The Thief of the Map
“Um… Werewolves and bandits, you say?”
“That is correct.”
Sven, the town chief, studied the head of Gert, which had been placed on the desk in his office, and listened to Ion’s account with grave seriousness. The man had been surprised by the sheer number of missing persons and by the presence of the werewolf, but he kept his expression neutral. “First, we need to retrieve the bodies of the missing from the map’s marked location and report to Lord Count. Only then can we decide on the reward.”
“Very well. First and foremost, return the bodies to their families. I’ll stay at the inn and rest for a few days.”
“I’m grateful for your understanding.”
Then, noticing Lotte sleeping on Ion’s lap, Sven asked, “That animal…?”
“A stray I picked up in the old castle grounds.”
“A red one. How unusual.”
“Yes, it’s rather distinctive.”
Even though Sven had mistaken Lotte for a dog, Ion felt no need to correct him. Many people kept young wolves as pets, after all. The oddity lay elsewhere: the green dot on the map had not disappeared. He would have to learn more about this map. After a polite farewell to Sven, Ion gently roused the sleeping Lotte and stepped back out into the night. He returned to the inn he had stayed at before, booked a room, and took several days to rest. The innkeeper, Heinz, proved to be a dog-lover. While Ion rested, Heinz kept cooking, and whenever he had leftover bones, he fed them generously to Lotte. Even so, the half-wild wolf pup panted and wagged its tail, belly exposed in a display of pure cuteness after just a few bones. “Haha, this one is clever. I’d love to keep a dog like that.”
Watching Heinz scratch Lotte’s exposed belly, Ion answered gruffly, “Once it grows up, it’ll get much bigger.”
“How big?”
“Considering its mother, it will be a little taller than a normal wolf.”
“Ah, it’ll grow larger than I thought.”
At the moment it was still a pup, adorable in its fluffiness. In another month or two it would be all muscle and wolf. Heinz kept stroking its belly as he spoke. “I heard there were more than thirty missing persons reported from the villages.”
“That’s plenty.”
Once the skeletons were counted, the number would be even higher. The missing people came from Dachsen and the Bergen Territory, as well as from smaller villages scattered around. During the days he rested, families of the missing often came to thank Ion. They had no great wealth to offer, only herbs or mushrooms they had gathered on short trips, so a simple thank-you was all they could manage. For Ion, it was more than enough. “And when I entered the territory on horseback, the villagers were shocked to see the head on the saddle wasn’t a wolf’s, but a werewolf’s.”
“Well, the shapes aren’t that different.”
“Haha, the name of young knight Ion Rise of Bergen Territory has begun to spread.”
“Already?”
“We don’t have many exciting things around here, do we? The arrival of a young hero is always a good story.”
“Not exactly that big.”
Werewolf encounters were not common, and Heinz’s exaggeration was a stretch. “Haha, once the rumors circle the five kingdoms of our central region, they might even turn me into a hero who caught dozens of werewolves. Isn’t that what we do?”
Rumors naturally grew teeth, and people who passed through the inn would carry the tales. In Dachsen itself, stories of the werewolf Ion had slain circulated alongside tales of the giant snake in Graf Territory and the witch of the Yakubi swamps. After several days of rest, listening to ordinary people, Ion set out again for the lord’s castle on the fifth day. “You have no intention of staying in our territory any longer?” The moment he entered Sven’s office, the chief asked directly. Ion took a moment to answer. “I would like to see the wider world a bit more. Then I’ll decide where to settle.” “I suspected as much, but I thought I should ask anyway.” “Understood.” Sven continued. “During these past days, I located the families of missing persons in the surrounding territories and handed over the bodies I could find. The ones I couldn’t locate will be buried separately in the cathedral.”
“Very well.”
“Lord Count showed interest and wanted to thank you in person, but an urgent matter arose and I had no choice but to thank you on his behalf and present the reward.” Sven stood. Ion followed suit. Sven straightened his posture and spoke with the count’s words. “First, the rightful ruler of Dachsen, Count Conrad Herf, sends his gratitude to knight Ion Rise of Bergen Territory ignorant. He says that should you ever visit the territory, you will be welcomed with open arms.” “Knight Ion Rise of Bergen Territory thanks Count Herf for his kindness.” From his pocket, Ion produced a leather pouch and handed it over. “And in thanks, the count has given five gold coins.”
