Chapter 40 - Boarding Requests via DM
"No matter how mighty the authority of the sun may be, to so blatantly disregard the authority of the Lake Goddess who founded this land! But what's even more infuriating is..."
The man who loved Banir, the hero Boerden, exploded in rage. He must have been truly beside himself. His flushed face looked ready to burst at any moment.
"There's nothing I can do for you all. How could the world be so cruel?"
"You've done more than enough, Hero. What can we do? It's the queen and the Hero Party Alliance's decision."
The Mitra Church bastards were hiding behind their followers, telling worldly folk not to interfere. After blatantly ignoring another country's public order, no less.
Banir's national power wasn't so weak that it had to grovel to the Mitra Church. But clashing with Mitra was a different matter. If a knight stepped up too boldly and got framed, it'd be a headache. Complaints would swarm like a hive of bees.
Because of that, the Hero Party Alliance, at the queen's request, had advised us: "Leave Banir and find another place to hunt monsters."
We didn't mind. We'd already decided our destination. The Dragon's Nest, recommended by Nidroga.
And besides...
"...I get how he feels."
"Feeling sympathy for old man Boerden? Because of that Adamanthon prick who framed you?"
Esen, whose expression had softened somewhat since last night, wrapped her arm around my neck and grinned.
"If I see his face, I'll tell you. I'll tear the bastard—and any bitches—limb from limb."
"Thanks, but I don't want you dirtying your hands over scum like that."
I stroked Esen's head and sighed.
The Porters' Guild had sent an owl letter in my name. The charge of improper intergender contact had, fortunately, been cleared. Apparently, the lie-detection orb had turned red and buzzed before they could even hear statements from my old party members.
But the hydra bone issue was unavoidable, so the 100,000 gold debt remained. Still, as long as I could work, that was fine. Survival came first, right?
...And honestly, I was probably engaging in the most intergender contact right now.
Am I really okay like this?
Right now, Esen had grabbed my wrist and was rubbing her palm against my scalp and cheek nonstop.
"Heehee. Hehe. Keeheehee."
"...Esen, what's up? Did you skip washing your face?"
"I'll kill you, you clueless—"
A chill ran down my spine at the sudden killing intent, making my shoulders shrink instinctively. Esen, glaring daggers and about to get serious, paused. She seemed to think hard for a moment, then reverted to her purring cat-like expression.
As if she had every reason to overlook even my most boneheaded moments.
"Nah. Do whatever. I love you, porter boy."
"...What was that just now?"
"What's with her?"
As the party members turned with weird looks, Esen flinched, her pupils narrowing, and she flung my arm away.
While the party's official tsundere played dumb, staring out at the distant sea, I clutched my dislocated shoulder and rolled around in agony.
And at the same time, I desperately tried to avoid the sharpened gaze of the Monica sisters.
That benevolent smile hiding a lethal edge. My instincts screamed: eye contact means death.
"So that's how it is."
On the other side, Bilena stared at me blankly with a profoundly disappointed expression. She'd stopped midway through picking up her scattered experiment tools from the luggage cart.
"So that's... what it was. What the hell was I even hoping for...?"
Why are you like this too?
...Can I really keep this from getting out from the start?
"I'll make this country prosper no matter what! So even the Mitra Church headquarters can't ignore us—!"
No matter what circus we were putting on, Boerden kept venting his frustration, oblivious. His love for the country was palpable.
But someone found that fervor distasteful.
"We've heard enough of your patriotism, kid. Now scram."
"...How can you say that, Captain Tomco? We're comrades who've faced life and death together..."
"If you lost a political pissing match to those sun-badge-wearing Mitra morons clutching their chests like suckling pups, don't whine to your paying customers on their way out."
Captain Tomco, standing proudly before his majestic ship, casually stabbed Boerden right in the heart.
And his crossdressing navigator from last time outdid her father.
"That's just how menopausal old guys are, right?"
Boerden, dealt irreparable damage, slunk away with his subordinates' support.
Tomco watched his retreating back with pity, then spat out bluntly.
"Dragon's Nest? For real?"
"No need to take us all the way. We'll ride Nidroga from midway."
Reni said, giving up on explaining the location from the map.
Tomco shrugged.
"We weren't planning to drag you to some uncharted spot on the navigation charts anyway. We're not fairy-tale pirates."
Yet preparing the ship on the spot like this—what else was that but fairy-tale romance?
