Chapter 53
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Eastern Express
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After the award ceremony, the Steel Tower launched into full-scale restoration work.
Swiftly, but quietly.
The lord had decided, after discussions, not to reveal the incident to the outside world.
"That's how we'll do it."
"A wise decision. I think that's the right call for now."
It was the result of actively incorporating Bran's opinion.
Of course, the truth would come out eventually, but right now was a time when peace mattered more than journalism.
If word of the Silien incident spread through the city now, it would spark uncontrollable chaos.
An overturned lord!
An underground secret laboratory!
A new-model golem made from a death row inmate's brain!
The Steel Tower's deranged mages!
The golem prowling the streets was out to kill you, your family, and wipe the city off the map!
Even just those keywords were enough to choke you.
The public knowing wouldn't help in capturing the Abyss dwellers.
On the contrary, it would breed mutual distrust, creating the perfect environment for the Abyss to run rampant.
'Here's hoping the Intelligence Agency produces some meaningful results.'
Instead, the core intelligence had been relayed to the Imperial Intelligence Agency via secret missive.
Along with a note emphasizing the need for firm measures against what turned out to be a far more dangerous and large-scale organization than anticipated.
Oh, and Bentley, still in a coma, had been shipped off with them.
"To Cargai, was it."
"Yes."
Bran answered while sipping his tea.
He'd had high expectations since it was the lord's favorite, but it turned out to be plain barley tea.
Not that it was bad or anything.
The group was spending some private time in the conference room atop the Steel Tower.
After a long silence, the lord nodded.
"......If it's you lot, there must be a reason."
"Thanks."
Bran smiled.
The lord's virtue was that he worried without prying unnecessarily.
And there was a reason, in fact.
It wasn't solely to fully unleash the Weed Pack's potential, either.
'It's the optimal route right now.'
He'd spent the last few days flipping through the calendar, planning.
Using the progress of Silien's scheme as a benchmark, there was still quite some time before the major event that would lead straight to destruction.
Enough leeway to visit a place or two and bolster their forces.
This was thanks to wrapping up Valkeros's salvation sooner than expected.
Plus, an evil seed had already been planted on the Cargai Plateau.
"When do you depart?"
"Thinking five days from now."
"I see. Understood."
"What's with that?"
"A farewell party. Obviously."
It was like, why ask something so obvious?
Even after bestowing separate Steel Medals and rewards, he still wasn't satisfied.
Not like some country grandma or whatever.
A farewell party.
Bran grinned mischievously after draining his teacup.
"Now that's something to look forward to."
Two days later, at dawn.
Bran's party left Valkeros.
Sorry, Lord, but they skipped the farewell party.
It wasn't a forever goodbye, and they'd shared plenty of reunions already.
Besides, lingering longer might make them want to settle down for real.
'Can't let a full belly and warm back last too long.'
Still before dawn, the sun not even up.
Bran's party boarded the train to the Cargai Plateau at Valkeros Central Station.
The named mode of transport from the game itself: the Eastern Express.
To be precise, it ran to the nearest station rather than Cargai proper, but that alone slashed travel time dramatically.
"Now it's goodbye here too, huh."
Ilac murmured to herself.
She sat in the spacious seat, gazing out the dim window.
Perhaps because it was a city rife with enemies for so long, a faint regret lingered in her eyes.
"Whoa, this giant machine is actually moving...!"
Kael had his face plastered to the window, taking in the sights outside.
His eyes sparkled just like a little kid's.
His platinum hair, grown to shoulder length, swayed with the train's jolts.
"...Steel Medals are nice."
Bran fiddled with the medal on his chest.
He'd never even sat in a chair this big and comfy back in his old world.
The ticket clerk had taken one look at their Steel Medals and screamed before upgrading them for free.
Plus, the seats were arranged two-by-two facing each other, giving off real vacation vibes.
Ilac unfolded the route map and posed a question.
"So, Bran. Remind me where we're going?"
"Havelga."
"Havelga... Havelga... Ah, there. Terminus station, so no mix-ups."
Ilac nodded repeatedly.
Their destination, Havelga Station, sat at the far northeastern tip of the line.
It would take a full two days.
They even provided separate sleeping berths, making it a comfy trip aside from the slight crampedness.
Clunk.
The train entered a tunnel piercing the Red Mountains, blotting out the view outside.
