Return to Ragna Castle
"Mmm."
The blinding light urged him awake. Elsid slowly opened his eyes to the brightness stabbing at him.
"Sir, we've arrived."
Just then, Lars, seated on the coachman's perch, called out to him lying in the cargo bed.
"Finally here, huh."
At the call, Elsid poked his head out of the wagon and looked ahead. Before him stood gray castle walls and a massive wooden gate wide enough for people and carriages to pass through with ease.
"That was one boring week."
The coachman, Lars, brought the carriage to a halt before the walls. At the same moment, Elsid stepped down. Having safely reached Ragna Castle, he paid Lars a little extra for the week-long journey—long if you thought about it, short if you didn't.
"Thanks. Here's the rest of the fee."
"Understood. Payment received."
Once Lars took the money, he left the castle without the slightest delay. It almost felt like he was fleeing, but that was probably just Elsid's imagination.
Left alone, Elsid adjusted the pack on his back and approached the gate.
"Haven't seen a visitor in a while."
As he drew near, a sturdy young man with distinctive red hair spoke to him. During the ten years Elsid had been away, had they started letting in outsiders? He didn't recognize the man at all.
"Hello. My name is Elsid."
"I see. I'm Beth. Not much to boast about, but I'm the village chief here. What brings you to these parts? If you're here for sightseeing, this isn't exactly the best—"
The man seemed to have mistaken him for a tourist because of his light clothing and the bundle on his back. A traveler's simple outfit—short sleeves and brown trousers—was exactly what Elsid wore now.
"Wait, did you say Elsid?!"
The young man suddenly repeated the name, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Yeah? Why?"
What was this? Had they met somewhere before?
"It's me! Me! The one who ran away from home on a whim, got kidnapped by slave traders, and was about to be sold off—until you and your grandfather found me, beat me half to death, and dragged me back to the village—"
The young man suddenly switched to casual speech, acting like they were old friends. Hearing the story, Elsid finally realized who stood before him.
"What! That vain little 'Beth' is you?!"
He couldn't help but be shocked. The Beth he remembered wasn't this solid young man. Back then, the boy had been scrawny, with smooth hands that had never known calluses. The man in front of him was the complete opposite.
"Hold on—where's your father, Berdin? Wasn't he the village chief?"
"..."
Most administrative work in Ragna Castle was handled by the lord, while soldiers fended off the monsters that attacked constantly. With manpower always short, even posting a single guard was difficult. So the village chief, who otherwise had little to do, usually handled checking visitors—much like a guard. That had been Beth's father, Berdin.
"He died. A month ago..."
After a pause, Beth gave an answer Elsid hadn't expected.
"What! Was it orcs...?"
"Of course not. Even if he died, he wouldn't die fighting something like orcs. The man was nicknamed 'Zombie' because he refused to die."
Beth shrugged lightly as he spoke, but...
"It was just an old illness that finally caught up with him."
The weight of emotion in those words wasn't something Elsid could easily grasp.
"And I'm the chief now because that damn father of mine left it to me in his will. Honestly, even at the very end he had to dump something pointless on me..."
"...Sorry."
Elsid regretted asking such a thoughtless question.
"It's fine. You didn't know."
Beth waved a hand dismissively.
"I probably said too much to someone who's only just come home after so long."
Instead, he looked apologetic.
"More importantly, I'm glad it's you. Aside from the occasional peddler, I was still learning how to handle visitors from my father's old notes. First one to show up, and it's someone I know—relieving, really."
"I guess so..."
Beth's face broke into a smile, and before long the two of them were chatting like old friends.
"So, what brings you back—"
Beth was about to ask why Elsid had returned when a piercing sound rang out, loud enough to rattle the eardrums.
Woooo! Woooo!
It was clearly a horn.
"Well, well. Looks like some annoying pests have shown up again."
"Seems that way."
The horn signaling intruders was a sound Elsid hadn't heard in years, yet it stirred a strange sense of nostalgia.
"I should go. What about you?"
"What do you think?"
"Hah, yeah. Wouldn't be the Elsid I know otherwise."
