Pilgrim Renald, Part 2
Lawrence quickly grew accustomed to the crossbow.
Once he started using both his feet and hands together, even loading it wasn’t especially difficult. If he aimed just a little above what he could see, he could send the quarrel more or less where he wanted it to go.
Only then did he understand why people looked on crossbows so favorably.
Not only were they powerful, but they didn’t require long years of practice to master. All you had to do was finish aiming and pull the trigger.
The only drawbacks were that it was heavier than a bow and took time to reload, but those disadvantages were more than outweighed by its strengths.
“That’ll do.”
Renald, puffing out little curls of white smoke, looked over at Lawrence.
Was he really smoking tobacco?
And he was a clergyman?
“That took you long enough. You’re slower than a slug.”
The apology never quite made it to Lawrence’s lips.
“My life’s on the line here.”
Truthfully, he would have liked a little more time to get used to the crossbow.
But Renald kept looking at him as though he were being judged, so he couldn’t drag things out any longer.
“Don’t forget that feeling. When it comes down to it, the only one who can protect you is yourself. Once a fight is over, make a habit of cleaning your weapon, checking it for damage, and making sure nothing’s wrong.”
Renald pointed to the grooves and the stock of the crossbow.
“A crossbow is simple enough to inspect. The real problem is any weapon you’ve grown used to. With a sword or spear, you have to wipe the blood off the blade every single time. If you neglect maintenance and it rusts or chips, learn this well: your life will be hanging by a thread.”
He wasn’t angry.
Nor was he merely speaking casually. It was closer to advice than anything else.
The gaze that had seemed so dismissive held not the slightest trace of amusement.
“Do you understand?”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“That’ll be something to see later.”
That familiar snort echoed out.
They set off up the mountain again. Renald examined the traces left in the path and among the trees, and his expression grew noticeably serious.
No conversation was needed.
Their footsteps turned that much more careful.
Before long, even Renald’s footfalls had vanished.
And then, at last, the two of them came face-to-face with it.
A low, rumbling growl.
A monster that looked like some half-mixed blend of wolf and dog.
There, waiting for them, was an Under Wolf, a beast commonly classified as a magical monster.
Unconsciously, Lawrence’s grip on the crossbow tightened.
Even with distance between them, he couldn’t stop his lips from drying out.
It was Renald who moved first.
He brought out his crossbow and calmly took aim at the Under Wolf.
The string released, and the quarrel tore through the air.
Flying at terrifying speed, it buried itself in the creature’s head.
It was almost disappointingly simple.
The Under Wolf was knocked clean out of its original position, twitched a few times, and then went still as death.
“Is it over?”
“It’s over.”
Renald wasn’t wrong.
When Lawrence approached to check, the Under Wolf was already dead.
There was only one wound.
Its head, pierced through by the quarrel.
“Don’t go getting scared just because something’s a monster. First understand that it’s no different from us.”
“No different?”
“It means it dies all the same.”
“……”
After retrieving the quarrel, Renald drew a dagger.
“You know how to butcher one?”
“I’ve heard about it.”
“That makes this easier to explain. Watch closely. From now on, whenever you face a monster and manage to survive, don’t forget what you can salvage from it. Survival of the fittest. The victor has the right to take everything from the loser.”
Lawrence watched the butchering process of the Under Wolf intently.
First, Renald skinned it and stripped the meat from along its spine.
The hide was packed away into an empty sack they’d brought for supplies.
The meat was all discarded.
He’d heard monster meat was too poisonous to eat.
Anyone who’d forced themselves to eat it out of hunger reportedly ended up with their minds gone crooked.
He slit open the chest and collected the blood in a leather pouch.
Fresh blood drawn from the heart was worth far more than any other.
It was the first time Lawrence had realized just how much blood a body could hold.
The magic stone was also supposed to be most likely found in this area.
And sure enough, as though to prove its value, there was no magic stone to be seen.
What Renald paid especially close attention to were the Under Wolf’s claws and fangs.
He packed the teeth into a leather pouch he had brought separately and sorted them carefully.
“We don’t bother taking the hide any farther.”
“Because of the bulk?”
“You got it. Weight’s part of the problem too. It’s not worthless, but it’s inefficient. Better to take fangs or claws, which are easier to carry. Of course, that’s different for monsters whose hides are truly valuable.”
Lawrence nodded.
It made perfect sense. If he were traveling alone, with no one to rely on, monster hides would only be a burden.
