Gnoll Warrior (1)
The cart ahead of him began to slow.
They must be nearly there.
From horseback, Lawrence scanned the surroundings.
The fringe forest outside Mistra.
About two hours from the city by horse, this was known as a monster hotspot that the mercenary guild kept under close watch.
Even after one sweep was finished, monsters would come crawling back before long. That was why extermination requests were issued on a regular basis.
Where monsters had taken up residence, only monsters came back.
Constant vigilance was the only way to keep trouble from spreading.
The stream of mercenaries dismounting from the carts seemed endless.
Some traveled in groups of three or four.
Others, like Lawrence, worked alone.
The pay was, to put it kindly, not much.
Still, compared to other towns, Mistra was unusually safe.
It was only natural that so many mercenaries flocked here.
According to Dorothea, the monsters settled in this forest were a small pack of gnolls.
They were the most common monsters in this area, at least.
He had fought them enough times to know them well.
If he wanted to sharpen the edge of his dulled combat instincts, there was no better opponent.
With the reins in hand, Lawrence pressed deeper into the woods.
He had no intention of moving with the other mercenaries.
Besides, there was no real need to form a party just to deal with gnolls.
How long had he been following the forest path with his horse?
Without warning, the animal’s steps grew sluggish, as if it had been frightened.
Animals were more sensitive to scent than people were.
They’re nearby.
Lawrence dismounted and hid the horse behind a thicket.
Just in case, he did not tie the reins.
The horse Emily had given him was a clever one.
He was certain that if danger came, it would run off on its own and then return when its owner came looking for it.
“I’ll be back in a little while.”
After casting Warm on his brigandine again, Lawrence searched the area.
The first thing to find was evidence of the gnolls’ presence.
It was different from what wild animals or mountain beasts left behind.
The filth with which they marked their territory gave off a foul, rotten stench.
Even the wild animals he had seen along the road earlier were nowhere to be found now. That alone was proof he had entered gnoll territory.
Face reality.
Lower your breathing. Quiet your steps.
What he was chasing was a trail.
Clues left in the vegetation did not lie.
Boot prints sunk into the hard earth.
They were no size that could be mistaken for an animal’s tracks.
Broken branches bent at unnatural angles.
Not from a blade. They had snapped against a body tough enough to break them.
Judging from the traces around him, there were at most two or three of them.
Lawrence’s guess was not wrong.
Not long after he followed the trail, the gnolls appeared.
There were three of them in sight.
The creatures were sitting in a rough circle, eating something.
Nearby lay a rusted mace and a dull sword.
If he was going to ambush them, this was the moment.
A dog wasn’t even supposed to be disturbed while it ate.
But Lawrence cautiously swept the area once more.
There could always be more than those three.
If another pack was nearby, he could not move rashly.
Yet even by the time their meal was nearly done, no other gnolls appeared.
“Water Ball.”
He began with the water-element spell he had learned at the magic tower.
Obedient to its master’s will, the Water Ball spun in the air.
The accelerating sphere of water slammed into the back of one gnoll’s head as it gnawed on bones.
There was a pop, like a ball bursting.
Still unaware that its head had been blown off, the creature’s hands kept moving over the empty stump of its neck.
Grrk?!
Only then did the gnoll beside it realize it was under attack.
The creatures reached for the weapons they had set down.
“Wind.”
A gust tore the weapons away from the gnolls’ sides.
He had bought himself at least a little time. While they went after their weapons, Lawrence cast his next spell.
“Water.”
He compressed Water down to the size of a bead.
The reinforced water struck the gnoll square in the head.
Unlike the Water Ball, it did not blow the creature’s skull apart.
It staggered for an instant, and then that was it.
The gnoll glared at Lawrence and rasped a furious breath.
Too shallow.
As expected, Water alone had its limits.
Not only was the casting time too long, its power was weak as well.
The more time he spent shaping it, the more mana it consumed.
“Water Ball.”
That was enough testing.
Lawrence finished off the remaining two with Water Ball.
Then he took out his skinning knife.
Since he had aimed for the heads with Water Ball, the gnoll hides were clean.
As he separated the pelts, he fell into thought.
Were basic spells really only basic spells?
Seeing the result now, he had even less reason to use Water. In every respect, not just power, Water Ball was the perfect superior version.
In real combat, every second mattered.
