Lawrence
By the time he was old enough to think of himself as grown, Lawrence was wandering through Hilton Village.
He no longer remembered when he had first started living there.
Cold and hunger were simply where everything had begun.
Hilton Village, ruled by Baron Jeffrey, was a quiet place with little to recommend it.
There was a small monastery run by the Holy Cross Order, an inn for the occasional traveler or peddler, and so little land that could be called farmland that most of the villagers had to go into the mountains for a living.
What brought in money were the mountain beasts and medicinal herbs—especially Orel.
Among the villagers, those who could hunt Under Wolves were respected as the people who kept the village’s finances afloat.
That was why peddlers bothered to visit such a shabby little place in the first place.
Every scrap taken from an Under Wolf could be sold for money.
Its magic stones, in particular, were so valuable that they were enough to set a village abuzz with excitement.
Of course, that had nothing to do with a boy who survived by prowling alleyways.
That day was no different.
While Lawrence was searching for something to eat, someone spoke to him.
“You alone?”
It was a pink-haired boy Lawrence had never seen around here before.
“Want to come with us? We can get a lot of much tastier food than this.”
“Tastier food?”
“What do you say? Interested?”
Lawrence asked in return.
As if to show him, the boy pointed behind him.
There, Lawrence saw children who looked unfamiliar and yet not unfamiliar at all.
Like the boy, they were all orphans who drifted from alley to alley.
Children who normally spent their time fighting over territory were now gathered in one place.
“So we really can eat until we’re full?”
“Yeah. If we all pull together.”
There was no reason to refuse if there was food to be had.
The pink-haired boy gathered the others and divided up the work.
Three children would draw the peddler’s attention.
Two would steal the goods while the peddler was distracted.
And one would keep watch in case something went wrong.
That day, for the first time, Lawrence ate oat bread.
“It’s good. Really good.”
“There’s still more. Is it really okay to eat all of this?”
“I think we should save some. Today went well, but that doesn’t mean tomorrow will too.”
It was only natural that the pink-haired boy, who had led and planned everything, became the leader of the children.
Fortunately, peddlers came through the village regularly.
Things did not always go smoothly.
Still, time made people accustomed to things.
The six children soon became skilled at stealing.
But hunger was not the only thing that threatened their survival.
That brutally cold winter, we lost Skinny John to a fever.
“John... sob...”
“Please don’t die. Why are you leaving so soon?”
“Don’t cry, idiots.”
“Ugh. Aren’t you sad, Leader?”
“When a friend dies, the least we can do is send him off with a smile. That way, he can leave in peace.”
It was the first friend Lawrence had ever lost.
It would be a lie to say he had not been deeply shocked.
They bickered and fought all the time, but more than that, he thought of them as family—family who survived together in that hellish alley.
“What does it matter? John’s dead anyway.”
“We remember him. We’re still alive to remember John! That means John lives on in our hearts.”
“In our hearts...? Then if I die, will you remember me too?”
“Not just me. We’ll all remember you!”
Following the Leader’s words, John was buried on the back hill.
They raised a cross in keeping with the teachings of the Holy Cross Order and would visit the grave from time to time with the other children to see whether it was still intact.
“Looks like we can’t keep stealing forever.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s got their eyes on us now.”
“Can’t be helped. We’re older now, so let’s look for someplace that’ll take us in.”
The Leader had always been different.
Unlike an orphan raised in alleyways, he knew more and thought differently.
Because he was that kind of boy.
We all wanted to be like the Leader.
“Do you think we can?”
“We can. That’s how we become adults.”
“I wonder if I’ll still be alive by then.”
“Why would you say that? If we’re together, we can do anything.”
In the Leader’s tomorrow, there were always all of them.
Hope—something they had never been allowed to want, or even think of—began to take root in Lawrence’s heart.
Life was no longer just about surviving one day at a time.
Little by little, they began to picture a future, and what it might be for.
Time was a cruel thing indeed.
The graves on the back hill steadily multiplied.
And among the collapsed rubble, empty spaces kept appearing.
Five became four. Four became three.
Again and again, the moment of parting came, and it could never be made familiar.
“Lawrence.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s just the two of us now.”
“Yeah. Just you and me left, the last one to join the group and the Leader.”
By then, there were only four graves on the back hill.
Of the six children who had once gathered there, only the Leader and Lawrence remained.
