Chapter 61
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: The Grim Welcome
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Beneath the gloomy clouds, soldiers bustled about, unloading various supplies, liquor, and tobacco from a massive wagon. Without exception, the soldiers drooled at the sight of the dozens of barrels of alcohol being stacked up. Some, unable to restrain themselves any longer, tried to get their hands on the supplies, only to be disciplined by their officers.
With the war in full swing, it wasn't possible for all the soldiers to gather and enjoy a party together. However, those who had finished their guard shifts or returned to their barracks after arduous missions could find a moment of peace by relying on alcohol.
Soldiers heading out for guard duty would pour a little liquor into their canteens. The officers were aware of this, but because the battlefield was so grueling, they pretended not to notice.
The soldiers in Vellaland were all highly skilled veterans. Not one of them was so irresponsible as to get completely drunk, unable to resist the temptation of alcohol. The liquor taken by the guards was merely for sipping little by little to forget bad memories; no one ever got drunk and caused a disturbance.
Tobacco wasn't very popular among the common soldiers. Not only was it a hassle to carry and maintain a separate pipe, but it also had the fatal flaw of producing smoke.
To send up smoke on the battlefield was tantamount to asking to be killed. The soldiers here knew all too well how important it was to conceal their presence, so none of them went into battle with a pipe in their mouth.
Instead, tobacco was popular with the officers in the rear and the medics. Since they weren't in positions where they directly crossed swords or spears with the enemy, it wasn't particularly strange.
On top of that, people in this medieval-esque world had the absurd notion that tobacco was a health food that helped organize thoughts, aid meditation, and was good for the body. Perhaps because of this perception, medics would often recommend tobacco not only to themselves but also to the wounded they were treating.
...As someone with the common sense of a modern person, I tried to stop such situations, but they didn't pay much attention to my words.
‘No, wait, if they’re soldiers assigned to Vellaland, then every single one of them is a monster who defies common sense. What’s a cigarette or two going to do to the lungs of monsters like that?’
With the allowances of fantasy, it was even possible that in this world, tobacco was genuinely good for you.
...Yes, it was much easier on my mind to just think of it that way.
“This is the barracks where the generals are staying.”
The stern-faced officer entrusted the task of organizing the supplies to another subordinate and led me and my companions to the barracks set up for the generals.
For a place housing the heroes who carried the future of humanity on their shoulders, it looked far too plain. The thick, ochre-colored blankets were frayed and dirty from mud and rain, with mended patches visible in every corner.
I cautiously lifted the thick blanket covering the entrance and poked my head inside the barracks.
Only two people were inside the spacious tent.
“...”
The first person to catch my eye was the 9th-circle fire mage named Bel Artois. The man, with his jet-black, calm hair, had dark circles under his eyes, just like the other officers, as if he hadn't slept for days. His wine-colored robe was torn in several places, but he himself appeared to have no injuries.
Saintess Grisha was lying on a bed with her eyes closed. It didn't look like she was sleeping. She just... seemed utterly exhausted.
Her hands were covered in blisters, perhaps from her clerical robes being repeatedly soaked in poison and then purified.
Like Bel, dark circles were prominent under her eyes.
Both of them noticed me as I opened the barracks flap and entered, replacing a greeting with a deep sigh.
To me, they were faces I was tired of seeing. The Sword Saint's party was the core of the game's story; once you progressed and your character's growth was on track, you would continuously help each other throughout the game.
“Uh… hello.”
However, for me, who had played the game for thousands of hours, there was something oddly out of place: their expressions were far too dark.
Perhaps to imprint upon the player that they were the strongest beings in the game world, the game developers had always shown them smiling or wearing confident expressions.
Saintess Grisha always wore a benevolent smile while helping those in trouble, and Bel Artois constantly swung his staff with a calm yet self-assured look.
But the people lying in the barracks here... they looked so tired and anxious.
“You’re here.”
Bel Artois.
