The Rainy Season (1)
“No. No, that’s not it. Have you already forgotten what I told you the last time? Can’t you see the dry droppings? That’s a trail where small wild animals pass through.”
Neil’s sharp voice brought Lawrence’s feet to a halt.
He stopped walking. When he carefully inspected the parched ground, he found pebble-sized black droppings scattered there.
It was a place so hard to spot that he had to strain his eyes just to make it out.
The droppings rolling between the tree roots drew nothing but a hollow, helpless laugh from him.
“You expect me to see that?”
“You don’t see it with your eyes; you smell it with your nose. I’ve told you that more than once.”
“Smell it…?”
At the end of Lawrence’s gaze was Neil’s stinking leather coat.
How in the world was he supposed to smell anything?
Every time they entered the swamp, the man wore that unbearable thing.
The odor was so foul he’d been half-numb to it for days, yet Neil had picked out the scent of droppings through that reek. His nose had to be something beyond common sense.
“Those beasts are plenty cunning. You think they won’t know we’ve been here? Thanks to your reckless fumbling, they’ll never come back to this spot again.”
Once again that day, Lawrence was combing the swamp with Neil.
Just as Isolde had vouched, he was by far the person Lawrence had met so far who knew the Ulbazar Swamp best.
Things might look the same, but they never truly were.
The swamp had its own paths, some for large animals and some for small ones.
And there were ways to tell those apart from the dangerous routes used by monsters.
“This is getting too dangerous. We’re turning back. See that brown stain on the tree? Jaguar dung. It’s a warning telling us we’re on their territory and should go no farther.”
“A jaguar is something I can handle on my own.”
It wasn’t exactly a dangerous opponent.
If he were going to make his living as a mercenary, he couldn’t afford to be frightened by every common monster in the swamp.
“You know one thing and miss two others. You should be thinking about what happens after you catch it.”
“This isn’t even a region with many monsters. I know the way out well enough. Escorting you back to the village wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“That’s what mercenaries are like…. Right. You make a mess of things, then move on to some other place. You never think about the people who have to stay behind.”
“What?”
At Lawrence’s question, Neil frowned.
“Think about it. If you hunt the jaguar pack that has settled here, who do you think fills the empty space?”
“Well…. Wouldn’t some other wild animal take over?”
“A very hopeful guess. Sure, as you say, another beast might set up a nest here. But most of the time, that doesn’t happen. No creature that can smell the monster stench soaked into this place would dare settle here.”
Monster droppings.
The traces left behind by those things reeked with a vile stench.
If humans could barely stand to approach it, how could sensitive wild animals possibly endure it?
“In the end, where a monster once lived, only another monster or beast comes to take its place. So think of the worst-case scenario. What if an eligator or a bugbear shows up here instead? Do you really think your mercenary friends would happily exterminate it for you? Of course not. You’d be lucky if they didn’t demand a bigger payment and start talking about the request.”
“I’m sorry. I was short-sighted.”
Lawrence admitted his mistake.
He couldn’t think like a mercenary.
Beast or monster, once you killed it, that wasn’t the end of it.
For the people living on this land, it was a matter of survival.
“Good. Make sure you tell those arrogant mercenary friends of yours, too.”
Still, time was said to heal all things.
Even Neil’s perpetually bristling attitude had begun to soften little by little.
“But you really have good eyes, Neil.”
“If I couldn’t see, I’d die. Simple as that. Miss one thing, and you’re dead.”
“Do you have some kind of trick for it?”
“What trick? There isn’t one. You just do it because if you can’t, you die.”
He gave a cold answer, but after that, while gathering herbs with his dirt-stained hands, he went on.
“Smell matters more than sight. And that isn’t just true in the swamp. Remember it. People, beasts, monsters, monsters—everything leaves traces as it lives. If you can smell those traces, then you’ve got one more lifeline to rely on.”
He wasn’t saying it to show off.
