The Liar
Since there was no urgent business at hand, Elbridge decided to head for the central continent together with Rombel.
And Elbridge’s decision to travel to the central region naturally meant Marcus would have to follow him there as well.
“In my entire life I’ve never followed anyone around, yet trailing after Sir Elbridge makes me feel like I’ve turned into carp droppings.”
When Marcus grumbled for no particular reason, Rombel gave a short laugh.
“Marcus. It’s not a feeling. You really have become carp droppings.”
“...”
“Why the face? If you have a more fitting expression, let’s hear it.”
“...Never mind.”
Yet a small problem soon arose for the three of them.
They knew only the general direction of the central continent; none of them knew the actual roads or the locations of any villages they might pass through.
It was only natural that Marcus and Elbridge were ignorant of the way. Marcus had spent his whole life working in the eastern region, and Elbridge had been sealed away from the outside world for two hundred years.
Rombel, who had actually visited the central continent before, should have been the guide, but unfortunately the dwarf had a terrible sense of direction.
Rather than apologize, however, Rombel only grew more confident.
“It’s not just me who can’t find the path. There are few villages or cities around here, so the route is hard to follow by nature. Anyone who isn’t a local would be in the same boat.”
“...”
While they walked aimlessly toward the central region, Elbridge spotted wagon wheel tracks.
“Let’s follow these wheel marks.”
“How do you know where the wagon is headed?”
“They won’t drive a wagon off a cliff, will they? Sooner or later it will lead to a village or a city. We can ask the locals for directions from there.”
The three set off along the wagon tracks.
Fortunately it had not rained, so the tracks did not vanish midway.
A man’s usual reticence disappears in front of close friends, and so the three of them talked freely about all manner of subjects.
“By the way, Sir Elbridge, are you traveling all the way to the central region because you want news of that shield’s owner?”
“He is a special person to me.”
“I can imagine. He claimed the position of High Paladin over you, Sir Elbridge, and eventually ascended to become one of the heavenly gods. He must have been an extraordinary man.”
“His skill was only part of it. Our connection ran deeper than that. If I had never met Sir Leonhardt, I might never have become a paladin at all. I might have died long ago.”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve hardly heard any of your old stories, Sir Elbridge. How did you end up becoming a paladin?”
At Marcus’s question Elbridge gave a vague reply.
“There isn’t much of a past to speak of. I simply became one by chance. How did you become a mercenary, Mr. Marcus?”
Neither Marcus nor Rombel pressed any further. Both men had enough sense to leave it at that.
“If Sir Elbridge became a paladin thanks to Sir Leonhardt, then I became a mercenary thanks to my father.”
“Was your father a mercenary too?”
“No, he was simply a drunk. Always half-soused, yet his skill with a leather belt was equal to any first-rate mercenary. The only words that ever left his mouth were orders to bring more drink… In the end I kicked down the door and ran away from home to become a mercenary.”
“I see.”
“It wasn’t all bad. If I hadn’t practiced dodging that leather belt, I would have died during my mercenary days. The heroic saga of Marcus the warrior—who obtained a famed dwarf-forged blade—began with dodging a leather belt.”
In moments like these, laughter was more fitting than consolation.
Elbridge and Rombel chuckled heartily.
Apparently pleased by their reaction, Marcus pointed at the scar across the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not joking. The day I received this scar, the memory of my father’s leather belt flashed through my mind and let me dodge the blow. Without that experience my face would have been split clean in two…”
Once he got going, Marcus mixed truth and exaggeration in a steady stream of jokes until he suddenly stopped walking and stared into the distance.
Elbridge and Rombel followed his gaze.
At the end of the wagon tracks lay a rather large village.
Marcus stretched his arms and said, “I’ll finish the story later. Let’s head in first.”
*
What Elbridge’s party felt upon reaching the village was that it differed somehow from ordinary settlements.
“The people aren’t wary of us at all.”
“Indeed.”
In a great city where strangers were commonplace it might be expected, but villagers usually kept their distance from outsiders.
Yet these villagers showed no caution toward Elbridge’s group—even though Elbridge and Marcus carried swords and Rombel bore a massive axe.
Were they simply accustomed to frequent visitors?
That could not be. There was no inn in the village.
There was not even a building that could double as one. This was true despite the settlement being large enough to house at least a thousand souls.
“Even a village half this size has at least one inn. What sort of place is this…”
The three wandered about, searching for lodging.
After a short while, a man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late fifties approached, leaning on a cane.
“May I ask where you have come from?”
“We are from Soleneon. We traveled south on business, lost our way, and followed the wagon tracks here.”
“Wagon tracks, you say. You were blessed with luck.”
“Luck?”
“Our village wagons rarely travel such long distances. For the tracks to remain visible even now… that truly is good fortune.”
“I see.”
The man smiled gently.
“I am Tibo, mayor of this village. Might one of you gentlemen be a knight?”
Mayor Tibo’s gaze was fixed not on Elbridge but on Marcus.
The sword Marcus had received from the dwarves was clearly no ordinary mercenary’s weapon.
Marcus puffed out his chest.
“I am a mercenary—a rather capable one named Marcus. This is Sir Elbridge, a paladin, and that is Mr. Rombel, an outstanding warrior.”
“Fortune upon fortune. To think I would live to see such a day.”
Fortune, he said. It surely meant they required the help of a knight or mercenary.
Just as Marcus opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, Elbridge spoke first.
“Mayor, you are a mage.”
Mayor Tibo looked mildly surprised.
“Correct. How could you tell?”
“The shape of the staff gives it away.”
Unlike an ordinary walking stick, Mayor Tibo’s staff had not been carved from a single piece of wood.
