The Liar
As with the holy knights of old, Elbridge had never once demanded payment for matters involving demons or magical beasts.
Having never really discussed money in his entire life, Elbridge always turned into an awkward mess whenever the subject came up.
Still, he wasn’t completely clueless. He had enough sense to keep his mouth shut and stay quiet when Marcus stepped forward to negotiate their reward.
Marcus said to Chief Tibo, “What exactly are you offering as payment? Don’t tell me you think letting us stay the night is enough.”
“It doesn’t have to be just one night. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like…”
“Hey now!”
Marcus scowled like a thug come to collect protection money.
“Mages are supposed to be loaded, aren’t they? I hear that when armor gets enchanted the price jumps several times over.”
“There are specialists who handle enchantments. I was never one of them…”
“Then at least you must have taken jobs charging knights to build up their mana. I heard that’s where the real money is.”
Chief Tibo hemmed and hawed before answering. “I did do that… but it’s been over twenty years since I left the Magic Tower. I spent all the money I earned back then a long time ago.”
“Well, damn. Still, I’m a mercenary. I can’t exactly work for free. If someone of my caliber starts taking jobs without pay, it makes it that much harder for ordinary mercenaries to demand proper compensation.”
Marcus subtly flaunted his sword. The decorations on the scabbard and hilt were so ostentatious that Chief Tibo had no choice but to believe the bluff.
“If you don’t have coin, we’ll take goods. Something easy to sell would be best.”
“Goods, you say…”
When the chief failed to offer anything suitable, Marcus turned to Elbridge. “Sir Elbridge. Is that staff valuable?”
“Most likely. I’ve heard a staff that’s passed through the hands of an experienced mage becomes even more expensive.”
Chief Tibo quickly hid the staff behind his back, then spoke as though he had just remembered something. “Ah! Please wait a moment.”
The chief disappeared into the inner room and returned with a small glass vial.
The vial was only slightly larger than a thumb. Inside, a red liquid sloshed gently.
“What is this?”
The answer came not from Tibo but from Elbridge. “An elixir.”
“An elixir? This thing?”
An elixir was a potion that healed wounds. In terms of pure effectiveness, it surpassed even the healing powers manifested by the holy knights of the Spring Rain and Moss Order.
An elixir could practically be called an extra life.
Unlike healing powers, it could be used whenever one wished, so wealthy orders often distributed them to high-ranking holy knights as insurance against disaster.
The only problem was their exorbitant manufacturing cost and limited production.
Even Marcus, a veteran mercenary, was seeing a genuine elixir for the first time.
“Is it authentic?”
When Marcus asked, Rombel held out his hand to Chief Tibo. “Let me have a look.”
Rombel took the vial, tilted it this way and that, then examined the seal between the lid and the glass. Finally he declared with absolute certainty, “It’s the real thing.”
An elixir was more than sufficient payment for the request. In fact, the reward now felt excessive.
At this rate they ought to throw in something extra, yet they had nothing appropriate to offer.
We can’t give them the equipment we received from the Red Mountain Range… Huh?
As that thought crossed his mind, Marcus noticed something interesting.
The chief still looked slightly tense.
Even after offering the elixir, he wasn’t certain the party would accept the job.
A mage wouldn’t fail to know the value of an elixir. Is the plant-type magical beast more troublesome than we thought?
Still, exactly how dangerous the creature was didn’t matter much. Elbridge had reacted as though he had a solution.
In Marcus’s experience, if Elbridge believed something was possible, then it was.
In the end Marcus extended his right hand to Chief Tibo. “We can’t ignore people in need. We’ll accept the request.”
Chief Tibo clasped his hand. “Thank you.”
*
The next morning, Elbridge’s party set out from the village with Chief Tibo.
They wore light clothes instead of armor. Marcus, however, carried a leather sack nearly as large as he was on his back.
Marcus asked Elbridge, “Sir Elbridge, what are you planning to use this sack for?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“Ah… right.”