“Thank you.”
Five gold coins was nearly a year and a half of a knight’s salary. The reward had been more generous than Ion expected. The missing bodies had pleased the locals, and the werewolf head, once trimmed, would make a fine decoration. Sven smiled as he saw Ion off. “As a private citizen of the town, not the town chief, I thank you, knight.” “Thank you.” “May glory attend you.” “Thank you.” After a final bow, Ion left the castle. It was time to depart Dachsen. * * * The next morning he left the inn. Heinz, regretful, packed a bundle of bones for Lotte, saying to eat them on the road. Leaving Dachsen, he headed for Graf Territory. The river on the right bank flowed all the way to Graf, offering a straightforward path. Ion rode slowly along the river while Lotte dashed ahead, waited for him to approach, then dashed off again, repeating the game. ‘…?’ The map showed the green dot extending farther than before. When recognized as a companion, it could be seen from a greater distance. Perhaps allies fighting together could use this advantage. “Woof! Woof!” Was she trying to guide him? No. She was wagging her tail and drooling while waiting by the saddle. She wanted the bones. Attracted by her cuteness, Ion tossed her a small bone. Lotte leaped, snatched the airborne bone in mid-air, and began crunching it with impressive jaw strength for such a young pup. As evening fell, they built a campfire beneath a tree beside the river and ate simply. Lotte gnawed a large bone, ears suddenly perked, and stared toward the dark road. Having been facing toward Dachsen, she leaped up, tail high, growling in warning. “Understood! Quiet!” Even though Ion had given the command, he did not relax his guard. The person who had shown itself was now hidden. From the dark road came the sound of footsteps. The clink of weapons suggested they were not here to fight, but they were not hiding. They were either defenseless or there was a reason. Four yellow dots appeared first on the map, then four figures without torches stepped into the light. Mercenaries, each armed with their own gear. Their leader, a man in his forties, stepped forward. “Greetings, knight. I am Volker of Dachsen’s mercenaries, and these are my companions.”
“Ion Rise of Bergen.”
“We couldn’t bring torches, so we got lost. Seeing your fire, we came looking. May we warm ourselves by the fire for a moment?”
“Very well.” Nodding, Ion called Lotte over to sit beside him. Seeing this, Volker, who had been gathering food and sitting down to eat, asked, “Haha, it seems you like dogs.”
“Um… yes.”
“Yes. They’re cute.” As Volker reached out to pet it, Lotte bared her teeth. “Haha, she has a temper.”
“Indeed.”
One of the younger mercenaries asked, “Speaking of which, the knight who cut off the werewolf’s head this time… aren’t you him?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh! Of course. I saw you from afar when you entered Dachsen.”
The others sitting nearby also spoke up. “Ah, that’s the knight?”
“He just said so.”
“I heard you received a huge reward.”
“Well, a werewolf isn’t that hard for four of us.”
“Must be because he’s a knight.”
Though the mercenaries clearly intended to provoke Ion, he remained silent. The yellow dots on the map had begun to turn slowly red. The mercenaries, seeing no reaction, assumed he was afraid and rose, drawing weapons. “Screech!” “A young knight who took five gold coins alone has left the road. It would be a shame to let him go.”
“Indeed. It would be a shame.”
Ion shoved Lotte aside. “Stay by Yan.” After moving Lotte to the side, Ion drew his sword and spoke. “There is one thing to correct.”
“What?”
“The reward wasn’t for cutting off the werewolf’s head. It was for locating the missing persons and returning their bodies to their families. That is far more valuable than a monster’s head.”
“What nonsense—” Volker could not finish. Ion’s sword had already flown toward him.
“Clang!” A mercenary beside Volker raised his sword and barely blocked it. “Ugh! H-he’s strong!” The man who had blocked the blow staggered backward. “Hit all at once!” Swords came at him from every direction. Ion did not turn to look; he simply twisted sideways half a circle and parried the strike from behind.
