26. Underdogma
The orc village we were tasked with subjugating for this request was pretty far from the city. Sure, if the Hero went alone, it'd take less than an hour, but this time we had to drag along the other companions—excuse me, luggage—so figuring generously, it'd take a few hours.
"I'm watching you. Be careful."
[Agh, that bitch for real.]
And of course, the whole road was annoyingly uncomfortable. That fairy with the chili paste hairdo glared at us the entire time with her pissy eyes, and the warrior next to her fidgeted like he couldn't even live up to his size—which was even more irritating. Sure, getting all worked up over a bug like that was ridiculous.
But if it were my old self, I wouldn't have let something annoying slide—I'd have just cleaned it up neatly.
"……."
But right now, my owner the Hero showed no sign of doing anything about it, so I was stuck too. Would've been nice if I could at least talk freely! But to hide the Hero's identity…
"Be careful. We're entering orc territory soon."
"Why you worrying? Die or not."
"Layla!"
"Yeah, yeah. Got it. So damn noisy."
At this point, the warrior traveling with that fairy was almost respectable. For us, once this request was done, we'd never see them again, but that guy had to stick with the fairy going forward. No matter how pretty she was, with a personality like that… Better off with the Hero. Types with no skills but sky-high pride were just pathetic.
"……♪"
[??]
For some reason, the Hero started humming softly and stroking me. So it didn't come through, huh.
"Anyway, Taka, you're too soft. …Wait."
The fairy, who'd been ripping into the warrior so bad I felt sorry for him just watching, suddenly stopped. She scanned the surroundings with tense eyes. Even as a Silver-rank adventurer, a fairy's senses were sharper than a human's, apparently. The warrior was still staring at her in confusion.
"This presence… probably orcs."
Not probably—definitely orcs. The Hero and I had sensed them ages ago. About four orcs approaching us. They were injured, but not badly, and hostile, but not aimed at us.
Hmm. Not targeting us—paths just overlapped by chance.
"Get ready. They're close."
As the distance closed, the orc pack noticed us too. But before they could react, our party struck first.
The Hero started with a low hum in her altered voice, taking plenty of time so the others wouldn't sense anything off. Once her chant ended, a clattering noise erupted from their side. Pure coincidence—two orcs tripped over each other's feet. She must've held back so not all four fell at once.
"Haat!"
In that gap, the fairy drew her bowstring, her palm's stigmata glowing as she gathered power. Nothing nocked on the string, but when she released, an arrow of flame shot out. It pierced the trees, hitting an orc square. The divine flame spread wildly at her will, incinerating its flesh.
"Kweeeek!"
The delicious smell of grilling pork belly wafted over. While the orcs screamed, the warrior pushed through the brush and axed their throats one by one. Three burned too fiercely to resist properly, and the one spared the flames charged the warrior—but the Hero wasn't watching idly.
She murmured again, and the orc rushing the warrior got jabbed in the eye by a random branch mid-stride, losing balance. It flopped down beside its headless buddies.
"Urk?"
It might've gotten up if given time, but the warrior reflexively swung his axe in panic. The rising orc took it to the neck, spewing bloody foam as it collapsed.
Victory was decided in an instant. Orcs are scary in hordes, not singly. A few weren't even a threat.
"Easy."
"More than that, Layla, doesn't it feel off? They didn't seem to be targeting us…."
Unlike the smug fairy, the warrior looked dissatisfied. True, the orcs had seemed distracted elsewhere. Made the fight easy, though.
"Yeah? Let's check."
Not totally dismissing the warrior's words as bullshit, the fairy seriously inspected the orc tracks. But she couldn't get a read—her face clouded in confusion.
[Two slashes on the right cheek. Spiral tattoo on the left.]
"Huh?"
[Runner. Probably calling reinforcements.]
I sent a quick telepathic ping to the Hero. She tilted her head a moment, then strode over boldly, shoving the fairy aside to inspect one orc corpse.
"Wh-what?"
"Request… for aid…."
"Wh-what? How do you know that? Aren't you a mage?"
The hitherto silent Hero stepping up made the shoved fairy flush and whine.
The Hero turned to her. "Basic… knowledge…."
No, you just learned it from me. And with her Hero drawl plus the mask's voice modulation, the result was creepy as hell. Short phrases were fine, but longer ones layered echoes, making the distorted voice even more grating. The sharp-eared fairy winced.