“May I try it next time?”
“No reason you can’t.”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Renald’s mouth.
The chance to butcher his own quarry came quickly.
The mountain was full of traces that made it obvious this was Under Wolf territory.
Of course, that meant there were plenty of them.
Whenever the track led to two or more Under Wolves, Lawrence cleanly gave up the pursuit.
They targeted only the stragglers, the ones who had been separated from the pack.
Every quarrel he loosed found its mark in the head without fail.
The problem was the butchering.
Not just skinning the hide and flesh—
tearing through muscle with a single dagger was brutally difficult.
By the time he managed to butcher one, Renald’s criticism came flying at him as if waiting for the chance.
“You’re doing a fine job of butchering it into garbage. Keep going like that and you’ll be throwing the whole hide away.”
For once, Lawrence had nothing to say.
It had been a clean headshot on a rare occasion, too.
But the hide was covered in clumsy cuts and smeared blood.
When he compared the pelt in his sack with the one he’d just processed, he could feel all over again how extraordinary Renald’s skill really was.
It wasn’t as simple as just slicing with a dagger.
He had to distinguish the blood-filled vessels, and if he became too cautious, the corpse would stiffen, which meant he had to use even more force.
Still, after butchering one or two, he began to get the hang of it.
When they found the fourth Under Wolf since entering the forest, Lawrence said, “May I take the shot this time?”
It was the smallest one they had found yet.
Its body was about a head shorter than the others. It didn’t seem to have eaten nearly enough, either; its bones showed through the gaps in its fur.
Renald lowered the crossbow he had been holding.
The gesture meant permission.
Lowering his head, Lawrence took out his crossbow.
The Under Wolf still hadn’t noticed them.
He aimed at its head, then raised his point of aim slightly higher.
Even when he had aimed at trees, the quarrel had struck a little below the exact spot he’d chosen.
Was that enough?
Watching him, Renald silently nudged the crossbow.
He lowered it just a little more than Lawrence had originally intended.
“It’s not the same as a tree. Don’t mistake the distance.”
Lawrence took a short breath.
Then he pulled the trigger, and the quarrel leapt free of the string.
A dull crack rang out.
When he looked up, the Under Wolf with the pierced head was already rolling on the ground.
Success.
Without being told, Lawrence turned to look at Renald.
“Well done.”
“Thank you.”
That brief praise gave him more strength than he’d expected.
It was time to secure the spoils. When he approached the fallen Under Wolf, it was still twitching as though not quite dead yet.
Just as Renald had done, Lawrence cut its throat.
“No hesitation at all.”
“You said if I hesitate, it’ll be me who dies.”
“Yeah. Worry about everything else after that. First, just think about surviving. You can solve the rest once you’re alive. That’s not too late.”
As though he wanted to engrave the lesson into Lawrence’s bones, he went on.
“The best outcome is when you can handle it with an ambush like this. But things don’t go this smoothly every time. When a monster spots us first, we’re forced into close combat.”
“Is running away not an option?”
“The moment you turn your back, assume you’re dead. Unless it hasn’t noticed you yet. Once you’ve been spotted, running is impossible. Think about it. Even an Under Wolf, which counts as a low-ranked monster, is faster than a person. So do you really think the others will be slower?”
“Usually… I’d imagine they’d be faster.”
“Their legs. Their feet. Their bodies. Picture monsters several times larger than a human charging at you. While we take ten steps, they close the distance in just a few. If you understand that, then instead of wasting time on running, you should be figuring out how to fight. That’s how you keep your life.”
If running won’t solve it, then all you can do is fight.
“When you fight a monster, assume there isn’t a second chance. Don’t look away. Show it your will to stand your ground. The instant you avert your eyes, it sees your weakness. If you don’t want to die, then keep your head clear and steel yourself to bring the enemy down. If you can do that, at least you won’t die like some fool.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“You don’t need to remember it. If you can’t do it in the real thing, you’ll just die.”
Renald wore a crooked, mocking smile.
Somehow, it no longer looked like he was mocking him at all.
Long, drawn-out dusk began to spill down behind the trees.
The time that had likely begun in the early dawn now had night looming in front of it.
“We’re sleeping on the mountain tonight and heading back tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
Just as he’d expected.
There had been no sign of turning back, so he had figured as much.
He didn’t bother asking things like, Is it safe?
Over the past few hours, the man’s skill had proven itself beyond doubt.
He had never expected to receive lessons like this—not at the monastery, not in the village.