“Whoa! What—?” The mercenaries, startled by the blocked attack, had no time to think. Ion’s sword continued. “Clang!” The force pushing his blade sideways was enormous. When he opened his chest, one foot shot forward and his pommel slammed into the man’s chest.
“Crack!” The mercenary’s chest caved in and he collapsed. “Peter!” The others, startled, stabbed from behind. Ion spun, swung his greatsword wide. “Kaaang!” Three blades rang against his steel. The three mercenaries recoiled, clutching their palms. “H-he’s strong!”
“What do we do?” The three looked at each other. One had fallen. Rather than revenge, fear showed in their eyes. They turned and began to run. “Run!”
Ion tossed the hand axe at his belt and drew his short sword. “Kheh!” This time the axe stuck cleanly into the back of one mercenary, while the short sword only grazed a shoulder, tearing the gambeson slightly. He stomped the neck of the fallen mercenary, then chased the others. Though the fleeing men wore lighter gambesons, Ion’s heavier armor still outpaced them. He caught one.
“Ouch!” “Crash!” The mercenary fell hard while sprinting full speed. Before he could rise, a sword pierced his neck.
‘…!’ The red dot remaining on the map had moved closer to the green one. Turning his head, Ion saw Volker riding off on his own horse, Yan. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Lotte followed, barking, and chased the man who had stolen the horse. Even the young pup could not keep up. She panted in the middle and stopped.
Ion searched the fallen mercenaries’ pockets, gathered their weapons, and tied them together. Then he approached Lotte. “Lotte, can you follow?” Lothe’s tongue hung out from exhaustion. Hearing Ion, she straightened her wobbly body. Ion nodded. “Good. Let’s go!” The young wolf pup began to walk cautiously, following the scent of the path taken by the fleeing horses, and Ion followed behind her. * * * Volker, the mercenary who had stolen Ion’s horse Yan, had fled farther than expected. He had crossed the river by fording a shallow section, leaving no trail that would indicate he had deliberately chosen the river path. For two days, Lothe’s pursuit continued. Her sense of smell was so sharp that even Ion could not have followed the footprints as quickly as she could. Volker rode across the river and disappeared into the mountains. The mountains would be better for hiding, but pulling a horse through them would be difficult. So he might abandon or kill Yan. Ion followed the hoofprints ahead of him.
“Hiiiiiing!” A horse’s whinny. Ion ran in the direction of the sound, and Lothe followed. The map filled with yellow dots.
“Kerk?” “It’s humans! More humans!” “Draw weapons!”
In the space Ion had run into, Volker lay bleeding. About ten goblins were gripping the reins of Yan, trying to escape. Ion drew his sword and charged. The goblins raised their spears and iron stakes, pointing at Yan. The largest goblin, wielding an iron stake, shouted, “Kerk! If you move, I’ll kill this beast!”
Ion stopped. Lothe, who had arrived late, also halted. The green-skinned goblins, about a meter tall, were one of the non-human races. If they could communicate in the common tongue, they all belonged to the non-human or human categories. Large tribes of goblins or orcs gathered in the wastelands, while smaller tribes lived everywhere.
“That’s my horse! That fallen man stole it!”
“We don’t know! We saw that human die, and we picked up this beast! It’s ours!”
“You didn’t kill it. It was already dead?” Furrowing his brow, Ion pointed at a protruding branch with the iron stake. Blood on the branch suggested Yan had run through the mountains, crashed its head, and fallen to its death. An absurd death, but such things happened more often than one might think in the mountains. Ion nodded. “I roughly understand what happened. But that horse is mine, and the man stole it. I must get it back.”
“Kerk! We don’t know about that! That’s ours!” The ten goblins were strong enough to overpower them, but attacking risked piercing Yan. One stepped back. “Then, a deal.”
“Kerk? A deal?”
“You trade with humans, don’t you? What will you give me to return my horse?”
“Snakes! If you bring snakes, I’ll give you the shiny things you like.”
“Snakes?”