Escape
I grew up more ordinarily than I had expected.
What had I even been so worried about in the first place?
Father was a sturdy, simple man—an overflowing well of affection who farmed the land. Mother loved books, though she could not read a single letter of them. They had found me and raised me as their own.
Like my previous life, if this one was ordinary, it was thoroughly ordinary. I possessed no particular talent of my own. Even if I had wanted to try magic, I could not make sense of the written characters, so chanting was out of the question—speaking itself had been a struggle. Of course, now that I was fifteen, speech had become reasonably comfortable.
And I had acquired a girl who could fairly be called a childhood friend. Her name was Jenny. She had the cute face of a country girl, and she was a bit of a fool who knew almost nothing. But whenever she smiled, I found myself smiling along with her.
We would often go up into the mountains together. Being the countryside, there was no infrastructure to speak of. The closest thing was the Temple of Tyr. I had heard the real Temple of Tyr stood in the Geryan Confederation. When I asked the priest whether this meant ours was some sort of fake, he joked that I was a heretic, then explained that no—it simply meant the only temple Tyr himself had founded was the one over there.
I dug through books and studied in a rough way, and the priest must have taken a liking to me; he offered to educate me himself and called me in three times a week. It was a good chance for me to learn language and society, so I did not refuse.
Unlike my previous life, I did not want to run away from this one. Of course I did not want to die stupidly either. Injecting nitrogen gas into my body and ending it that way—I never wanted to do that again.
Through language and society I came to understand a rough outline of history. Like world history back home, this world had been a complete mess, and the present was, relatively speaking, a cold-war period.
Outwardly there was no open war, but proxy wars fought by mercenaries were common, as were deliberate blockades of trade routes. And I learned that the country to which Jenny, the priest, my family, and I all belonged was called the Midgard Kingdom.
The language we used was called the “Living Tongue,” the common speech of the Living Continent—the very land under our feet.
“So the elven race suffered a tremendous wound…”
“Then where do the elves live now?”
“The elves, you see… pureblood elves, even I do not know. But I am an elf myself. A half-elf. Roughly eighty percent human, I would guess.”
The priest explained slowly and kindly. His face was benevolent, yet at the same time the light was gone from his pupils, which sometimes gave him an eerie air. But I knew. He was without question a kind man. Thanks to him I had mastered the language and come to understand the rough state of the world and its culture.
Above all, education that normally cost money he gave me free of charge. How could such a man be bad to me?
“Anyway, little one. You’re fifteen already.”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m practically an adult now.”
“Hmm, hmm. Is your father well? Lately I never seem to see him the way I used to.”
The priest spoke in a worried tone. His concern was well placed. In the past Father had always brought him thanks—wheat and vegetables from the harvest, and even the occasional rabbit caught in a snare, delivered straight to the priest without so much as a bite for us. Of course the priest insisted we share, so we did get to taste rabbit leg.
But now Father was far from healthy. Whether from age or illness, he could no longer manage the farm work properly, so it had fallen to me. My younger sibling helped, but being small they could only tend the kitchen garden. I plowed the fields, sowed the seed, and handled everything overall.
On top of that I would go with Mother—and Jenny—into the mountains or the forest to gather various plants. Mother said the grasses around here were rich in medicinal herbs; dried and decocted, they were good for those whose vitality had waned.
Which was why I was now in the forest with Jenny, searching for those herbs.
“Is it supposed to be around here?”
Jenny thrust her hands into the undergrowth and stirred them about as she spoke. I was not certain enough to answer yes, so I only hummed vaguely. Among the clumps of grass I found one of the herbs we needed.
I carefully dug it up so as not to damage the small roots. The herb I had found was white fleeceflower. Its root was the medicinal part; above ground it looked no different from ordinary grass. Of course ordinary grasses could be medicinal too if you knew what to look for, but I did not know that much.
I called Jenny over, handed her the herb, and we searched further together.
…
We wasted roughly four hours in the forest. And for all that, we found only five herbs—most of them the kind good for women. I had set out to find medicine for Father and ended up gathering herbs to give Jenny instead.
Of course I did not mind giving Jenny good herbs, but it felt as though I had squandered time on something that missed the original purpose, and a small regret settled in. The sun was beginning to set; it was time to head back.
