Return to the Land of Civilization (1)
Starved, imprisoned, and crushed beneath the weight of having discarded every shred of human dignity, I no longer possessed the strength of mind to endure such a sudden explosion.
I collapsed where I stood, burying my face in the straw littered with the ram’s round droppings, covering my ears as I trembled violently. Heavy, dull footsteps approached, and a shadow fell over my cowering body.
When I lifted my head slightly, I saw the Rockbend Ram. The sheep had come to stand over me, shielding me beneath its own shadow. Its horns were lowered, ready to charge at any moment as it glared at the intruder.
Beneath the shadow of a beast that so clearly intended to protect me, I felt a pathetic sense of relief. Grateful that a strong male would shield me with all its might, I abandoned every last trace of dignity—speech, tools, fire, magic—and clung trembling to the ram’s hooves.
As the fragments of wood and straw, the dust, and the smoke of the explosion slowly settled and the outline of the open plain emerged, a powerful voice rang out from the silhouette standing boldly amid the fading smoke.
“Are you alive? Are you hurt? You may rest easy. You will be leaving this place now.”
The voice was thick and rough, yet it rolled like thunder—the voice of an ogre. It shook my body down to the marrow. But it was not the voice of the elder who had thrown me into this pit, nor that of the ogre who had brought me from the ruins.
“Calm yourself, great friend. I am no enemy. I mean no harm—to you, nor to the small friend you hide behind your hooves. And…”
The smoke thinned. A towering figure, even larger than most ogres, stood leaning on something as thick and long as a staff.
Yet the voice was familiar… faintly nostalgic…
“Even if you charge, you cannot win.”
At the ogre’s sharp, piercing words, the Rockbend Ram seemed to tense, its legs stiffening. It was only natural. The voice carried such unshakable confidence that even an elephant-sized creature would be crushed in a single blow.
And then the smoke cleared completely.
“Ah…”
Standing tall against the horizon where dawn was just breaking, clad in ornate armor that left almost no skin exposed—unlike any ogre I had ever seen—was a sturdy, powerful figure that even a human would find striking. The sight pierced clearly through my hunger-blurred vision.
“It has been a long time, little wizard. A long time indeed… Kaira. Still small, yet as precious a companion as ever.”
I released the ram’s hooves and forced my feeble body upright, stepping forward past the sheep that watched me with concern.
And I spoke the name.
“Glazalus… sir…?”
“Indeed. It is Glazalus. How many years has it been? Eight? Nine? Truly, a great span of time has passed.”
It was unmistakably the Glazalus I knew. Save for the beard that had turned slightly ashen, grown longer, the belly that had grown rounder, the armor far more ornate, and the deeper lines upon his face, he was the same massive ogre.
Yet something felt… off.
“Perhaps it is because we have been apart so long, but… your demeanor seems different, Glazalus sir.”
“After that journey, I became the Great Warrior who represents all ogre tribes. That is all.”
Glazalus tossed a bundle he had been carrying in one hand.
“Your belongings, Kaira. I received them from the chieftain. It is unseemly for a grown woman to stand unclothed. Dress yourself, then we shall speak.”
Only then did I realize I was facing an old friend completely naked. In a shrinking voice, I offered my thanks.
“Y-yes… Thank you…”
I conjured water from the air to wash myself and dressed. First the undergarments and dress, then I washed my feet and slipped them one by one into my boots. The Rockbend Ram supported my swaying body. It seemed to have already read the mood between Glazalus and me, and behaved docilely without interfering.
As I struggled into my clothes with small grunts, Glazalus spoke quietly.
“As Great Warrior, I wander the plains. I mediate disputes between tribes and protect human merchants traveling east and west. This time, too, I came to the imperial border on such business. And from the elder, I heard that a human female who had trespassed upon the ruins had been ‘executed’ in a manner that would not provoke conflict with the Empire.”
Even as I staggered while forcing my boots on, a question arose. Since when could this ogre speak so fluently?
“Under the pretext of a religious tradition of receiving oracles from the Rockbend Ram, they found a convenient way to dispose of an eyesore—an imperial human. Killing an imperial citizen outright would risk worsening relations, but if the intruder into sacred ground perished while being judged by divine oracle, even the imperial margrave would have no grounds for complaint.”
Once both boots were finally on, I stood and rubbed my eyes hard.
Then I stared blankly at Glazalus’s face with a dumbfounded expression—the look of someone wondering whether this could truly be the same ogre I knew, the simple, dull-witted one Kadros used to call “beer-barrel head.”
Glazalus, noticing my gaze, fell silent. Only after an awkward stretch of silence did I finally manage to speak.
“You… you speak the imperial tongue remarkably well now, Glazalus sir. So well that even if you tried to hide it, your wisdom would still shine through. Kadros sir would no longer be able to call you a beer barrel so carelessly.”
“Is that so? I am grateful. I shall accept the compliment for now. However, it is a mistaken insight, unworthy of the wise Kaira. This Glazalus remains nothing more than a dull ogre. It is merely that, in this position, I have had many encounters with imperial humans. Constant experience can turn even an ogre’s clumsy hands as nimble as an elf’s.”
How could such words come from the mouth of a dullard? After nearly ten years of meeting countless imperial merchants, hearing innumerable stories, and learning the political intrigues of every tribe… could even a beer barrel become like this?
