A Close Call
Of course, it was a hasty move. Robendo wasn't alone.
The Tobetan army's appearance at the port wasn't just to welcome Tomco. Nor was it merely to hand over Mindina and Moriba. They had shown up to stop the fight.
In an instant, Robendo's guards emerged from the crowd, drawing identical dueling swords and surrounding him. Tobetan's soldiers hurriedly blocked their path, while from behind us, Leni Astala—who had rushed over—cried out in horror.
"Knights of Small Elan...? What is the meaning of this?!"
"We blocked the path due to flight risk, Lady Leni Astala!"
"This concerns the honor of Small Elan—please understand!"
"Flight? Who's fleeing? Is drawing a sword in a foreign street an honorable act? You can't just do this without explanation!"
But Leni's efforts to mediate among her fellow countrymen were in vain as factions of various origins began slinking into view. On the left, elves—opulently gold-adorned elite troops marching steadily toward us. On the right... good lord. Musclebound giants, each averaging two meters tall, blocked the way. Hooded figures cracking their knuckles with menacing intent. The soldiers struggling to hold them back were almost pitiful.
"What the hell is this now? Surrounding Captain Tomco in the heart of Tobetan?"
But Robendo was just as reckless. As Tomco—furious from the past few days' events—twisted his face into a demonic snarl, the Small Elan knights recoiled in shock, stepping back several paces. Morgan and the crew rushed to Tomco's side, drawing their pirate cutlasses.
However, the intruders weren't just up against Hero Tomco and his sailors. The four dragons who had escorted our ship here had already shed their transformations and descended to the port, standing boldly at our side.
...Grateful as that was, wouldn't their dragon forms have been a bit more reassuring? Even the pocket mouse clutched in Nidroga's cousin's arms peered around with a terrified expression. I twitched at the corner of my eye.
"...No way. The ones I've only heard about...?"
"Nidroga must've told you. That's my uncle. So live humbly. The pebble you kick aside might be a dragon choosing the life of a snail."
Nidroga's cousin lifted his head arrogantly, acting like a local thug.
"That's why you don't go rummaging around carelessly, you fluffy little shits. What kind of lunatic knight throws down his gauntlet at a non-combatant woman for a duel?"
"Woman? Women come in all kinds."
The bloodshot-eyed pocket mouse turned toward the hooded giants on the right with a flinch. Leading them was someone anomalously small—maybe 160cm. Yet the aura she exuded was anything but ordinary, completely dominating the brutes behind her. Beneath that hood peeked a jawline unmistakably feminine. And a smile that felt eerily familiar.
"I smell it. Looks like a woman to anyone, but the scent says otherwise. You've slathered on stuff so obsessively pungent it's making my nose burn. Why's that?"
The voice was slightly husky, but that sweet tone was unmistakably similar to someone else's. Esen gaped and stared.
"...Garam?"
"Call me that one more time and you're dead, you bitch."
As the similar voices overlapped, their kinship stood out. Relatives? Family? If so, definitely not on good terms. The retort had been ferocious.
Esen let out a hollow laugh and pulled her hand from her pouch. I quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her. At that, aggressive glares slithered from the hooded group—aimed squarely at me.
It was scary, sure, but what the hell had I done to them? The injustice burned.
Thankfully, a tall male elf stepped forward from their side to mediate.
"Hold. We seek no quarrel."
The elf soldiers showed no hint of aggression, merely blocking and watching the left path.
...They were staying within bounds of decency, but blocking the road didn't make them look innocent. Seemed like they figured no elf blood needed spilling.
"We apologize on behalf of Small Elan's young knight for his rashness. The wild guests from afar surely had no intent to stir conflict."
"You'd say the same even if blades were drawn?"
Nenya Ebenezer stepped forward coldly, slamming her staff into the ground. The elf—twice her height—bowed deeply in respect.
"We greet the great Root Guardian Ebenezer. My name is—"
"I don't know you. Nor do I care."
The elf flinched at the icy reply. Nenya bared her teeth toward the back of his head.
"Explain what this is about."
"Have you lost your purity?"
"What?"
"I asked if you've lost your purity to a human porter."
The elf lifted his head slightly. No respect in his eyes.
"We block your path due to the scandal in the Special Monster Extermination Unit party. A prominent human monthly raised suspicions about a 'porter infiltrating a women-only party.'"
My mind went blank. Oh god.
"We trust you understand how the world views this. Not just our Great Elan, but countless kingdoms' nobles and factions have reacted sensitively, casting wary eyes on your group. We represent all worried parents and lords concerned for their heirs, come to verify if the allegations are true."
The elf, still bowed, pointed at me.
"Strip him."
"...Hey. Strip a woman? In the street?"
Nidroga's cousin set down the pocket mouse and stepped forward. The elves politely halted.
"We seek no conflict with great dragons. We want only the lowly porter's custody. We won't hold him long—just confirm his gender."
"Do you know how many dragons he and his comrades saved at the Dragon's Nest? He is a guest of the Nest. Don't act rashly!"
Nenya barked, and the bowed elf turned his dull eyes to her.