Only then did Kael peel his face from the window and turn to Bran.
"Hey, Bran. Mind if I ask one thing?"
"Shoot."
"What's on sublevel 5 of the secret lab? You said there were five levels, but we only went down to four."
"You remembered that? Smart kids really are something else."
Bran was impressed.
This kid really was sharp.
It had just been a passing remark.
Recalling his memories as a player, he let out a meaningful chuckle.
"......A seriously terrifying secret."
No point saying it—they wouldn't believe him anyway.
The Steel Tower's true purpose wasn't the tower itself.
The legendary blacksmith Valkeros's final miracle resided there.
Information maybe three people on the entire continent knew at present.
Bran had only informed Linhite of sublevel 5's existence.
'Wonder if even that saintly guy can pull it off.'
Even if not using it right away, it needed to be primed for anytime.
Of course, knowing the secret and activating the level's function were two different things.
Kael tilted his head.
"What? Now I'm curious."
"Secret for now. You'll see it yourself later."
"Aw, come on, something like that exists?"
"If I say so, then yes. I'll praise your excellent memory, though."
The chance to use it was far in the future.
Honestly, the best ending would be it remaining a forgotten legend.
Still, one hint wouldn't hurt.
"Here's a tip: sublevel 5 connects to the Dragonheart Path."
"Dragonheart Path? That thing in front of Uncle Bill Morris's smithy?"
"Yep. Figure out the rest."
"Hmm...... What could it be?"
Kael's eyes narrowed.
Someone imaginative might even guess it.
One reason they had to save Valkeros was to access that massive asymmetric firepower.
Whoosh!
Just then, the train burst from the tunnel, sunlight flooding in.
The three turned to the window, eyes widening.
"Oh."
Dawn was breaking before they knew it.
Valkeros bathed in the first light gleamed like a longsword fresh from the forge.
Their journey so far flashed by in an instant.
They'd seen plenty of filth, faced death countless times—but they'd overcome it all, so it was fine.
Bran smiled faintly.
"See you again."
Toward the fire-and-steel city receding into the distance.
No more hammer strikes echoed.
Once upon a time, long long ago.
In a corner of the world where wind and starlight lingered, there lay a plateau called Cargai.
The people there were nomadic horsemen.
They lived in tents of leather hide.
By day they hunted field beasts, by night they sang to the starry skies.
And by the people's side was their king.
A great king who ruled the Land of Wind.
When he raised his hand, the whole plateau fell still.
When he laughed, falcons descended from the heavens.
Under his wise rule, the people knew neither hunger nor war.
But one day, the empire's emperor appeared in Cargai.
A man who believed all lands under heaven were his.
As he surveyed the fertile plateau, a greedy smile curled his lips.
- This land is mine too!
And so war broke out.
The imperial army slaughtered men and beasts alike, setting the green plateau ablaze.
Cargai's warriors were valiant, but the empire was far too mighty.
Thus, the great Land of Wind crumbled bit by bit, slowly.
In desperate crisis, the king agonized through many sleepless nights.
And at last, he made the worst choice.
To offer the souls of all who followed him to the devil.
To protect their ancestors' land.
- To defend the plateau...... we must all become one mind.
Despite his beloved wife's pleas, the king performed the ritual.
And with his own hands, he sacrificed them.
Every last one who trusted and followed him.
Even his wife and children.
Isn't it ridiculous?
Without people, what use are ancestors or land?
Anyway. The ritual succeeded.
That night, the plateau turned into a wailing wilderness.
A mysterious plague engulfed the imperial army.
Cargai's dead warriors rose as phantoms.
Cavalry charging on ghostly steeds.
Wails echoing across empty plains.
The startled emperor fled with his soldiers.
And Cargai became a land none sought.
Oh, what of the great king?
Don't be shocked. He's still alive.
In a grand tent drifting with the wind.
Seated on a throne of skulls.
Harvesting the heads of any who dare set foot on the plateau.
Waiting only for the day of his revival.
So, child.
Never, ever enter Cargai.
That place where even the wind loses its way is no longer land of the living.
Echoing through the mist—
"......Beware the sound of hooves."
Thud.
Bran closed the book.
The horsehide cover read Cursed Plateau, along with the author's name etched small.
A picture book Bran had brought to explain Cargai.
He'd read it in the game too, but narrating it aloud made it far eerier.