“You won’t die, will you, Lawrence?”
“Who knows. Everyone else is gone. I don’t know if I can survive either.”
Just as I remember the other kids,
if I die too, the Leader will remember me.
Thinking that way made death seem a little less frightening.
“Say you won’t die!”
But the Leader was different.
It was the only time Lawrence had ever seen him cry so bitterly.
“I-I’ll try. I don’t want to die either.”
And after that, the Leader changed.
It was around then that he taught Lawrence a little bit of reading and writing.
The reason it was only a little was simple.
Soon after that, Lawrence caught the plague too.
His memories from that time were blurred.
His body burned with fever, and his mind drifted in and out of awareness.
One strange thing, though, was that he had dreamed.
It was a fantastical landscape that did not seem like this world at all.
In that dream, Lawrence played with countless fairies.
Strange scenery he had never seen before.
Endless fairy friends who played with him.
「■■■■ ■■.」
In the dream, the fairies seemed to call the boy something.
Now, all he had left of it was the vague memory of a midsummer night’s dream.
When the dream ended, the Leader was not at Lawrence’s side.
What waited for him after he miraculously survived the illness was only a message the Leader had apparently left behind.
“Come back alive. Let’s meet again, Lawrence.”
...You know, Leader.
If you’re still alive, there’s something I want to tell you.
It’s not that I want to ask who you really are.
We already knew you were hiding something.
But it never mattered.
You were the Leader, and that was enough for us.
So someday, I want to ask you this.
Am I someone you’d still want to see again?
Even if I’m not worthy of that.
When I meet you again someday, I want to stand tall and say it.
I...
* * *
Several months passed after that.
There were changes in Lawrence’s daily life in Hilton Village as well.
“Lawrence. An order.”
“Coming right up.”
The ramshackle old inn had become the boy’s new home and workplace.
It was an inn visited by many peddlers.
An employee who could read was a great help.
“Bring me mashed potatoes and some ale.”
“Just a moment, please.”
He got room and board, and even a small daily wage on top of that.
If it could be called a home at all, it was only the storage room attached to the stable, but compared to the pile of collapsed buildings where he had once lived, it was heaven.
By nature, work at the inn piled up even if one did nothing but breathe.
Even when it wasn’t winter, firewood always needed chopping.
Whether there were guests or not, the rooms had to be cleaned every single day.
No matter how many times the bedding and towels were washed, there was no end in sight.
In summer, the well and riverside water were pleasantly cool, but the laundry doubled, while in winter he had to battle a cold so deep it seemed to reach his bones after being forced to handle icy water.
Lawrence liked summer.
The cold that burrowed into his body stirred up unpleasant memories.
Time passed without mercy.
Just like that bitterly cold winter when John was taken from them.
That same season of parting was approaching again this year.
That night, perhaps because old memories had resurfaced, he had a strange dream.
In it, the boy played with the fairies he had once met.
Even the fairies were all different.
Some looked barely any different from people.
Others were bizarre things, half animal and half insect.
There was no need to be wary.
However different they looked, they were all friends.
Drawn in by the fairies’ innocent laughter, Lawrence laughed too.
「Want to play? You want to play? Then I’ll help!」
「You can do anything! You can become anything!」
「■■■■ ■■. So come play again!」
This was the world of dreams.
Anything was possible here.
Sometimes he ran across the grasslands with the fairies.
Sometimes he splashed about in a lake with them.
And that was not all.
The fairies freely wielded water and fire, wind and earth.
If the fairies could do it, there was no reason Lawrence could not.
After all, this was his dream and no one else’s.
The instant he reached out—
the boy woke from the dream and blinked blankly.
The afterglow of the dream still lingered, leaving him dazed.
As if he were still trying to grasp something, he reached up toward the ceiling.
What if something happened, just like in the dream?
But nothing happened.
Of course not.
This was reality. It wasn’t a dream.
He felt strangely embarrassed.
Even when he used to wander the alleyways, he had never confused reality with dreams.
Trying to hide his embarrassment, Lawrence burrowed deeper under the thin blanket.
So the boy failed to notice.
That in the darkness covering the storage room, a shadow was writhing like a serpent.
* * *
Even a local hill is still a mountain, and when the wind cut through him, Lawrence pulled his collar tighter.