"Ugh, you. What's with your voice?"
"Layla! Rude."
"No, it's true. Use a proper modulator at least."
While fairy and warrior bickered, the quiet Hero looked up. She snapped at the warrior, then approached the fairy and tapped her shoulder.
"What!"
"That way."
"Something there?"
The Hero just said that and started walking. The fairy grumbled but followed. Rough personality, but basics were solid, huh.
"Hey, what is it! Explain at least. …Huh?"
A bit farther, the fairy sensed it too—eyes widening. What the Hero and I had felt earlier. Nearby, someone was fighting.
A skirmish of a dozen humans versus dozens of orcs. As the Hero headed straight in without hesitation, the fairy grabbed her in horror.
"Crazy? What, wanna die in there?"
We'd taken the orc village subjugation, but they didn't have the power to wipe out hundreds. Not Heroes. The request was named that, but we didn't need to slaughter every orc—just bring back the totem.
Destroy the shaman-blessed ritual symbol, and orcs lose even their scraps of intelligence, reverting to dumb beasts. Tribe scatters; lone orcs aren't threats.
"But people are there. Can't just pass by."
Of course, smashing the totem meant fighting dozens anyway, but ambushing prepared versus charging half-ready was worlds apart in risk. The fairy hated it, but the usually meek warrior took a hard line this time.
"We got a mage here, it'll be fine. Right?"
"Sigh, no choice."
The fairy couldn't beat the warrior's stubbornness and nodded. Meanwhile, the Hero steadily closed in on the battle at a steady pace. Warrior and fairy hurried after the "mage," and soon the scene appeared.
"Arrows! More arrows!"
"No stock left! Eek!"
"Watch the boulders!"
A merchant caravan, presumably. Banner shredded beyond recognition; wagons clustered as mercenaries held a defense. Disciplined for mercs, well-armed—must've cost a fortune. Maybe private guards.
Either way, loaded.
[Rescue 'em, and the reward'll be fat.]
Sad adventurer instinct—I tallied profits first. No clue why they'd blunder into orc turf, but saving them wouldn't lose money.
"Kweeek!"
"H-humans there! Help!"
Orcs spotted us first, then the caravan. A merchant hiding behind a wagon shrieked at us.
"Count on your support."
"Haa… Needlessly nice idiot."
Axe-and-shield warrior advanced; fairy stepped back, nocking a normal arrow to save power. Some orcs kept at the caravan; others turned hostile our way.
One orc hurled a rock at the warrior's visor slit; the Hero stomped lightly.
"Thanks! Raaagh!"
A sudden gust veered the rock off. Warrior bellowed furiously, drawing aggro, as the fairy loosed multiple arrows. Hero assisted again—flamelets on the tips erupted into a blaze engulfing the orcs.
"Now! Give those flat-noses hell!"
Caravan responded. At the leader's shout, defensive mercs—or guards—went aggressive; thinned orcs lost momentum.
The Hero stayed strictly Silver-rank mage level. But her influence was absolute.
"Thanks for the save. Impressive skills."
"……."
"Sorry if I offended!"
Hero's magic was Silver-grade, but multitasked brilliantly—same effort, way better results. Even synced adventurers gawked; shrewd merchant sidled up buddy-buddy.
Of course, he shriveled under the Hero's stare. Geez, scary mask or not.
"Rewards'll be generous."
"Layla! Wounded here, and that's your opener?"
"Haha, no. Merchants gotta crunch numbers. Thanks again."
Battle over, we joined the caravan for rest. Staring blankly as mercs butchered orcs, a sob-like sound caught my ear.
"What’s that?"
The sensitive fairy heard it too, jumping up from her spot away from us.
"What sound?"
"Hear that crying…? No way?"
Ghost-story twist would've been fun, but I already knew the source.
Fairy followed it to a wagon. The cry leaked from one with a busted roof corner, hit by debris.
"What's this?"
"Move."
Fairy shoved the blocking merc aside; as he floundered, she flung the door open. Her face was ice-cold.
"This is…."
Figured the soundproofing was overkill for a wagon. Without the orc damage, the fairy might never have noticed.
Inside the door Layla opened: a fairy corpse, head bashed, bleeding out; another fairy clutching it, sobbing. Ripped clothes revealed a fresh, glaring brand. Unlike glorious divine stigmata, a shameful mark of ownership.
This caravan was a slave trade.