The seasoned Captain Tomco must have anticipated trouble from the Mitra Church. If things went south, he'd planned to evacuate us via his docked ship.
I hadn't expected him to take us all the way to some unknown spot, though.
"It's pure revenge against that monster bitch who tried to neuter us. We have to deal with her properly."
"I see."
"This ain't for you brats' sake. Quit grinning and board. Long voyage ahead."
As Tomco averted his eyes and grumbled, Nenya and Reni, who'd been smirking, boarded first. Bilena and Nidroga followed, their cart loaded with stuff. Then me.
Tomco frowned at my back.
"What's that?"
"A pack mule."
Esen was trying to smooth over earlier with affection. It was embarrassing. She showed no sign of getting off after climbing on my back and rubbing her cheek.
And the sisters, with their cold smiles, held my bag strap like a leash on a pack animal.
Tomco shook his head, as if he didn't want to guess what was going on.
"Cut the crap and sign the fare sheet. Don't you have the accounting mana quill?"
"There's an issue, Captain. Thanks for the kindness, but it's a bit pricey."
"...Women pay 1.5 times."
"Why?"
"Not 'cause I want to—gotta bribe the crew who hate it."
"Crew hates women?"
"You know damn well they don't, porter. No one's more worshipful of women than greenhorn sailors."
The sisters nodded knowingly.
"The superstition that women on board sink the ship?"
"Yep. Just that superstition, priestess of the nameless god. They hate carrying priestesses unless they're Sea Goddess followers."
"Not hate—just superstition, not loathing."
"Thanks for understanding. To me, it's all the same... What're you doing?"
I took the fare sheet from the captain and absentmindedly tried to mark the men's column, only to get stopped.
Tomco tapped the women's column.
"You too. Boarding at men's rate would raise eyebrows, no?"
My porter pride tingled. Of course, I was grateful for the quick ship prep. No desire to be rude to the famous Captain Tomco.
But this price was steep. Even in Cheseni, we hadn't paid this much.
"What if the other party members crossdress as men, Captain?"
Tomco nodded vigorously, as if it were brilliant.
"Got it. Where do you want the bullet?"
Some foes don't negotiate. I meekly paid the women's rate and boarded.
—————
The young, naive sailors used to leer at our party with hee-hee grins. In Bitsurk or Banir ports, sure. Not now.
Now they eyed us like ghosts.
'Women on our deck? Ghosts?'
Even whispering "She's nuts" about the navigator—third in rank after the Sea Goddess and captain—fit the vibe.
"Navigator barging into the women's quarters? Wants to become a ghost? That's what they're thinking."
Navigator of the privateer Hanged Julian, Morgan Tomco, muttered with a sneer.
Unlike the crew, our party didn't think Morgan was crazy. Her secret: crossdressing woman, Tomco's daughter.
Morgan Tomco, with her sharp features, was thrilled for girl talk after so long. Rolling around on the blankets the crew had thoughtfully laid out.
Turning it into an unexpected pajama party.
"Buncha idiots. Know why the cabin's like this?"
"They thought, 'Women like soft stuff'?"
"Whoa, how'd you know? Spot on!"
Morgan high-fived friendly Reni and cackled. I chuckled unwittingly.
Then heard a icy whisper.
"Having fun?"
"...My bad, sisters."
"Tan's not at fault. Laugh at whoever, spend nights with whoever—I don't care. But it was me who got 'Mom' tangled with Tan, right?"
People who insist they "don't care" care the most. Like those who claim no interest in money but obsess over it.
And those who smile while angry are the scariest.
The sisters radiated menace. Smiling like they were sweetly explaining travel plans.
"But my turn comes soon, right?"
"...I promise."
"When?"
"......This is a pirate ship. Here, a bit—"
"When?"
As I trembled, the party's talk with Morgan shifted to the Dragon's Nest.
"Dragons gather home this season for a festival?"
"Yeah. Homecoming, seasonal fest. Just like people."
"Ooh, just like people... People usually feast at festivals. Hope we're not the meal?"
Aimed at the eavesdropping crew outside. Three boys who looked under fifteen screamed and fled as the ship departed.
Morgan cackled, satisfied. Nidroga laughed for different reasons.
"No way. Even starving, they'd never eat people."
"Hm, elves don't attack humans unless forests are touched. Dragons might be different."
Morgan rolled on the blankets, mimicking sharp teeth with pulled lips.
"Sharp fangs."
Nidroga just giggled it off.
But oddly, Bilena bristled and jumped in.
