Episode 8. Valley of the Fallen (4)
With that, we parked the carriage in a suitable spot and headed to the restaurant under Adrian's guidance.
A restaurant. "Whoa, they even have a restaurant here."
"...What the hell did you think this place was? Everything you need is here. People live here, after all."
It was a kind of village, but completely cut off from the outside world. And yet, there were people running businesses inside the valley. Not that there was much point in making money.
That's what I was thinking when I blurted it out, and Adrian immediately responded to my question.
"No, no. I didn't mean it's primitive. Money just doesn't circulate outside, so it's kinda useless. I'm just surprised they're bothering with shops anyway."
"Guys who wanna do it, do it. And like you said, accumulating wealth here doesn't mean shit, so they trade for useful stuff or do favors for the owner."
Classic, primitive bartering.
"Primitive as fuck."
"You lunatic."
We bantered like that as we stepped inside the restaurant. The dimly lit interior was filled with quite a few people scattered around, eating. A bald guy who looked like the owner was grilling meat over a fire.
Adrian strode forward first and called out to him. "Carlson, eight portions of wild boar."
"Hm? What's this? Adrian, you bringin' new folks into the fold?"
"Dunno if they'll stick around, but this crazy bastard threatened to smash the gates if we didn't let him in."
The owner, Carlson, grinned at Adrian's words and eyed me up. "Kuhaha!! Looks scrawny as hell, but he's got the balls of a serious criminal, alright!"
"Who're you callin' a serious criminal, you bald fuck?"
"The hell?! That's harsh!! Apologize!!"
"...Sorry."
These nutjobs treat "serious criminal" like a goddamn compliment. Probably 'cause everyone's a criminal here—no insult in it. Hell, the bald guy just called it a harsh insult himself.
We grabbed a table and sat down, feeling sidelong glances from the folks already eating. A few tilted their heads, staring at Asha. They must've sensed something off about her, even with all the artifacts hiding her identity.
In the midst of that, the owner came over with a massive bowl piled high with meat and plunked it down on the table with a thud. He let out a hearty laugh as he spoke.
"Kuhuhu... Who the hell else comes to this place but serious criminals? So, what's your rap sheet, kid?"
"... "
I hesitated for a second. Sure, I'd announced myself as a gray at the gates to get in. But blurting it out to this random bald dude who knew jack shit? Might kill the vibe. So I kept my mouth shut.
The owner cocked his head at me, then turned to Adrian. "Hm. Brought a whole crew, so maybe a murder gang? Adrian, he don't wanna say—spill it for him!"
"Gray sympathizers."
"What...?"
"They hid and helped a gray, got the Holy Kingdom's pursuit squad on their asses. That robed loner over there? Probably the gray."
"... "
This asshole.
The moment Adrian's words landed, the restaurant went dead silent. Clinking dishes stopped cold, laughter and chatter cut off like a switch. It was like time itself had frozen. The owner and every diner turned to stare at Asha.
I stood up smoothly, stepping in front of her. My mind raced. Draw the sword? Channel mana? Slice Adrian first? Or charge the most dangerous-looking ones?
As the silence stretched, those thoughts whirled in my head.
And then.
"Carlson."
"Huh... "
"Means these guys are weirdos just like you."
"Heh heh... "
Guess it was pointless worrying.
"Hell, weirder than you. Don't think it's 'cause we're family or anything."
"Hahaha!! See?! There are other idiots besides me!! Hey, you lot!! Cough up my precious lamp and clock you bastards gambled away!"
The frozen tension melted away, erupting into boisterous laughter. The owner, in high spirits, chuckled as he headed back to the kitchen. Those who'd been eyeing Asha tilted their heads no more—they raised their mugs and clinked them together.
"Scared ya, Ain? Nah, you didn't think a serious criminal den wouldn't have a gray, right?"
"Shut up, you regicidal prick—I was seriously considering slicing you first."
"Kuhuhu... The owner's daughter is a gray. Hasn't awakened yet—she's just a little girl—but yeah."
Adrian, smug after landing that hit, stabbed a huge chunk of boar with his fork and went on.
