The Butcher's Blade
Eshu was a walking disaster.
Even buying a single piece of fruit at the night market was an ordeal she absolutely refused to let pass without a fight.
“Three hundred silver for ONE apple? That's way too expensive!”
“ⴇⴃⴝⳖ!”
“It's small and bruised, too. Give me a better price!”
“Ⲝⴇⴝⴇ?”
“What did you just say? You're fleecing outsiders on purpose, aren't you!”
“Eshu.”
Simon stepped in to rein her back.
“Just pay for it. They say this region is winter all year round, so fruit and vegetables cost a fortune here.”
Eshu whipped her head around.
“Wait, really? Hold on—can you actually understand what these people are saying?”
“......No, it's obvious even without understanding them.”
With Eshu liable to bolt off in any direction at any moment, Simon kept her reined in as they made their way through the night market.
It was a fairly primitive market, all things considered. There wasn't a single mana lamp to be found; instead, candles and oil lanterns cast their flickering light over the stalls. The villagers' clothing was just as rustic—roughly-trimmed furs draped over their shoulders.
Hm.
There was a raw, dangerous edge in the air.
The men here went fully armed even to the market. Combat was clearly frequent enough that barely a body among them seemed unscarred.
The women carried throngs of children on their backs and nursed infants right out in the open, without a trace of hesitation.
“Ahh! Don't look!”
Eshu scrambled to slap her hands over Simon's eyes in the name of native privacy.
In any case, after coming here straight from the hyper-developed Ivory Tower cities, the Frigod Autonomous Region felt refreshingly alien.
And of course, even a place like this had its own peculiar charm.
“Oh. Outsiders. You two.”
Occasionally there were those who could speak the Continental tongue. A native approached Simon, his speech stiff and halting.
“Come. From where.”
“We're from the Dresden region.”
“Druh—Druh—Dresseden.”
“Dresden, yes.”
It was, for a moment, possible to understand where Professor Hong Peng's grating steppe accent came from.
“Careful. You two. Die.”
He drew a finger across his own throat with the tip of his spear.
“Many. Monsters. Break through. Attack. Village.”
“Oh, I see.”
“And. Village. Could break. Anytime.”
The faces of the residents as they spoke were clouded over with worry.
Pweeeeeet!
“Ðⴆŀº!”
A sharp whistle cut through the market, and every man lingering there turned grim in an instant. Weapons clutched tight, they all sprinted off toward something.
“Careful! Outsider. Careful!”
Even the native who'd been chatting with Simon ran off, weapon in hand. Watching him go, Eshu crossed her arms.
“Everyone in the world has it rough, huh.”
“Tell me about it.”
At the village's edge, a monster that had forced its way inside thrashed about savagely. But it couldn't overcome the difference in numbers, and the villagers' spears drove into it again and again until it died.
The hunters immediately hacked off the monster's head and showered themselves in its blood, while the surrounding villagers roared and cheered.
It seemed war against monsters was simply a way of life everywhere on the Continent.
Though I don't think I've ever seen that species of monster before......
“President, over here! Those cabbages are huge!”
By the time they'd finished circling the night market, they'd gathered nearly every ingredient on the list.
Just one thing remained.
“Meat! Meat is absolutely non-negotiable!”
They still hadn't gotten their hands on the most important item.
Perhaps because meat was such a rare luxury here, they hadn't yet found a single stall in the market that dealt in it properly.
Just as the two of them were combing the stalls with single-minded determination—
Thud!
Thud!
The unmistakable sound of a butcher's knife cleaving through flesh rang out.
“There it is! Simon!”
Ears perked, Eshu darted off ahead of him.
“Hey—wait! Stay together, Eshu!”
On the market's outskirts stood a small slaughterhouse. A plump reindeer lay disassembled across the workbench, and a butcher was just finishing the tidy job of slicing its meat into presentable cuts.
This man was dressed differently from every other villager around. He wore a work apron and heavy boots.
