Katon Village
Kantwi strode up to Hwanin the moment he returned Isilite’s greatsword and slid down from Emergency Food’s back, clapping with genuine enthusiasm.
“Magnificent! To step between two fighters locked in such a vicious bout and calm them both in an instant—truly superb martial skill!”
“You flatter me,” Hwanin replied with a warm smile, gently stroking Emergency Food as the bird nuzzled against his shoulder. “Still, as a guest I find myself forced to make a rather improper request.”
“If it is not too much trouble, I would like a room on the ground floor—somewhere Emergency Food can come and go freely. Even a storeroom or shed would be fine. Might I impose upon you for that?”
“A storeroom or shed? Nonsense! Absolutely not! As it happens, a small annex is empty. You shall have that. Oh, Lucia! Come here a moment!”
Spotting a maidservant passing nearby, Kantwi called her over and ordered the head housekeeper to clean the rear annex at once.
“Tell them to set every other task aside and clean the annex first. Spotlessly, understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“And have their luggage carried to the little annex as well. I leave it to you.”
“Of course, Master. Leave it to me.”
Kantwi issued several more instructions with Emergency Food’s comfort in mind, then invited Hwanin into the main house with even greater courtesy than before.
“Come, come—you must all be weary from the long road. Everyone, please join us. Hahaha.”
A dejected Isilite, a complicated-looking Luararda, and an unreadable Asen followed in his wake.
Kantwi’s hobby was inviting well-traveled guests into his home and listening to their tales. Luararda, who had indeed wandered countless lands, had already been staying for two months; the other three had been there four weeks and three weeks respectively. All four aimed to reach Parhist in time for the Winner’s Advancement Tournament roughly forty days hence.
In the tea room furnished for floor seating, Hwanin listened to the others’ stories before opening his own mouth in a calm, even voice when his turn came.
“Compared to the four of you, my travels have been rather short. I fear I will not be able to offer anything particularly satisfying.”
In truth, the accounts of the In-eon tribesman Munder, Luararda, and Asen had all sparked the imagination. Luararda spoke of discovering a ray that swam through the clouds and riding its back across the world. Munder continued the previous session’s tale of exploring a vast underground city with his In-ung companion Storey. Asen described her journey through a village of the furry little people called the Mohr in the northwest.
Hwanin’s own experiences, by contrast, amounted to little more than fighting, traveling, pacifying souls, and sharing beds with women.
Luararda crossed his arms, smoothed his collar, and chuckled at Hwanin’s sincere modesty.
“No need to overthink it, is there? Even a peaceful journey has its own satisfying charms.”
“Is that so.”
“Let us begin with Lord Hwanin’s tale, then. Your destination is Parhist as well, I take it?”
“Parhist is merely a waypoint. My true destination is the capital of the Racial Alliance.”
“Oh? So you mean to pass through without even joining the Grand Festival?”
“Of course not. A traveler can hardly ignore an event like that. I am interested in both the tournament and Parhist’s labyrinth, so I expect I will linger for some time.”
Kantwi, sipping tea with a look of pure contentment, curved his eyes into crescent moons.
“In that case, stay here a while and recover from the road. Right now Parhist must be bursting at the seams with people pouring in from every corner of Radsea.”
“Just as Lord Kantwi says. If you wish to sightsee at your leisure, you ought to have arrived at least three months early. At this point every inn, hotel, and even private lodging will be packed solid.”
Hwanin allowed a faintly troubled expression to surface. There was no labyrinth nearby, and he could not simply spend forty days in Katon Village. The only things to do in a place like this would be sending Isilite to some leather workshop to learn tanning—or bothering the women.
“Well,” Asen murmured in a voice laced with unexpected allure, “there may well be wealthy hosts in Parhist who welcome travelers the way Lord Kantwi does. Someone with an atmosphere as distinctive as yours, Mr. Hwanin, should have little trouble finding temporary patronage.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Come to think of it, I am most curious how Lord Hwanin came by a green Kue. Unpacking that story alone would be more than satisfying.”
“Is that so.”
“What an amusing name—Emergency Food… Heh.”
“Indeed! Surely you are not carting a green Kue around intending to eat it. How it earned the name Emergency Food is something I would love to hear. Wouldn’t you all?”
At Kantwi’s words every gaze in the tea room turned toward the open wall, where Emergency Food strutted about the small garden as though it owned the place, with Isilite trailing after him.
“In that case… I suppose I should begin with how he received the name Emergency Food. I have little confidence in my storytelling, so it may prove dull, but I shall start.”
