What I Came For

"Not a bad house."

I said it looking over the modest hut raised on the outskirts of the village. The chief hadn't turned down my request; this was the place he'd assigned us. It wasn't large, and the furnishings inside ran to the bare minimum — but I had come prepared to camp in a jungle seething with vipers. Measured against that, the hut was hardly different from a palace.

"You really mean to stay here, Young Master?"

Greg asked it as I took the place in.

"Of course. That's what we came to do."

"Weren't you here to persuade them?"

"This is all part of persuading them."

We unpacked what little we'd brought. It was still early afternoon, but there was no leisure in it for shaking off the road.

"Let's head out."

"Out where?"

"To find something to eat. Who's going to set a table for us here?"

Greg's eyes went wide, the thought catching him late.

"Now that you mention it..."

He dug through his pack. Most of the food we'd carried had been eaten on the way, and what was left wouldn't last.

"Come on. Unless you'd rather starve."

From here on, food was ours to find. The beastkin hadn't exactly welcomed us, and they'd already given us a roof. Expecting a meal on top of that, day after day, was more than we could ask.

I took Greg and walked straight into the forest. Nothing there resembled a path a person could use, and it didn't matter. We cut the thick brush down with aura as well as steel, clearing a road as we went. Leave a trail that blatant, and there would be no losing the way home.

"Are you thinking of hunting?"

Greg asked, still hacking at the undergrowth beside me.

It wasn't a bad notion. Realistically, it was a hard one. Hunt here, and we were on the doorstep of beastkin who knew these woods to the bone — and lately demonkin had been showing themselves, throwing the Great Forest into unrest. The animals would be busy keeping their own hides intact. A deer, say: I could wander the jungle from dawn to dark and never find so much as a print.

"Hunting later. We start with what's easy."

What I had in mind was foraging. Fruit, at least, we could gather in fair quantity if we were willing to use our legs.

"Do you know your plants, Young Master? If you were to lay a hand on the wrong poisonous herb..."

The worry was fair. Even a man steeped in the subject would be reckless to bluff his way through the Great Forest. The place was absurdly vast, true to the name. Set aside the unfathomable Red Forest, and what had been charted so far still covered the span of dozens of ordinary territories laid together. Plants and animals native to it ran on without end, and so even a trained hand had a miserable time sorting what could be eaten from what could not.

I had something to lean on.

I called up the system window of Crius Saga and stepped into the cash shop. Under the consumables tab sat elixirs and potions of every sort — but combat goods weren't the whole of the list. A few cash items had uses vague enough that I'd never spared them a thought. One of them was the Scroll of Search.

A simple function, exactly as written. In the game I'd used it to track dungeon gimmicks and hidden items. I meant to use it to find food. First I changed the search category from All Items to Food.

I pressed confirm. The scroll vanished, and its power took hold.

With the message, their positions marked themselves across my sight.

"So that's how it looks..."

In the game they'd been plain icons on a minimap, and I'd wondered how the thing would render in the real world. It was more intuitive than I'd expected. A few dozen meters ahead, several round fruits stood outlined in blue, impossible to miss. The highlight showed straight through the brush and the trees in the way. You couldn't have failed to see it if you'd tried.

I went over and took a few of the nameless fruits. From the outside they were brown things, shaped something like kiwis.

"Young Master, is this really safe to eat?"

"It should be. For now."

"If you're uneasy, shall I try it first?"

"Hold on."

I split one in half. The flesh inside was a bright yellow, and a small bite brought a taste close to pineapple, with a texture that was, all things considered, perfectly edible.

"Seems all right."

For several days after that, we fed ourselves the same way — burning scrolls to gather fruit we could eat, turning up the occasional mushroom fit for a pot. It still wasn't enough. There's a reason people go on about the three staple nutrients. A few days of forced grazing, and the want of meat set in hard.

Then came a morning that started like the others.

"Um..."

We were leaving the village at dawn to pick fruit again when someone approached, cautious. A woman of the beastkin, rabbit-eared, with a gentle face. It was the first time one of them had spoken to us unbidden, and I tensed, half certain she'd come to drive us out.

She hadn't.

"Shall I show you where the river is?"

That, I hadn't expected.

"A river?"

"Yes. You've been eating nothing but fruit every day, so..."

If there was a river, she said, we might catch fish there. Wouldn't that be better than this? She was entirely right. A thing like that, and no one had thought to mention it. We'd been hauling our drinking water up from the village well. I'd never imagined a river ran anywhere near.

"Where is it?"

She led us there herself. Closer than I'd thought, a river of considerable size was flowing.

"Spread a net here, or cast a line, and you ought to catch fish. But please be careful. There are crocodiles."

"Crocodiles?"

Trust a jungle not to skip them. Even so, a crocodile was not only a threat to the two of us. It was closer to a crack of light.

"You hear that, Greg? Crocodiles."

"Yes. I heard every word. Rest, Young Master. I'll go in."

Days of fruit and mushrooms must have left him that discontented. I hadn't ordered a thing. Greg drew his sword and went splashing into the river.

"That's dangerous!"

She cried out, and Greg didn't so much as flinch. He waded in to his waist, planted his feet, and watched the water with a keen eye.

"Crocodile. It's been a while."

"A while? Have you ever eaten crocodile?"

"No. I was just saying it. But I will today."

We traded the joke. The rabbit-eared woman watched the pair of us with open unease.

Then something large moved under the water. Truly.

"Greg."

"What is it?"

"It's here."

I said it low, with a glance at the current, and Greg reset his grip. The crocodile came on toward him, unhurried. The moment it entered striking distance—

Shhk!

His blade ripped the river open, aura bursting off the steel. Water leapt like a wave. Spray crashed down in a roar. There was no crocodile in any of it. An instant before the cut could land, the beast had read the strike and fled.