He might as well treat Water as nothing more than a spell for producing drinking water.
Even that was enough for it to earn its keep.
He slung three gnoll hides over the horse’s back.
Because there were no wounds on them, they looked like they would fetch a decent price.
Monster by-products were always worth money.
Once he had stacked up the parts he had otherwise been unable to take because of size or weight or some practical limitation, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
Above all, he really liked how unscathed they were.
Up to now, because he had relied on fire and void attributes, spells built around sheer force had caused too much damage for him to salvage the by-products.
That had meant less money in his pocket.
He could afford to stop worrying about that, at least for the time being.
Of course, Water Ball would be useless against monsters too powerful for it.
Take a bugbear in the swamp, for instance.
Or an eligator.
But ordinary monsters like gnolls were no problem at all.
That alone made learning Water Ball worthwhile.
After killing several more gnolls, Lawrence withdrew from the forest.
If he had been greedy, he probably could have stayed a bit longer, but once he had seven gnoll hides hanging over the horse, there were no more options.
Too much greed was poison.
Once the by-products started piling up, the horse had begun to look burdened.
That was enough for today.
Lawrence returned to the place where the carts had been waiting and headed back to Mistra with the other mercenaries.
* * *
The corridor was wrapped in a cold wind.
Nuns with their collars turned up hurried back and forth through the hall.
There was no sign of the clusters of people who had once stood talking together. Everyone was simply rushing to escape the cold.
Now and then, voices drifted from within the columns.
But none of them lasted long enough to become a proper conversation.
Leaving the chapel, Lawrence sat down on a bench.
In his hands were the two letters he had received from Helen.
They had arrived this morning from the Holy See.
Written on them were the names of two people he missed dearly.
One letter was from Luca.
The other from Yerina.
Lawrence opened Luca’s first.
After he tore away the wax seal stamped with the church’s emblem, a sheet of white paper emerged.
The letter was packed with crooked handwriting.
It began by asking after Lawrence, and then page after page of Luca saying she was doing well in her own way followed.
It seemed that after the Fran incident had been settled, she had arrived safely at the Holy See with Yerina.
Now she was staying at the Lykis Convent in the Holy See.
She said she was working hard to become a wonderful sister like Yerina.
The Holy See was apparently in quite a commotion at the moment, preparing for the Fifth Council.
Priests and prelates from all over the continent, not just the kingdoms, were gathering there. Just from the words alone, he could not begin to imagine how enormous it all must be.
It was a handwritten letter, revised over and over again.
Once again, Lawrence found Luca admirable.
It went without saying that if you could not read, you could not read the scriptures.
Yet not even a year had passed since they had parted.
In that time, she had apparently learned how to read and write completely on her own.
Luca closed the letter with a final line saying she would send letters like this from time to time.
Maybe he should write back, at least a little?
If she went north, he would not even be able to receive letters like this anymore.
“Warm.”
The chill rising from the bench disappeared.
Rubbing his hands together, Lawrence unfolded Yerina’s letter.
There was no casual opening asking how he was.
Unlike Luca’s, hers contained only the essentials.
Junior. If you’re thinking of going north, be careful. The Watcher of Winter has eyes and ears everywhere in the north.
He gave a quiet snort before he could stop himself.
Even in a letter this short, Yerina’s personality came through.
But only for a moment.
Lawrence’s eyes, fixed on the page, grew calm.
This was no small matter.
A warning from Yerina, an inquisitor of the Celestial.
Would it be better to move more cautiously?
He had no idea how she had learned of his next destination.
Still, the fact that she had bothered to send such a warning by letter meant the north was dangerous enough to merit it.
Lawrence had no personal experience with the north.
He could not dismiss the possibility that it was more dangerous than rumor suggested.
He tucked the letter into his robes and stood.
He was not setting out for the north immediately, anyway.
He still had time.
He should use it to gather more information.
On his way to the refectory, Lawrence spotted a familiar nun.
It was Angela, the blonde-haired sister.
On a secluded bench in one corner of the corridor, she was speaking with a man.
Under other circumstances, he would have passed right by.
This time, though, he found it hard to turn away.
The man sitting on the bench looked oddly familiar.
The man from the magic shop.
The very one who had asked him to cast Engrave.
“…With the young master’s life and death now uncertain, the only ones who can restore the family are the young ladies.”
He could just barely make out the words.