"Don't say stupid shit. Dragons aren't barbaric like that!"
"...Huh?"
"True 'dragon'-identity dragons are rare. Know what that means?"
"Nope. How should I?"
Morgan glanced at Nidroga, but she nodded at Bilena laughingly: Listen to her.
Bilena slammed the blanket with her fist and launched into a tirade.
"Listen up, you pirate without species sensitivity!"
The shut-in scholar started rudely, but Morgan nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling.
"I'm listening."
According to Bilena, dragons at some growth stage take mortal forms: human, elf, dwarf, beastkin, etc.
Barring special events, they live out their lives with that "mortal identity." People call it "play," but it's their real life. Just longer-lived and tougher.
"So if you meet a human-looking dragon..."
Morgan covered her mouth in awe.
"That person's a dragon who can shift, but inside, just like me?"
"Not just humans. Whales, raccoons too. Any creature you meet could be a dragon!"
"Whoa. Wild. That whale we see at sea? Maybe a dragon?"
Morgan laughed in wonder. It could've ended as a fascinating lecture.
"Whales? Yeah, whales!"
But Bilena didn't stop.
"...Humans uniquely fail to appreciate sharing the world with fellow intelligences. That humans—humans—champion interspecies citizenship via scholar Oscar Manto is ironic: humans innately respect other races least. Like whaling smart creatures with factory ships—only..."
Good point. Really good.
But one of two things was certain: I'd either fall asleep midway or my eardrums would burst.
Reni and Nenya blocked ears with pillows, faces screaming here we go again. History of brain-melt lectures, apparently.
Overwhelmed Morgan waved her off.
"Okay, okay, stop. My bad."
"Stop what—"
Bilena froze mid-rant, finger raised dramatically. Then turned sadly to Nidroga.
Nidroga nodded, smiling.
"...Did I do it again?"
"It was fun."
"Fun? Shut-in nerd rant."
Esen smiled warmly, muttering village-philosopher shade just loud enough for my ears, not Bilena's sulking ones.
Sensing a kindred spirit in Esen's face, Morgan sidled up and sat beside her.
"Whoa, what was that? She's a scholar?"
"Yup."
"Figures I couldn't handle it. Better to puke from seasickness than books."
"You got bag-strap phobia too? Nice."
Esen offered a hand, then paused and withdrew.
"Right. You're that. 'No-sharing-men bitch.'"
"What's that mean?"
"You know."
Morgan looked clueless, but I remembered. Days ago in Bitsurk, Esen on Morgan: She's not the 'sharing' type. She's the 'monopolizing' type.
Morgan scratched her sky-blue hair, then snapped fingers, grabbing Esen.
"Oh yeah, you! The one who took the gift I gave the porter."
"Good memory. Took you long enough. Hard to find slower wits than mine."
"What? Anyway, give back my dagger. Too pricey to gift free for 'woman' appeal."
She dressed plainly as a man on board, so crew wouldn't know. But it was a gift to charm me, the man.
Chill hit; I glanced—yep, Morgan smirking challengingly at me. Half-joking, half-defiant.
But Esen shook head, feigning ignorance.
"Sexist."
"...You're a weird one."
"And can't return it anyway."
"Sold it?"
Morgan freaked. Esen grinned sinisterly at me.
Chill again; I racked my brain—then it hit.
Banir's City of All Gods. On that street. Esen, before Mitra paladins, power demo: chewed and shattered... the dagger?
"Esen."
"Yeah?"
"Know how much that artifact cost?"
"Nope. Why should I?"
"You chomped it without knowing?"
"...Free gift. Free, right?"
The sisters, even unflappable ones, stared aghast at her brazenness.
Finally sensing wrongness, Esen checked party faces. I scanned with dead eyes.
Perfect timing: Nenya, who'd overheard, approached with scary face.
The accounting elf gripped Esen's hand, interrogating. Esen stammered confession.
At artifact dagger's destruction, Morgan sighed regretfully.
"Aw. Important item."
"How much?"
"Eh, about mom's heirloom value?"
Cabin air froze. Even laid-back Nidroga's horn-polishing hand trembled.
But Esen brazenly lifted chin, all humans err, and swiftly knelt.
Looked cheap, but wisest move now.
Morgan, though, laughed breezily and waved.
"Nah, forget it. Forgiven."
"Really? I'm so sor—"
"First strike, you bitch!"
That sea-wide palm swung straight for Esen's face.