“…Let’s go home.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, let’s!”
Jenny beamed that silly smile of hers again. For a moment I felt I had been too hard on myself for grumbling inside. Of course she had no idea I had thought such a thing. If I had had a childhood friend like her in my previous life, how nice it would have been. Clearly, being reborn had its good points.
Jenny and I left the forest and headed home. Her house and mine stood right next door, so we often walked together. I sometimes took her along when I went to the priest, and he would tease us by asking if she was my girlfriend.
When we reached home—
Regrettably—no. There was nothing regrettable about it.
What the hell.
The house was burning. It was gone.
No—the entire village had been smashed to pieces. Houses burned or collapsed, and even the temple lay in ruins.
Who had attacked? In fantasy stories attacks were the usual explanation. But this was supposed to be a royal demesne… What madman would strike the king’s land? Did they not know because it was the countryside?
“…What?”
“…Ren! Jenny! Are you all right?!”
In that moment the priest’s voice rang out. I turned and saw him—his left arm dangling loosely, his usually neat vestments torn and bloodied. In his right hand he held a mace that looked more like an iron club, as if there had not been enough metal to forge it properly.
“You two cannot stay here! Run into the forest at once!”
He spoke urgently. Before I could ask anything further, he shoved Jenny and me onward as he continued.
“It’s a troll! Your parents were killed by the troll—”
Crunch—!
A monster with a huge nose and a grotesque face brought its fist down on the priest. When it raised its fist again, a crushed mass of flesh—bones jutting out, muscles shredded—fell from its grip.
“…Jenny, now…”
“……”
I gave Jenny a little push. Backward, of course. I could not stop my legs from trembling. A stench that made me want to vomit filled the air, a smell I felt I would never forget. Looking up, I saw fingers and thick smears of blood around the creature’s mouth.
This was a troll. It had to be a troll. A single one had wiped out the entire village. If we did not run, we would die for certain.
Before I knew it my feet had begun to run. By the time I came back to myself, Jenny was no longer at my side. All I could see was myself tearing madly through the forest, ignoring the thudding footsteps behind me and the thorn vines that clawed at me.
Dead after a mere fifteen years? Again?
I refused. I did not want to die meaninglessly. Had this not been a peaceful age? Shouldn’t these things have shown up when I was little? Why now?
I didn’t know. How the fuck would I know? All I had been taught was the broad outline. I had never even properly learned what kinds of creatures existed. Only vague warnings: don’t go out at night, don’t enter the forest alone.
“Hah…!”
My breath came short. I had never run like this. In my last life there had been no reason to; in this one I had never wanted to.
I glanced back. A troll more than three times my height was chasing me. In its hand was a woman’s body—limp, but unmistakable.
Jenny.
I had abandoned her. Or had I been abandoned? I could not remember.
I ran, and I kept running. Whether I collapsed from exhaustion or not, at least I did not want to die to that troll. Night fell, and I could see nothing ahead. Still I ran.
Because the sounds around me were terrifying. I was still afraid. I had simply failed to notice it after living in peace for a while. I was still nothing more than a coward.
When I reached a ridge, I saw lights below. A village? I hoped so. I could not sleep in the forest anyway. I would go down.
I followed the ridge down. It was not a village. I should have realized as much from how few the lights were, but the shock must have been too great. There were only a few people with small tents pitched. I needed help, so I would have to approach.
I had taken only a few steps closer when I felt a blade touch me from behind. I could not turn around. The moment I did, I would die.
“…Who are you?”
“…Ren. From the village beyond that ridge.”
“Purpose?”
“A troll attacked the village.”
“…”
Several figures emerged. Including the one at my back, there seemed to be six in total. Two were women, four were men. One of them looked like the leader, wearing armor that appeared rather expensive, and there was also an elderly man who seemed frail. None of them looked as though they could win against a troll.
“Erika, that is enough.”
“…Yes.”
I felt the sharp, cold edge leave my back. But a cold hand still held the nape of my neck. The voice behind me was a woman’s—low and husky.
Still gripping my nape, the woman behind me stepped out of the undergrowth and forced me to my knees. The others surrounded me, looking down.
“…A brat, is it.”