Small City Wayford

The next morning, the citizens of the central district streamed without exception toward the notice boards that stood at the four central crossroads—one facing each cardinal direction.

Hwanin, hooded cloak drawn up, walked with Isilite toward the nearest board. A crowd had already gathered ahead of them, staring up at the enormous proclamation pasted across its face.

“Wow. There are so many people.”

“Let’s get a little closer.”

The board itself was large; the notice affixed to it was larger still.

From a comfortable distance they read that the Skin-peeling Clan and the Lianarin Trading Company—both firmly established in the central district—had been confirmed as co-conspirators and as the perpetrators of the assault upon the 6th-class tiger-kin noble daughter. The notice further announced that a punitive expedition had been carried out the previous night, and it bore the seal of the 4th-class tiger-kin Aldjin Bere.

Citizens nearby murmured among themselves.

“If it’s the 6th-class tiger-kin Lord Baek… where was that place again? A port city, wasn’t it?”

“Praber. The city on the western shore of Lake Alyugel.”

“Ah, right, that was it. But what business brought their noble daughter all the way out here?”

“How would the likes of us know what a person of that rank thinks? Still… to learn that Lianarin Trading Company was in bed with the Skin-peeling Clan… feels like we got stabbed in the back.”

“No kidding. They always brought the capital’s latest fashions so quickly—I trusted them and bought plenty.”

“…….”

When they visited the Lianarin Trading Company building, regular army soldiers were going in and out of the four-story structure, hauling out every sort of goods. Men dressed much like the clerks who worked at the administrative office were loading document boxes onto wagons, while dozens of cargo-straw Kue filed past in a steady stream, ferrying loads away.

“A company the size of Lianarin could have lived like kings in our city. What greater glory were they chasing?”

“Oh, sister, please. The greed of those who already have everything is never ordinary.”

“Hey, did you hear? They say the Skin-peeling boss is hanging by the neck in front of the administrative office. Let’s go take a look.”

“I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was curious what the ringleader looked like anyway. We’ll look, then get back to work.”

Watching the citizens near the trading company turn toward the administrative office, Hwanin followed after them and murmured,

“The power of the tiger-kin who own a city is truly formidable.”

Judging by the speed of the purge, they had struck without even securing evidence first. That alone was astonishing; Isilite’s reply was more astonishing still.

“Master, a tiger-kin city lord is no different from a king within his own city.”

“…….”

He had known it intellectually. In a medieval-style realm, a local noble wielded absolute power inside his domain. Yet knowing something as knowledge and witnessing it with one’s own eyes were incomparable.

From the circumstances, Aldjin Bere had listened to Baek Ryeogang’s account and, without further debate, immediately mobilized the troops. The operation itself had taken three hours; the cleanup one more. Not a single citizen present voiced the slightest doubt about the result.

If the lord of a mere small city commanded this much authority, what must it be like in a mid-sized city, a capital, or a provincial seat?

Baek Ryeogang’s words—“What I saw is evidence, and what I heard is evidence”—were not the slightest exaggeration.

In any case, the entire affair had been settled in less than a day. Hwanin gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

If it had been him?

I would have forced the souls to spill every scrap of information, then raided their base at night, killed them all, and vanished.

That would have taken two full days—one for reconnaissance, one for execution.

Feeling Hyern Zod’s earlier warning settle more keenly against his skin, Hwanin arrived before the administrative office and beheld a sight that, by ordinary standards, was thoroughly gruesome.

Seven corpses hung from the gallows. From the neck down their skins had been flayed, leaving muscle and tendon fully exposed; beside each body dangled the peeled human hide. Neither the skins nor the corpses were intact. The remains looked as though they had endured savage torture—utterly ruined.

“Which one’s the ringleader?”

“There’s a placard stuck there. The middle one… Asiah Rudan, wolf-kin.”

“Good grief, a 6th-class hunter? She looked decent enough and even ran a trading company—what more did she need that she had to lay hands on a tiger-kin lord?”

So that’s why they only flayed her from the neck down.

Hwanin watched for a moment as the young woman with black wolf ears—Asiah Rudan—hung with her tongue lolling out. Then he scanned the remaining corpses until his gaze settled on one woman’s face.