Elsid, once a resident of Ragna Castle—back when it was still just Ragna Village—accepted the situation with familiar ease. Without needing to say who would go first, both men sprinted toward the opposite wall where the horn had sounded.
When Elsid reached the far wall and climbed up, he saw a familiar sight.
"Waaaaah!!"
"Kraaaaaah!!"
Clang! Clang! Claaang!
"This scene never changes..."
Dozens of humans and a similar or greater number of orcs clashed, shouting war cries as their weapons met. The metallic tang of blood drifted up to him.
"Need a hand, Beth?"
Elsid asked the man he assumed was beside him, his expression slightly excited as he watched the battle unfold.
"Those leaderless grunts? The soldiers and I can handle them just fine."
Thwip! Thunk!
"Kweeeek!"
As he spoke, Beth nocked an arrow to the bow he'd brought and loosed it. The shaft struck an orc trying to behead a soldier, burying itself between the creature's eyes and sending it to the afterlife.
Even a worm has its tricks—Beth had always possessed remarkable talent for archery. And now he was putting it to full use.
"I'm not the same guy I used to be either."
Thunk!
With those words, Beth continued firing from the rear, supporting the soldiers.
"Kwooooor!"
Enraged by their fallen kin, the green orcs—covered head to toe in muscle—let out grotesque roars and swung their weapons. They advanced on the wall, wildly brandishing halberds that looked more like clubs or massive, toothless axes.
Roughly twenty orcs had attacked. As Beth had said, there was no sign of a leader among them. With armed soldiers and an archery expert like Beth, that number was more than manageable.
At one point, an orc managed to climb the wall and swung a giant axe at a soldier's neck in a deadly moment—but...
"Hey, looking to become stir-fry?"
Beth came running from somewhere, blocked the orc's path, and slammed his bow across its face before driving the dagger at his waist into its throat.
Thunk!
"Kwik!"
The orc let out a pig-like death cry and became a corpse.
Truly, there was no room for Elsid to intervene.
Twenty minutes. That was how long the battle lasted. There were no casualties on their side. All that remained was collecting the orcs' bodies and the weapons they'd carried.
"You really have gotten stronger."
"Ha, says the guy who's several times stronger than me. Well, can't say it feels bad."
When Elsid approached Beth, who was roughly wiping the blood from the fight off his hands, the redhead stretched his shoulders and loosened up. His smile was full of ease, as if the battle had been nothing more than light warm-up.
"Enough praise. Help me move this to the blacksmith."
Once the fight ended, Beth abruptly gave Elsid an errand, pointing to a cart now piled high with the battered weapons the soldiers had recovered from the orcs.
"You came running like you wanted to help, then just stood there watching the whole time. Might as well make yourself useful with a little chore."
"Huh? But you said you didn't need—"
"That was just talk."
Elsid tried to protest, but...
"Hah! First thing back and I'm already being treated like a laborer. Well, I was planning to stop by the blacksmith first anyway, so whatever."
...recognizing this as Beth's way of teasing an old friend who'd been gone too long, Elsid accepted without complaint.
"Then I'll go eat with the soldiers. I'm counting on you."
As expected, once Elsid agreed to the task, Beth grinned and waved before walking off.
That part of him hasn't changed at all.
After watching his friend's playful antics, Elsid turned his gaze to the cart. The old weapons piled on it easily weighed over a hundred kilograms.
"Hup!"
Without the slightest hesitation or request for help, Elsid grabbed the handles, let out a shout, and began pulling. The cart let out a screech under the weight, but the wheels turned, and he managed to get it moving.
"Let's see. The blacksmith should be..."
Elsid glanced around, trying to recall the old layout from hazy memories. Then...
"Damn it..."
A moment later, remembering the way, he made a thoroughly annoyed face.
"I have to climb this cursed hill again?"
Because the road to the blacksmith lay at the top of the long, steep slope now stretching before his eyes.
"Haah, why'd they have to build the damn thing all the way up there?"
Complaining lightly about the blacksmith who'd placed his forge atop the green hill like some picturesque scene, Elsid had no choice but to start walking.