them food, but because I had cooked it to suit their tastes.
Ahh.
I drained the cool water in a long pull, then bowed my head in gratitude—for the drink itself, and for the ease with which they had made water available.
"I'm the one who should be grateful. This cold water, and all the help you've given me in so many ways…"
"You don't have to bow your head like that. Come on, straighten up."
Ellen, flustered and a little embarrassed, caught my shoulders and pulled me upright. Dark elves normally avoided physical contact with humans as if it were poison, but once she realized I did not mind, she had started touching me without much reserve. I had asked them myself to treat me ordinarily, after all.
"Truly—thank you. If Ellen stands with us, we can win the duel, and that means we can keep Helena from becoming a slave."
"Don't be too sure. Even I can't say how it will turn out."
Ellen flushed at my flattery and tried to wave it off with modesty. The caution of a woman who lived on the battlefield was a welcome sight. It only strengthened my conviction that we could win. Even one victory out of three duels mattered. No one could deny that. Secure one, and the pressure eased; the odds of overall success climbed.
"Even so."
"…Ahem. Anyway, enough of that. There's something I want to ask you."
"Something you want to ask? If I can answer it, I will."
She cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment, and when that was not enough, she turned a question on me. She seemed to want to settle her feelings through conversation, and I had no objection. So I agreed readily—only to receive a rather serious question in return.
"Duke Krauser… what kind of person is she?"
The tension on Ellen's face as she asked about Helena's character was unmistakable. I was the one hiring them and bringing them along, but without the permission of Helena, the lord of those lands, everything would come to nothing. The land I meant to purchase with Altram's backing was also Helena's. In other words, their true employer was Helena herself. As the head of a mercenary company, it was only natural that she would want to know the woman's temperament.
I thought of Helena's face. A woman who clung to me with obsessive devotion; beyond that, passive and soft-hearted, yet capable of hiding those qualities completely. A woman of such broad tolerance that she had shown not a flicker of disgust when dark elves were mentioned. Strictly speaking, it was not the same contempt locals reserved for filth—but that had been nothing more than a misunderstanding.
"Lady Helena is…"
And so, with full confidence, I launched into an impassioned account of Helena's character.