Filled with Anguish (4)
Kwaak.
The Archmage furrowed her brow slightly at the cry of the turtle Berserk had left in her care.
“Is it crying because it’s hungry…?”
It had been crying nonstop for some time, and she had no idea what that was supposed to mean. After all, the Archmage had never once raised a beast that was not meant for experiments.
In other words, she possessed no knowledge of what meanings animal cries might hold. For a turtle that was scarcely used in experiments to begin with, even less so.
Kwek.
In the meantime the turtle crawled laboriously, trying to escape the ward. It was heading in the direction Berserk had gone after offering to lend a hand amid the labor shortages being lamented on every side.
“Where do you think you’re going.”
Kwaek.
Its spirit was admirable, but she could not let it go.
She picked the turtle up and set it back upon her knee. It might be trampled by the people rushing about in every direction, or worse, treated as food and sent into a pot; there was no helping it.
“If you don’t want to become turtle soup, stay still.”
Indeed, with every sort of problem already rampant and food shortages rising on top of them, people were even contemplating eating the expensive warhorses—though of course they would not actually do so. Using them for transport was far more profitable.
But in a situation like that, a young turtle could hardly expect to escape being treated as food. The odds of it going into the pot before the warhorses were high.
She had to be careful.
Kwek…
Whether by chance, or because the turtle had actually understood her words,
after that it made no further attempt to escape her lap. It simply cried without end.
“Archmage, please have your meal.”
“Ah, thank you.”
In the midst of it all, a moment to catch her breath arrived. No matter how urgent the situation, the healers were human as well; meal times were mandatory.
“So there was still something left to cook with, I see.”
“Half the city is still standing, after all.”
The one distributing the food shrugged. From his mouth came another way of saying they had requisitioned supplies from houses that no longer had owners.
Well, in the unprecedented crisis where half the city had evaporated and every resident had evacuated, of course no one would grow angry over the looting of their own empty homes.
“But even this doesn’t leave us much surplus…”
There was a limit to how much could be gathered from the remaining houses. The distance between the city and the shelter was one factor, and not every house had stockpiled food in the first place.
Moreover, moving those supplies required manpower. Considering that most of the crises currently unfolding were already giving everyone headaches over labor shortages, it was a truly intractable situation.
“It can’t be helped.”
Yet even a mage could not conjure manpower out of thin air. The Archmage lamented that fact as she put the soup to her mouth.
Had that young man standing watch before the Demon Knight received any food?
…Would the Demon Knight be able to stand with them again? Thoughts she had not had time for while busy arrived as a bonus.
I failed to repay your faith, so prepare a certain execution.
The fingers scooping the soup gradually slowed. Her stomach felt hollow, and her chest grew as heavy as if a boulder had settled upon it. Something seemed to clog her throat.
Kwaek.
“What is that?”
In the meantime the turtle flailing on her lap caught the messenger’s eye. Only then did she emerge from her thoughts.
“…Ah, it’s a turtle. Someone left it with me for a while, asking me to look after it.”
“An animal in this situation…”
That one alone could feed one more person. The messenger’s eyes said as much, but the Archmage deliberately looked away.
Separately from the fact that she shared the same opinion, this turtle had been entrusted by Berserk. She had no right to dispose of someone else’s property as she pleased.
Kwik.
Separately, it might be crying from hunger, so she ought to try giving it something.
The Archmage pondered what a turtle could eat, then scooped a chunk of vegetable from the soup.
The well-cooked carrot was mushy, yet for that very reason it seemed better suited for the young turtle to eat. Or so she thought?
Kwek.
But the turtle refused by whipping its head away. The same for every vegetable in the soup, and even the bread.
The Archmage wondered whether she needed to catch a fish for it as she put the refused food into her own mouth.
Kkeut.
The turtle’s cries gradually sank to the level of a cricket’s chirping.
“The relief forces have arrived!”
After a week of struggling through the punishing schedule, support troops from other cities finally arrived.
“At last.”
“Ah, finally the medicine…”
“Ha, can we rest now…?”
Those who were going to die over the past week had already died, yet patients still overflowed.
As a result, the healers and priests who had been performing hard labor for a solid week treated this news as true salvation.
The Archmage felt much the same. Moving out of a sense of responsibility to save people only went so far; as humans, it was time for them to rest soon.
“Wait. I’ll go check the scale of the support.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the meantime her mana had completely run dry and she could not even treat anyone. She decided to use this time to at least grasp the scale of the relief forces.