A woman with eagle-feather ears, her expression frozen in pure rage even in death.

“Aldtis is dead too.”

“Mm.”

Hwanin’s interest in that direction had already faded.

Among the seven dead, the body of Ifrivel—trading-company manager and second-in-command of the clan—was missing. Several hypotheses rose in his mind, then merged into a single clear thread.

This isn’t merely retaliation for touching a tiger-kin.

He looked around the gallows, but no souls were visible. Even if they had been, he had no intention of doing anything about them.

Traffic was beginning to thicken, so Hwanin returned to the hotel and pressed a tip and a note into the hands of the errand boy, sending them to Susa. The note said he had emerged from the labyrinth the previous night and would leave the city tomorrow or the day after; he wished to share one last meal before then.

After breakfast he stopped Isilite, who was about to go out and sell the Skin-peeling Clan’s weapons and armor.

“Just dispose of the weapons and armor.”

“What? There are sixteen full sets, and they’re all in good condition. Selling them would easily bring a gold coin…”

“They belonged to people executed for attacking a tiger-kin. Trying to offload that many at once could draw suspicion. Once we leave the city, simply dump them in a field.”

“Ah… Um, Master, just a moment.”

Isilite spread the loot across the floor and examined every piece with meticulous care. She even dismantled each weapon and checked the maker’s marks.

“The weapons should be fine to sell. Named organizations usually commission custom pieces and leave their marks, but these are all ready-made.”

“Then sell only the weapons, and spread them out.”

“Yes!”

With a vigorous reply, Isilite donned her medium-steel greatsword and full armor so she would not be looked down upon, then headed out.

Alone, Hwanin considered his schedule for a moment, then looked at Emergency Food, who lay sprawled on its belly atop the living-room carpet.

Kuu?

“Let’s go out for a bit.”

Kuut!

With Emergency Food in tow he made for the post station near the Second Inner Gate on the southern avenue of the central district. Turning off the main road into a side alley, he came upon a building that looked much like a warehouse.

Outside the open structure—reminiscent of a train station—countless wagons, carriages, and heavily laden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠carts stood packed together. People and vehicles thronged in every direction, generating a constant roar of noise.

Hwanin surveyed the various shops lining the station’s perimeter—places selling carriage fittings, horse gear, and Kue equipment.

There it is.

Dodging the endless stream of arriving and departing wagons, he crossed the street with Emergency Food and entered a shop that radiated a distinctly antique atmosphere.

The upper walls were hung with every sort of Kue harness; the lower display shelves held neatly arranged spurs, stirrups, bridles, and bits. In the empty center of the shop stood an open space designed so that a customer could try on gear and even mount a Kue right there.

Ding-a-ling—the bell rang as the door closed. From the back, a man with the head of a white sulphur-crested cockatoo, who had been adjusting something like a saddle, turned and rose.

“Welcome. What can I—wait, what?! A green Kue?!”

Kuet?!

Startled by the man who came rushing forward, Emergency Food immediately struck a threatening pose.

“O-ohhh! It really is—a genuine green Kue! Magnificent! Superb! Perfect! Look at those sleek feathers, those sturdy legs that look ready to kick the earth itself…!”

Shhhk-shhhk—Emergency Food hissed like metal scraping metal, bristling with wariness. Hwanin stepped between them.

“Would you mind calming down for a moment?”

“…Hah?! I-I’m so sorry. I got carried away and made a fool of myself.”

The shopkeeper recovered his composure, gave an awkward laugh, and stepped back.

“I’d only ever heard of green Kue in stories. Seeing one in the flesh, I couldn’t help myself. Please forgive me.”

“It’s fine. More importantly, I’d like to look at a chest protector and ankle guards suitable for this fellow. Do you have any recommendations?”

The man’s hobby and profession clearly overlapped; Hwanin cut straight to business.

But…

“Of course! You’ve come to exactly the right place! Our Kue Fantasy Shop carries every piece of Kue equipment imaginable—from common breeds to the rarest varieties. We are Wayford’s finest Kue outfitter! As for the history of our store…”

“…….”

