If I Could Leave (2)
Waking up to the next morning—is that for real?
Having my fatigue drop to zero was nice and all, but I was pretty sure I’d only set myself to sleep for an hour. Maybe I’d just kept sleeping through the night like someone who’d turned off the alarm and drifted right back under.
I shoved aside the fur blanket I didn’t remember pulling over myself—someone might have covered me with it—and stepped out of the building.
I’d already known a full day had slipped by through the hole in the ceiling, but seeing the whole landscape made it hit differently.
Sunlight that had turned summer-hot overnight stabbed at my eyes, and I felt exactly like a demon being exorcised.
“Ah, you woke in good time.”
Ugh, the sun…
A vampire under the sun… no, wait, vampires here aren’t affected by sunlight. More like ice melting slowly under the blazing heat of high noon.
The Archmage approached from across the way.
“Not hungry? Mealtime was drawing near, so I took the liberty of bringing something.”
I’d eaten before sleeping yesterday, so I shouldn’t be hungry… except I was! I accepted what the Archmage offered, my satiety gauge having dropped like a normal person’s.
It was vegetable stir-fry loaded with spices. After tasting everything yesterday, this had been the best of the lot—how he’d known to bring exactly this was a mystery.
“Will you eat inside, or out?”
Inside wasn’t bad, but the day was fine. From a glance it seemed common enough to eat outdoors, so I figured I might as well do the same.
I sat by the campfire set up near the tents, on a chair made from a cut tree trunk—about the height of a bath stool.
The hunters already eating rolled their eyes and abruptly lowered their voices. I hadn’t meant to make them feel awkward, but I suddenly felt bad about it.
“If it isn’t enough, say so. I told them to give you as much as you want.”
“…Unnecessary.”
But I was already seated.
Feigning shamelessness, I ate the stir-fry. The high priest had carved me a personal set of utensils yesterday after fretting that outsiders didn’t use spoons, so at least the method of eating caused no discomfort.
The food was good.
“…I, ah, have something to say to you.”
Layer by layer I conquered the heaped vegetable stir-fry until the bottom of the bowl came into view. I pressed the bowl to my mouth and shoveled the last scraps in, leaving only a smear of seasoning.
“First of all, the chief of the Bigabol hopes to leave this afternoon.”
Clatter.
I set my utensils on the bowl. As if he’d been waiting, the Archmage held out a teacup. It was the same tea from yesterday. Still delicious.
“But if you wish… we can depart later. The chief earnestly desires your company and means to respect your opinion.”
Huh. This felt a bit like being bribed with food. Was that right? More importantly, how did the Archmage even know?
“Of course, you need not take part in this matter at all. I have already requested personnel through the Magic Tower, and I made it clear in advance that if you refuse, they will go in your stead.”
But the tea was innocent. I sipped it with a soft slurp. Warmth spread through my body and left me languid.
“What will you do?”
The Archmage must have found yesterday’s bloody conclusion thoroughly unsettling as well.
Faced with a proposal that watched my every reaction so carefully, I half-lowered my eyelids.
“Tell the chief this.”
Whether to acknowledge Sangun’s existence or treat him as something that must be killed—well. I had already accepted it, but for the concept, it was not a matter that could be settled in a single day.
After all, it meant overturning long-piled hatred, contempt, and loathing, and rewriting one’s values.
“I will cooperate. But I have no reason to follow orders.”
One thing, however, was certain.
Where Demon Energy was concerned, the Demon Knight would never stand down.
Kill or spare—he would not rest until he saw with his own eyes and rendered judgment.
“…Understood.”
The Archmage nodded at the conditional acceptance. His expression did not grow grave; he had clearly expected at least this much.
“Then when would you prefer to depart?”
“I have no time to waste on petty power struggles.”
“Understood. Then we shall leave as soon as possible. The chief will be pleased.”
As always, the smoothly functioning translation device was a bonus.
It was time to cross into Bigabol territory.
“I firmly believe that yesterday’s unfortunate incident will return as a firm friendship in the days to come. Until we meet again, may you remain in good health.”
“Of course. May Chief Atart also remain well until Katina.”
The moment word of departure was given, Atart, chief of the Bigabol, hurried his warriors—those who had not betrayed him—into forming a party.
With no way of knowing what had become of their stronghold, he clearly wanted to leave as soon as humanly possible.
“…Next time… once more… please visit… our tribe…”
“We hope the chance will come again to receive the warrior as our guest.”
On the other hand, some regretted the early departure. The chief and high priest of the Serhang, who had never even managed a proper greeting, were among them.
The chief smiled awkwardly, as if he had memorized whole sentences by rote, while the high priest fluttered about with practiced skill. Both of them, equally and blatantly, urged a return visit.
They even offered again the gifts I had refused—specifically the tea leaves I had taken a liking to.
In my heart, I wanted to take them.
“I shall carry them in your stead.”
“Ah, very well.”
“In return… I entrust the snake to you.”
“Have no fear. I will deliver it safely to the one from the Hudelen Magic Tower.”
“Haha, my thanks.”
But the Demon Knight was not that kind of person. I turned away from the gift-bearing hands with tears in my eyes.
And then the Archmage intercepted them again. Hing.
“I leave it in your care.”
A little forlorn and a little resentful, but I would not show it.
I closed my eyes against Atart’s farewell. The angle and direction kept driving sunlight straight into my eyes; keeping them open was simply impossible.
“That bastard…”
“Enough. Do not force our customs upon an outsider. He has the right.”
Sunlight, aaaaagh.
