The Ranch Owner's Story
Safel Dulla region is home to countless ranches. But I didn't need to agonize long over which one to visit.
"This the one?"
"Ah, yes, that's her."
"Mind if I touch her?"
I waited for the reply, then reached out lightly to stroke the horse's mane. Coarse brown fur, dotted here and there with stark white patches like ink spots. Alrome. Named after some ancient prime minister from way back. But to me, that name hardly mattered. What did matter was that this was the star of yesterday's insane upset—the lucky number six.
"She seems pretty friendly with people."
"She's not usually this docile... Must be that she recognizes greatness, right?"
I tuned out the ranch owner's eager flattery. When the owner herself comes out to greet you barefoot and fawning like this, the intent is obvious. Not that I could deny I warranted the treatment... much as I hated to admit it. After all, military contracts were a ranch's biggest revenue source. She wanted to cozy up to an officer—even if I had no real pull in this area, I could still drop a good word with my contacts. Of course, it'd be pointless, but still.
If she really wanted to impress me, she should've grabbed a whip and cracked it over the horse's back instead of this blatant bootlicking.
"Ooh... I sense something ominous. Like she's about to take first at the big tournament."
"Isn't that just your imagination...? If you really felt that, you'd have bet on number six instead of three... guh?!"
"Beni, let me teach you a valuable lesson. Sometimes, the truth hurts!"
"Gehk... kgh...! Grrk!"
"Hm! How's that wound from the truth feel?"
And on my other side, two students who'd been chattering away suddenly devolved into chaos. Damn. I knew all too well how a good headlock from a tomboy princess felt.
I shot Riley an envious jab with my elbow, channeling my own grudges.
"Koff... ughhh...."
Riley immediately released Beni. Not because I'd forced it with aura—just her own reaction. She'd learned from experience that fighting back changed nothing.
"Oh, right. Almost forgot."
Riley changed the subject, either to dodge my nagging or because it'd genuinely just occurred to her.
"I wanna see that one too."
"What one?"
"The number four horse. She's here too, right?"
"Ah."
I nodded at her response. I wasn't an expert on racehorses, but if academy kids were buzzing about a sure bet, it had to be something special. Yesterday's odds had made her the top favorite, after all—even if Riley dismissed the crowd's judgment and bet elsewhere, which turned out smart.
"You mean yesterday's number four, Inge?"
The ranch owner, who'd been listening in, chimed in cautiously.
"Yeah, I think that was the name... The one Berele rode."
"Ah, yes, that's Inge."
"Seems one of our students is interested. Any chance we could see her?"
"Well... that's tricky."
She looked genuinely troubled. Of course horses like these were pricey—worth more than a handful of humans, especially a top racer. Inge was probably the most valuable horse in the Empire right now. Couldn't just show her to anyone.
"Can't do it? Even just a peek would suffice."
But she wouldn't see us as 'anyone.' She'd let us tour without conditions and even pet this horse. Sure, Alrome was the upset underdog, but she'd raced in the same field as that superstar—talent was there, just second-best among the elites.
Allowing hands on one prize horse but denying a glimpse of another? That raised eyebrows.
"Truth is, she's been in rough shape since yesterday's race."
"...I see."
Number four had bolted wildly right after the gate, bucking off her jockey. Top contender pulling that stunt? Chaos everywhere. Some soldiers even speculated it tied into the attempted murder—some loser who'd lost big nursing a grudge and attacked the jockey.
"She's got a persistent fever, collapses, then wakes up thrashing. Rinse and repeat..."
The ranch owner's face darkened. No wonder. Even a stone-cold operator would worry if their star attraction was on death's door.
"Holy magic...? Sorry, never mind. You've surely tried that already."
I swallowed the obvious question. Anyone would think of it in seconds—even me, a non-expert. They'd mobilized priests and mages for sure. If the owner hadn't, she should've quit ranching and gone for a desk job.
"We've tried everything... Nothing works."
"You try beer fruit? We feed that to horses with fevers back home."
"...Does that actually reduce fever?"