The four reached the stream beside the village.
Elbridge compared the waterline where moss grew on the rocks with the current flow of water.
“The volume has decreased significantly. It looks like it’s already dropped to less than half.”
“Correct. If this continues for another month or two, the stream could dry up completely. And if that happens, the village will have no source of drinking water.”
Marcus’s expression grew serious as he listened to Elbridge and the chief.
If one magical beast can suck up this much water, its size must be beyond imagination. Did I accept the request too hastily? No. Sir Elbridge intended to take it from the start. I only managed to squeeze out extra compensation…
The four walked upstream along the stream.
After some time, a massive flower appeared in the distance.
“Just looking at it, I can tell that’s the one. But that size… it’s ridiculous.”
“We burned it just days ago, yet it’s grown even larger in the meantime.”
The flower’s shape itself resembled common wildflowers. A stem, leaves, and five simply formed blossoms.
The problem was the scale.
The stem supporting the flower was thicker than a decent-sized log, and the bloom itself was literally the size of a house.
The height at which such an enormous flower bloomed was comparable to the treetops some distance away.
Moreover, the plant-type magical beast was clearly aware of their presence. The flowers slowly turned to face Elbridge’s party, tracking their every movement.
“I let my guard down because it was a plant-type, but this thing is more unpleasant than I expected.”
To Marcus’s comment, Chief Tibo replied, “What’s truly troublesome isn’t the flower but the roots. They stretch almost this far.”
“This far?”
The distance between the party and the flower was nearly the full length of the village. Still, if the roots reached that far, it made sense that the beast could dry up the stream.
Marcus’s face grew even graver.
Did I accept this request for nothing? Even for Sir Elbridge this seems impossible. Maybe we should return the elixir and cancel—
Rombel looked equally uncertain.
“Elbridge. Can you handle this? You and I might cut the stem and flowers, but we have no way to deal with the roots.”
“Let’s walk a little farther.”
Elbridge scanned the area as if searching for something while continuing upstream.
Then he stopped.
“There it is.”
Where he pointed, a thick colony of weeds grew.
The plants reached about waist height. White, round flowers bloomed at the tips of their stems, though they had flowered in summer and now hung withered and drooping.
Both Marcus and Chief Tibo had seen the weed before.
The chief asked, “What is this?”
“It’s called poison dropwort. It grows abundantly near water.”
Elbridge grabbed a stem and yanked it free. A white sap oozed from the roughly torn root.
“The roots of this poison dropwort contain a powerful toxin. It can kill animals, humans, and even other plants. For animals and people, you dry and grind it into powder. For plants, you use the fresh sap.”
Elbridge looked at Marcus and Rombel, gesturing at the weeds.
“Pull them carefully so the roots don’t break. Wash the dirt off in the stream, then put them in the sack.”
Marcus and Rombel looked upstream. The colony of poison dropwort stretched endlessly. Digging up every root would likely fill the sack dozens of times over.
The problem was that harvesting them didn’t look easy. Both men suddenly felt dizzy.
Elbridge crossed his arms arrogantly and jerked his chin. “Get started.”
Marcus let out a long sigh and began working.
Rombel, however, was different. He was not a mercenary who would do anything for coin; he was a proud warrior.
“Elbridge. Why are you standing there with your arms crossed?”
“It’s consideration. I’m giving roles to both you and Marcus.”
Rombel raised a fist. “As expected, you only move after getting punched, huh?”
Elbridge also clenched both fists and took a stance. “Come on, then.”
*
Yet the fistfight between Elbridge and Rombel never happened. Chief Tibo solved the problem with magic.
“I believe I can handle this. You only need the roots, correct?”
When Tibo waved his staff, a sharp wind swept across the ground, slicing every stem of the poison dropwort cleanly.
Tibo swung the staff again. A powerful gust swept away the severed stems scattered across the ground.
Finally, with one last flick, the earth along the stream overturned, exposing the entire root system of the colony.