"Our great descendants are forbidden from coupling with lesser males. Depending on circumstances, the list of prisoners we drag today to the Eternal Queen's court might include not just porter Bantai, but your name as well—"
Nenya's eyes widened as she raised her hand high. The sea trembled. Glancing seaward, we beheld a hellish sight—black kelp masses rising like ancient nightmares. We stared, dumbfounded. One elf soldier, standing dumbly as if to say "so what?", got snagged by a kraken-sized kelp stalk and flung into the ocean. His scream echoed long before the elves finally drew spears in panicked alert.
"You thought a plant mage like me couldn't wield power here."
Nenya ground her heel into the elf's skull.
"Because the ground's paved."
"...Preposterous. I merely stated facts..."
"That's why I hate elves. They see a gap and belittle, climb, and scorn. Isn't that right, Baseldenan? Son of Igolnya?"
"You know my name?"
"Know you? I birthed your mother's mother myself!"
Her rage resonated; the kelp tsunami writhed. The living black wall surging beside us felt like it could squeeze the piss from our bladders. Tomco gawked at it too, sighing as he sheathed his blade.
"Anyone still wanna fight after that?"
The hooded ones shot up their hands. But a glance from Esen made them drop them.
I whispered to her.
"Those guys... no way...?"
"Yeah. Every one of those twenty is Tigris."
Their glares at me took on new meaning. My gut twisted. Esen patted my back reassuringly.
"Relax. They're all fuckbait anyway."
"Not to me, right?"
"I'll watch your back. Don't pussy out."
Despite her calm face, Esen's back was tense. I tried to heed her advice.
The crisis we'd feared might erupt... did.
Panic alone would get us devoured.
"Of course, we have no intent to cause conflict without cause in foreign lands."
In a large hotel reception room adjacent to Tobetan Port. Didn't catch the name. My head was ringing from the tension; missed the sign.
I wasn't the only one rattled by the uninvited guests. Everyone was hunting for booze of some sort, leaving the hotel bar's owner baffled by orders for black tea.
It was from the tall elf from Great Elan, Baseldenan. Under Nenya's glare, he sipped it refinedly. Meanwhile, the hooded woman Esen called "Garam" stuck out her tongue in disgust and hurled her cup backward.
Robendo Astala of Small Elan, mid-sip, yelped and ducked.
Across from the trio, Tomco—looking ready to murder someone and dump them in the sea—spoke.
"You've already done exactly that. Stirring shit in foreign streets without manners, then brazenly skipping the apology opener. Makes me wanna squeeze that tea back out your yap."
"I see no cause for apology. Is Tobetan's diplomatic etiquette this rude by default?"
"You lot flashing murder vibes and weapons on the street talking manners?"
"We're diplomatic envoys, entitled to legal escort forces. And we've disarmed fully now, haven't we? So let's talk. Why defend that porter?"
Tomco blinked, gesturing to Morgan.
"Tobetan got diplomatic bullshit artists, Morgan?"
"Sure do, Dad. Forgot?"
"Yeah. What were they again?"
Morgan rolled her eyes, then lightning-quick drew her gun on Baseldenan. He blinked blankly, smirking.
"Go ahead—"
Morgan did. A deafening blast left a red dot on his shin. Before blood welled, Baseldenan howled in agony, tumbling from his chair.
Robendo half-stood in shock, freezing at Tomco's gun now on him. Tomco tapped the sofa with his barrel.
"Sit."
"...Yes."
Now Garam startled. She and her Tigris rose as one, but Esen warned without turning.
"I rip heads off anyone who stands. Sit quiet and watch."
"...You're an idiot, Esen. Think why I came—"
"Obviously a challenge. But challenging and kill-or-be-killed ain't the same, right? Sis is pissed right now, so behave."
Garam's yellow eyes flashed under her hood; she sat silently. The other Tigris flinched and followed.
Esen, flanking me and Monica protectively, tossed a mocking line at her kin behind.
"Good girls."
"Gaaah—! Didn't we agree to disarm—?!"
Baseldenan wailed. True, the unarmed elf guards couldn't rush to save him. Desperate pleas shot their way, but Nenya returned only rebukes.
Even Baseldenan sensed the dire mood, stifling screams with gurgles. Tomco glanced at me, then back.
"This is Tobetan's diplomacy."
"Guh, what the—"
"Seems you're light on world savvy, long-ears. This is Tobetan. I'm Tomco. And Tobetan and Tomco don't know diplomat immunity, fair disarmament talks, or swallowing insults politely. If it were your land, I'd play by your rules. But in Tobetan, you fit our traditions—or else."
"You little...!"
"Yeah. Keep that chin up if you wanna drift the seas as driftwood in an empty barrel."
"Captain! Got it!"
Tomco extended a hand, still grinding the pierced shin. The sailor slapped a gazette into it. Seeing the cover, Tomco scowled.
"One Sun? The scandal rag on that guy—and out of all the publications, this is the only one?"
"Bad?"
Esen whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut.
"...World's got endless gazettes. Party Federation monthlies cover adventurers worldwide; mage towers send weather to farmer subs."
"Right. Never heard of One Sun."
"That's proof you've lived clean and healthy, Esen."
She puzzled; Islune Storm—who'd been quiet—swallowed and chimed in.
"It's no positive force in the world. Pure yellow journalism—vicious smears for folks who love others' downfall."