Were You the Hero?
Evan let out a long sigh. "Haa... Understood." He pulled back his hood. The moment his spell-altered orange bob and green eyes were revealed, the inspector stared fixedly at his hair without saying a word.
"Something strange about it?" Evan asked. Only then did the inspector flinch like a man snapping out of a daydream. His attitude softened considerably as he spoke.
"...Your name?"
"Nathaniel."
Since he had no talent for inventing plausible aliases on the spot, he simply masculinized Natalia's name and offered it.
"That's not a name one hears often in a place like this."
"Do I need to explain exactly how I ended up rolling into a shithole like this?"
"No. That won't be necessary."
The inspector gently lowered the spear he had been gripping. At the very least, it meant he had given up any ideas of fighting or torturing information out of him here.
"Everyone has their own circumstances. You seemed to be looking for something to buy, so go ahead."
With those words, he stepped slightly aside. Evan briefly considered claiming he had no business here and simply turning around, but the inspector's continued sharp gaze made him reconsider. Any suspicious move might restart the interrogation that had just paused.
"Shopkeeper."
"Oh, y-yes! What are you looking for?"
The merchant, having already pegged Evan as someone of higher status after watching him speak so casually with an imperial inspector, addressed him with far greater politeness.
"Got any needles?"
"Needles... you mean a rapier? That sort of weapon isn't very effective against the undead..."
"Not a weapon. A blood-drawing needle."
"Why would you be looking for something that's not a weapon in a place like..."
Evan's face twisted into a scowl. "You got one or not?"
"Uh, no, I don't."
"Then just say that. No need to run your mouth."
He hadn't expected much anyway. Time to head back. If he went straight toward Abaddon it would look suspicious, so he'd take the long way around...
"Why are you looking for a blood-drawing needle?"
The inspector cut in. Evan answered in a slightly rebellious tone.
"...It's personal. Does an inspector need to know about that too?"
The inspector merely shrugged. "As an inspector, no. But as a person, I'm curious."
"Then I'm afraid I don't feel like telling you."
"Coming all the way out here to find a needle... It must be urgent."
"It's none of your concern. Whatever you're investigating, I hope you get good results."
Evan ended the conversation cleanly and was about to step out of the tent. No matter what the man said, he planned to ignore it, slip into the crowd, and lose him.
"Shall I give you one?"
The next words, however, were impossible to ignore.
When Evan turned, the man was actually pulling a syringe filled with clear liquid from inside his robe and shaking it.
"It's filled with painkillers right now, but if you empty it out and clean it properly, there won't be any problem using it."
Why would an inspector be carrying painkillers...? Evan wondered, but then noticed something as the man's fluttering robe briefly revealed its interior: the right sleeve was conspicuously loose.
A one-armed spearman...?
The fact that an inspector was moving around alone without any guards meant that even with only one arm, he possessed at least knight-level strength. Yet Evan had never heard any rumors about a knight with such characteristics.
Was he demoted after losing an arm in a recent accident or battle? That would explain why Evan didn't know him, but it raised another question.
Not only would it be difficult to wield a spear of that length properly with one hand, but if his style focused on thrusting, wouldn't switching to a shorter spear make more sense?
When Evan failed to answer immediately and instead stared at the inside of his robe, the inspector spoke as if impressed.
"Good eye. You noticed?"
Evan realized his mistake but answered calmly. "If I didn't have good eyes, I would've touched the wrong person and died a long time ago. Or starved to death."
At the remark that clearly alluded to the pickpocketing common in these parts, the inspector gave a small nod of agreement. His attitude seemed closer to a genuine assessment of Evan's abilities than actual suspicion.
"So, do you need it or not?"
The inspector shook the syringe lightly from side to side again, as if showing it off. Honestly, he did need it. But he couldn't accept it so readily when he had no idea what an imperial inspector could possibly want from him.
"What exactly do you want from me?"
"Nothing too difficult. I'm looking for something personally. With eyes like yours, you'd probably be quite helpful."
Am I what he's looking for? Evan ran the calculations in his head. Could he snatch the syringe from that man without damaging it? How would the Empire respond? What were the risks of ignoring this offer and leaving? What were the benefits of accepting?
"...If you give me the needle first, I'll cooperate with you as much as I can."
"Thorough."
"Only natural for someone trying to survive in a place like this."
"You've lived around here quite a while, then?"
"When I was a snot-nosed kid, I lived among the beggars on the edge of the market, surviving on scraps."
It wasn't a lie. The inspector spun the syringe skillfully in one hand like a pen before neatly pocketing it again.
Rejected? Evan was thinking it was unfortunate but unavoidable when a pouch landed at his feet. The string came undone from the impact, and coins spilled across the floor with a metallic clatter.
"Hup!"