The proprietor was, to put it kindly, overflowing with professional pride; to put it less kindly, he was an oblivious otaku. While the man chattered without pause, Hwanin inwardly sighed, offered vague replies, and gently steered the conversation until he had purchased a Kue face-helm, an integrated chest-protector-and-saddle set, and a pair of leg guards.

“This integrated chest protector and saddle is crafted from labyrinth-grown Green-hued Wood overlaid with black-iron plates. As you can see, the green and contrasting tones are superb—they make this child’s beautiful plumage stand out even more!”

“See this saddle with the connected girth and reins? It’s made of Black-blossom Wood for perfect color balance. And of course the straps and reins aren’t ordinary leather—they’re fashioned from the hide of a 2nd-class aberrant species, so durability and waterproofing are both first-rate!”

“The leg guards are extraordinary as well! Crystal-iron—steel alloyed with Dark Crystals from the Labyrinth of No Light—was drawn into plates, then hammer-forged. The inner lining is soft leather polished so finely it won’t chafe or bruise even a Kue’s delicate legs. I guarantee you can wear these for days without a single sore or wound!”

“And this face-helm… kuhhh~! An outstanding choice. Five days’ journey from here lies a small village with a craftsman of truly exceptional skill. I begged and pleaded until he agreed to a contract. It’s made from 3rd-class labyrinth Light-iron Wood! Look at these lines, this finish! Truly a helm of the Kue, by the Kue, for the Kue!”

“……Excellent… indeed.”

Whatever the shopkeeper’s fervor, the products themselves were every bit as fine as claimed. The chest protector, saddle, and leg guards were masterpieces, but the face-helm was a true work of art.

It did not cover Emergency Food’s entire head; instead it lightly capped the upper beak, forehead, and crown, colored to match the pale-yellow beak. The design was sharp and sleek like a Valkyrie helm, enhancing the Kue’s natural elegance. Its base tone of black-gray matched the rest of the set so well that the whole ensemble felt like coordinated gear—something Hwanin found especially pleasing.

Emergency Food, too, seemed satisfied; it twisted this way and that to examine itself, then lifted its chin with a proud little swagger.

While the shopkeeper—Yuoh—filmed the moment with a recording magic tool, he seized Hwanin’s hand and pumped it up and down.

“Thank you so very much! Thanks to you and Emergency Food, we’ve proven that our products fit even the rarest Kue frames!”

“I’m the one who should thank you for offering them at such a reasonable price.”

It had taken over an hour to buy three pieces of equipment, yet he did not regret a moment of it. Products worth three gold coins had been obtained for a third of that sum. Even after Emergency Food’s fourth growth stage enlarged its body, a little adjustment would keep the high-quality set usable—for a single gold coin.

“Lord Hwanin! If anything ever goes wrong with the gear, please be sure to visit again with Emergency Food! That’s the promise that comes with selling at cost!”

“I will. Let’s go.”

Kue~.

Stepping outside, Hwanin immediately felt the effect of outfitting Emergency Food. The gazes that had once regarded a cute pet bird now regarded a well-trained combat Kue. People edged away as though they had just encountered a Rolls-Royce or Lamborghini on a road full of ordinary cars.

Inevitably, the worry of theft rose as well.

Could I teach Emergency Food combat techniques?

Remembering how it had kicked and struck Aldtis, its aggressive spirit was more than sufficient. And it was clever; with a little sparring it ought to learn at least the basics of offense and defense.

“…….”

It was worth trying.

Holding the reins attached to the Valkyrie helm, Hwanin walked on, drawing every eye, until he noticed that the “No Entry” sign at the Second Public Cemetery had been removed.

Assuming Ielkata had returned, he rang the entrance bell and waited. Instead of Ielkata, another figure approached.

“What business brings you here?”

A man in a white robe with the head of a white wolf. Hwanin instantly recognized the new cemetery keeper and spoke.

“My name is Hwanin. I was acquainted with the previous keeper, Miss Ielkata… It seems the keeper of the Second Public Cemetery has changed.”

“Ah, so you are that person. Would you wait a moment? Soul Master Ielkata left a request for me.”

When Hwanin agreed, the wolf-kin keeper disappeared inside and returned holding a single letter.

“This is the letter she entrusted to me.”

“Thank you.”

