Chapter 33
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Silverlake (3)
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After traveling nearly half a day along the narrow, rugged forest path that skirted the lake, Blake and Lindelmann finally entered a small village just as dusk began to settle around them.
The modest, unremarkable village seemed to rarely see outsiders passing through.
Yet, despite the obvious arrival of two men who looked like mercenaries or knights, the villagers didn't show much wariness.
That was because, every year around this time, quite a few travelers would flock to the village.
They came to cross over to Whitenoden Gate via Silverlake and take the Imperial Road toward the central regions.
'Hmm. Looks like they're planning to head to Elbera or Rochel via the Imperial Road, then follow the river down. Makes sense—that's the fastest way to the south.'
Lindelmann nodded thoughtfully, pretending to mull it over.
But a slight doubt crept in.
Even if they pushed their horses a bit, they could reach a larger village by nightfall with big ferries heading straight to Whitenoden Gate. So why come to this small, shabby place?
Especially one so close to the Red Giant Mountains, one of the most notorious ranges in the North—no, the entire Empire.
"Hey, wouldn't it be better to push on to another village?"
Lindelmann spoke cautiously as soon as they arrived, the swirling flurries of dry snow somehow adding to the ominous air.
But his companion, the leader of their journey, replied only with his usual steely, unwavering gaze.
"No, this is the surest path."
"I-is that so?"
'Just as I thought. No reason to come here unless you're planning to take a raft.'
Convinced his guess was right, Lindelmann followed behind Blake.
The two headed to the village hall-cum-pub run by the chieftain on behalf of the villagers.
Leaving Lindelmann in a rundown room at the dingy pub, Blake went to Swange's one-and-only smithy, which doubled as a general store and apothecary, and sold off all the spoils he'd gathered along the way.
With the money, he bought rations, oil, medicines, and other supplies for a long journey, then returned to the pub just as lanterns began to light up around the village.
He then handed Lindelmann the pouch containing the leftover coin.
"The rest is rightfully yours, Sir Zaroph."
"Thanks a bunch—I'm about to burst into tears."
"No need for tears. It's only right."
Lindelmann's budding gratitude evaporated at Blake's utter lack of playfulness with words, and his face soured again.
"Let's go eat."
"Sure."
To avoid any potential hassle, they pulled their hoods low over their faces and headed downstairs to the pub.
Though it was a small village, the pub had a decent crowd.
A few local men and two groups that seemed like mercenaries or wandering knights had already claimed their spots.
Traces of snow on their clothes suggested they'd fled here to escape the sudden flurry.
The groups' eyes flicked toward Blake and Lindelmann upon their entrance, but seeing the hoods pulled low, they glanced once and returned to their food, drink, and chatter.
"Heard from Goody earlier that Blue Plum Knights showed up in Lancel."
"Really? What's the deal in this backwater?"
"Tch! Haven't you heard? One of the Blue Plum perfumers got smashed by some swordsman. They're chasing him to Whitenoden Gate, apparently."
"So they're heading central from there..."
Amid the rowdy noise, Blake didn't miss a word.
It didn't sit well that word about him had spread this far.
As the two settled at an empty table in the corner, a serving boy approached.
"Ready to order?"
"What's on offer?"
"We've got roast lamb to start. Steamed fish and river mussels..."
"Bring it all. Wine or beer if you've got it."
"Right away!"
While Lindelmann ordered drinks and food from the boy, Blake continued scanning the room.
A few from the armed groups glanced their way, but it felt like mere curiosity or wariness from fellow travelers rather than outright hostility.
They'd have reacted differently if they'd recognized him.
Soon the food and drinks arrived, and the pair ate in silence.
"Huh?"
Lindelmann widened his eyes in mock surprise at the sight of Blake sipping wine—he rarely drank anything but beer.
"What's gotten into you? Finishing your drink?"
"A glass or two loosens the fatigue and sharpens the senses. Back during long ops with spotty resupply, we'd issue wine instead of water sometimes."
As always: 'If it helps in a fight.'
"I see."
Of course, Lindelmann thought, nodding absently as he looked away.
Just then, someone pushed open the door to the village hall-cum-pub.
"Hmm?"
Lindelmann's eyes lit up at the sight.
A long green robe that nearly dragged on the ground, paired with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat.
An oddly dressed traveler.
Despite a petite frame barely scraping 160 centimeters, they strode along tapping a wooden staff as tall as themselves.
It was enough to pique the curiosity of Lindelmann, who was bored out of his mind from being unable to chat over dinner.
The other patrons, their interest stirred too, stared blankly at the newcomer.
Caught in the spotlight, the traveler fidgeted awkwardly before hurrying to an empty corner seat.
'Rookie traveler?'
Lindelmann chuckled inwardly at how the newcomer clutched a backpack strapped inside their robe like a precious treasure while fumbling about.
"What'll it be?"
"Ah! Um, that is..."
Unable to even order properly, they were clearly a total novice fresh from home.
