The Book of the Distant Marshes (2)
It was clearly that book. There was no way another book could share such an identical, lengthy title. Nor could there be anyone else who had written such a thick volume on the subject of Riaska.
‘Has it already been published? Well, Rin did mention sending copies to her research lab in the Imperial Capital whenever the manuscript progressed… but still, this quickly?’
Moreover, the name of the slime who claimed to be my daughter was absent from the list of co-authors. Strictly speaking, that would count as a violation of authorship rights.
I could understand why. If Rin’s name appeared in a book like this—already a renowned alchemist and Naixon’s top disciple—it would invite troublesome questions. How she came to know the witch Kaira, how they ended up co-authoring, why their faces were so alike. One reason Rin rarely left her lab was her human-like appearance, modeled after me.
‘It doesn’t seem to have been banned, at least. The fact that it’s circulating so openly suggests as much. It might only be available in major trade hubs like Latenear, though…’
Even people living far to the west were still human. They would harbor curiosity about other lands, and an encyclopedia detailing the little-known, desolate marshes would likely find an audience beyond the grasslands. The writing had been crafted to evoke the sensation of stepping into an unknown world.
I stared blankly at the book’s opening pages. They contained the author’s plain account of her own life—written as a defense by someone branded a witch—entirely unrelated to the book’s actual subject, Riaska. The delusions of that day resurfaced.
As I traced the pages, lost in memories of those horrific fantasies of ruin, the hero party’s journey, and the wandering that followed, a voice spoke from behind me.
“Are you interested in that book?”
So absorbed in thought that I hadn’t noticed anyone behind me, I flinched, my shoulders jerking, and spun around.
“Ah… y-yes!? Y-yes…….”
It was the woman who had been arranging the bookstore shelves. With no other customers, she must have been bored. The way she struck up a conversation so readily suggested she wasn’t a mere employee—she was likely the owner.
“It’s a new release from the Imperial Capital. Surprisingly popular among merchants heading west. Well, to people beyond the grasslands, it’s just an interesting tale from a faraway land. It sells quite well even without being a trade good. After all, it’s supposedly written by none other than the Witch of Sand, Kaira. Since you’re a mage yourself, I assume that’s why it caught your eye?”
Even so, the owner shrugged as if unwilling to overhype it.
“Plenty of people claim the author is just pretending to be Kaira to boost sales.”
“Ahaha……”
“But I believe it really was written by Kaira.”
The bookstore owner turned her head slightly, glancing at the other shelves as she spoke plainly.
“The hero who defeated the Demon King was purged the moment he was no longer useful. How pitiful. Since there haven’t been any rumors of the Witch of Sand’s death after she fled, she’s probably been exiled from the Empire and is hiding somewhere. Riaska is little-known and feared by most, so it would be the perfect place for someone like her to disappear.”
I… might have misunderstood how people would look at me. Those who considered my circumstances this way… I had assumed there would be no one who remembered the heroes who saved the world with any fondness.
If not for gazes like hers, I might have been captured long ago and ended up on the gallows I had imagined while writing the preface.
“It’s popular enough that I opened a copy myself and read the most famous part—the preface. It’s hard to put into words, but the story of that bakery girl who suddenly becomes a hero only to be coldly discarded… it has a sincerity that couldn’t have been fabricated by anyone else.”
Only after chattering on unprompted did the clerk seem to notice my trembling shoulders.
“Um… miss……?”
“Ah… I-I’m sorry… The book… next time……”
Choking on my words, I managed a reply and fled the bookstore, swallowing back tears and keeping my gaze fixed on the floor so no one would see my distorted expression.
“Phew…… Refreshing.”
I set the wooden mug down on the bar table. It had only contained water. This small body couldn’t handle alcohol. In distant Latenear, far from rivers and mountains, they relied on wells for water. Apparently, water trapped in the aquifer would gush out the moment you drilled into the ground.
It had a slightly heavy taste for water, with a salty aftertaste. Even if the flavor was off-putting, it was groundwater that had accumulated over a long time—rich in minerals, so I told myself it was good water and drank it anyway. Conjuring water with magic to drink here would have looked ridiculous.
