The Craftsman, Part 2
Jace came back with not one, but two rabbits slung over his shoulder.
One was destined for meat stew.
The other, for a spit roast with the stink carefully drawn out.
For a meal eaten by a family on the road, it was almost absurdly luxurious, and each bowl was set before them with that in mind.
Of all of them, Lawrence’s bowl held a single generous rabbit hind leg.
“I think the man who actually brought down the game should eat that,” Lawrence said.
“Please, have it,” Morris insisted. “Jace prepared it because he wanted to apologize for what happened earlier today.”
At Morris’s words, Lawrence looked over at Jace.
When their eyes met, Jace quickly looked away.
No matter how he looked at it, the man seemed distinctly displeased.
Morris only wore an expression that clearly said, See?
“Would you mind leading us in the evening prayer, Lawrence?” Morris asked.
“Yes. Of course.”
Lawrence had been wondering when the subject would come up.
Jace, who wasn’t a believer, had already started eating, but the rest of the family sat with their hands folded, watching Lawrence.
“I’ll keep it brief.”
When he had stayed at Saint Charmant Monastery, he had recited that prayer every single day.
It might have been destined to fade from memory, but after staying once again at Saint Dominic Monastery, it had returned to his body like habit.
Thinking back, it had not been such a long time, yet Ignatius had taught him so much.
The manners a pilgrim of the order ought to carry in his bones. The attitude and mindset expected of an educated man. He had been told never to invite shame upon himself before the eyes of the world.
“To our Goddess, who has shown us love and mercy, I offer my humble thanks for the daily bread granted to us today. Please bless this food gathered from mountain and forest, and grant us the strength to walk into tomorrow as well. May the Goddess’s blessing be with us.”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with us.”
With the prayer finished, they began to eat.
The moment he lifted the warm soup, a long-missed heat flooded through him.
It was so hot that he could hardly taste anything for a moment; his whole body trembled with it.
He finished the meat soup, still lost in its afterglow, and then came the rabbit hind leg.
The plump, well-fleshed meat melted on his tongue.
It was supposed to be only meat with the gamey smell removed, and yet he couldn’t understand why it tasted this good.
Lawrence set down the bowl, scraped clean.
“That was delicious. Thank you.”
“There wasn’t much on the table, but I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Morris replied.
He had been treated to a meal unexpectedly good.
It wasn’t just a figure of speech—this was the first time since returning from the Spirit World that he had felt as though he’d eaten like a human being.
He stood to help clean up afterward, but after being politely refused, Lawrence had no choice but to sit back down.
Yet even sitting by the campfire, there was nothing to do.
It felt wasteful to simply stare into the flames, so he began training Shadow.
The first form was the one that resembled smoke, the most familiar shape to Lawrence.
It appeared whenever he wasn’t consciously holding it in mind.
It was also the very first form he had ever handled when he first encountered magic.
He let the Shadow, born at the edge of the campfire, draw a curved line.
How long had he traced the rise and fall of those wavering flames?
The next thing Lawrence created was a circle.
First a large, soft, rounded one.
Then he imitated the moon hanging in the sky.
Before long, that moon split into two tiny ovals.
Shadow Light was unnecessary.
He began controlling each of the two split ovals separately.
Crossing. Cooperation. Competition.
Even if the starting point was the same, the speed at which they reached the destination was different—was that still because he lacked practice?
This time, he focused on changing shapes.
He called up one animal after another from memory and gave them form through Shadow.
The horse Ulbaniero had ridden.
The cattle he had escorted all day. The cattle dog that had driven them.
And, with a little more greed, even the sky-blue broad-billed bird that loved Waterseed.
He had tried something uncommon for a change, but the result was more pathetic than he’d expected.
At the Shadow that had twisted into an unrecognizable shape, Lawrence let out a wry laugh.
This time he tried an Ulbazar Jaguar and an Eligator.
Learning from the earlier failure, he focused not on piling on detail but on the features that would make the shape immediately readable at a glance.
The choice was not wrong. Even with so little attention paid to it, he managed to create something that could still be identified for what it was.
The same subtle feeling he had sensed when pulling out the cart’s rear wheel.
Since learning Bind, his fine control had somehow improved even more.
More precisely, it had been after receiving Laurzara’s guidance in the Witch’s Forest.
Seeing the voice and flow of nature.
Now that he thought about it, it might have been a kind of catalyst—something that sharpened the ear that listened and the eye that saw.
“Whoa.”
“Make something else!”
By the time Shadow had begun to take on the shape of a bugbear, children were already clustering around Lawrence without him noticing.
“Is that a miracle?” one asked.
“Not a miracle. Magic. There’s a big difference,” another corrected.
“How’s it different?”
