Journey (2)
Lenard stopped Lawrence as he reached for his crossbow.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He protested with his eyes instead.
Shouldn’t we help?
“We’re not saints. Don’t go trying to save other people when you can’t even protect yourself.”
“What?”
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
“Why are you so eager to save people when you don’t have the strength for it in the first place? Don’t justify your actions by dressing them up as self-sacrifice or self-satisfaction. That’s blasphemy against the Goddess, plain and simple... what’s with that look?”
“...”
Apparently, he’d made a face.
Lawrence knew Lenard was unconventional. Still, he hadn’t expected a pilgrim of the Holy Cross Order—an order that preached love and mercy above all else—to say something like that.
“It’s nothing.”
“If you understand, then focus on the situation. You can move after that.”
“What if something happens while I’m waiting...”
“Then they die. That means they weren’t meant to be saved by us.”
Lenard cut off Lawrence’s hesitation with a flat, decisive tone.
Several arguments flickered through Lawrence’s mind and vanished just as quickly.
Nothing he’d learned at the monastery seemed useful here.
And Lenard was right. Completely right.
In the first place, Lawrence was already depending on Lenard just to keep himself moving forward.
He was borrowing another man’s staff to walk.
He had no right to go grabbing yet another hand to lean on top of that.
Lawrence hid behind a tree like Lenard and watched the scene unfold ahead of them.
The merchant who’d been ambushed by goblins was alone.
He was swinging his sword wildly with his back to the carriage, but he wasn’t getting anywhere.
One goblin lay dead.
Two more looked injured.
There were still six goblins standing unharmed.
Against nine goblins, was the merchant fighting well enough to count as holding his own?
Lenard tapped Lawrence on the shoulder.
His finger pointed toward the top of the carriage. There, a goblin Lawrence hadn’t noticed was creeping around to attack the merchant from behind.
There weren’t nine after all.
There were ten goblins attacking the carriage.
“You haven’t forgotten how to use the crossbow, have you?”
“You want to save him?”
“I’ve counted the goblins. If there are ten of them, one extra burden won’t matter.”
An extra burden. Only then did Lawrence understand.
When Lenard had told him not to rush in blindly, the warning had been for the boy’s sake as much as anyone else’s.
Lenard wasn’t putting the merchant first—he was putting Lawrence’s safety first.
He’d heard that an adult was someone who took responsibility for what was entrusted to him.
Today, Lenard looked like a real adult.
“Shoot and hide. Repeat. I’ll take care of the one on top of the carriage.”
“Understood.”
He loaded a quarrel.
The merchant’s desperate resistance was nearing its limit.
His hands were slick with sweat, and the quarrel kept slipping from his grip.
“Keep calm. Experience doesn’t lie.”
At Lenard’s steady voice, Lawrence found his composure again.
The groove and the support locked into place.
With a click, Lawrence loaded the quarrel and aimed at the goblin.
Compared to an Under Wolf, it was a very small body.
He let out a slow breath.
In. Hold.
The moment the tremor in his hand faded, he pulled the trigger.
Grrk—!?
The quarrel struck the goblin in its unguarded back.
Like the Under Wolf before it, the goblin couldn’t withstand the impact and was sent flying into the carriage.
There was no time to celebrate hitting the mark.
He hid behind the tree and reloaded the crossbow.
Click!
The first shot had been hard. The second wasn’t.
Lawrence reloaded faster than he’d thought possible and aimed again.
Another goblin, thrown into confusion, was pierced by a quarrel.
He never let go of his concentration.
By the time Lawrence had loaded what felt like his umpteenth quarrel and looked toward the carriage, there were no goblins still standing on two legs.
Only the merchant had survived the chaos.
Was it relief at having barely escaped with his life?
The merchant let out a dry laugh and collapsed against the carriage.
“Well done.”
“You did most of it, Lenard.”
He didn’t deny it.
Lenard gave a low snort.
With the crossbow slung over his back, he walked toward the merchant.
Lawrence followed after him, putting his crossbow away.
“Are you all right?”
“Thank the Goddess. You saved my life.”
The merchant looked to be a middle-aged man in his thirties.
He had minor cuts all over him, and the carriage itself had been slashed to pieces by stray blades.
Fortunately, none of the wounds looked serious.
He was grimacing as if he were dying, but he didn’t make a sound of pain. That was proof enough.
“Why are you traveling this dangerous road alone without any escorts? It’s lucky we happened to pass by. If not, you’d be the one lying there.”
“This wasn’t supposed to be a road where goblins appear. It’s a beast trail that borders Under Wolf territory. I never imagined something like this would happen.”