The 30-something mage with impressive, calm black hair rose from a moldy cot, pulling a pipe from his robe and placing it in his mouth. The pipe was caked with tobacco residue. It seemed he wasn't taking proper care of it.
‘...Did he smoke?’
Naturally, in the game's illustrations and graphics, there were no scenes of Bel Artois smoking. For the in-game him, words like stress and anxiety simply didn't exist.
“Your spot is over there. If you have any luggage, put it down.”
“Yes, understood.”
Every time Bel, his bangs long enough to cover the area beneath his eyes, opened his mouth, my pupils quivered slightly. It was for no other reason than this: the Bel Artois I knew was a man who couldn't be called good-natured even as an empty compliment. The man before me now was so unfamiliar.
In the game, Bel Artois was the kind of man who would shoot fire at his own subordinates if he deemed it necessary. He was a character who made judgments that hovered somewhere between cold and cruel, at times seeming more demonic than the demons themselves.
Thanks to his inhuman, almost machine-like, cool judgment and composure, Bel served as the tactician for the Sword Saint's party. Even the mighty Sword Saint himself rarely questioned Bel's orders.
In short, he was a man who might be the true power in this army... no, perhaps even the country...!
If you thought about it that way, did you know how the continent's power rankings worked? First were the emperors and kings, second was Bel, and the Sword Saint was only third.
“...I know Alter Haindel, and the prodigy from the lightning school. Who are the rest?”
Bel, with the pipe still in his mouth, stepped outside the barracks and asked me, looking at the people who had been waiting for me.
“Ah, they are the vanguards I’ve hired. A mage should always have a vanguard, and I thought it would be inefficient to have to coordinate and devise new strategies with different people on every battlefield.”
“Hmm.”
Bel flicked his finger, igniting the ashes in his pipe. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to my explanation.
“You there, the elf and the human.”
“...I-I’m Rireu.”
“Private Ad Taylor, sir!”
Rireu answered with her head bowed deep into her robe, as if speaking to a stranger was difficult, while Ad, in contrast, replied in a booming voice that showed no consideration for the listener's eardrums.
“...”
Bel’s expression momentarily soured at Ad’s loud voice. Why did his subtle change in expression send a chill down my spine?
“You two will take this supply wagon back to the capital.”
Bel spoke while futilely trying to draw from the pipe, which now held nothing but ash. The tobacco smoke was a pungent, earthy color.
“...Sir?”
At the sudden order to return, Ad uttered the most foolish thing a soldier could say, while Rireu could only stare at Bel with wide, startled eyes.
“...Do we look unskilled? Please, just give us one chance. We’ll become heroes!”
Ad, unable to accept the order, protested in a loud voice.
‘You crazy bastard, what do you think you’re doing?’
I nervously glanced at Bel. In the game, Bel was a man so merciless that he would burn a soldier who defied him to a crisp for the sake of ‘maintaining military discipline.’
“No, I don’t particularly doubt your skills.”
However, my worries were unfounded as Bel kindly explained his reason. It felt strangely dissonant.
“You two are promising. Your talents are too precious to be used as cannon fodder on a battlefield like this. That’s the only reason.”
“If we are promising, shouldn’t that be all the more reason not to send us back? What do you mean, telling us to return all of a sudden...”
Ad could have just said he understood, but he had to press Bel with another question. It seemed he simply couldn't accept the situation.
“Can’t you understand when I put it nicely? You’ll get in the way. Pups like you, lacking both experience and skill. Our army has no room for idiots who can afford to coddle children while fighting.”
Bel snapped at Ad with a sharper tone. Rireu, frightened, lowered her head so the brim of her hat hid her eyes, but Ad took a step closer to Bel and raised his voice even louder.
“Do you think I’m a child? I can certainly take care of myself!”
“...I don’t want to go back either.”
Next to the loudly protesting Ad, Rireu voiced her opinion in a small voice.