"Ah—"

"Too slow, Greg."

I clicked my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tongue.

"I'll try again!"

He set his grip once more and waited. Again the crocodile came for him, and again he came for it.

Shhk!

And every time, the hunt failed. Whatever lived in this river, it was no ordinary crocodile. Its sense for aura was exceptional. Greg, unlike on solid ground, couldn't put any real speed into a swing underwater, and so the two of them kept striking at nothing.

"...Maybe I'll just go catch some fish."

This was going to take time. I left him to it and looked over the downstream stretch. In the opaque water, movements besides the crocodile's weren't hard to pick out — far fainter, and quick. A school of fish.

My Wailing Sword parted the current without a sound and cut a good-sized fish clean through the middle as it passed. The two halves bobbed up into the light.

"Whoa..."

The rabbit-eared woman let out a small breath of wonder.

I took several in short order, came back to where Greg was still at work, and got a fire going. Before long the fish were cooked through.

"Would you care for one?"

I held a piece of grilled fish out to her. Rabbit ears and all, I'd half wondered whether she ate nothing but grass.

"Ah... thank you. I'll have some."

Apparently not. She took it without hesitation.

"What's your name?"

She didn't seem especially wary of me, so I asked it lightly. The answer came at once.

"...Sar."

She'd hesitated a moment before saying it. I nodded once and went on.

"My thanks for today. But why are you helping us?"

Asked that bluntly, Sar gave a wry little smile.

"The truth is... the village chief is worried about the two of you."

"Worried?"

"Yes. He says you seem to be someone of rather high standing."

"Ah."

I could guess the rest. Greg went around calling me Young Master every day; the beastkin would have taken the measure of my rank well enough. A young master of a noble house, staying in their village — they were afraid of what would follow if anything happened to him here.

"There's no need ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to trouble yourselves over it."

I said it, feeling foolishly embarrassed, and Sar shook her head.

"Oh, that isn't the only reason I came. I wanted to talk with you, too."

Curiosity moved in her eyes.

"Talk?"

"It's nothing important. It's just... I'm the village messenger, but I've never once left the Great Forest."

So the world outside had her curious. What caught me was something else.

"A messenger. Does that mean you go to other villages, not only this one?"

"Of course."

Sar nodded and explained. A messenger went regularly between the beastkin villages, carrying news and goods, and because of that work she knew of beastkin beyond this place. That suited me. If her knowledge was the price, I could tell her every story of the outside she cared to hear.

I was about to speak again when the quiet broke.

"Hraaaaaah!"

Greg, silent until then, roared. I looked over, certain the crocodile had finally gotten ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its teeth in him.

"What is that fool doing."

One look, and all I could manage was a hollow laugh. There he stood, bellowing, the body of the crocodile he'd killed at last held up in both hands. That wasn't what stopped me. What stopped me was inside him. Two cores. I could feel them both.

"You..."

He came toward us with the carcass, grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you see, Young Master? I got it at last!"

"The crocodile isn't the point. You're a two-star knight."

"Ah. That as well. All thanks to the crocodile."

His account was simple enough. To kill one of them in the water, the blow had to land before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the beast read his aura, and for that he lacked raw speed — which was to say, raw strength. So he had tried reinforcing not only the sword with his aura, but his body. A few attempts at that, he told me, and a second core had formed. He had climbed to the realm of two stars while he was at it.

It defied belief. A two-star knight can strengthen the body through aura; that much is certain. I had not known there was a man who reached two stars by attempting the thing the other way around.

"Congratulations, regardless. Have a fish."

"Thank you! I'll dress the crocodile and have it on the fire in a moment."

And so, for the first time in a long while, we ate meat until we were stuffed. For the record, crocodile tastes oddly like chicken.

Sar kept coming after that, and she kept helping — a place in the forest where drinking water could be had, ground where medicinal herbs grew, even a hunting spot that was safe. Not every beastkin looked kindly on her for it. Foremost among those who didn't was her younger sister, Ser: the leopard beastkin with the sharp eyes, the one we'd met when we first arrived at the village. Whenever Sar came to my hut, Ser appeared not long after with uncanny timing, caught her sister by the arm, and hauled her away.

About a fortnight had passed in the beastkin village when Sar came to the hut, same as always, and said something new.

"I'll be away from the village for a few days."

The time had come, she said, for a messenger to carry news and supplies to another village.

"Hard work, in a season like this. Travel carefully."

"Please don't worry so much. It's what I always do."

She said it with a bright smile.

She had not been gone two full days when the quiet village began to stir. Beastkin preparing the evening meal fell to murmuring. Footsteps came in a hurry.

"Something's happened."

Greg and I felt the wrongness of it, left the hut, and made for the center of the village. The chief and several others stood gathered, faces grim, and among them was a beastkin drenched in blood, gasping for breath. One of the messengers who had gone out with Sar.

"Monsters have appeared."

He told them the beastkin outpost he had been making for had been attacked. Faces hardened at the words. Ser's, above all, had lost every trace of color. She said nothing.

I wasn't particularly surprised. So long as the beastkin refused to leave the forest, this was coming regardless — and it was also what I had been waiting for.

"What will you do now?"

I stepped up to the chief and asked. Sharp eyes turned on me at once, a fierce pressure in them, as if to say an outsider had no business opening his mouth just now. I only looked at the chief, and held my tongue.

The beastkin agreed with him. Not one of them hesitated for fear of a battle.

"So if you meant to use this as a pretext to persuade us, give it up."

He said it flatly, as though I'd been on the verge of pressing them to flee. I had never intended any such thing.

"Then I will help you."

I lifted my sword as I said it.

"What?"

At those words the beastkin, the chief among them, turned bewildered eyes on me.