The Fragile Mage
“Is there a problem with the mage in your mercenary group? Is that why you’re asking?”
“...”
Palchion, the captain of the Golden Dawn Mercenary Corps, remained silent, his face twisted with complicated emotions.
“It’s difficult to explain the full circumstances, but our mage cannot participate. That’s why I asked, even though I knew it was rude. If you can’t discuss it, at least tell me which magic tower she’s from.”
Whether mage or mercenary, no one liked revealing their true abilities to others. Palchion seemed to be trying to gauge the mage’s skill level by learning her origin.
“Unfortunately, I specialize in healing and recovery magic. I come from a place outside this continent, so I cannot use offensive spells.”
“Ah...”
Palchion looked disappointed at my answer.
This guy. I’m already depressed that I have no attack magic. Don’t make that face right in front of me—it’s annoying.
“Then it seems we cannot accept the extermination request. Without magic to restrain the Shabel Tiger’s movements, the hunt is nearly impossible.”
“What do you mean by that? You won’t take the request?”
“If your mercenary group is B-rank, you must have a mage. What do you mean your mage can’t use magic?”
The merchants who had arranged the meeting flared up at Palchion’s refusal.
“Our mage has personal circumstances. Regrettably, we cannot accept the request. That will be all.”
“Hold on! That’s not what you said before!”
“If you have a mage but can’t use her, you shouldn’t call yourselves B-rank!”
“Exactly! A group with a useless mage is C-rank at best!”
Enduring the merchants’ criticism, Palchion turned and left without a word. The merchants grumbled but could do nothing. All they could do was pray that Lecherot’s priest would arrive soon and settle the matter.
As for me, I couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with the Golden Dawn’s mage that prevented her from using magic.
“Master, I asked around after hearing the story yesterday.”
Yanne came bustling back from the laundry area with information.
“There’s a mage in the Golden Dawn wearing a robe. A female mage with blue hair, apparently quite young.”
“A young woman?”
“Yes. She’s apparently extremely thin, like she hasn’t had a proper meal in days. Even doing laundry seems to exhaust her.”
“Really? She’s a mage, yet no one helps her with chores? What kind of laundry was she doing that made it look so difficult?”
“Just underwear and everyday clothes. Since it’s a mercenary group, they probably can’t keep maids, so she has to do it herself.”
“Makes sense. I’ve never seen female mercenaries in the larger groups before. Smaller parties sometimes have them, but groups with dozens of members are basically armies, so women are rare.”
That only made me more curious.
“Yanne, let’s do something together.”
“Something? You want me to approach the mage using laundry or other women’s work as an excuse? Then what should I find out? Why she can’t join the Shabel Tiger hunt?”
The quick-witted girl had already guessed my intentions without me saying a word.
“Hahaha. That’s right. Go find out what’s wrong with that female mage.”
“Okay! Leave it to me.”
Yanne changed back into girls’ clothing instead of the boys’ outfit she wore while traveling, tied her hair on both sides, and made herself look like an innocent young girl. Then she loitered between the Golden Dawn’s camp and the laundry area.
Eventually she spotted the blue-haired female mage carrying a chamber pot and dashed toward her.
“Um... I’ll do it for you!”
Yanne swiftly snatched the chamber pot, emptied it at the manure pit, then washed it clean in the stream.
“I’ll do your laundry too.”
“Why would you do that? Do you need work or money?”
“I heard you couldn’t join the Shabel Tiger hunt because you’re unwell. I wanted to help you recover your health quickly.”
“...Thank you, but I must decline. Besides... no. There’s no point telling you. Anyway, the reason I can’t join the hunt isn’t my health.”
“Then what is it?”
“I... never mind. Sigh. I appreciate what you did today, but even if you help, the hunt won’t happen the way you want. So next time, I’ll handle it myself.”
Before Yanne could reply, the woman turned to return to camp. A sudden winter gust made her stagger, and she sank to the ground, apparently dizzy.
“Are you all right?”
Yanne hurried to support her and got a closer look at the mage wrapped in her large robe. She had striking blue hair, pale skin, brown eyebrows, and green eyes. Her cheeks were hollow, making her cheekbones prominent, and both sides of her face looked sunken like an old woman’s.
“Do you not have enough to eat?”
Seeing the woman so emaciated, like a famine victim, Yanne felt pity. She took a piece of black sugar toast from her pocket and held it to the mage’s lips.
“No, that’s not it.”
The female mage shook her head and refused to eat.
“Why not? It’s delicious. It’s not dirty either. Just try one bite. You’ll change your mind once you taste it.”