The merchant gave a laugh full of self-disgust, as if to say he’d nearly died trying to save a few pieces of silver.
No—wait. Then all the monsters they’d encountered so far had been because they’d entered a dangerous road?
At Lenard’s expressionless face, Lawrence could only smile wryly.
He’d definitely done it on purpose.
“I’m Betten. Thank you for helping me.”
“This, too, is the will of the Goddess. You should offer your thanks to her, not to us.”
“Of course. If not for the grace of Goddess Belche, I wouldn’t be a man of this world anymore.”
Betten laughed, relieved to still be alive.
When that cheerful sound faded, Lenard spoke.
“Pilgrim Lenard. This one here is the novice priest Lawrence.”
“I’m glad you’re both safe. I’m Lawrence.”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you.”
They shook hands naturally.
Betten’s palm was rough and callused.
“I’m not a novice priest.”
“For now, you are. No matter what you end up doing, it’s better to have a proper identity.”
He knew that already.
He’d heard it several times since setting out on the road.
Still, he couldn’t quite be satisfied without offering a small protest.
“From the direction, it looks like you’re heading for Redantus. Is that right?”
“That’s right. We were on our way back from Hilton Village after securing some decent goods. Never thought we’d run into something like this, though.”
“Then as it happens, if you don’t mind, could you spare us a place on the carriage? We only need to get as far as Redantus.”
“I’d be grateful if you’d let us ride along. How would I know another goblin attack won’t happen?”
Betten agreed without hesitation.
While the carriage was being tidied up, Lenard called Lawrence over.
He recovered the remaining usable quarrels and checked the goblins’ bodies.
“What’s different, do you think?”
“Everything you shot hit them in the head.”
“And yours?”
“I aimed for the head, but every single shot hit somewhere else.”
“Exactly. Combat is different. And unlike Under Wolves, goblins have small bodies. Smaller targets are harder to hit. If you want to make a living as a mercenary, keep at it. Once the crossbow starts feeling like part of your hand, little mistakes like that will disappear.”
Lawrence stared at the goblins’ corpses for a moment before speaking.
“Don’t goblins have any useful byproducts?”
“No. If anything, it’s just their equipment. Look at that trash. At best it’s worth scrap metal.”
Their rusted gear looked like anything but proper equipment.
Everything was corroded, chipped, or so dull it looked like it wouldn’t cut bread, let alone flesh.
“The real problem is that if you’re hit by weapons like those, there’s a good chance you’ll catch an infection. That’s why the merchant made such a point of disinfecting his wounds just now.”
“You mean Orel.”
“If you know Orel, then this gets easier. Keep some on hand as medicine. Potions are the most convenient thing, but they’re expensive, and they’re not all-powerful. Once you use one, you’ve already paid the price in poison.”
Even medicinal herbs could become poison if used the wrong way.
Having understood Lenard’s meaning, Lawrence nodded.
“I’m ready. Can we set off now?”
The carriage must have been sorted out.
It was a relief the horses had survived all that commotion.
Lenard patted Lawrence on the shoulder and headed for the driver’s seat.
“If you’re tired, I can take the reins.”
“It’s fine. How could I let my benefactor do such a thing after owing you my life?”
He didn’t ask twice.
Lawrence took a seat at the back of the carriage.
The goods piled there were mostly Under Wolf hides.
So Betten really had been telling the truth when he said he’d visited Hilton Village.
Come to think of it, Lawrence had been too distracted on the way out to even stop by the inn.
Were Edrick and Greta doing well?
No news was good news.
Since a merchant passed through there regularly, business would probably be decent enough even if there weren’t many customers.
And by now, the monastery’s service would have ended.
Everyone must be getting ready for lunch.
His thoughts didn’t last long.
When he heard the low voices from the driver’s seat, Lawrence began practicing magic.
The familiar Shadow rose from the carriage’s own shade.
At first it took the shape of a small doll.
After walking once from one end of the carriage to the other, the Shadow collapsed like water.
He didn’t lose focus.
The Shadow that had fallen back into the darkness began to gather itself again.
Thin joints. A blunt tip at the end.
It looked a little like a quarrel meant for a crossbow.
He kept thinking over the shape in his head and forced it into place, but the Shadow couldn’t hold together any longer and vanished.
He steadied his breathing.
He didn’t have a headache yet, but there was a faint tightening near his chest.
This was a method he’d come up with recently.
While handling the crossbow, the thought had struck him all at once.
Did he really need to make the Shadow into a human shape?
He’d already confirmed that once it emerged from the shadows, it could touch other objects.