The desperate tone behind them sounded almost frantic.
“…Still hanging on to that hope? My answer hasn’t changed.”
Angela cut him off cleanly.
She rose from the bench and headed toward the convent.
The man lifted a hand, but he could not bring himself to seize her by the arm.
Did they know each other?
Was the “young lady” the man had mentioned Angela?
Now that he thought about it, before leaving for the magic tower, the man had told him to come to Anatacio Monastery if he changed his mind.
Since he had never actually run into him at the monastery, Lawrence had forgotten about it.
Seeing him in the corridor today, he wondered if the man was somehow connected to the church after all.
Lawrence put the question aside and quickened his steps toward the refectory.
Angela did not come to the refectory that day.
* * *
It was the fifth day since he had taken the gnoll extermination request.
Lawrence’s expression was bright as he reached the forest.
Not only had he regained his combat sense, the gnoll hides had turned out to be more profitable than he had expected.
In just a few days back on site, he had already started to get the hang of things.
There was no need to be picky about equipment in poor condition.
The gnoll gear, treated as nothing more than scrap, was only useful for its weight.
Its value could not compare to the hides.
However, today it was hard to find gnolls.
The other mercenaries were not sitting idle either.
Here and there, there was no escaping the sight of them.
“We were here first.”
“Don’t worry. We’re just passing through.”
With the extermination period having gone on for some time now, the gnoll population had dwindled considerably compared to the beginning.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a request with this many people on it.”
“First time in Mistra? You’ll get used to it soon enough.”
At this rate, the extermination request would be over within a few days.
And if that happened, there would be no chance to build up more real combat experience for the time being.
The decision did not take long.
Lawrence turned toward the deeper part of the forest.
And immediately regretted it.
He had thought that if he went in a little farther, he would run into gnolls.
But no matter how far he went, there was no sign of them.
If he had known this would happen, he would have brought the horse….
Now that the distance had grown too great, even if he did secure hides, carrying them back would be difficult.
Would it be better to turn back now and come again with the horse?
Regret only needed to be felt once.
Unlike orcs, gnolls were not the sort of monsters whose pay could be earned by cutting off their noses.
If there were no by-products, there was no money.
When Lawrence had first entered the forest with the horse, the sun had been high in the sky.
He did not have much time left.
And yet there were still no gnolls in sight.
Maybe he’d be lucky to catch even one or two before heading back.
Trying to soothe his disappointment, he followed the trail.
Fortunately, Lawrence soon found prey.
It was a gnoll with an unnaturally large frame.
Lawrence lay flat on the ground.
Holding his breath, he peered through the brush at the creature.
Its body was easily twice as large as any gnoll he had seen so far.
Its shoulders and abdomen were protected by steel plates.
Even its spotted hide had taken on a hard, solid sheen.
At its waist, beside the dreadful axes it held in both hands, hung two human heads.
Blood was still dripping from them.
Judging by that, they had not been separated from their bodies very long.
Most likely a mercenary, then.
A mercenary who had gathered to exterminate gnolls, only to become a gnoll’s meal instead.
This was no ordinary gnoll.
It was probably the Gnoll Warrior he had only heard about.
Lawrence licked his chapped lips, cracked by the cold.
So this was the prize at the end of the hunt.
As a rare specimen, its hide would certainly be worth far more than that of an ordinary gnoll.
He put Shadow Spear out of his mind.
If he wanted to secure the by-products, there was only one choice.
“Water Ball.”
A sphere of water rose into the air.
If he could shatter the skull in a single blow, he would be able to take the hide without a scratch, just like the others.
The Water Ball began to accelerate in place.
He drew out as much force as he could.
A little more distance did not matter.
A sharp, piercing hiss, almost like the cut of air itself, filled his ears.
But the Water Ball could not keep rotating for long.
Unlike Shadow Spear, the water could not withstand the spinning and kept scattering outward. If he kept forcing it like this, it would lose even its original shape.
It was not the same as a compressed Water spell spun in place.
This was the limit.
He could not spin it any longer.
Lawrence launched the Water Ball forward.
The gnoll warrior’s head was blown halfway apart on impact.
Its neck twisted at an awkward angle.
Blood stained its ear.
And yet it did not die.
Its eyes rolled toward Lawrence.
Clear hostility burned there.
A moment later, the Gnoll Warrior’s roar shook the forest.