“Hello there!”
Eshu came bounding in. The butcher looked at her and smiled warmly.
“ⴋÐⴝⴇ!”
“Ah, the language barrier strikes again......!”
“Have you come from outside Frigod?”
Eshu's eyes went round.
“Wow! You speak Continental!”
“Hahaha! That I do! I spent my childhood here in the Frigod Autonomous Region, and worked in Shahed as a young man.”
“Wow, wow, I'm SO glad to meet you!”
Simon kept a careful distance from Eshu, studying the butcher all the while.
This man.
He smelled of blood.
And not just in the literal sense. His face was pleasantly rustic, but the burly forearms visible past his sleeves, the veins standing out along them, and the very architecture of his muscles—muscles built for combat—gave off an air that was anything but ordinary.
This was not a man who ran a village butcher shop for a living.
Who is he?
Though Simon hung back, sharp with vigilance, the atmosphere between the butcher and Eshu was all sunshine.
“The reindeer meat is excellent today! I hunted it myself just a few hours ago!”
“You hunted it yourself?”
“I only ever slaughter game I've brought down with my own hands. That's my motto.”
At that, Simon tilted his head once.
......So he's a hunter and a butcher. Maybe that's simply because he's a monster-hunting specialist?
Simon remained skeptical, but for now he followed Eshu over to the man, who greeted him just as warmly.
“Welcome! You're the young lady's friend, I take it?”
“That's right.”
The butcher smiled genially and raised his fist.
A greeting the people of Shahed favored. Simon raised his fist in return and bumped it.
“Doesn't seem like the sort of travelers who'd wander into terrain this harsh, though. What brings you all the way out here?”
“Oh! Well, you see—”
Eshu opened her mouth, but Simon cut her off smoothly.
“We're tourists.”
“Ah, I see! Frigod isn't easy to get a tourist permit for, but if you can make it in, there's no better place to take in the untouched wilderness and the dense mana in the air! Plenty of ancient ruins around, too!”
Eshu, standing beside them, caught on immediately and played along.
“It's a wonderful tourist spot! But I'm so tired of monster meat!”
“Then allow me to cut you two a proper slice of reindeer!”
He hoisted up an enormous cleaver and, with practiced ease, carved off a generous bundle of reindeer meat and set it down before them.
Thick cherry-red flesh, marbled with milk-white fat. It looked so fresh it might have been alive.
“This is the finest cut there is—you get exactly one of these from a whole reindeer!”
Eshu leaned back with an awkward look on her face. They'd already spent a small fortune on ingredients, so a top-shelf cut felt like a stretch.
“......W-We don't really have that much money.”
“Eight hundred silver will do. I'll charge you less than the usual meat rate.”
The butcher added with an innocent smile:
“Seeing outsiders puts me in a good mood, you see.”
“Really? Yay! Thank you so much!”
Eshu immediately slapped down the money and bought it. Simon bowed his head at the unexpected windfall.
“Thank you.”
“Ha, think nothing of it! Oh, that's right!”
The butcher said, as if something had just occurred to him:
“The truth is, I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a blonde girl about your age anywhere in this village?”
Eshu tilted her head.
“Blonde? There are more blondes on the Continent than you can shake a stick at.”
Simon's eyes sharpened.
“Why do you ask?”
“Hahaha! An acquaintance of mine is supposed to be in this village! We crossed over here together, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of her, and I'm worried.”
The butcher said only that, and asked nothing further.
So Simon didn't press him either.
“Thank you kindly! Come again!”
“Sell lots!”
Eshu waved with all her might. Simon bumped fists with the butcher one last time in farewell.
“I can tell at a glance. Your gentleman friend there is a fine warrior!”
the butcher said.
“Funny—I'd say the same about you.”
Simon matched him with an easy smile.
“Well now, you've got a good eye! But I'm no 'fine' warrior.”
The corner of his mouth curled upward.
“Just a common butcher who carves meat, is all.”