Rather than using Shadow to grasp and move things, it seemed easier to change its shape and directly affect whatever he wanted.
The result was exactly what he’d seen.
Even after days of practice, he’d made almost no real progress.
He could imitate the shape of an arrow well enough, but he still couldn’t form anything refined enough to be truly lethal.
And even if he succeeded in making it, that wasn’t the end of the problem—he’d still need the power to launch it.
A quarrel, for instance, was fired by drawing on the strength of the crossbow.
Since Shadow had no equipment or mechanism to rely on, he would have to shoot it out by magic alone.
The question was whether he could really manage that.
Still, if he couldn’t even do this much, it would be hard to use Shadow in actual combat.
That wasn’t an exaggeration.
Real combat was no game.
An opponent wouldn’t give him time to cast.
If he couldn’t prepare in advance like he could with a crossbow, then it was better to swing his sword even once during that time.
Because his life was on the line.
Or, if he hated that idea, he’d need to cut the casting time down dramatically.
Either way, he was going to have to work hard.
By contrast, Fire was something he could use in real combat right now.
For all he knew, if flames suddenly burst up in front of someone, any opponent would have no choice but to panic.
...Even if it didn’t go in the direction he wanted.
It was only a level of flame that sprang up before his hands, nothing more.
Still, it was certainly better than nothing.
As a surprise attack, it had its own value.
He really did need a stable time to practice.
Even now, he was only managing to sneak in a little Shadow practice during watch duty, all because he had to keep an eye on Lenard.
At this rate, his skill wasn’t going to improve at all.
Once they reached Redantus, he’d have to find a place where he could practice without worrying about anyone else.
If things got bad, he was even prepared to practice magic in an inn room.
When the Shadow he’d been painstakingly shaping disappeared, Lawrence let out a sigh.
He was full of distractions.
He still had a long way to go.
* * *
Even after that, the group still ran into goblins and Under Wolves from time to time.
Usually the goblins weren’t many in number, or the Under Wolves would retreat first, but whenever a fight couldn’t be avoided, Lawrence had to take up his crossbow.
There were no dangerous situations.
Thanks to the carriage, fighting was much easier than it would have been on foot.
Now and then a goblin would dodge the storm of quarrels and try to close the distance, but every time that happened, Lenard’s sword flashed.
Whether swordplay was his true specialty rather than the crossbow, Lawrence couldn’t tell—but even to someone who knew nothing about swords, Lenard’s movements were nothing short of graceful and beautiful.
It was the fifth day since they’d taken a ride in merchant Betten’s carriage.
At the end of a long, long forest road, walls taller than the trees finally rose up to greet them.
“Are we there?”
“We’re still half a day away!”
Lawrence’s eyes widened.
They still weren’t there, and the walls were already this enormous?
Betten had been telling the truth.
It took another half day of travel before the carriage finally reached Redantus.
Just from a glance, it was incomparable to Hilton Village in size.
The walls were so high that the inside couldn’t even be seen, and a checkpoint stood at the entrance, carefully inspecting everyone who came and went.
“You’ve worked hard.”
“Merchant, are you? What do you have inside?”
“We’re coming back from Hilton Village. I’ve brought back some fine-quality Under Wolf hides. If you’re interested, would you like to take a look?”
“Wait here a moment.”
Lawrence got down from the carriage.
The guards checked the goods with businesslike expressions.
They opened a few things to inspect what was inside and looked over the carriage for anything suspicious.
“You may pass.”
“And those two?”
“They’re clergy of the Holy Cross Order.”
“I wasn’t asking you, merchant.”
Even after being snapped at, Betten didn’t lose his smile.
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you. I’m Pilgrim Lenard of the Holy Cross Order.”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you. I’m Lawrence, novice priest.”
“Hmm... may the Goddess’s blessing be with you. So you are pilgrims.”
The guard looked flustered.
Apparently he knew the order’s greeting; he gave a stiff bow and then coughed awkwardly.
“What brings you to Redantus?”
“Must we have a special reason to visit a town? The place touched by the Goddess’s will is the road the wandering sheep must follow.”
“Uh... well... i-is that so?”
The guard looked around at his companions.
But no one offered him a helping hand.
The sight of them quietly backing away as if to say you handle it was oddly amusing.
“Is there any reason we shouldn’t go in?”
“No. It’s not that, but...”
“Then there’s no problem, is there?”
“Ah... yes, understood. Go on in.”
Unable to argue any further, the guard stepped aside.
Lawrence straightened unconsciously.
That was different from his days as an orphan with nothing to his name.
The name of the Holy Cross Order carried real weight.