Accepting the letter with a polite bow, Hwanin slowly walked away from the cemetery while examining the envelope. In the lower right corner, elegant yet firm handwriting caught his eye.

My Dear One…

The phrase stirred many thoughts. Hwanin lowered his eyes, about to open the letter, when Emergency Food gently nudged his shoulder with the tip of its beak.

Kue~.

“What is it?”

Kuet!

“…You want me to ride? You’re ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still too small for my weight.”

Kuku! Kuee~.

It crooned that one never knew without trying. Hwanin gave a short laugh, set his foot in the stirrup, and swung up in a single motion.

Comfortable.

The black-gray saddle was high-quality; a pleasant cushion supported his lower body while the seat held his waist straight.

Kuet! Kuu!

Emergency Food bounced lightly as if to prove the weight was nothing.

Seated in the saddle, Hwanin chuckled at the motion and scratched the green head that peeked from behind the Valkyrie helm.

“All right, all right. I understand—stop that.”

Kuhung~.

“Back to the Olts Hotel.”

Kuet.

With a short reply, Emergency Food trotted lightly off the sidewalk and, following the flow of carriages, found the road back to the hotel.

Understanding speech and finding the way are two different skills. Is Emergency Food not an ordinary green Kue after all?

Hwanin watched in silence as the bird navigated without guidance. Upon arriving at the Olts Hotel he praised it and scratched its neck.

“Emergency Food. Can you fly while carrying me like this?”

Kue? Kuu.

It flapped its wings a few times, then shook its head: carrying a rider was still impossible.

It will need to reach full adulthood before it can fly with a passenger.

Dismounting, Hwanin told it to fly back to the room. Without hesitation Emergency Food beat its wings and slipped through the window he had left open earlier.

“Huh? A Kue just flew off.”

“I told you to cut back on the booze—now you’re seeing things in broad daylight. Snap out of it!”

“No, it really took off. Look over there… wait, it’s gone?”

“Haaah, seriously.”

Passing the squabbling squirrel-headed and chipmunk-headed men, Hwanin entered the lobby and immediately met the manager’s eyes.

“….”

A pleading look. The same expression the man had worn earlier when Hwanin had crossed the lobby with Emergency Food.

Hwanin ignored the gaze and returned to the room, where he found Emergency Food in the middle of the living room, removing its own gear. The chest protector and saddle already lay on the floor; it was now working its beak at the leg guards.

“Wait. If you yank with your beak you’ll tear them and ruin them.”

Kuu.

When Hwanin removed the Valkyrie helm, Emergency Food shook its head vigorously. Once the leg guards were off it lifted and lowered its legs as though relieved, then settled onto the window-side chair—Hwanin’s usual seat—beside him.

Even at a glance it looked a little tired from carrying him, yet Hwanin said nothing. Its legs were not trembling from exhaustion; the effort would serve as ordinary strength training.

After neatly stacking the equipment, Hwanin sat in the window chair, stroked the head resting on the armrest, and opened the envelope Ielkata had left.

Ting—

“……?”

When he unsealed the invitation-like envelope, a tiny shooting star bounced free and vanished.

Some kind of sealing wax, perhaps.

Drawing out the letter paper, a fragrant floral scent brushed his nose. Emergency Food, catching the aroma, opened its eyes and regarded the pages with curiosity.

“…….”

The contents overflowed with feminine sensibility. Summarized, the two B4-sized sheets read as follows:

Hwanin folded the letter, returned it to its envelope, and turned his gaze to the window.

Thanks to me, she says.

He too had found the timing of her awakening remarkably coincidental, yet no amount of pondering would yield the truth, so he simply erased the matter from his mind.

Had there been any concrete evidence that he had contributed to Ielkata’s awakening, he would have accepted her thanks and extracted a suitable benefit. There was none. In such a case, stepping back as though he had done nothing at all was the surest way to earn goodwill.

The latter part of the letter stated that she would take responsibility for the matter of Helmar Bere, but Hwanin had never cared so much as a single gram about it; the line left him with no particular thought.

Just “I see.”

“I’m back. I ran into Brillit on the way and brought her along, Master.”

At the sound of Isilite’s voice as she opened the door, Hwanin slipped the letter into his coat and rose from his seat.