Riley jumped in, and the owner stared wide-eyed. Unheard-of remedy, but desperation made her latch onto the barbarian's words.
"Honestly? It usually doesn't do jack for fevers! It's for parasite pains. But she's dying anyway, right? Nothing else works."
Worth a shot! Riley grinned.
"Hold on. Just a sec, Riley."
I raised a hand to cut her off.
"'Parasite pains'—you mean tampmaster infections?"
"Yup!"
"Even tampmasters cause fevers?"
"Most horses handle 'em fine, but some don't. They go berserk, charge owners, bite—total agony."
Then wear themselves out and die alone, she added. A chilling thought flashed through my mind. I glanced at the owner; her face had paled too. Same suspicion.
"Let's check."
"L-Lieutenant Konstantia...?"
"Not gutting her on the spot. Too valuable to kill without proof. Feed her the beer fruit first."
And if the fever breaks... then we carve. The owner nodded stiffly at my explanation.
Only then were we led to Inge's stable. We fed her the standard-issue beer fruit every Imperial household stocks—about thirty minutes later...
The fever tormenting the racehorse vanished. She slept soundly, face serene.
"......"
I took a knife from the owner and plunged it into the horse.
Poor rabbit girl must've felt so wronged getting attacked.
It wasn't the jockey—it was the horse at 100% fault.
...Watching the wriggling tentacles by Inge's guts, I could only sigh.
× Someone had infested the racehorse with a tampmaster. Unauthorized ooze use, match-fixing, probable property damage. Motive unclear, but the charges alone started at battery—at minimum.
How the hell do you even manage your horses...?
...I kept that to myself. No need; the owner's face was ashen already. She'd cared more for her racers than anyone. Prize assets like these demanded ruthless oversight. She was the victim here, her treasure ruined.
No point blaming her negligence.
"Thank you, Miss Riley. You stopped it from escalating."
"Uh... y-yeah? Really?"
"Why the surprise?"
"Thought you'd suspect me of secretly planting it—old habits and all..."
Riley mumbled with an awkward smile. I sighed involuntarily.
What does she even think I am?
"No suspicions. No opportunity, and you're no poker-faced liar."
"Th-that... a compliment?"
"In this context? Sure."
I teased lightly, then turned back to the owner.
"You wouldn't let outsiders near the horses unchecked. Right?"
"Ah... y-yes. No way we'd allow sabotage. Especially not Inge, our prize..."
"High chance it's an inside job, then."
"......"
Her expression darkened further—not offense at suspecting her or her staff, but pure 'who the fuck did this, I'll kill 'em' fury.
"Anyone suspicious? New hires?"
"One rookie, just over a week on the job."
"Convenient timing... Mind calling him? I'll notify the Safel Dulla garrison too."
"...He didn't show today. No call, no notice."
Loud absence. Like screaming I'm the culprit, figure it out. Owner had already convicted him mentally. I was leaning that way too—prime suspect right now.
"W-well... doesn't mean he fled after causing trouble... right...?"
A trembling voice piped up. Beni, naturally.
"Miss Beni? What do you mean?"
"He's... dead. Maybe couldn't come."
Dead? I furrowed my brow at her.
"......Ah."
Then it hit me. Oh. Right.
"The one who attacked Berele and got killed instead."
"Ah, I read about that in the papers."
"Guards said during questioning, his head was smashed beyond ID. That was last night—might be updates now, but..."
Not impossible the dead guy was the rookie. Separate from the tampmaster mess, he'd bolted anyway. Or maybe unrelated reasons for no-showing.
"Round up who you can for now? Lend me a phone; I'll report."
"Yes, but... Heria! Escort these folks to my office!"
Not strictly necessary, but gathering suspects would help the guards...
I headed to her office, reported to Safel Dulla garrison—
"...What do you mean?"
What? Why me? Some connection to the ranch...?
"Ah."
...Right. I'd given her that heel drop.
In the end, we left the ranch staff's full investigation to the garrison and headed back to Safel Dulla city proper.