“Isn’t it basically the same thing?”
“It’s what the pilgrim said, so just say you get it.”
The children’s bickering was adorable.
Even when they fought, the three of them kept their eyes bright with wonder every time Shadow changed.
Their mother, too, kept stealing glances this way.
She simply didn’t dare come closer.
Even so, she was clearly marveling at what she was seeing.
Now that he thought about it, it had been the same in Remington.
Even mercenaries who had seen every hardship under the sun had been unable to look away from the transformations he’d shown with Fire.
Come to think of it, even Lawrence himself, the one handling the magic, had nothing but admiration for it.
Ordinary people, with no immunity at all to such sights, would naturally be stunned speechless.
“All right, children. Don’t bother the pilgrim and come over here,” the mother called abruptly, as if she’d just come to herself.
“Just a little longer,” one child begged.
“We promise we won’t get in the way,” another said.
“If you keep being stubborn, the bad dragon will come and take you away.”
Disappointment flickered across the children’s faces.
Seeing that, Lawrence spoke up.
“It’s not really bothering me, so it’s fine.”
“See? The pilgrim brother says it’s okay!”
At first, the children’s stares had made him self-conscious.
But once he got used to it, their presence actually helped him focus.
Because their reactions were so honest.
If the shape was poor, they looked disappointed; if it was pretty, they showed their delight with every inch of their bodies. Somehow, that even became a source of motivation.
“But….”
Morris’s wife still couldn’t bring herself to nod.
She wasn’t only worried about the children being a nuisance.
Lawrence quickly understood what the hesitation in her eyes really was.
“I promise none of the children will be hurt, not even in the unlikely event that something happens.”
Only then did Morris’s wife step back.
Even so, she kept watching the children as though she still couldn’t quite relax.
“Still, that’s odd. The priests I know all just recite prayers.”
“If you want to hear a prayer, I can recite one.”
“No thanks. I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s boring.”
The children spoke over one another.
One of them even shook his head so hard it looked like he genuinely hated the idea.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m not reciting one.”
At Lawrence’s reply, the child with the running nose went wide-eyed.
“Pilgrim brother, you think it’s boring too?”
“Of course it’s boring. Ah, but that’s a secret from everyone else.”
When he signaled that they shouldn’t go repeating it, the children laughed.
“Pilgrim-nim, can you make that into a weapon?”
The question came from the eldest of the three children, a girl.
“A weapon? Like this?”
He reshaped the Shadow into a spear.
Unlike her younger siblings, the girl shook her head.
“Not like that. Like the weapon my dad and Jace use.”
Lawrence had no idea what she meant.
The girl began explaining the weapon with both hands.
“They fix this thing to the back of the carriage. Then you just turn the handle and the quarrels fly out super fast, bam-bam-bam. You hold it with both hands like this and brace it with your feet. Don’t you know it?”
He honestly did not.
It wasn’t something he had ever seen in a smithy, and it certainly wasn’t a common mercenary weapon.
“Would you like to see it? It’s right in the carriage.”
“Hm… No. If it’s as you say, then that tool belongs to your father and Jace. I think it would be rude to look at it without permission. It’d be better to ask them later and see it then.”
He held back his curiosity.
It was better to respect what ought to be respected.
Besides, tools made by a craftsman would surely carry value simply by existing. He wanted to avoid causing a commotion if he could help it.
How much longer did he practice Shadow after that?
When Lawrence noticed the children’s heads beginning to nod, he withdrew the Shadow.
“You’d better go to sleep for tonight.”
“My little siblings like it. Could you show us again tomorrow?”
“Sure. But ask your mother first. Then your little siblings won’t worry.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure to get permission. Then good night, pilgrim-nim.”
“You too. Sleep well.”
Such well-behaved children.
The girl bowed her head and led the two sleepy younger children back toward the carriage.
Morris’s wife appeared from the carriage as though she had been waiting there the whole time.
When their eyes met, Lawrence gave a slight bow.
She answered with a bow of her own.
“You’re helping with the escort?” Jace called from beside the campfire, where he had been watching the scene.
“You’d be dead weight if you didn’t. You’re probably better off just staying by the carriage.”
“I’m not shameless enough for that. Since I’ve joined your party so suddenly, I should at least earn my keep.”
“Then let’s speak plainly. As far as I know, people of your order can’t kill anyone. Do you really think a man like you can swing a sword against the bandits around here? I’m not trying to be cruel. I just think you’ll be a hindrance, so why don’t you rest?”
He was blunt to the point of refreshing.
At such direct words, Lawrence took out his mercenary plate.
“I’m a Bronze Plate mercenary, as it happens. I’ve handled escort work several times, so I’m sure I can be of help. At the very least, I won’t be a burden to either of you.”
