Drinks, Knights, and Memories (1)
One unexpected detail about No Man's Land was the presence of a tavern along its main street. Given the lively atmosphere it had shown when he first laid eyes on the place, a tavern didn't seem entirely out of place. Lights were rarely kept on late into the night, yet today the owner had willingly surrendered both his establishment and his own rest to accommodate the knights defending the border.
The tavern, now occupied by knights and soldiers, rang with boisterous noise. For Maxim, the atmosphere felt both nostalgic and strangely alien. Plump, mouthwatering dishes he hadn't seen in a long while were being carried out, accompanied by decent liquor. At the savory scent of meat sizzling on the grill, Maxim let out a sigh heavy with anticipation.
A long-haired man with a prominent hooked nose approached and sat beside him, exhaling what might have been a sigh or a groan.
"Finally getting a day of rest, huh? You've worked hard, Maxim."
"You too, Roberto."
Roberto, whom he hadn't seen in some time, wore the weary expression of someone who had endured much. The familiar fatigue in his face made Maxim chuckle despite himself. Roberto drained his full cup in one go and slammed it down on the table with a heavy thud. The plates rattled in protest.
"I really am exhausted."
"Damn it. The work we did in our previous knight order was basically just neighborhood watch duty. How the hell do people last fifteen years in a place like this? They must all be out of their minds. Burp."
An unrefined belch escaped Roberto's lips. Maxim waved him away with a frantic gesture.
"Hey, my burps don't smell," Roberto protested.
"Get lost, you lunatic. Move away from me."
"I'm hurt."
Whether from the rising intoxication or not, Roberto's voice had grown sluggish, and he began to giggle. Maxim shoved him away with a look of pure disgust.
Another familiar face squeezed between them. It was Paola, his chin still covered in a scruffy beard that suggested he hadn't found time to shave. That rugged, intimidating face was starting to feel almost comforting.
"Still getting along well, I see."
Maxim was secretly relieved that Paola had inserted himself between them. The foul odor of the belch had begun to fade. As soon as he sat down, Paola gulped down a large cup of liquor just as Roberto had.
"Ah, the drink itself isn't bad."
"How did you even manage to fight in a place like this?" Roberto asked, his eyes filled with respect.
Paola shook his empty cup idly. "Back then we didn't even have time to drink like this, my friends. Do you know what happens when a man fights for five days and nights without sleep?"
He flicked the rim of the empty cup with his index finger. Roberto called for a barrel from the tavern staff before replying.
"I've never gone five nights without sleep, so I wouldn't know. Three days, maybe."
"You end up sleeping while leaning on a spear stuck in the ground. Honestly, if you just have time to stand still, you can sleep. I dozed off while standing guard."
Paola flashed a fierce grin at the owner who brought over the massive ale barrel, then filled the cups for Maxim, Roberto, and himself.
"To be honest, when I felt like I'd reached my limit, there were times I swung my blade while half-asleep. I must have killed over a dozen monsters in my sleep alone."
"You didn't use mana to wake yourself up?" Roberto asked.
"What are you talking about? If I had mana to spare, I'd pour it into my aura or use it to strengthen my body. There wasn't any left for waking myself up."
Roberto, who would normally have teased him for boasting, remained silent this time, seemingly convinced.
"I hope it doesn't come to what Senior Paola described," Maxim muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "Fighting for five days straight without sleep..."
"Fifteen years ago? Don't even mention it. Compared to then, this is practically a vacation. I told you, didn't I? How many monster waves we faced."
Paola grabbed a piece of bread and tore into it.
"Well, there's no guarantee something like that won't happen again. We need to resolve this situation properly."
As they drank and listened to Paola's stories, steaming dishes began to arrive. A massive whole roasted pig was placed on their table. Maxim swallowed his saliva discreetly.
"...Where do they get ingredients like this?"
"A supply convoy comes once every two weeks to replenish materials. The next delivery should be in three days."
The slightly low voice belonged to none other than the Margrave. She set her cup down and took a seat across from Paola, Roberto, and Maxim. The three men simultaneously made uncomfortable faces, which sharpened the Margrave's expression.
"What? Got a problem?"
At her words, Paola answered on behalf of the group. "No complaints here. But is it alright for the Margrave to leave her subordinates and join us?"
The Margrave rolled her eyes in mild annoyance. "It's fine. I'm sick of seeing their faces every day."
Without hesitation, she picked up a knife and began carving the pig with practiced skill. Maxim watched her expert knife work with a dumbfounded expression. Roberto quickly composed himself and changed the subject.
"By the way, the supply convoys must bring quite a lot when they come."
"Essential goods like grain are replenished about once per quarter after irregular requests. Regular supplies mainly consist of items that are difficult to store or spoil quickly."
With a few precise cuts from the Margrave, the pork was sliced into appetizing portions. She stabbed a large piece with the same knife she'd used to carve it and transferred it to her plate. Steam rose in fragrant clouds, and pink juices dripped alongside the brown fat.
The Margrave popped the piece straight into her mouth. Chew. Chew.