He had spent the entire morning climbing to the middle of the mountain where the medicinal herbs grew wild.
Lunch was oat bread and water.
After managing to fill his stomach, he even found the strength to move again.
From the afternoon on, it was time to begin gathering herbs.
The herb’s name was Orel.
It was a green plant with many thornlike little leaves.
Just because something looked suitable did not mean it could be picked at random and taken home.
The difference between a medicinal herb and a poisonous one could be no more than a single leaf.
Plants he did not understand could threaten his life.
Orel was no exception. Its stems and leaves were boiled down and used as medicine, but its roots were poisonous, so collectors would only harvest the upper parts. It was a peculiar way of gathering it.
Before the sun set, he headed back down to the inn.
Even if the mountain belonged to humans in the morning and during the day, by evening and night it belonged to wild beasts and Under Wolves.
To linger any longer would not be courage, but recklessness.
There was no need to court danger for no reason.
Not if he didn’t want to be found as a corpse the next day.
For some reason, the place felt noisier than usual.
What was causing all the commotion?
After dropping off his herb bag in the storage room, Edrick called out to Lawrence.
“I put the Orel in the storage room.”
“Good work. Come on over here, Lawrence.”
From the kitchen, Lawrence could feel Greta’s gaze on him.
Sensing that something was off, he quickened his steps.
And soon he understood why.
There was a guest in the hall, dressed head to toe in white.
“Hurry and greet him. This is no less than the monastery’s butler, you know.”
There was no need for Edrick to make such a fuss.
However little the boy knew, he understood at a glance that this guest was someone extraordinary.
A cleric of the Holy Cross Order.
Someone one did not normally meet so easily.
He was someone who lived at the monastery on the hill above the village.
Someone the villagers revered and feared almost as much as Baron Jeffrey himself.
The reason was simple.
That terrible plague Lawrence had once suffered through had been cured by the priests of the Holy Cross Order.
The villagers all said the same thing.
It had been a miracle. A blessing from the goddess that saved them all.
But why would someone who performed miracles come looking for Lawrence?
“The Lawrence I mentioned is this boy.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Lawrence. I am Blackwell, a servant in the service of Goddess Belche.”
Without being told to, Lawrence dropped flat to the floor.
He did not want to tremble, but nerves had stolen even his voice.
“G-greetings, Butler Blackwell.”
He was so tense that it felt as if sweat was beading on his head too.
It was much the same as when he had once seen the baron from a distance.
“There’s no need to be so formal. I hear you can read and write?”
“Yes. A little, anyway.”
“That’s good. Lawrence, if you’re willing, would you come with me to the monastery?”
“To the monastery?”
Before he knew it, he looked up, forgetting even basic manners.
“We’re short-handed. I’d like to make use of your skill with reading and writing.”
He had been offered something he had never once imagined.
At present, he thought he was at least living like a human being.
But before he had met his friends, he had been nothing more than a very ordinary orphan.
Back then, the village had no room to breathe.
Poor, bleak Hilton Village.
Orphans were treated worse than trash.
He could not even remember how many times he had been beaten just for meeting someone’s eyes.
Violence without reason.
Even if a child died, no one cared.
If they were gone, the village was cleaner for it.
If they stayed, there was at least something to make use of.
Could someone like Lawrence really be allowed to live in a monastery?
He did not have to think long.
The butler’s calm, steady gaze gave the boy courage.
“I’ll go.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. Then when would you be able to leave?”
“If you need me to, I can prepare right away.”
Worried the chance might slip away, Lawrence answered immediately.
Opportunities like this did not come often.
It wasn’t as though he disliked his current life, but if one compared an errand boy who did nothing but handle menial work at an inn with work at a monastery respected throughout the village, the latter was clearly better.
“No need to rush. The goddess herself said that patience is also a virtue. I’ll send someone for you around noon tomorrow. Until then, please be ready to come to the monastery.”
Perhaps he had read the boy’s eagerness.
A kind smile appeared on his face.
“I’ll be ready to go at any time.”
“It’s good to have enthusiasm. Monastery life won’t be easy. Rest well today, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Blackwell left the inn behind.
Even so, the two of them could not bring themselves to lift their heads right away.
In the end, Lawrence was the first to straighten up.
“You’re really lucky, Lawrence.”
Edrick gave the boy’s head a rough rub.