Was this what every pilgrim who wandered the world was like?
“I’m not unusual.”
Renald answered Lawrence’s question as he gathered dry firewood.
“If you want to survive the pilgrimage, this much is basic.”
“Is that so?”
“If you can’t do it, you die. That’s why there are so few pilgrims.”
“……”
Not a single part of that was remotely funny.
“That’s why an attendant priest usually travels with a merchant. They only move between monasteries, so that’s the best way to keep them safe. It’s not as though you can hire mercenaries every time, is it?”
“So pilgrims are different? Didn’t you come to our monastery too, Renald?”
“Different. Didn’t I just tell you? An attendant priest only goes from one monastery to another. For a pilgrim, the monastery is nothing more than a place to pass through.”
“So you mean it’s not the monastery you’re heading for, but the pilgrimage itself.”
“Something like that. At the end of the pilgrimage, there’s a holy site. By now, many of those holy sites have been lost, and plenty have fallen into monster nests. Those aren’t places people can simply walk into. A merchant isn’t going to head for a dangerous holy site through rough country, is he? Unless he’s completely insane, he won’t set out on the pilgrimage of his own free will.”
Renald took out a flint striker and firesteel.
He tried to light the pile of firewood and dead leaves, but for some reason the spark just wouldn’t take tonight.
He must have tried it dozens of times.
Even so, when no ember would catch, he got up with a curse under his breath.
As Renald brought the tobacco he’d taken from his breast pocket to his mouth, he let out a sigh as if suddenly remembering something.
But tobacco needed fire.
And with no fire to be made, he couldn’t smoke either.
After watching him for a moment, Lawrence quietly stepped over to the pile of wood.
He picked up the flint striker and firesteel Renald had tossed aside, pretended to strike a flame, and muttered softly, “Fire.”
The flame he had practiced over and over in the monastery rose up at once.
The fire caught the dry wood and leaves, swelling in an instant into a proper blaze.
“It’s lit.”
“What?”
Renald jumped in surprise at the sight of the roaring campfire.
When he saw the firesteel in Lawrence’s hand, he let out a laugh.
“So even a slug can learn a trick or two, huh…”
With tobacco finally in his mouth, Renald looked as though life had returned to him.
Lawrence sat across from him and held out his hands toward the fire.
Even if summer was on the way, mountain nights were cold.
“If it’s not rude, may I ask you something?”
“It is rude, so don’t ask.”
Now he understood.
That meant it was fine to ask.
“When did you start walking the pilgrimage route, Renald?”
“Let’s see. About ten years ago, maybe.”
“Ten years?”
For a moment, Lawrence thought he must have heard wrong.
“Why? Don’t I look the part? I’ve visited more than ten holy sites, even looking like this. One of them was a bugbear’s nest.”
This time, he was startled for a different reason.
After ten years, and he’d only managed to travel to ten holy sites?
“The world is vast. I’d wager that even if you spent most of your life at it, pilgrims who manage to visit every holy site could be counted on one hand.”
“I didn’t realize there were that many holy sites.”
“There are twice as many pilgrimage routes as there are holy sites. There are far more routes without holy sites than ones that actually have them. Still, places with monasteries nearby are easier to travel through.”
With tobacco between his lips, Renald pulled some dried jerky from his sack.
He’d already eaten jerky at midday.
Lawrence took the piece in both hands and brought it to his mouth.
It had a rich, savory taste. It was quite good, in fact, and there was nothing better for easing hunger.
“What do you think of our monastery?”
“Fifth from the bottom.”
An ambiguous ranking.
“But with Blackwell there, it’s good enough to be in the top five.”
As if hiding his embarrassment, Renald gnawed on his tobacco.
“I heard you turned down the novice priest offer.”
“You heard about that already?”
“This isn’t the kind of place where you can keep secrets for long. There are plenty of children who look out at the world with longing. But not every road that leads there ends in something bright.”
“I know that. Still, I think there’s no harm in looking around the world before making a decision.”
“Hm. Then why not become a priest first and look around that way?”
“You know that’s difficult, Renald.”
Thinking of life in the monastery, Lawrence gave a wry smile.
It was effectively impossible.
Life there was stable, yes, but there was no room for time of his own.
More than anything, it required staying in one place, rooted there in the name of settling down.
“You planning to wander the world without a care?”
“For now… I do have something in mind.”
“A mercenary.”
As though he had read Lawrence’s thoughts, Renald said it flatly.