Sometimes he tossed out advice that felt almost like a warning.
“Anything that breathes leaves traces behind. There are fools who go around saying that doesn’t exist at all. That’s the kind of thing people say when they don’t know any better.”
At the word traces, Lawrence thought of the Spider Forest.
The pursuit had been so relentless it had seemed endless.
He never wanted to experience anything like that again.
“Then how do you keep from leaving traces?”
The pursuit had been miserable beyond words, with no end in sight.
He didn’t want to endure anything like it twice.
“What exactly did you hear? I said you can’t avoid leaving traces. You just do your best to reduce them and erase them as much as you can. Use your surroundings. If it’s a forest, use the brush. If it’s a swamp, use the dry plants. Minimize whatever you leave behind.”
Neil made a sweeping gesture through the undergrowth.
“Just be careful not to snap branches or tear up grass with your own hands. That leaves traces too. What matters is using traces already left by nature to reduce your own.”
“Then if I follow your method, can I erase most of the traces?”
“Most of them, yes.”
But, Neil continued,
“It’s a different story when you’re dealing with a sensitive monster or wild animal. This sort of childish misdirection only works on other humans.”
“That would be enough for me.”
“No. Even humans aren’t all the same.”
“You mean experts like you, Neil?”
“Someone like me is nothing. Though maybe you’ve heard of them. The great hunters of the Great Desert.”
Great hunters?
The name Great Desert rang a bell.
“If you’re talking about the Great Desert, you mean the Anabram Desert, don’t you?”
“That’s right. The Kingdom of Sultaniya, they call it. I’ve heard that above the Kingdom of Sand there lies the Anabram Desert, and below it, the Danama Swamp. The silent hunters of the Great Desert. The silent hunters who rule the swamp. Those black-bodied people with tattoos carved into their skin are called the great hunters.”
Black bodies and tattoos.
Lawrence remembered the description Neil had given.
The tracker from the Spider Forest.
He looked much like the tracker who had pursued him right up until the moment he died.
“That’s right. The person you met was certainly from the Kingdom of Sultaniya. But he probably wasn’t one of the great hunters. Do you remember the shape of the tattoo on his body?”
“I don’t remember that much.”
It had been during an intense chase.
It wasn’t the sort of situation where he could spare the attention to inspect a tattoo.
“What a pity. I’ve heard that the tattoos worn by people from the Kingdom of Sultaniya vary from one person to another. The one you met was probably an exile.”
“An exile? You mean someone cast out of the kingdom?”
“I don’t know the details. I hear the Kingdom of Sultaniya punishes criminals by exiling them to other countries, and nine out of ten people you find in another land are exiles like that.”
Was every place where people lived much the same?
The Kingdom of Sultaniya seemed to have its own share of troubles.
“You seem to know a lot about the Kingdom of Sultaniya, Neil.”
“That’s because it’s my dream. To meet one of the great hunters of the Kingdom of Sultaniya, recognized by both the Great Desert and the swamp. That’s why I keep risking my life every time I cross this swamp.”
“…I sincerely hope you achieve that dream.”
Startled, Lawrence’s answer came a beat late.
He hadn’t expected the word dream to come from the mouth of a grown man.
* * *
How much time had passed since he’d begun herb-gathering with Neil?
The two of them had finally started to find a rhythm together.
As the saying went, knowledge was power. Over the past few days, Lawrence had come to realize that the swamp was no different from the forest.
Neil was unquestionably an expert on the swamp.
He drew his conclusions from the traces left all over the place, and not once in ten did his predictions prove wrong.
“This area is still familiar ground for us. Dry season or rainy season, it’s a place where the territories of wild animals and monsters are mostly set. Unless something unexpected happens, the chance of an accident is low.”
Of course, that was only true for someone who knew the swamp well.
Just having the eye to read traces meant he could anticipate danger and avoid it before it arrived.