“At first I thought it was merely another pitiful imperial human who would die, but upon seeing the female’s belongings, curiosity made me examine them briefly. I realized they belonged to a wizard. And, as if entranced, I brought my nose close.”
“Ah…”
“A nostalgic scent spread. Faint from the robe, a little stronger where the dress folded at the arms… and strongest of all inside the boots.”
…That was just my body… my armpits… and the smell of my feet… Ah…
“N-no… You really don’t need to mention that!!”
I cried out, turning away from Glazalus in embarrassment. A glance at the ogre’s face showed only a smile, as though he found me merely endearing.
“So I took the bundle and fled on the spot, even at the risk of earning this tribe’s ill will. My attendants will handle the aftermath, but this Glazalus will no longer hold much influence over this tribe.”
“Because of me…?”
Glazalus’s expression froze, as though I had made some absurd misunderstanding.
“Did I not promise? If Kaira ever set foot in our lands, this Glazalus would drive her out. I came to keep that promise.”
“Eh…?”
Now that he mentioned it, he had said that.
‘I have grown very afraid of Kaira. I cannot do as the dwarf friend did. If Kaira comes to our tribe, I will drive her out.’
At the very place where the hero’s party had disbanded, Glazalus had spoken those words while looking at me, his face filled with fear and worry—so unlike a great ogre uncle. Yes. I was the sort of person who deserved to be driven away.
If I were still a person, that is. Until moments ago I had been pleasuring myself while watching a sleeping ram, and just a little earlier I had been stroking the sheep as though it were my spouse, my mind broken. If I were still a person.
I looked at Glazalus again. The moment he saw my face, hardened by the swirl of thoughts, his expression melted once more into a smile as warm as the afternoon sun.
“Therefore, as promised, this Glazalus must drive Kaira out. I cannot stand by and watch you be imprisoned here or executed through the cunning abuse of custom. Come, Kaira. Take my hand. So that I may personally drive you from this land.”
“Ah…”
Only then did I understand the true meaning behind Glazalus’s teasing, roundabout words.
He had come… to save me again.
Though age had etched itself into his face and beard, and time into his attire and wisdom, his soul and essence remained exactly as they had been—the strong, simple, great companion of mine.
“Thank you, Glazalus… Once again, I owe you a debt I can never repay.”
“What are you saying, Kaira.”
Glazalus replied as though feigning indifference.
“I am merely driving you out. There has never been an exile who thanked the one who banishes them.”
At that shameless remark, I could only laugh.
I pressed my cheek several times against the Rockbend Ram’s damp nose in farewell. The sheep bleated softly, reluctant, yet not so reluctant as to follow me out of the pen. Perhaps Glazalus frightened it.
Then I stepped out of the tall, thick wooden prison that had held me. When this tribe moved its settlement with the seasons, this pen would likely be dismantled and a new one built elsewhere.
Thus we began our short walk. Though the massive forms of ogres who had come to gawk at the explosion could be felt in the distance, none approached or tried to interfere. Perhaps they feared the renown of Glazalus, the Great Warrior of the entire plain.
And after walking for a few minutes, my feet suddenly left the ground.
“Kaira is slow. How about riding upon this Glazalus’s hand?”
“Eh? Ah… well, but…”
“Ogres cannot run as long as humans, yet they are incomparably faster. Faster even than horses. That is why creatures like the Rockbend Ram are tamed and ridden. Would you not like to experience it yourself?”
Before I could answer, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered forth, and the wind of the plain swept back my hair as it brushed my face. Cradled like a child with my pack still on, I clung dazedly to the ogre’s chest as he ran in earnest. The intricate engravings on his well-adorned armor caught my eye.
“Your armor… it’s splendid. You hardly wore clothes when we traveled together.”
“It is the symbol of the tribal Great Warrior. The women and children of the village carved and attached the various decorations. Honestly, it is cumbersome, yet it brings many advantages when dealing with others—both ogres and humans.”
“I see. You were already reliable, but now you look truly imposing. You must have been busy. You must be proud.”
Glazalus fell silent for a moment before speaking in a slightly wistful voice.
“Since becoming Great Warrior, I have not fought a single battle. The title is nothing like what it suggests. Those in high positions do not stand upon the battlefield lightly. Thanks to that, I have been freed from the duty of swinging axes and scattering fragments of metal in slaughter.”
Though he spoke of being freed from duty, his tone held no relief.
“Perhaps that is why it is all the more exhausting—especially for one such as this Glazalus. I have spent my life crushing other tribes’ ogres, humans, and monsters on the front lines, doing only work that required no schemes or stratagems.”
Perhaps those in high places had their own hardships. After all, the man once called beer-barrel head now spoke with such thoughtfulness. It must have been quite a trial for someone like Glazalus.
As we walked, I told Glazalus everything that had happened during our years apart—the work at the brothel, entrusting my mother to Azalea, and my life in Riaska. When I finished, a faint smile lingered on Glazalus’s lips.
“I had suspected it was you who wrote that.”
“Pardon?”
“I often escort traveling human merchants. Tales of Riaska frequently come up in their conversations. Though this Glazalus cannot read, they say a book written by a witch named Kaira has reached even the distant western countries. As expected of a proud companion—our small, adorable wizard.”
“Ahaha…”
Embarrassed, I buried my face against the ogre’s armored chest when the steady rhythm of his running suddenly stopped.
“Here we are, Kaira. We have arrived. This is the Plain’s Entrance. From here onward lies imperial territory. Your banishment ends here.”