It consisted of several vines naturally entwined, showing no trace of artificial cutting or shaping.
The structure was designed to avoid interfering with the flow of absorbed mana—the classic form of a mage’s staff.
“You have a sharp eye.”
“Why does a mage such as yourself live in such a remote village?”
“Ah… it’s a rather long story.”
At that moment a few small girls came running, squealing loudly.
One of them clung to Mayor Tibo’s leg and pointed at several boys in the distance.
“Archbishop! Osric keeps turning into a frog to tease us!”
The mayor burst into warm laughter.
“Osric, let the frog go. You mustn’t play with living creatures.”
“But I only just caught it!”
Tibo smiled and waved his staff.
A translucent frog made of water droplets appeared in mid-air and hopped into the hand of the boy called Osric.
“Whoa!”
The boys released the real frog they had been holding and immediately began chasing the girls again with their new magical toy.
Elbridge’s expression grew serious.
To measure a mage’s skill, one did not need to witness powerful spells.
The precision of the magic and the effort required to cast it revealed the caster’s ability far more clearly.
In Elbridge’s eyes, Mayor Tibo was no clumsy novice.
He possessed skill enough to hold an important post in any of the major Magic Towers.
Yet something even stranger stood out: the title the girl had used.
“Mayor. Did that child just call you Archbishop?”
“She did.”
Mages did not follow gods.
Some entered the Magic Towers to live free of divine influence; others walked the path of sorcery in order to ascend and become gods themselves.
Yet not every mage had turned their back on the divine.
Even in ancient times there had been mages who served gods.
Still, this was the first time Elbridge had ever heard of a mage simultaneously holding the office of archbishop.
An archbishop was effectively the leader of an entire religious order.
When Elbridge’s party stared at him, Mayor Tibo looked slightly embarrassed and changed the subject.
“You probably don’t have suitable lodgings… Would you care to stay at my home for the time being?”
*
The three followed Mayor Tibo to his residence.
Religious symbols were displayed throughout the house, but their patterns were ones Elbridge had never seen before.
Elbridge asked carefully, “If I may, Mayor Tibo, which god do you serve? My knowledge is limited…”
“I worship the God of the Eternal Voyage.”
Both the name and the symbol were completely new to him.
Hmmph.
A name I have never heard before. It must be some insignificant deity who has never claimed even a single seat in the Heavenly Assembly since ascending. A tiny, modest faith that cannot even be compared to a certain goddess who is already guaranteed at least one seat by year’s end…
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield did not seem to expect a reply; she simply wished to boast. Therefore Elbridge committed the small impiety of letting the oracle enter one ear and exit the other.
This time Mayor Tibo asked Elbridge a question.
“You are Sir Elbridge, correct? Which order do you serve as a paladin?”
“The Rusty Shield Order.”
Elbridge felt a flicker of tension. If the reply was that Tibo had never heard the name, the Goddess would surely be heartbroken.
Yet Tibo proved to possess broader knowledge than Elbridge had expected.
“The Rusty Shield Order. I have heard of it. In the ancient war against the demons, it was the order that fought with the greatest valor.”
Even when I possessed only one or two seats, my name spread so widely. I can scarcely imagine how it will be next year and the year after that. I, this goddess, am a fearsome goddess indeed…!
Once again Elbridge let the Goddess’s oracle pass through one ear as he asked, “I have not met many mages, but this is the first time I have encountered one who also holds the office of archbishop.”
“I studied magic from childhood, but twenty years ago I opened my eyes to faith. They say no one can predict the course of a life… and that was exactly my case.”
It was a plain answer, so there was nothing more to inquire about.
Mayor Tibo studied Elbridge’s expression for a moment before finally stating his true purpose.
“By the way, gentlemen. If it is not too much trouble… could you lend this village your aid?”
From the moment Tibo had heard their party’s composition and spoken of fortune, Elbridge had expected something like this.
“It would be best to hear what sort of help you require first.”
“Simply listening would already be a great kindness. The matter goes back about half a year. Around that time, demonic beasts suddenly began appearing in greater numbers…”
Elbridge flinched. This was surely connected to the breaking of the seal that had bound both him and the Great Demon.
“My own skills are modest, but as a mage I was able to repel several of the creatures. However, not long ago a beast appeared that was beyond my ability to handle.”
According to Mayor Tibo, a stream ran near the village.
The problem was that a gigantic plant-type demonic beast had taken root beside it.
“…Isn’t it common sense to subdue plant-type demonic beasts with flame magic? I naturally burned it to ash and relaxed, yet the next day it had returned to normal.”
“The roots,” Elbridge said.
Mayor Tibo exclaimed in admiration. “Exactly right. The beast’s roots had spread too deeply; flame magic could not reach them all.”
Rombel cut in. “Can’t you simply burn the roots as well?”
“The stream beside it is the issue. The creature has absorbed so much water that it refuses to burn properly. And we cannot pull the roots out one by one…”
“If removing it is so difficult, why not leave it alone? A plant-type demonic beast does not seem to require urgent extermination.”
“That will not do. As the beast drinks from the stream, the water flow has decreased dramatically. If the stream dries up, our village will not survive.”
Mayor Tibo’s face clouded with worry.
He did not appear confident that Elbridge’s party could solve the problem; he was simply grasping at straws.
Fortunately, Elbridge already knew how to deal with such a plant-type demonic beast.
Just as he was about to accept the request, he felt a gaze upon him.
It was Marcus. Marcus was watching his expression closely.
As if to say wait, Marcus wiggled his index finger from side to side.
Then Marcus spoke in Elbridge’s stead.
“If we dispose of that demonic beast for you, what will you offer us in return?”