Yanne forced the toast into the woman’s mouth despite her protests. The mage tried to push Yanne’s hand away, but her frail body couldn’t resist. The black sugar toast touched her tongue, and the warmth of saliva and body heat began to melt the sugary butter.
Sezanne, the mage, was startled by the luxurious sweetness on her tongue and swallowed without thinking. Fresh saliva welled up to moisten the toast, and the dissolving sweetness made her chew instinctively. The flavor filled her mouth, and the finely chewed pieces slid down her throat.
Yanne smiled when she saw Sezanne’s throat move.
“See? I was right. It’s good, isn’t it? You want more, don’t you? I was surprised the first time I tried it too.”
Sezanne smiled and tried to nod, but the black sugar toast came back up along with bitter stomach acid.
“Ugh— urk—”
Sezanne vomited, the sweet smell of brown sugar mixing with the sour taste of bile. Overcome with shame at not even being able to keep food down, she fled back to camp in tears.
“What was that? Are there people who can’t eat sugar?”
When Yanne reported the strange female mage, a suspicion formed in my mind. The skeletal appearance like a famine refugee and the immediate vomiting after eating—those were classic symptoms of anorexia.
“Could the female mage be pregnant? I’ve heard from Mother and the aunties that pregnant women throw up even while eating.”
“Is her belly swollen?”
“No. It was practically stuck to her back. So it’s not pregnancy.”
“If her stomach looks like that, it’s not pregnancy. From what I can tell, it seems like anorexia.”
“Anorexia?”
I explained the condition to Yanne, but she couldn’t understand it. She refused to believe that in a world where people starved to death from lack of food, there existed a disease that made people reject eating.
“Master, is there no way to cure that illness?”
I considered whether buffs or magic could help, but shook my head. Anorexia was mostly a psychological rejection of food; unless the patient herself changed, there was no cure. From what I’d learned in college, most anorexia patients wasted away until they starved to death.
Now I understood why Palchion hadn’t explained why his mage couldn’t participate.
“A new procession is coming!”
It was the fourth day since we’d stayed in White Stone Village. Everyone was craning their necks, waiting for Lecherot’s priest to arrive. So every new group drew attention.
However, the arriving party consisted of nobles heading to the academy with their children, just like our group.
“They’re from Viscount Dotran’s domain. I wonder if they have a mage.”
Even Priest Hergo was growing irritated at the long wait and considering taking a longer detour.
“They say there’s a holy warrior of Malian, the mountain god, in their group!”
The news spread quickly through the village. Since the procession was bound for the academy, it also meant knights and soldiers were present.
“A holy warrior?”
Upon inquiry, I learned that among monk priests, those who could use mana were called holy warriors. With over 150 mercenaries already in the village, plus a holy warrior, a priest, and a recovery mage, the merchants’ excitement began to stir again.
“With a holy warrior, two knights, and about a hundred mercenaries, we should be able to handle the Shabel Tiger.”
“What do you think, Captain Palchion? You’ve fought one before.”
Experience made all the difference, so everyone focused on Palchion’s answer.
“During the pioneer conscription, there were two mages. They used fire magic to prevent the beast from escaping, which allowed the knights to finish it. Without fire magic, it’ll be difficult.”
“How about using firebombs instead of fire magic? We have a holy warrior leading us and a priest, so it should be roughly equivalent, no?”
The merchants pressed for an answer, but Palchion hesitated.
“If we block its escape with firebombs and the mercenaries keep it occupied, the knights should be able to finish it.”
Yoheim, the holy warrior, stepped forward. He wore armor even thicker than the knights’ plate, and he looked younger than thirty. Perhaps because of his youth, he seemed confident.
“If anyone gets injured, the priest and I will provide support.”
With even Priest Hergo joining in, Palchion reluctantly nodded.
“Place all the mercenaries under my command. First, the Shabel Tiger is intelligent and won’t fall for traps. So...”
Thus, the official Shabel Tiger hunting party was formed.
“You want us to tie a pig and a horse in the forest and just leave them there? Without any traps?”
“Yes. We need to let the tiger eat the pig and horse until it’s full without any suspicion. Then the next day, tie only a horse. The day after that, only a pig.”
“So we attack when it comes for the second pig?”
“No. We let it eat the second pig until it’s full and leaves as well.”
Everyone looked confused when Palchion said to let the tiger eat the second pig too.
“Then when do we hunt it?”
“We don’t hunt it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once it’s eaten the second pig, we simply pass through the forest.”
Palchion never said the word “hunt.” He only spoke of passing through the forest, leaving everyone wondering what he meant.