'What kind of fairy tale is this creepy?'
And it seemed Bran wasn't the only one feeling that way.
"......"
"......"
Kael and Ilac sat opposite, listening raptly.
Kael clutched his fists tight, breathing raggedly, while Ilac had wrapped her tail around his waist and pulled him close.
It was understandable.
Not just the story—the scenery outside was bleak too.
Empty badlands devoid of even a single animal had stretched on for hours.
The second night, just before reaching Havelga.
The dimly lit passenger car held only Bran's trio.
An old man had gotten off that morning, leaving them as the sole passengers.
"I-is it... over...?"
As Kael cautiously opened his mouth.
"Waaah!"
Bran shoved his face right up and yelled.
"Fuck, you scared me!"
Ilac recoiled backward.
Bang!
She shot up reflexively, only to crack her head on the luggage rack and slump down.
"Argh! My head!"
"Quite the scaredy-cat for your size, Lady Ilac."
"You... how dare you...!"
Bran cackled.
He could even hear Ilac's heart pounding from there.
Worth reading the book for that reaction.
"Be honest—this is on you being a scaredy-cat. Look at Kael. So composed."
Bran spoke in an admiring tone.
Unlike Ilac's slapstick tumble, Kael stared at him with bulging eyes.
Finally growing up, Kael.
Wonder why the Weed Pack didn't trigger.
As he smiled, reminiscing Kael's cowardly past.
"...He's passed out?"
"What?"
Ilac pointed out.
Looking closely, Kael's limbs dangled limp.
Poking his cheek for confirmation got a sleepy mumble in response.
"Uhmp."
"Ah."
Now he saw—the eyes were open but completely unfocused.
Bran sighed and slowly dragged a hand down his face.
This was one of the great nine noble houses, Astreia blood, a priest no less.
"Guts smaller than rat droppings......"
He felt deeply uneasy.
Kael's role was especially crucial in Cargai.
As he debated giving his nose a whack to wake him.
"Hey there. Everything alright?"
A stranger's voice suddenly boomed from right beside them.
"What the..."
"Fuck! What the hell?!"
Bran's eyes widened.
Ilac yelped and snatched up her axe.
Whirling around, they saw a stocky dwarf standing there.
The dwarf waved his hands frantically.
"C-calm down! I'm no ghost—I'm a person!"
"...Who're you?"
"I was in the next car over, heard the noise and came to check. My word—didn't expect anyone else still aboard besides me!"
The dwarf marveled.
A grimy, oddly dressed fellow.
Giant goggles like a WWII pilot might wear.
A massive backpack big enough to stuff himself into.
Pickaxe and entrenching tool heads poked from the bulging opening.
Rude as it was, graverobber was the only profession that came to mind.
As he scanned the group, the dwarf asked excitedly.
"H-hey, just to check...... You're heading all the way to the end too, right? To Cargai, by any chance?"
"......"
"Ahh, please say yes! The path ahead's way too treacherous to walk alone without company!"
Bran's eyes narrowed slightly.
The boisterous tone and gestures felt oddly familiar.
The face was different, but he'd definitely seen a similar character somewhere.
In a pretty important position, too.
Dredging up old memories, Bran asked him.
"By any chance, is your father or grandfather named Benden Cradil?"
"Hm? How do you know my name?"
The dwarf raised his brows.
Bran's face hardened.
What? The man himself?
He was thoroughly flustered.
This was a far cry from the game version.
If he really was Benden, of course he'd know.
This dwarf was the author of the fairy tale book Bran had just read.
"Uh...... Yeah."
Not just that, though.
Bran knew this dwarf's future.
From his most shining moment to his gruesome end—everything.
He could jot down a timeline on paper if asked.
'What an insane coincidence. Even if he's been wandering since youth.'
The dwarf's name was Benden Cradil.
Future head of the Imperial Adventurers' Guild and the continent's most renowned archaeologist.
A fateful giant who finally got a museum named after him, only to die without seeing it.
"Anyway, nice to meet you. As the lad said, I'm Benden Cradil. Archaeologist, explorer, author, and valiant warrior to boot."
And one of Return Lord's playable characters.
"This seat here's prime real estate. Nothing like my third-class dump. Mind if I join?"
"Ugh! Brush off the dirt first!"
...Though right now, he just looked like a hobo.