Having emptied the cup, I stared at the steaming object before me. I gazed at it so blankly, as if entranced, that a trail of drool escaped my lips without my noticing.
“Slurp? Eep…?!”
Only after realizing the drool was running down my neck did I hurriedly wipe my chin, glancing around. I hoped no one had seen, but it seemed the young server and the man at the next table who had glanced over had noticed.
‘… It doesn’t matter. Maybe they’re just happy they got a good show.’
Embarrassed, I comforted myself with the thought.
Then,
‘Ehehe. Time to eat!’
I picked up the object waiting before me, my eyes filled with anticipation. It would be nice to stay like this, but… it would get cold, so—one bite, right now.
“Haaaa……”
The taste drew nothing but a gasp from me. My eyes closed of their own accord. If I opened them, the unnecessary stimulation of sight would prevent me from fully savoring the flavor and aroma.
I couldn’t possibly stay still while eating something like this. With such a small body, even if I made a bit of a scene, everyone would just find it cute. Eheh.
“Mahhh……!!”
Everyone who heard my mangled exclamation of delight nodded with satisfied expressions, as if it were only natural.
It was undeniably delicious. The surface of the perfectly ripened meat, fragrant enough to intoxicate, teased my gums with its crispy texture. Yet it hadn’t been roasted so thoroughly that the inside was dry—when I bit down, the juices packed with the full flavor of the meat burst forth violently. Just like when I reached my peak down below…
… No, like an erupting volcano, like the rain of Riaska, like the gushing wells of Bestebene.
What I held in my hand was a metal skewer. Meat from an animal raised in abundance on the grasslands of Bestebene—similar to Earth’s sheep—cut into neat cubes, threaded with root vegetables and some crunchy fruit-like produce, and grilled.
Those who liked explaining things said it was a dish that came from the ogres of the west. Those who liked criticizing said that ogres, lacking both metal and wood, wouldn’t use such cooking tools, so it must have been brought from beyond the western grasslands. Either way, it didn’t matter.
As long as it tasted good.
‘Aaaah…… Beer. It would really go well with beer……’
Just as I was thinking that, a glass of low-alcohol fermented drink was placed on the table with a thud.
“Eh… I didn’t order this……”
As I questioned it, I saw the man at the next table grinning, teeth bared, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up.
“That gentleman ordered it for you.”
The young server who had set down the drink explained. Perhaps the sight of the tiny girl melting with a blissful expression as she gnawed on the well-grilled skewers had been pleasing to watch.
“Um, I… I’m traveling alone, but I do have money……”
“You just looked so happy eating. Well… consider it payment for the show. Yeah, payment for the show. A pretty girl’s smile isn’t something you see just anywhere. Though I suppose you can see one whenever you look in a mirror, unlike the rest of us.”
“Th-thank you……”
My face flushed red as I bowed my head to the man.
‘Right. Since he went to the trouble of buying it for me, even if the alcohol is weak, I should chug it right in front of him to show proper manners.’
Indeed.
It was far milder than the ridiculously potent concentrated fermented liquor of Limena. Not that it lacked flavor. If anything, it was close to the taste Father used to make, stirring a sense of longing. The liquor in the Church’s direct territory had been far too strong……
Bread made from a mix of rye and wheat, directly fermented—plain, unpretentious. Neither the taste of the poor nor the rich, but the taste of ordinary people. The taste Father used to make. Father’s… taste.
‘Dad……’
Even as I thought of him, I quietly watched the lively group at the next table.
‘Eheh… Maybe I’ll go with that man tonight. I have to repay him, after all.’
I took another bite of the skewer. The crisp texture of the roasted vegetables, the spreading aroma of meat, the juices of the moist vegetables and meat. Washing away the grease with the faintly carbonated, bittersweet and sour taste of the fermented drink, I bit into the meat again.
‘I feel like I could eat forever……’
But eating endlessly was not to be. Less than three minutes after the glass had been set down, with the meal only half-finished and the cup already empty, my head began to spin.
‘Ugh… I, drank… too… fast……?’
Before I could even finish that last thought, my consciousness collapsed as if severed by a blade.