As a result of all those herb-gathering trips, Lawrence had managed to imitate the process to some extent.
He could now tell the traces of monsters from those of wild animals.
“Not bad. Don’t forget this. As long as you’re a mercenary wandering the world, this will come in handy wherever you go.”
Eating and defecating were the same for people and monsters alike.
Monster droppings gave off a nauseating stench, and worse still, they carried poison that killed the surrounding environment.
That was why Hilton Village had so many barren stretches.
It was because of the Under Wolf.
Hilton Village was a place where countless Under Wolves had settled.
The toxins they excreted had killed the surrounding land, and the environment had been unable to endure it.
“As you can see, the droppings of an old animal hardly smell at all. They don’t kill trees or grass, and more often than not, they make nature more plentiful instead.”
By contrast, the territory of ordinary wild animals was different.
The area where jaguars roamed had barely a blade of grass to be found, but land where vegetation flourished was crawling with snakes and all sorts of insects.
“Let me ask you one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
Lawrence kept watch behind Neil as the man dug for herbs.
“Why are you going this far?”
“Isn’t it only natural if I want to eat?”
“No. I’m not talking about mercenary work. I mean Isolde and Doris.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
As he brushed mud from a grass root, Neil went on.
“Maybe you met them through mercenary work, maybe not. Either way, if you think about it, they’re not your business, are they? That sister and younger sister haven’t done anything for you. I’m asking whether there’s any need to go this far, even helping with my herb-gathering.”
“Love and mercy are the Holy Cross Order’s core principles.”
“I didn’t ask to hear that nonsense.”
He understood. It had just been a light joke.
“I don’t exactly think this is for those two alone. I’m doing it because I want something, too, which is why I’m helping with the herb-gathering.”
“You mean that guide?”
Lawrence nodded.
“Yes. I know it’s a difficult request. So I understand if you can’t accept it. But no matter what happens, I have to go deep into the swamp.”
“So you’re swallowing your pride and doing this.”
“Like I said, I’m just trying to make a living. If I can help someone I know in the process, that’s as good as it gets.”
“Always talking like such a nice guy. Is that all taught by that prestigious order of yours?”
“Of course not. Isn’t a smiling face more fitting for a child?”
“Not funny. Who are you calling a child…?”
A dry snort echoed out.
Yet he didn’t deny it, and instead held his tongue.
“Well, I’ll admit you’re an impressive fellow in your own way.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you praise me, Neil.”
“Does that sound like praise to you? I’ve met all kinds of people while working as an herbalist, and I’ve never seen anyone as warm-hearted as you. Don’t trust people too much. If a mercenary who lives day to day gets that naïve, he’s bound to get stabbed in the back someday.”
It was similar to advice he had heard before.
“That’s strange. Do I really seem like I trust people that easily? I trust you and Isolde because I’ve already seen enough of both of you.”
“Don’t think what you’ve seen is all there is to a person.”
Neil cut Lawrence’s answer off cleanly.
“No matter how good a person may be, they always have something they hide from others. If it were only a matter of money, that would be fortunate. But a person will do anything for family.”
“Are you saying I should be careful around Isolde?”
“And why would it just be that girl? Everyone is the same. Me too. You too. Nobody knows what choice they’ll make if that kind of situation ever comes.”
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
He would take the warning to heart.
It gave him plenty to think about.
Even after everything he’d experienced, Lawrence was still young.
He couldn’t afford to ignore the advice of an adult who had lived through life’s harsh winds and storms.
* * *
Whoooosh.
The rain that had started sometime in the night showed no sign of letting up.
The sky was dim and heavy, with not a single thread of sunlight to be found.
Even though it was morning, there was nothing outside but darkness.
It was enough to make Lawrence doubt whether this was really the swamp he knew.
No one needed to tell him.
The rainy season had finally come to the Ulbazar Swamp.
Feeling that the time had come, Lawrence went to find Ignatius.
“I thought you would come. You’ve truly kept me waiting.”