And so the two parties parted ways. The butcher waved amiably until they vanished from sight, then turned back to dismembering the reindeer.
Meat was so precious here that the moment the butcher set to work, the villagers of the Frigod Autonomous Region began crowding around, casting covetous glances at the stall.
“(I haven't any Continental coin. Could I pay with these shells?)”
“(Of course. Absolutely.)”
The butcher cheerfully accepted even barter trades that cost him a loss. The villagers went home beaming, clutching their prized reindeer meat.
Before long, the reindeer that had lain on the stall was nothing but a bare skeleton.
Just as the butcher, work finished, was wiping the blood from his hands with a rag and looking thoroughly satisfied with himself—
“I report it, and still I don't understand.”
The man responsible for hauling him into the Frigod Autonomous Region.
A gentleman in a fine suit, a tall hat atop his head, a single pupil centered in his face, drew near.
“You raised such a fuss about setting out first, only to arrive early and play at butchery in a place like this?”
“Told you already.”
The butcher clamped a cigar between his teeth and lit it.
“This is my ritual. An important pre-work routine.”
“......Well. So long as the job gets done properly, I suppose it's no matter.”
The One-Eyed Gentleman tapped the ground lightly with his cane.
“More to the point—the Kizen side has already entered the Frigod Autonomous Region, I am told.”
“Yeah? So what?”
“Might the children have come through here?”
“They did.”
The butcher said it like it was nothing at all—and the One-Eyed Gentleman's single pupil dilated sharply.
“They were here? Truly?”
“Kids from outside the Frigod Autonomous Region. Can't say if they were Kizen or not. They had fur-lined robes thrown over themselves.”
“Wait! Could it be—”
The butcher cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“I'm no fool, and no, it wasn't the blonde girl we're after. I asked those kids too. Didn't know anything, they said.”
“Platinum blonde, surely! And there was a second one! Tell me you haven't forgotten!”
“Who was that again?”
“Simon Polentia! The boy with the blue hair!”
The butcher screwed up his face as if trying to summon the image.
There had definitely been blue hair visible below the hem of that robe.
“Oh, right. The kid did have blue hair.”
“Are you serious right now!”
“Ha, don't get so worked up.”
The butcher snickered.
“I only remember the people I'm going to 'carve up.' The blonde girl—her I remember, since she's on the carving list. But that, what's-his-name...... we're supposed to take him alive, aren't we? How am I supposed to remember a human I can't carve? That's your mistake, not mine.”
“You insufferable dullard! That was a golden opportunity to secure Simon Polentia without ever crossing the Kizen professors!”
The One-Eyed Gentleman flared up in fury and hurriedly raised his communication crystal.
“Where did they go?”
“They were walking off up ahead, easy pace. Twenty minutes ago, maybe.”
“All of you, hear me! Simon Polentia is in this village. Everyone, move to the eight o'clock direction! Find the blue-haired teenage boy at all costs!”
Shshshshshshk!
At his command, the assassins lurking in the darkness shot up into the air.
Their eyes glittered coldly as they vaulted off the rooftops.
Too late. They'll be long gone by now.
The One-Eyed Gentleman clearly held out little hope.
And then, before much time had passed at all—
> Eight o'clock direction. Blue-haired teenage boy located.
> Wearing an academy uniform beneath the robe. Confirmed as target.
Reports confirming the find actually came in.
So today was one of those days where everything fell into place. The One-Eyed Gentleman raised his communication crystal.
“I am on my way. Before I arrive, you will secure him—alive, by any means necessary!”
Crunch! Tap.
Tap.
The assassins landed in front of the blue-haired boy.
“Found him. Target confirmed.”
“Requesting permission to engage.”
The blue-haired boy looked back over his shoulder.
“......?”
He tilted his head once—and then snorted with laughter.
“What's with these moths flying straight into the flame?”
Behind the assassins encircling the boy—
a vast spiderweb, glinting with an eerie sheen, was creeping closer and closer.