"What are you waiting for? Eat."
At her casual, shameless tone, Paola laughed and reached for a chunk of meat.
"It's impressive how composed you are. I suppose that's the difference experience makes for a knight."
At Paola's half-compliment, the Margrave shrugged. "Composed? I've simply grown numb to it all."
"What the world calls 'the composure that comes from experience.'"
The Margrave chewed her meat thoughtfully. "Anyway, have you experienced any discomfort while working with us?"
The question was clearly directed at Maxim. When he made a face, the Margrave chuckled at his reaction.
"I was simply amazed at how anyone could endure this godforsaken zone for so long," Roberto grumbled.
"It's too early to start whining. You all still have three more weeks to go."
"Goddamn it."
The Margrave turned her gaze to Paola. "You've been helping with the investigation beside me. What more needs to be said?"
"There might be things you haven't mentioned yet."
Paola brought over the ale barrel and refilled his cup. "Since the topic of the investigation has come up, may I ask one question?"
"By all means."
Paola took a sip from his cup, then shifted the mood. The Margrave leaned forward with interest, resting her chin on her hand.
"Margrave, do you truly believe further investigation holds any meaning?"
She was tracing the rim of her cup with a finger. "What do you mean?"
"Wouldn't it be wiser to request immediate support from the royal capital and begin reinforcing our defenses right away?"
At Paola's suggestion, a troubled look crossed the Margrave's face.
"...It's not that I haven't considered it."
"While it's true that too much is better than too little, this situation is an exception. It's something that warrants making a fuss over."
The Margrave filled her cup. "As I said, we don't know what might happen. If the capital had truly been paying close attention to these anomalies, they would have sent troops for defense long ago, without waiting for any investigation."
As if to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth, the Margrave took a sip of her drink.
"That's precisely why we've come. To see what the king cannot see, to hear what he cannot hear, and to report it to him."
"That's true, but... let's wait just a little longer." The Margrave set her cup down. "It would be better if we could bring back solid evidence."
"...Understood."
Paola nodded. The Margrave shrugged awkwardly at the suddenly heavy atmosphere around the table, then stood with her cup in hand.
"This has gotten too serious. I'll move to another table."
"That's rather irresponsible of you," Paola protested.
The Margrave glanced sideways. "It's fine. It looks like someone who can lighten the mood is coming."
Someone to lighten the mood? A bad premonition struck Maxim. He followed the Margrave's gaze and turned his head.
And there, approaching Maxim with a cup sloshing in her hand and her face flushed bright red, was—
"V-Vice Commander-!"
Christine. Maxim felt the slight buzz he'd built up vanish instantly. Just how much has she had to drink?
"This crazy—"
Maxim felt the world spinning before his eyes in real time. Half-panicked, he shot a pleading look at the two men beside him, but—
"Ah, sorry."
Roberto was the first to rise, cup in hand.
"What did I tell you?"
Paola stood as well, wearing an oddly smug expression. Maxim glared at the retreating pair with eyes full of resentment.
"Hey, can't you help me out here?"
"Sorry."
"Give it your best. And make sure to tell us the story later."
They were utterly useless.
"Vice Commander... I'm right here... Why are you looking at weird places and talking...?"
Good lord.
Christine plopped down heavily in the seat beside Maxim.
"Hey... Christine... Could you sit a bit further away..."
Maxim looked around frantically in alarm. Fortunately, he was seated in the most secluded corner, so no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Except for Paola and Roberto, who had settled at a distant table and were now raising their cups in a mocking toast.
"Vice Commander... hehe."
She was completely drunk. Christine wore the silly smile of someone well past sobriety. Maxim broke into a cold sweat.
With a soft thud, Christine's head landed on Maxim's arm. Both her arms wrapped around his right one. Maxim froze in his seat.
He tried to gently push her away with his free left hand, but—
"I won't let go."
She wasn't someone he could dislodge with half-hearted strength.
"This..."
As a last resort, Maxim tried to pinch her cheek, but the hand he brought to her face ended up wandering somewhere else entirely.
"Mmm."
Mmm?
At the soft, yielding sensation, Maxim looked down at his hand.
"Hey..."
Christine had taken his finger into her mouth and was looking up at him. Maxim froze even more completely.
"This..."
"Hehe."
Their eyes met. This absolutely cannot continue.
Breaking into a cold sweat, Maxim looked desperately toward Roberto and Paola as his final hope, but the two were pretending not to notice as they drank. Yet the occasional glances they stole in his direction made it clear they were watching the entire spectacle.
"Get up already."
Maxim flicked her forehead with a sharp thwack.
Thwack!
Christine clutched her forehead and pulled away. Half-dazed, she let out a pained groan.
"Vice Commander... that hurts..."
"Either wake up or go to sleep. Pick one."
"Reeeally...? Then I'll sleep..."
Mumbling, Christine slumped forward onto the table. Maxim stared at her, now fast asleep with a sloppy smile on her face, and clutched his head.
"Now I have to carry her again..."