He had laid down a smoke screen of modesty, yet Hwanin’s delivery—grounded in objective fact and seasoned with just enough scenery—proved more than skilled enough.
“What? You did not even realize it was a green Kue?”
“The green bird struck by the paralysis orb looked only about this big… just a somewhat unusual bird, that was all.”
At the time he had possessed nothing, and he had never seen a green Kue hatchling before, so he truly had intended to keep it as emergency rations. Soft laughter rippled through the room.
What followed—the escape from the forest-type labyrinth—held such grip that even the previously unresponsive In-ung tribesman fixed his eyes on Hwanin. A lake as wide as the sea. The colossal horned-scale whale that lived there, countless aberrant species, a seagull the size of a house, and the blue-flame tiger.
“I read its will that I should leave. I had no other choice. When I came to my senses I was already crossing the river that had been the Progroc’s territory and escaping the jungle. Fortunately the path I chose was not wrong; I not only left the labyrinth but managed to put a little distance between us.”
Even so, the beasts that had spilled beyond the labyrinth kept danger thick in the air.
When the tale reached its pause, the listeners who had forgotten even to breathe let out sighs of pure admiration. Asen, whose interest in every species—human, animal, beast, or aberrant—bordered on scholarly obsession, was especially moved.
“A gigantic tiger wreathed head to tail in blue flame… I have never even heard of such a creature. That level of intellect combined with the absence of blind violence can only mean a sacred beast—and a sacred beast of a forest-type labyrinth at that…! Ah…”
She gave a small shiver, as though the mere thought excited her.
“Hmm. Open-type labyrinths are said to produce variants and subspecies more readily than ordinary ones. A sixth-grade forest type would almost certainly have built its own independent ecosystem. The appearance of something like a blue-flame tiger would hardly be strange.”
Munder’s analysis drew an eager nod from Asen, who fixed Hwanin with heated eyes.
“Exactly. Emotionally I want to visit that labyrinth this very moment… Ah, what an enviable experience you have had.”
At the time it had been a life-or-death struggle, yet to them it was merely enviable. Asen’s aura of envy flowed quiet and steady as a river—the mark of a hunter-class profession. Hwanin wondered whether she possessed some specialized exploration skill that let her avoid monsters altogether.
This is a world of souls and magic. It would be stranger if such things did not exist.
A small smile touched Hwanin’s lips as he gave the others a moment to catch their breath, then continued with the journey that had brought him to Twin Peaks. Written as a novel, the whole account would easily have filled twenty-five episodes.
When he broke off at the point where Emergency Food discovered the cave midway up the cliff face of Twin Peaks, Asen murmured with a lingering gaze.
“A cave right in the middle of a cliff… traces of someone’s handiwork, perhaps?”
“We cannot rule out a geological shift of some kind either. When you fly, you often see cliffs sliced as cleanly as cake, and occasionally you spot caves much like the one Lord Hwanin found.”
Kantwi’s eyes sparkled as he urged the story onward.
“So what happened next? What was inside that cave?”
But Hwanin only smiled faintly. As though cutting the thread of the tale, a crisp knock sounded at the door.
[Master, dinner is ready.]
At the steward’s voice beyond the door, Kantwi glanced outside and started in surprise. Dusk had already begun to settle over the grounds. Only then did his eyes register Hwanin’s attire—sturdy dark-gray leather and a hooded cloak that clearly marked him as a traveler.
“Good heavens!”
Kantwi’s face flushed with sudden embarrassment. He had seated a guest and then indulged only his own greed. There was no uglier display.
While Hwanin spent time with the others in the tea room, Isilite stood in the small garden watching Emergency Food bustle about. She was curious about the stories from before she had met her master, but the matter of Emergency Food took priority.
Kueht.
Feeling the weight of Isilite’s unwavering stare, Emergency Food flared his tail feathers and glared back as if to say, Want to go another round?
Isilite simply let the provocation slide and asked in a serious tone,
“Emergency Food… you’re no ordinary Kue, are you?”
…Kue?
Kues were said to grow more intelligent and physically capable in the order of straw-colored, brown, orange, gray, and black. Even so, “intelligent” did not mean human-level intellect; a gray Kue’s mind was roughly that of a seven-year-old child. Red and green Kues were so rare that intelligence tests had never been conducted, though zoologists guessed they might reach about the level of a ten-year-old.
Recalling the advanced social-knowledge entry on Kues she had studied at the Technical Institute, Isilite pressed on.
“You understand not only Master’s words but mine as well. The way your fighting skill improves every time you spar with him, the way you only flinch a little even when my greatsword hits you—none of that is ordinary.”