“I thought it was strange how little we’d seen of milord—turns out he’d already taken a request…”
“Why didn’t you tell us? If you had, I could have helped as well…”
“I did consider asking the Hero for help, but… it wasn’t anything to do with demons, just simple material gathering. And with the Hero advancing into a new realm, interrupting that felt wrong.”
“Then why did the Archmage…”
“Magical materials are tricky to harvest. Leave it to non-mages and the odds of getting junk are high, so I asked for the favor. Besides, some of the materials this time are mountain beasts, which means we need tracking magic. Tracking magic isn’t easy—you have to catch the traces scattered in the air, tint them with mana, and guide that mana along the connected trail. That kind of work only becomes possible around the level of a Great Sage or a proper Mage.”
“I see…”
“Haha! Berserk has no idea what any of that means!”
“If that’s the case, maybe I wouldn’t have been called either…”
Faced with White Wind’s rapid-fire explanation, the three of them each reacted in their own way.
Behind them stood the mages of the Hudelen branch—those among the scholarly lot whose bodies were still halfway sound, meaning they could walk for at least three hours—along with high-ranking priests brought just in case.
“But is it all right to enter the forest dwellers’ territory so freely? I’ve heard they greatly dislike those who come without permission.”
“This far is still the border, so it’s fine. Herb-gatherers come and go here all the time. And the Serhang tribe gave official permission, so what’s the problem?”
Is that so? Deathbringer scratched the back of his head as he listened to the Great Sage.
He understood that a mage needed to harvest the materials personally, but he still had confidence in his usefulness during the tracking. And yet they had left him behind.
A faint sense of regret and a subtle feeling of deprivation filled him—the deprivation of feeling useless.
“More importantly, someone should have come out to meet us by now…”
He had thought he had proven his worth reasonably well back in Far Enoch. Maybe in their eyes he was still lacking after all.
“There—someone’s there.”
In the meantime Berserk, quicker than him, sensed an outsider’s presence. Where she pointed lay only empty forest.
Under the brush, up in the trees, behind the trunks—no matter how meticulously he scanned every spot a person might hide, no one was visible.
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone?”
“No, they’re there. You, you’re not even a mage, yet your instincts are excellent. How did you notice a barrier focused entirely on concealment?”
Yet there they were. People hidden by magic—a technique far beyond his reach.
“This must be the side that’s supposed to make contact with us.”
When the Great Sage stepped forward and bounced lightly on her feet, the empty forest between them changed. The air warped and twisted, and human figures appeared.
“Are you the ones from the Hudelen Magic Tower?”
“Yes, that’s right. The Archmage summoned us.”
“Pardon me, but if you would show proof.”
Deathbringer’s face crumpled.
Magic… was truly unfair. Warriors who handled mana and strengthened their bodies had fixed applications, and those were limited to the individual—but magic was genuinely…
“I have no idea what that kid said would count as proof. Will this do? Or this? Ah, maybe this one?”
“…The moment you showed several, it was proven. There is no need to take out more.”
“Aww. That takes the fun out of it.”
The Deathbringers stopped watching White Wind handle the conversation as their representative and turned their gazes elsewhere.
The forest, nearly night, was truly dark, yet with a single magic item it was not hard to see the contents.
It was so convenient it almost inspired self-loathing. Magic really was cheating.
“Yawn. I’m getting bored. Is there no strong one around?”
“There will be strong ones, but you must not cross weapons carelessly. The people of the Great Forest are strict with outsiders.”
“I was looking forward to the warriors of the Great Forest, but then there’s no fun in it…”
“…Drawing weapons first is not allowed, but if you ask permission and spar, that should be fine.”
Whatever his feelings, the situation kept moving.
As planned, they received the snake and entrusted it to a portion of their people. Those would return to the city’s Magic Tower and begin research.
Deathbringer himself, White Wind and the other bookish types, Berserk, a few mages and priests followed the guides toward the Serhang village.
They would spend the night there, then head for the Bigabol tribe where the Demon Knight and the Archmage had gone.
“Those traitorous bastards… they’re set on killing me.”
The return journey was far from smooth. Warriors of the Jatab had taken up positions along the path home.
“It seems they sold the fact that the chief himself was going to Serhang as an envoy. Otherwise they could never have been waiting exactly at that choke point…”
“No doubt.”
I pressed myself against trees and undergrowth, following the Bigabol hunters’ hand signals. Like a jungle, the spaces between the trees were packed with smaller trees and grasses, so hiding was easy enough.
The only problem was that there was no way forward.
“…About the Jatab attack that happened in Serhang. It seems the information leak came from this side.”
Just then the Archmage whispered softly.
Well. It wasn’t something I needed to worry about, but knowing left me a little sorry. Serhang had simply taken the fall.
If a meeting place is attacked by chance and the host fails to handle it, that is the host’s fault—but if the attack comes because of the visitors, then the visitors are the ones at fault, aren’t they?
“Can we go around?”
“Difficult. They have posted men at every key point…”
“A frontal breakthrough.”
“There are too many. Possible, but the casualties…”
More importantly, they kept moving—were we even safe staying here?
I watched the figures fanning out and walking slowly this way. As if to leave no doubt they were hunting us, every last one carried a weapon.
“Trouble from the very start. I would rather not create friction with other tribes if I can help it.”
The Archmage looked troubled as well.
“If possible I would prefer we pass without our presence being noticed…”
Then, for a moment, the Archmage’s gaze turned to me.
“You.”
The sudden premonition that I was about to be put to work struck hard.
“…That thing you used yesterday when you drove the Jatab off. Can you do it once more?”
Right on the mark, as always.