“Not at all. The sacred land doesn’t run away, after all. In the meantime, I was able to gain a great deal of valuable experience in the swamp.”
Compared with his first visit to the swamp, he had truly grown in many ways.
That went for experience as well as magic.
“That too must be the Goddess’s will—hoping that you would finish your preparations, brother.”
He clasped his hands together and bowed his head slightly.
At the far end stood the goddess statue that illuminated the chapel.
“The rainy season has only just begun, so there will still be bugbears left in their nests. They’re likely busy moving their young to safer places.”
“Then you’re saying we have to wait longer? If we want to use the river while the water level is dropping, it seems we’ll have to wait until the nests are fully flooded….”
“No. There is still the time it takes to travel from the swamp’s outskirts to its depths. Considering that this is the rainy season, it would be safe to say it will take at least another month.”
It had taken exactly one month to go from Remington Village to Randall Ranch, which lay roughly halfway into the swamp.
But back then he had traveled with Ulbaniero, guarding cattle, and because they had moved in a group with other mercenaries, their pace was anything but quick.
“If I’m going alone, then I should leave right away.”
Unfortunately, he had failed to find a guide.
As the rainy season drew near, Neil had stopped going out into the swamp, and despite all the herb-gathering they had done together, he had never once brought up the matter of guiding him.
It was disappointing that things hadn’t worked out as planned, but
he had learned about the swamp from Neil precisely so that he could prepare for a situation like this.
Even if it took a little time, he was confident he could reach the holy site safely.
“No. There’s no need for that. Thankfully, after hearing your name, there was someone in the village who volunteered to act as your guide.”
When Lawrence saw the person who entered the chapel, he widened his eyes.
“Neil?”
“That’s right. It’s me.”
The middle-aged man in shabby clothes was Neil.
“What about your herb-gathering work?”
“The rainy season isn’t a good time for gathering herbs. It’s the season when they grow by drinking the water that falls from the sky.”
He gave a snort, as if asking how Lawrence could not know that much.
“Neil is a famous veteran guide here in Remington Village. He isn’t the sort of man to lend a hand lightly, unless there’s real reason. When he heard that Brother Lawrence was heading deep into the swamp, he came forward to help without hesitation.”
“Neil…”
“Don’t look at me with that nauseating expression. I came because of the herbs, that’s all. You said Doris needed Tiley to recover, didn’t you? Since I was going there anyway, one more person along doesn’t change a thing.”
The cold reply came back, but Lawrence knew it wasn’t truly what he meant.
Even if it was for Tiley.
Was there really any reason for Neil to take on that difficult road?
He had gone all out for Lawrence alone.
Their acquaintance might be short, not all that long at all, and yet here he was, trying to help with something that could very well put his life at risk.
“If you’re willing to serve as my guide, then I can’t ask for more.”
“Don’t get too relieved. I may not know the swamp as well as you think, but you still don’t know much about it. And the river where you’re heading, the one that runs dry, is famous even in the swamp for being one of the worst places around. Unless you want to die, you don’t go anywhere near it.”
“Then why did you come, Neil?”
“Because if an acquaintance says he’s going off to die, what would you do if you were me? Just sit there?”
We have to do something, he said, his face twisting into a grimace.
“Thank you, Neil.”
“Save the thanks for later, in the form of drinks. After everything’s done and we’re back in the village, you’re buying.”
Lawrence knew exactly what that meant.
Neil was speaking on the assumption that the two of them would safely return to the village.
After all, you had to stay alive before you could buy drinks—or eat, for that matter.
“Understood. I’ll gladly treat you.”
Lawrence held out his hand toward Neil.
The older man looked at it as if he really didn’t want to, but at last he took it.
Despite his habitual irritability, Neil’s hand held a small warmth.
Who was calling whom warm-hearted, exactly?
This man who spat out such gruff words was just as warm-hearted as Lawrence himself.