"One moment, please."
Even after the boy took the order and left, the traveler kept the hat on.
The brim twitched as if constantly glancing around, staff and pack propped close for a quick grab—paranoid as could be.
But the other patrons soon lost interest, and with a bit of relief, the traveler slowly removed the odd hat.
The pub's lamplight revealed their face.
"Whoa!"
Unlike the others, Lindelmann—who'd kept watching—let out an involuntary gasp.
Lustrous golden hair, slightly tousled as if dusted with gold leaf.
Flawless, pale skin with a faint rosy blush.
A slender face with wide green eyes like a startled deer's, parted red lips revealing pearly whites—it was a beauty you wouldn't see just anywhere in the countryside.
Lindelmann wasn't the only one stunned by the traveler's looks.
"Holy—!"
The serving boy, tray of food in hand, froze with eyes bulging, and the noisy pub fell silent.
Everyone gawked at the traveler in a daze.
But oblivious to her own allure, she merely tilted her head at the boy standing there mid-serve.
And there was one other utterly unmoved by her beauty, besides herself.
"Another round here."
Blake held out his glass to the boy with a gruff voice.
The jolt snapped everyone, Lindelmann included, back to reality.
"Y-yes! One sec! H-here you go, sir."
The boy yelped, flustered, and hastily set the plates on her table.
"Th-thank you."
"N-no, my pleasure. Enjoy!"
As the traveler bowed her head with a direct gaze, the boy—who'd never seen such a beauty—flushed crimson and waved his hands frantically.
Once the boy retreated, she peered down at her table.
The other patrons' eyes naturally followed.
She'd ordered roast perch.
Steam rose invitingly—it looked tasty enough, but it was just ordinary roast perch.
Yet her demeanor toward it was as peculiar as her outfit.
"Haa..."
She sat there, fork in hand, gazing at the food with sparkling eyes, as if beholding a one-of-a-kind treasure.
But steeling herself, she delicately speared a piece.
Then, ever so slowly, she brought it to her lips and chewed.
"Haa!"
Her eyes glazed over in bliss, a perfect smile blooming on her delicate face.
As if savoring a legendary dish from myth.
And with that, she dug in for real.
Chewing each bite with care, half-lidded eyes savoring every flavor—the sight alone made mouths water.
"Oi! Gimme roast perch and steamed fish!"
"Here too!"
Even the boozehounds who ignored such fare on normal days started ordering roast perch and steamed fish.
Watching her eat with such pure joy made them crave it too.
Not everyone wanted perch or steamed fish, though.
"Hey, cutie with the adorable eating face—you new around here? Where you from?"
A few with tastes elsewhere sidled up to her table.
"M-me?"
Startled by the intruders, she widened her eyes.
Her big, deer-like eyes sparkling only made the men's hearts race more, their mouths gaping slack-jawed as they crowded her table.
"Who else but you, pretty? So, where you from? Nah—where you headed?"
A short, stocky one flashed a sleazy grin.
"Well, first to the central... B-but, you see..."
"Oh yeah? These big bros are heading central on the Imperial Road too! Long trip for a girl alone—wanna tag along with us?"
"Ah, sure. But thank you, though I..."
"No thanks needed. Should charge for escort duty, but we'll do it free for you. Lucky you, missy. And not just us—that bro over there's cleared eight of the twelve gates at Carbas Temple. Not like these wannabe merc scrubs."
The stocky one cut her off repeatedly, jabbing a thumb sideways.
Lindelmann, watching the exchange, followed the gesture to the man it pointed at.
The sharp-eyed fellow with a crescent-shaped sword on the table definitely stood out from the stocky one's crew.
"Th-thank you, really, but I..."
"No need to thank us! Anyway... Heh!"
Grinning lewdly, the stocky one suddenly seized her hand and yanked her toward his chest.
"Eek?!"
She startled, trying to pull free.
But with her twig-thin wrist against his iron grip...
"What do you think you're doing?!"
Thwack!
"Ack!"
She broke free!
Not just shaking off his hand—she'd even slapped his face.
"Uahaha! Big Sam, what the hell?"
"Kuhahaha!"
His buddies roared with laughter.
"S-sorry! That wasn't on purpose..."
Even in shock, her face filled with sincere apology.
"You bitch!"
The stocky one shot to his feet, his face twisting back to its ugly scowl.
"Eep!"
Sensing danger, she grabbed her staff and jumped up.
"Where you goin'!"
The stocky one and his crew swarmed the table like they'd been waiting.
"Hmph."
Lindelmann swallowed a surge of anger at the sight—like wolves cornering a helpless lamb—from start to finish.
But lessons from past scrapes taught him 'Never butt in recklessly.' So he opted to watch for now.
Besides, he had to mind Blake, who ignored it all, focused solely on his food and drink.
Experience said he'd stay indifferent even if that beauty faced all sorts of trouble with these lowlifes.
(To be continued)