Jace looked genuinely startled.
It was obvious he had never imagined a priest of the order would be a mercenary.
“And your weapon?”
“Depending on the situation, I use a spear or a crossbow, but for now I mainly work with magic.”
“Did you just say miracle wrong? Well, we’ll see. A priest who doesn’t heal people but hurts them instead. Now that ought to be something worth seeing.”
A sneering voice followed the dry laugh.
Lawrence did not take the bait, even though the provocation was plain as day.
This wasn’t his first time dealing with someone full of wariness.
If anything, the fact that Jace showed his hostility so openly meant Lawrence didn’t need to worry about anything else.
They might butt heads from the front, but at least he wasn’t the sort to smile politely while nursing dark thoughts underneath.
“What kind of weapon do you and Morris use, Jace?”
“You wouldn’t know even if I told you. It’s a weapon my brother and I made together. People even came from the royal capital to get one, so it’s not the kind of thing a country priest would know about—not even in jest.”
Judging by his attitude, there was no chance of seeing it tonight.
That was disappointing.
From the children’s words and Jace’s bearing, it was clear enough that the thing was extraordinary.
Honestly, Lawrence knew very little about craftsmen.
He only vaguely understood that they were people who made tools.
He had heard little more than rumors about their skill or standing.
And this wasn’t just any craftsman.
This was a tool made by a craftsman from the port city of Albrade.
Was it any wonder his eyes had begun to shine with anticipation?
Jace showed no sign of leaving his seat.
Lawrence, basking in the fire’s warmth, opened his mouth.
“I’ll take the first watch tonight.”
He had already said as much to Morris.
He hadn’t helped with any work, and he’d only been fed dinner.
To go straight to sleep after that would be far too shameless.
So Lawrence had volunteered to stand guard.
“Convenient. I was planning to take the first watch too.” Jace stoked the embers, showing no intention of giving way.
“Then I suppose we’ll stand watch together.”
“……”
Lawrence, too, had no intention of yielding.
There was nothing wrong with being careful.
He might be traveling with them thanks to Morris’s kindness, but he still didn’t trust them yet.
He didn’t want to show his unguarded back first when there was always the chance of a worst-case scenario.
“……”
“……”
No conversation followed.
Lawrence was not the sort to initiate small talk, anyway.
And besides, the last few days on the road had taken a real toll on him.
His mind and body were exhausted to the bone.
He had no desire to force interaction with someone who looked at him with open hostility.
Tonight, for once, he wanted to avoid making yet another kind of fatigue for himself.
Couldn’t he allow himself that much?
Lawrence raised a Shadow Light above the campfire.
Tonight, it seemed, he could devote himself to magic training after all.
Soon, only spheres of light drifted silently back and forth through the campsite.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Five days after Lawrence began traveling with Morris’s family, their carriage finally encountered the bandits he had only heard about in stories.
There were fewer of them than he had expected.
Only six bandits blocked the road.
And as rumors of former deserters had suggested, their condition looked grim.
Rusty swords and broken spears. Cracked armor peeking out from beneath filthy cloth. Not a single piece of equipment that might have mattered to their survival had been maintained.
No, perhaps it wasn’t that they hadn’t maintained it.
Perhaps they simply couldn’t.
Even if buying new gear would have been cheaper than replacing it, equipment still required money to be cared for.
And the more desperate the bandits’ lives became, the more the quality of their gear would sink into the gutter.
“Brother. I’ll watch the rear this time,” Jace said.
“Watch the remaining quarrels,” Morris replied.
“I know.”
Morris held the reins from the driver’s seat.
Jace had prepared the weapon at the back of the carriage.
The rest of the family had already retreated inside.
Their movements were so well coordinated it was obvious this wasn’t their first time.
“Jace, the quarrels are ready,” called Yvette, the older sister, as she busily transferred ammunition inside the carriage, where all sorts of tools and spoils had been stacked.
“……”
Was that the weapon hidden beneath the cloth?
Lawrence, who had been preparing to intercept the bandits from outside, decided to observe the situation a moment longer.
When the cloth covering it was pulled away, a device he had never seen before was revealed underneath.
It was a massive crossbow with a handle attached to it.
Above the bow sat a boxlike magazine for loading quarrels, and iron wire and nails fastened the wooden frame together at various points.
Even Lawrence, who knew little about tools, could see at a glance that it was a sophisticated piece of work.
Jace used a small box as a makeshift backrest.
He planted both feet onto stirrup-like footrests to brace the mechanism.
“You damned bandit bastards. Today, you’re all dead!”
The handle spun with force.
At the same time, the trigger engaged, and a thunderous report rang out.