The tent owner covered his mouth, barely stifling a scream. It was understandable. The coins scattered on the ground weren't silver—they were all gold, gleaming yellow. There looked to be more than twenty of them.
"What does this mean?"
"You can keep it just for following me. And even if you can't answer my questions, I'll still give you the needle when we part ways."
"...Wouldn't it make more sense to give the needle first and the gold as a success fee?"
"I had a feeling that wouldn't work with you."
Sharp bastard. The moment he received the needle, Evan had planned to cast his spell and bolt without looking back. These gold coins weren't a big deal anyway—he could just grab any random treasure from the mansion basement and sell it.
"If you think the gold has that much value, wouldn't this be even better for you?"
"I've learned from experience that jobs with ridiculously good pay always have something rotten behind them."
"Is that so?"
The inspector slowly lowered his hood. He looked a little too old to call a young man, yet too young to call middle-aged. A man with shaggy dark green hair and patchy stubble that spoke of poor self-care.
But the moment the merchant saw the inspector's face, he foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
"Huu... ugh..."
Thud.
Evan kept his expression neutral, but cold sweat ran down his back.
"I swear on my name and this spear—there will be no retaliation or deception."
The Hero of the Holy Spear, Locke. His face was covered in far more scars than before, and the pressures of war seemed to have aged him faster than the years should have allowed, but he was still recognizable.
The Empire's gone insane. Sending the hero as an inspector?
"You look surprised."
"I think it'd be stranger not to be."
"Fair enough."
In truth, what shocked Evan most wasn't that the hero was standing here, nor even how much older he looked than in the past.
Those eyes... like a fish tossed into the desert. This man didn't seem to have much desire to keep living.
He wasn't like this before. Evan remembered him as someone overflowing with vitality. Perhaps the long years of war had changed him. Or maybe after losing his arm and seeing his skills deteriorate, he'd grown disillusioned with life.
"Will you do it?"
"I'd be an idiot to refuse."
Evan slowly gathered the spilled gold coins, returned them to the pouch, and picked it up.
"I don't know what a great hero like yourself is investigating in a place like this, but I'll help as much as I can."
Not that it's any of my business. If one of the Empire's most dangerous weapons chose to disappear on its own, it would be a boon for Evan. A new hero would eventually appear, but until then the Empire would remain relatively quiet.
...Still, I'd like to take the Holy Spear. But the Holy Kingdom, already wary because of the Saintess, would undoubtedly mobilize fully if their relic was stolen. Even excluding the two relics they'd lent to the Empire, three holy relics remained in the Holy Kingdom. If they brought all of them to bear, not even Evan could stand against that.
A shame, but I'll have to settle for it being a pipe dream. He would soon obtain one holy relic legitimately anyway. There was no point in being greedy and ruining everything.
"So what exactly is the hero investigating? Does it have to do with the Black Sun from two days ago?"
"You know about that?"
"Only what I've heard. I wasn't here at the time."
If I lay this much groundwork, he shouldn't get suspicious even if my answers are a bit clumsy later. Still, giving him absolutely no information might make him regret handing over the needle, so Evan added, "Ah, but according to the rumors, there weren't just merchants and customers present. There were also people carrying swords. Since sword users are rare near Abaddon's border, maybe you should look into that?"
"I see. That would be more helpful than grabbing random people and asking questions."
Despite his words, Locke's reaction was surprisingly indifferent.
"But what I wanted to ask about is something else. Since you said you've lived here a long time, this is information you might know."
...Aren't you supposed to be the inspector? Evan thought to himself while carefully keeping his expression neutral. "What is it?"
The man pointed at Evan's hair. "I'm looking for someone with hair similar to that... No, almost exactly that color."
"Black— I mean, orange hair?"
Evan hurriedly corrected himself, remembering he was currently disguised by magic.
"Around thirty years old. A woman."
The conditions were somewhat broad, but if he took the time, finding her shouldn't be impossible. This wasn't an imperial city, and even if you gathered every person in this border region, the population wouldn't even reach a tenth of the imperial capital's.
"A few people come to mind, but do you have any more details?"
Evan planned to listen to the full description, track her down using his spells, quickly take the needle, and leave.
"She probably used an alias. Highly educated."
"Noble birth?"
When Locke nodded, Evan cheered inwardly. It was unfortunate he didn't have a name, but with this much information he could track her with his magic.
Orange hair, woman around thirty, noble origin...... Huh?
...No way. Even so, what were the chances of such a coincidence...?
"And the most important part..."
Locke gripped the Holy Spear tightly, his voice trembling as though he were swallowing down his emotions.
"She died recently."
"......"
"I want to find her grave. Or her body."
...Natalia. So the man who was your husband was...
"Do you know anything?"
So you were the hero?