The distinction between ordinary and extraordinary meant nothing to Emergency Food. What mattered were friends, delicious food, and the freedom to fly as much as he pleased.
Kuu.
Deciding this was not a challenge to fight, he lowered his tail feathers and tilted his head as if to ask, So?
“If you can understand me, nod. Up and down.”
Nod-nod.
Just as I thought! Isilite crowed inwardly.
“When did you start understanding human speech?”
Kueht.
Dunno.
Emergency Food’s ability to comprehend human language was entirely thanks to Hwanin. While Hwanin practiced writing and reading aloud to master the tongue, the bird watching beside him had simply absorbed it by ear.
“Ah. You can’t speak, can you. Hmm… then how should I…”
At the sight of Emergency Food blinking with a soft Ku?, Isilite scratched her head.
“…Ah, whatever. Understanding speech isn’t a bad thing. Anyway!”
Clap!
Startled by the sudden sound, Emergency Food puffed up and jabbed his beak repeatedly against Isilite’s cheek.
“Ah—sorry. I won’t scare you again. Look, I have something important to tell you. This matters to Master too.”
At the word “Master”—the term that meant friend—Emergency Food tilted his head once more.
Until now Isilite had tried several times to correct Emergency Food’s refusal to leave Hwanin’s side, always under the banner of “for Master’s sake.” But the bird was still a juvenile; his immature brain often followed instinct rather than higher thought. A few more years would change that dramatically, yet that was a matter for the future. The friction had already led to actual fights, and Isilite had decided a special approach was needed.
From their earlier bout she had sensed, with a woman’s delicate intuition, that Emergency Food was little more than a child. Instead of dry lectures she chose persuasion at his own level.
Scratching the places he liked and stroking his beak, she began a short, simple explanation tailored so he could grasp it easily.
“You don’t want to sleep alone in the stables, away from Master, right?”
Kuu.
“Yeah. I don’t want to separate you either. You’re precious.”
The way Isilite looked at Emergency Food was much like an ordinary office worker gazing at a multi-billion-won high-end sports car. He was absurdly valuable. The only reason she had not treated him as an indoor pet was that he was a living animal of considerable size; had he still been the size of a goose or turkey, she would have been the first to fuss over him. Even back in Etbrook Village it had been Isilite who prepared his meals and bedding.
“But think about it. Master is an incredibly, amazingly wonderful person. You can tell from the way Susana and Brillit and that man treat him, right?”
Kue~.
I don’t really get it, but yeah, my friend is amazing.
“Someone like Master deserves a life that matches him. What do you think would happen if Master carried Kurti around on his back, or slept in the same place Kurti sleeps?”
Kueht?!
“You remember the place we stayed in the last village? Master needs at least that much. That’s how wonderful he is. But if you keep insisting on sticking to him…”
Then he would not be able to. Master would end up sleeping on the bare ground, people would look down on him, they would fail to recognize his excellence and treat him carelessly. If that kept happening, Master’s honor would fall into the dirt and the three of them would be forced apart forever.
It was a chain of wild exaggerations, yet the logic somehow held, and because of that Emergency Food understood perfectly. If he kept forcing himself to stay glued to his friend, his friend would be in trouble.
Kuu……
But I still don’t want to sleep alone in a place that small and dirty…
Seeing him droop so far he looked ready to cry, Isilite felt a twinge of conscience. Ordinary Kues reached adulthood in two or three years; piecing together Master’s remarks, Emergency Food was probably only about a year old—still a baby bird. To threaten a child like that…
She stroked his beak and neck with renewed vigor.
“Of course I’m not going to make you sleep in the stables. Master already said not to force you into things you hate. So I’ll work hard to keep you from having to stay in the stables—so you can stay near Master. In return, I want you to follow my lead when it comes to sleeping arrangements from now on.”
Kue……?
Though no words formed, Isilite felt as if he were asking, Really…? and nodded with firm conviction.
“In the worst case I’ll sleep outside with you. Okay?”
Emergency Food liked his friend best, but he also rather liked Isilite, who always brought tasty things. There had been a stretch when she suddenly vanished (admitted to the maid-training institute), which had puzzled him, yet ever since her return she had taken especially good care of him. If his friend begged earnestly enough, he was even willing to let Isilite ride on his back once in a while.
……Kueht!
Okay!
“Good.”
Thanks to Isilite’s efforts the negotiation reached a dramatic settlement, and the relationship between her and Emergency Food grew amicable once more. It was possible only because they shared the common ground of affection for Hwanin.