Episode 1-a. The Village Where Letters Fly In. (2)
Letters. To be honest, up until fairly recently, I used to scribble them out and send them off to the imperial capital. The journey always dragged on for a year, two years, and even three without any sign of shortening. There was a woman back in the empire waiting for me, and I was starting to get a little—actually, a lot—worried about her. So whenever I had some spare time, I'd pick up a souvenir from a shop and send it along with a short note.
The reason I bothered with the gifts? I didn't have much talent for writing, so a brief scribble on paper felt too meager and pathetic on its own. I wasn't good at expressing my true feelings. For me, at least, it took a hell of a lot of courage. That's why the letters I sent her were always just a few curt lines. To make up for it, I'd toss in some pointless trinket. I hoped it might convey even a fraction of the emotions I couldn't put into words.
Pretty ridiculous, huh?
People—most people, anyway—say a letter carries a person's heart. It's like pulling out the lump that's been choking you inside, the feelings you can't voice outright, and slipping them quietly into the other's chest on paper. The crooked handwriting because you wrote it yourself. The sweat-smudged ink that looks like it's crying. The shared secrets only you two know, felt anew. Even if it's just one line, or a few short ones, there's something in a letter that reaches the heart like nothing else.
And that's what I wanted to find in Litera—maybe in that very scene of letters flying in. I wanted to put real heart into the letters I sent her.
Last night, thankfully, no one died from the stew the kids dumped all their ingredients into. Aside from the poison mushrooms I luckily spotted, nothing came from sketchy sources, so we all scarfed down the decently tasty slop and crashed.
Now here we were again, bouncing along the same mountain road in the rattling cart, the scenery as monotonous as ever. The kids, bored out of their minds, sidled up to the driver's seat and started yapping.
"Ain hyung, why aren't there any cities around here?"
"Yeah, if everyone's passing through, shouldn't there be at least one town?"
"Hm... well, it's just one of those things."
Yes. As I said.
""Oh, you don't know.""
It wasn't that I didn't know, but explaining it properly while driving would've taken too long. I wanted to save it for later.
""Pretend know-it-all.""
"...".
But the kids were bored enough to tease me relentlessly, so I let out a deep sigh and cautiously called on someone else.
"Hoo... Horn, old man. Mind explaining it to them?"
"What... it's simple. This area's no place for humans to live, you brats."
The old dwarf seemed bored too, answering without his usual grumbling.
"Can't you just chop down trees and build something? Right, Tori?"
"Yeah, Yaki. 'Cause... um, the ground isn't all squishy or anything."
"You could think that, but simply put, land not stabilized by ancient magic is imperl territory."
He was right. Unstabilized land birthed the unChosen ones.
"Stabilized?"
"Aye. The cities we have now are all stabilized from ancient times. Dense forests like this? Unstabilized land."
Litera wasn't the only place with remnants of ancient magic. The empire, duchies, every nation and race lived on land stabilized by ancient spells.
"Of course, if you're asking if modern mages can't stabilize undeveloped areas, they can. But it doesn't pay off. Takes a gathering of grand mages to do it."
The ancient magical civilization bloomed then collapsed for some reason, leaving tech we can barely replicate now. The usual story.
"Uh... so what are these unchosen things?"
"Hm, called imperls. Annoying bastards. You've been lucky not running into any on the cart so far, but you'll meet 'em before Litera. See for yourselves then."
""Eugh...""
Horn grunted that and shifted to lounge half-reclined again, done talking. The kids sighed in disappointment, curiosity unsatisfied.
The unchosen—or half-formed ones. In places like Crepen's snowy mountains up north, wolves and beasts claimed territory. But in sprawling forests like this, the half-formed took root.
Imperls were hard to grasp from words or writing alone. People called them grotesque, and that pretty much covered it. I wouldn't know—I'd only felt sheer terror facing them a few times.
And then.
"Hey, you...! You fucking idiots! Breathe right, shit! Don't lag behind 'cause you're winded—run faster...!"
"Kyaaah! Ain oppa, faster! Faster! They're chasing us!!"
"I can't look... I can't look! Hate those things...!"
Mouths are our worst enemies.
That night, we faced pure horror. Imperls couldn't be summed up as just "gross-looking." No eyes, for starters. Huge nostrils, mouths torn up to where ears should be—no ears, just holes. Bald, slick skin might be a charm point, but their tiny torsos on freakishly long arms and legs, shambling on all fours with jerky clunks? Gave you chills all over.
Dozens charging our camp, shaking the ground—eyeless, yet somehow glaring. The first terror I'd felt since tumbling into this world.
"Ah, fuck! Mouths are the enemy! Fuck, don't cling to the driver's seat, you lunatics!"
"Kyaaah!!"
Kicking off the slime-drooling limbs from the cart, Horn piped up casually.
"Hm, don't see what all the fuss is about these things."
"Dwarf aesthetics broken? Fuck, those nostrils flaring huge! Get lost!"
Truth was, first time we met them on the road, I never imagined the things from stories looked that bad.
"They're weaklings anyway—stab 'em and done. Picking up from earlier: individuals are feeble, but their numbers wipe out normal folk. That's the issue."
""Uwaaah! We get it now, no need!!""
"See? Meeting 'em beats words, eh, brats."
Hm, same as ever.
Horn muttered and pulled a shield from the luggage, peeling imperls off the cart one by one. Thwack-thwack. Sticky fluids splattered the side.
"Ugh... old man, wash the cart when you're done fixing it."
"Piss off. I'm no carpenter or car-wash errand boy, damn whelp."
Thwack-
"What the fu—"
"Insolent pup. Good timing—eat shit."
The goo splattered up to my face as I whipped the horses.
"Old man... you want a cart crash?"
"Then we all become imperl chow. Try it, whelp."
Thwack-thwack-
"Agh, fine! Sorry, stop... mph."
"These fuckers have good skull-cracking feel. Been a while."
Dunno about skull-cracking, but my mouth tasted as grotesque as they looked. You little...
By the time the moon dipped and the last imperl was gone, the kids had screamed themselves hoarse. I'd been doused head to toe in Horn's petty revenge.
And then.
"Ooh... perfect. Ah, I needed fresh imperl fluids that haven't dried. Ain, stay still. I-I'll collect some in this vial..."
"...".
After the chaos, as we stopped the cart, one person was thrilled.
"Mm, ooh, flesh bits on your eyelids too. Wow... brain chunks in your hair. A-As expected, Ain for sourcing materials."
"...".
If he'd just laughed at my state, I could've brushed it off. But no mockery—just manic glee as he peeled the gunk off me.
"You're the only one who always helps li—like this, Ain. Hm, where'd I put my tweezers...?"
"...Hey."
"Yes?"
"Wanna die for real?"
"N-No? Di-Did I do something...? I said thanks..."
If you needed materials, why not jump off the cart yourself at night, you bastard.