“Good heavens, a kid who works at our inn getting taken into the order’s monastery... You don’t know what a huge honor that is.”
“That hurts, Edrick.”
“And don’t you dare make a fool of yourself over there.”
“I have no intention of getting kicked out.”
“That’s right, that’s what I like to hear. Darling! Tonight’s a farewell party! Let’s send Lawrence off to the monastery with a smile!”
An unexpected little party was held at the inn.
Dishes that had always only decorated customers’ tables were brought out one after another.
Even the prized ham and cheese were set before Lawrence.
And then there was the inn’s ale—the kind only brought out on a truly good day.
His vision kept blurring.
This was the first kindness he had received since losing his friends.
And kindness from adults, at that, had only ever come from these two.
Watching Edrick laugh with an arm slung around his shoulders, the boy made a vow.
No matter how many years passed, he would never forget this debt.
Perhaps because something good had happened?
That night, Lawrence saw the dream continue.
「Welcome. ■■■■ ■■.」
「Good to see you. You want to play again, don’t you? Great. Let’s have fun!」
Today, they went farther beyond the grasslands.
After crossing a pass where the sunlight had already begun to sink, he found a lake spread out before him.
Splaaash!
Water flew up in all directions.
What emerged from the lake was a mysterious fairy that looked half fish and half human.
「Ahaha! It’s cold!」
「Everyone’s soaked!」
The water fight did not end quickly.
But the lake was deep, and it was hard to play there with any real satisfaction.
What should he do?
If they were all going to play together, then the lake had to become an ally, not an obstacle.
「You need our help? Okay. Tell us what you want to do.」
「Everyone will help. That’s what everyone wants!」
The fairies read Lawrence’s intent.
This was the world of dreams, where anything was possible.
His imagination was expressed as a single thread of shadow.
The shadow stretched a long bridge across the lake.
A smooth bridge the lake-dwelling fairies could ride across too.
Even in the dream, an inexplicable pain shot through him.
The feeling of loss did not last long.
When he saw a fairy from the lake dancing its way up the bridge, Lawrence smiled in satisfaction.
And that sensation lasted all the way until the morning he woke from the dream.
The shadow that had moved exactly as he wished.
The headache that showed no sign of going away.
The pain, as if his heart were being pulled from inside his chest.
His hands shook uncontrollably.
Could he really dismiss all of that as nothing more than a dream?
No. He couldn’t.
No matter how little he knew, he understood that this was not normal.
Then suddenly, a certainty seized him.
Maybe he could do it now.
The darkness, or perhaps the shadow, draped thickly over the storage room.
There was no sunlight in the storage room, which had no windows, but eyes accustomed to darkness could still distinguish the places where shadows were thick from where they were thin.
He remembered the word he had spoken in the dream.
Facing the shadow, Lawrence said in a trembling voice, “Shadow.”
The shadow at his fingertips twitched.
At the same time, the pain that had begun in his chest and head grew fiercer.
But there was no room to feel the pain.
He was so stunned that he nearly forgot to breathe for a moment.
It really was not just a simple dream.
The same scenery every time.
The countless fairies who played with him every time.
He might have been able to keep having the same dream over and over,
but seeing its continuation made no sense.
At last, the shadow began to move according to Lawrence’s will.
It was not a difficult movement.
Just a simple motion of going into the darker place and then returning.
And yet, even that made the pain in his chest feel as if it were being torn open.
He could no longer maintain it.
The moment his concentration broke, the shadow returned to an ordinary shadow once more.
Lawrence pressed a hand to his heart and drew in ragged breaths.
It hurt.
His mind was a total mess too.
And yet, more than anything else, joy surged through him.
The boy knew someone who could do something like this.
A mysterious existence even a stray orphan child rolling around in the gutter would know of.
They were the people called mages.
Of course, he had never actually seen one.
There was no reason he would have.
Mages were rare.
Maybe even rarer than the nobles who ruled the land.
The mages in old stories were described as frightening, fearsome, and at the same time great.
It made sense that Lawrence, who had grown up in the countryside, knew nothing about them.
That was why he kept smiling.
He could not stop the laughter surging up from beneath his throat, like he had gone mad.
He did not want to stop.
Mage.
What a sweet, intoxicating word.
Realizing that he, too, was one of the chosen, Lawrence could not contain his joy and laughed.