“I’ve wandered as an adventurer for twenty years, fighting countless monsters and mutants! I will prove it! I’ll show you what I’m capable of! If you give me the chance, I will become a hero.”
*Pfft.*
A sound close to a sneer escaped Bel's lips, along with a puff of smoke. The acrid smoke veiled his eyes.
‘Shit, is he going to do it? Is he finally showing his true colors...?’
With a tense expression, I watched Bel’s fingertips. If he wanted to, he could reduce a greenhorn like Ad to ashes in an instant, leaving no trace behind.
I stared at the back of Bel Artois's head, tense.
...It was unlikely, but if his fingertips or his staff were to turn toward Rireu, I would use ‘Blooming’ without a moment's hesitation.
“Well, if you want to die that badly, go ahead and die.”
Bel looked down at Ad and Rireu for a moment, then lifted his head to the sky and replied as if talking to himself.
The dark clouds still clung tightly to the sky, hiding the sunlight.
“...Thank you, sir!”
He told them to die, and they thanked him. It was a deeply flawed conversation... but I didn't bother to intervene.
Rireu, too, seemed relieved that she could remain on the battlefield.
“Show them to a barracks.”
At Bel's command, the officer with the deep dark circles led the four of them to another nearby barracks. I watched the backs of Rireu and Ad, then turned to Bel, who was staring after them with sharp eyes, and mustered the courage to speak.
“...They won't be a nuisance. Rireu reached the 5th circle at the youngest age in the history of the lightning school. As for the one named Ad... I don't know him well, but Rex praised his technical skill as superior to his own, so he will surely be of help.”
I added my personal opinion, anxiously worrying that Bel might hold a grudge from this conversation and secretly set fire to their barracks.
Alter Haindel was an irreplaceable teacher to me. I had survived this long thanks to the magical theories I learned from him.
Rex was my savior, who had risked his life to protect me when he could have just left me on the roadside, and Rireu was like a friend, the only one I could speak to openly after being suddenly dropped into another world.
I had to prevent them from getting hurt or killed.
Ad?
Well... honestly, I hadn't even known him for a full day, so I didn't care that much, but still, one should try to prevent people from dying, right?
“They’ll be of help, I’m sure. It’s just a waste.”
Bel said, taking a deep drag from his pipe, which now produced no smoke.
“In ten more years, those two will grow strong enough to make their names known across the continent. It’s a great loss for the allied forces if promising talents with so much potential for growth die or get injured on a battlefield like this.”
“...Then why aren't you sending me back?”
The question that had been in my mind slipped out before I knew it.
I mean, if we’re talking about being promising, aren’t I the most promising of all?
Even if it was a reputation built on misunderstandings, I was still the ‘prodigy who will save humanity.’
I didn't want to die without even a scream on this dark, sunless battlefield.
“You’re certainly too young to be on this battlefield. That’s why I don’t expect any great feats from you.”
“Then aren’t I also useless on this battlefield? Why did you tell them to go back, but not me?”
I latched onto Bel's words. A sudden surge of frustration and confusion welled up in my chest, and my voice rose slightly.
Seriously, why was he sending Rireu and Ad back but keeping me here? If he didn't expect any great feats from me, then there was no need for me to be here, was there?
Send me back to the capital too. Please.
“You seem pretty pissed that your companions were dismissed.”
He looked down at me, my voice raised, as if I were both pathetic and admirable, and said as much.
...It seemed he was having another strange misunderstanding.
I was just jealous.
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d send you back to the capital too. But unfortunately, there’s one thing I need you to do.”
Ad took a drag from his now-smokeless pipe, opened the flap of the makeshift barracks, and walked inside.
“Rest. I’ll explain the job later.”
The earthy smoke hit the ceiling of the barracks and began to drift down softly. A pungent, harsh smell stung my nostrils.
The common-sense rule of not smoking indoors, of course, didn't exist in the middle ages.