I sighed deeply and flopped back into my chair. Asha and the others finally relaxed, slumping in relief.
"Point is, no need to hide here. This place is for outcasts rejected by the world."
"Shoulda led with that, you goddamn royal assassin."
"Tried at first, but you gray-loving fuckers pissed me off."
He grinned, shoving boar into his mouth and chomping away.
We were just sighing over our untouched food when he skewered another piece and waved it. "Eat up, all of ya. Even you, noble gray—ditch that itchy robe. Impressive you've never taken it off, but it's givin' everyone the creeps."
Come to think of it, Asha had never once removed her robe. Even shadowing me, she'd clutched the hem tight, just in case.
I nodded to her. "...Asha. Ditch the robe. Take off the necklace and bracelets too. They're uncomfortable anyway."
"Yes, Ain."
At my words, she began removing them one by one. Off came the robe, then the shackle-like bracelets and anklets.
As her face emerged, the restaurant fell silent again. Only the soft rustle of her clothes moving filled the air. Mugs stayed frozen mid-clink.
She unclasped the necklace, her hair and eyes reverting to gray. Honestly, the disguised normal colors never suited her as well as this ashen hue. Back when I first thought it dull and ugly as a kid? Now, I preferred this version.
With robe and accessories off, Asha seemed awkward in the hushed room. She scooted her chair closer to mine, then looped her arm through mine and buried her face in my chest.
And breaking the silence? Adrian, again.
"Whoa... you fucker."
"What."
Adrian waved his boar chunk around, glancing between me and Asha. "That why you stuck your neck out for a gray? Got a knack for makin' it believable."
"The hell you mean."
"Nah, can't hack it. Pay extra taxes, you prick. And foot the bill here. Tried holdin' back, but fuck it."
"No. You're insane."
"And gray... er, lady? Robe back on."
Crazy bastard.
Anyway, we sat there eating and chatting.
"So why don't the Holy Kingdom or other countries bother cleaning this place out? Sure, war would hurt, but they'd win easy."
"Ain, these serious criminals who'd get the death penalty or life in prison if caught—look like pushovers to you? Lowlifes don't even dare come here."
Adrian explained with an incredulous look, lifting more boar and booze he'd ordered on my tab.
"But your Asha almost casts one spell, and they flung the gates open and surrendered."
"Sorry, but grays are disasters that take the Holy Kingdom's full extermination squad. 'Surrendered' is bullshit propaganda."
"Grays are very strong... One hit from that magic, and survival is hard... "
Some folks had sidled up to our table, joining the convo.
"Yeah, like he said—can't block a monster's magic that needs holy power just to subjugate, not with a fraction of the force."
"But why let 'em in? Disaster, right?"
"You little... Ain. Story's not done."
"Ah, sorry."
As we ate and drank, more newcomers overheard and dragged their tables over. True to form for serious criminals—no manners, no hesitation.
And in the chatter, Adrian dropped a bombshell he couldn't gloss over.
"Anyway, to wrap it up: we've got a grand mage here."
"What...?"
Grand mage. The prestigious title for the elite few at magic's pinnacle. One living in this valley? But Adrian continued casually.
"Why so shocked? We've had former sword saints, knight captains, beastkin great warriors. Even a top-tier ice spirit—raises massive ice walls in emergencies."
"Damn... "
"Sure, humans like sword saints and captains eventually croak from old age. Outsiders got no way of knowing that, though."
Way more heavy hitters here than I'd imagined. No wonder the info never leaked—public couldn't know.
I let out an impressed sigh and asked, "But Adrian, how come you haven't died?"
"You little shit, for real. C'mon, one-on-one. Palace mage royal-killer look like a joke?"
Joking, joking.
"Kidding. Just... why'd all these badasses commit serious crimes and hole up here?"
"...Who hasn't got a story? They all had reasons. Like you helping a gray."
A haven for the rejected, a grave for the discarded. The valley where the fallen lived.
Thinking it over, the names fit Adrian's explanation perfectly.
He answered with a distant look. The chomping boar kinda ruined the mood, though.
"But even with stories, royal assassination's a stretch."
"...Hey, step outside."
Ah. Joking, joking.