All of it accomplished with just three movements of the staff.
Elbridge stared at Tibo in silence.
He had sensed it from their first meeting—Tibo was no mediocre mage. He possessed the skill to have held a key position in the Magic Tower.
Marcus asked the chief, “Couldn’t you use magic like that to rip out the magical beast’s roots?”
“Impossible. The scale is easily tens or hundreds of times greater… and the roots are incomparably deeper.”
Chief Tibo staggered and sat down heavily. “That took a lot out of me. I’ll rest here a while.”
Elbridge and Marcus washed the roots in the stream and gathered them. Finally Rombel crushed the roots, extracting the sap into the leather sack Marcus had brought.
After half a day of work, a considerable amount of sap had collected in the large sack.
I thought it would take at least five days even if we hurried.
The four carried the sack of sap closer to the plant-type magical beast.
The final task was to eliminate it using the poison dropwort sap.
“I’ll finish this.”
Elbridge slung the sloshing sack over his left shoulder, drew his sword in his right hand, and stared at the flower. The blossoms turned to face him in return.
Then Elbridge kicked off the ground and charged toward the plant-type magical beast.
Sensing the threat, the creature reacted instantly. Wooden vines erupted from the earth trying to snare his ankles, while sharp roots occasionally burst forth to impale his legs and torso.
Marcus watched the running Elbridge closely.
If the attacks had come one or two at a time, even Marcus might have dodged them. The problem was their sheer number and the vast area they covered simultaneously.
This was on an entirely different level from any plant-type beast Marcus had faced before.
It’s like a giant trap. A pitfall the size of several villages combined…
Yet even carrying the heavy sack, Elbridge evaded every attack with ease. When evasion was impossible, he cut the roots with his sword.
When he finally reached the base of the stem, he stepped on one of the enormous leaves and leaped upward.
Like a performer, he bounded from leaf to leaf, climbing higher and higher.
The moment he reached the highest point, his right shoulder blurred.
Slice.
Three of the five flower stalks were severed at once.
Elbridge didn’t stop there. He continued swinging his sword as he descended.
Each time his blade flashed in the sunset, stems as thick as tree trunks were sliced cleanly from above.
Marcus thought, His skill is incredible. Will I ever be able to move like that…?
Elbridge landed and sheathed his sword.
He then pressed the leather sack against the cut surface of the stem and squeezed. The poison dropwort sap collected over the course of the day poured into the wound.
Now the toxin would seep through every root of the plant-type magical beast.
“…!”
Sensing the danger, the creature began to thrash violently.
Roots shot upward simultaneously across the vast area, and thick clouds of pollen sprayed from the remaining flowers, targeting Elbridge.
“Whoops.”
Elbridge immediately discarded the sack and covered his nose and mouth with his left arm.
He drew his sword once more, cutting down every attack aimed at him as he ran. The sight resembled a man escaping a giant net.
Even while watching with his own eyes, Marcus could not comprehend Elbridge’s movements.
How does he sense and react to attacks coming from behind or beneath his feet?
Chief Tibo was equally baffled.
The only one who seemed unsurprised was Rombel.
But understanding wasn’t necessary.
Elbridge finally reached the three of them, lowered the arm covering his face, and took a deep breath.
“Whew. I nearly suffocated to death.”
He turned around and gazed at the plant-type magical beast alongside the others.
The creature was still writhing wildly—a reaction far more violent than when Chief Tibo had burned its stems and flowers with magic days earlier.
Tibo asked Elbridge, “Is it definitely finished?”
“It should be. This method was taught to me by the elves.”
“…The elves?”
“Yes. Elves love to preach about cherishing nature and the forest, but they show no mercy to weeds. Plant-type magical beasts are no exception.”
“I see…”
“Still, we should confirm the results. Let’s stay in the village a few days and observe how things develop.”
Elbridge stretched comfortably, then strolled casually back toward the village.