The amount of personnel and medicine to be replenished was important, yet she also needed to know about everything else if she was to make any plans at all.
The turtle she was still looking after in Berserk’s place—Berserk was busy being mobilized for rescue, hunting, scavenging supplies, and the like—cried “Kuwak” from inside her clothes.
“Please help move the supplies!”
“Clothes—where should we put the clothes!”
“Food, please tell us where to put the food!”
But as she headed toward the relief forces, she witnessed supplies already being distributed.
Normally they ought first to report the amount and type of goods brought to the lord, yet from their perspective the situation of Bemyurhen’s citizens must have looked that bad. She saw the person in charge click their tongue and gesture instructions for the distribution of supplies.
People from the temple, as well as adventurers and ordinary folk—though of course they would at least be affiliated with merchant guilds or other organizations; they would not have brought pure civilians—were seeking out the relief shelters carrying what appeared to be medicine. Even at a glance it was a considerable quantity and manpower, so she felt a little relieved.
“Stop! Stop right there! The food will be properly distributed, so do not rush over! Stay where you are!”
However… as the supplies began to move about, some impatient civilians came running with their eyes flipped white. Soldiers tried to stop them, but it was not easy.
“My child is starving!”
“You lot have eaten enough, but we haven’t!”
“This time the soldiers are going to eat it all again, aren’t they!?”
It was not that their feelings were incomprehensible. It was a fact that the lord had prioritized food distribution to those who could work—that is, high-value personnel such as soldiers.
Of course, with limited resources and so many mouths to feed, the lord had no choice but to differentiate; yet that would not soothe the hearts of people who had starved for a full week.
It was also easier to blindly resent that “the high ranks are monopolizing everything” than to understand the situation as “we have to starve because of our circumstances.”
“Supplies are still coming in! So please calm—!”
“How do we know when that’ll come! Give us some too!”
“I don’t want to starve any more—”
“Out of the way, soldier.”
“Wait, Sir Knight…”
“If you don’t want to die, back off! Anyone who resists will be executed!”
“……!!”
Moreover, resenting was easier than understanding for the knights and soldiers as well. They had only been prioritized for rations; they had not eaten plentifully either.
Furthermore, they often worked more than a full stomach’s worth—even delaying sleep—to protect the citizens. It was perfect for becoming sensitive.
For example, to the point of taking the complaints of starving citizens as “complaining even after being safely protected?”
“I say again—back off!”
In the end, with a knight whose patience had run out at the lead, the soldiers drew their weapons. Whether the lord had permitted it was unclear, but the effect of making the civilians step back hesitantly was certain.
The disturbance gradually began to subside.
“…Damn noble bastards!”
“If the nobles and the temples hadn’t killed Lady Biryuho in the first place…”
But had it truly subsided?
Just because it was not visible right now did not mean it was gone. Simply listening to the words of the dispersing people made that clear.
People’s discontent had piled up as high as it could. Even if Bemyurhen frequently warred with mermen and thus all its citizens were relatively close to the military, it was the same.
With their homes completely wiped out, there were far too few people left who could still care for one another.
“I heard the lord is protecting a demon…”
“What? Is that true?”
“Could the nobles and the temple have really fallen to the demon…?”
Separately, rumors had been spreading of late, and the degree was far too severe.
The Archmage eavesdropped on the whispering people and immediately frowned.
The bigger problem was that it was not a complete lie, but a statement inflated upon a foundation of partial truth.
Distorted truth was more dangerous than a plausible lie. There were truly many fools in the world who would take partial admission as full confession.
“I only hope nothing major happens…”
With the relief forces arrived, she thought the worst could be avoided… yet one never knew what might happen.
At the very least, they still had the problem of the Demon Knight remaining. He had only quieted down because he had not woken for over a week; not everyone had forgotten him.
Especially the temple. It was about time to start worrying.
“Yes… nothing major…”
But even if she worried, could she make a decision?
“……”
In the first rampage, she had affirmed the Demon Knight’s survival because she had thought he might be able to control the demon.
But through this incident, she had realized.
That, that demon. It was far too dangerous to leave alone based solely on the possibility of control. Damnably, it was so strong that even leaving it to exploit was impossible.
“…Young people these days.”
Yet at the same time, the person housing that demon was someone who had tried to the very end to save people and had succeeded, and then said “I’m sorry.” Was abandoning such a person—such a person—truly the right thing?
Was telling the Hero who respected the Demon Knight that “we must prepare to kill him” also truly the right thing?
The young ones had sacrificed this much; was it really right to demand still more sacrifice here?
“Making an old woman work too hard.”
In the end, back to square one.
She could not choose.
“Working me too hard…”
She dared not.
Hiiing.
“Archmage. What’s this.”
As she was slowly being dyed with sadness like paper soaking up ink,
someone stopped near the Archmage with a horse. It was Berserk, laden with game.
“…The support forces have come.”
“Ah.”
Having heard about the relief forces in advance, Berserk did not ask at length. Instead she patted the Demon Knight’s horse that a citizen had returned a few days prior.
Seeing that Frederick was not getting angry, the two seemed to have grown quite close over the past few days.
“Call me if there’s work. I’ll be at the distribution center for about an hour.”
“Understood. Ah—what about the turtle.”
“Hm… I’ll take it.”
“Will you?”
Just as Berserk had grown close to Frederick, the Archmage had grown rather fond of this little turtle… yet there was no reason to oppose the owner taking it back. She handed the turtle over obediently.
The turtle that had been chirping since Berserk appeared flapped its limbs in greeting.
But with the empty spot feeling a little hollow,
as soon as Berserk withdrew she fidgeted again with her pocket amid the returning sadness. It was where the turtle had been.
“What are you doing there.”
“…Cheongsanho.”
“You look quite tired?”
“As if I’d be as much as you.”
Fortunately there was still work everywhere. The Archmage emerged from the depression and gazed at the one who had newly spoken.
Apparently still not cleared for free movement, Cheongsanho was still being carried by his escort. The escort she had seen often over the past week—used as a messenger—gave a light bow.
“Why did you come.”
“Wondering if any catalysts were brought.”
The Archmage accepted the escort’s bow with a slight raise of her hand while asking why Cheongsanho had appeared.
As expected, he was snooping around the supply distribution to see if he could get something.
“And you?”
“I came to learn the scale of the relief forces. Fortunately it’s enough to catch our breath for now.”
But would they have brought catalysts? They would have brought materials for communication magic since they needed to keep in contact with other cities, yet whether they had brought anything else was questionable.
Cheongsanho seemed to know that and did not step forward to ask. He probably intended to inquire of the lord after the report.
“Separately, I see a lot of merchant guilds.”
“Well. Donations, perhaps? Merchants usually hold the most supplies.”
“Ha. Donations? Are merchants the type to do such things.”
“Merchants pursue profit, but they’re still people. Would everyone prioritize money in the face of a disaster like this?”
Separately, this friend had always been quite severe in his misanthropy.
The Archmage scratched her head looking at Cheongsanho, who set expectations of humans scathingly low.
It seemed to have grown worse after being thoroughly stabbed in the back by Gridana this time. Not that there was anyone who had not been shocked by their betrayal, but still.
“Well… there might be some intention of investing in the future or something. It’s not common to be able to bestow a favor on you.”
“It’s not that there might be some such intention; that’ll be most of it.”
“Yes… honestly, that would be so. But isn’t even such hypocrisy better than none?”
Yet the impression was that today he was revealing more unpleasantness about the baseness of people.
The Archmage looked puzzled at Cheongsanho’s scowling brows.
“Why so? You’re the one who said humans shouldn’t be expected of.”
“After going through this, I thought I’d only deal with the ones who look a bit cleaner. But it seems hopeless after all… Hm?”
So it was because of Gridana after all. The Archmage understood and followed Cheongsanho’s widened eyes with her gaze.
Nothing particularly stood out. At most… the merchant guild she had left Akata with before was also participating in this procession? Judging by how early they had come and the absence of Akata, it was probably another branch.
“What’s wrong?”
“…It seems there is at least one exception in the world.”
“……?”
“I thought there were only dirty ones in essence among the merchant world.”
The Archmage blinked at Cheongsanho’s words, then decided to roughly understand. She did not know what, but it seemed he had seen someone with a good essence.
“Trade well.”
Anyway, if her guess was right, it was something to congratulate. She wished him luck without much thought, and Cheongsanho accepted it readily.
“Archmage! Great Sage!!”
If someone had not urgently called out to them, a reply would probably have come.
“He’s awake—he’s awake!”
“……!”
From the other side, a deathly pale Deathbringer sought them out.