After the Meeting
After the gathering ended, Marhal entered the Small Empire. He could have ridden through the night to join the others, but with no pressing urgency, there was no need to push that hard.
The Small Empire was a key hub on the route from the Empire to the West. Even notable figures from the Empire often stopped here, and the accommodations catered to them accordingly.
Lying on a luxurious bed that seemed to swallow his body whole, Marhal stared blankly at the ceiling. There was so much to do. He needed to scrape together the funds to qualify for the land race, and Marina Silanatiell's next move was another headache.
Marhal opened his eyes. Fog enveloped everything around him. The fog of death crept closer with every passing moment. Death seemed like the only escape left. He had to flee, even just a little. But his body wouldn't move. Was this the end?
Then it happened. Four pairs of shoes appeared before Marhal's eyes.
Ah, it's a dream.
It was a scene etched into his memory, one he'd never forget. The next version of himself would look up, and the thief would speak to the Hero.
"This little kid? The one you said is absolutely necessary?"
"Yeah, if my instincts are right."
"Your instincts seem off this time. He's just an ordinary brat. You think this kid's the key to killing demons? No way."
The thief had always been full of complaints, then and now. The man crouched down. Marhal could see his face clearly. It wasn't particularly striking. His skin was flawless, as befitted a superhuman, but that was it—an utterly average face. Handsome if you thought so, plain if you didn't.
"Hey, kid. What's your name?"
"Who are you?"
"Me? The man who's gonna save the world."
"Here we go again with this lunatic. Ignore him, kid. You separated from your family? Takes guts to make it this far, but what's your plan? If you wanna get back to them, I can send you off painlessly."
Marhal had thought they were both insane. This was before demons were even called demons. They were invincible monsters back then, and humanity's only option was flight. Yet here were two men chatting idly right under the demons' noses. Anyone who thought that normal was the real lunatic.
Marhal's gaze shifted. His survival instincts had sharpened to a razor's edge while fleeing the demons. A giant burst from the fog. A black club forged from coalesced black smoke looked like it could shatter city gates. Even seeing the charging behemoth, the two remained unfazed.
"Want me to take it?"
"Nah. I'll handle it."
The world split apart. That was the illusion. The giant cleaved in two, and the fog behind it parted as well. Every visible wisp of mist bore sword marks. Marhal's gaze swung forward again. The Hero was sheathing his blade, reaching out a hand to him.
"Kid, I have a feeling you're the one we need to kill demons. So, how about helping me out? It won't be easy, but wanna join the fight to save the world?"
It was the epitome of heroic bearing. No hero from a tale could outshine the man before him. What had he answered back then? As Marhal pondered, his dream-self's mouth moved on its own.
"Revenge."
"What?"
"I don't care about the world. As long as I get my revenge."
"Against who?"
The Hero asked with genuine curiosity. The thief perked up too. They probably never expected the word "revenge" from a boy who looked just past ten.
"The enemies who killed my family."
"Ha, kid. We're not so idle we can go around avenging every brat…"
"Marhal Muneduus."
"Huh? Muneduus? Wait, isn't that…? You knew and came here?"
"Nah, just a hunch. But still…"
Undeterred by the Hero and thief's confusion, young Marhal pressed on.
"If I can get revenge on those monsters who stole my family, I'll do anything."
Marhal opened his eyes. It was the ceiling of the inn where he'd fallen asleep the night before.
Lately, these old memories have been popping up in my dreams more often.
He was past the point of being rattled by nightmares. And this dream wasn't a nightmare at all—it was closer to a fond memory.
After meeting the Hero and the thief, the mage joined them. Then they encountered the saint healing people on the front lines, and set off for the West—to slay the Demon King.
The real nightmare was the journey itself, crossing the East to the Bachea Empire's capital. They fought and fled from demons that embodied the world's malice condensed. Scholars had described the West based on observed demon ecology, but no one nailed it exactly. Even the Hero Party had to avoid direct fights with certain demons in the West. There were monsters—called inhuman—that forced even those four united to flee, search for weaknesses, and evade.
The world didn't grasp how dangerous demons truly were. Not even those who birthed them understood their limits or potential.
"Getting heated about it here won't change a thing."
Marhal rose from the bed and tugged the cord beside it. Soon, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
The maid entered, bowing her head. Her next words plunged Marhal's mood to rock bottom.
"Are you Marhal, sir?"
"…Does this inn not manage guest identities?"
Marhal had never given his name upon checking in. In places like this, if a guest hid their identity, staff pretended not to know—basic etiquette. Marhal's expression soured; he hated needless entanglements.
"My apologies. It was a request I couldn't ignore."
"Fine. Let's hear it. Who's asking?"
"Marina Silanatiell, Union surveyor."
Marhal's foul mood evaporated faster than it had set in. Marina Silanatiell had come herself. What did that mean? Things were already getting interesting this early in the morning.
"Where is she?"
"Waiting on the first floor since dawn."
"Tell her I'll be down soon."
"Understood."
After the maid left, Marhal dressed. It was travel attire with simple adornments, prepared for the gathering. Dressed, he headed downstairs.
The first floor of the upscale inn felt more like a venue for noble parties than a dining hall. Marina sat in a chair, tea beside her, absorbed in a book.
Ancient Imperial tongue. Glimpses of it appeared amid the Silanatiell family's cipher. Anyone bearing that name could surely read ancient Imperial.
Between Bayola and Marina, who was superior?
"You asked for me?"
Marina looked up. Spotting Marhal, she jolted upright in her seat, knocking over her teacup with her wrist. Hot tea spilled across her body.
"…!"
She tried to stand but caught her foot on the chair, tumbling sideways with a muffled shriek, tangled in the furniture.
As Marhal approached, Marina sputtered incoherent sounds.
"Ah, uh… ah."
"You alright?"
"It burns…"
A nearby server swiftly brought a damp cloth. Marhal extended a hand to help her up.
"Any injuries? Looks like you got burned."
"I'm fine. Thick clothes."
Marina pressed the wet cloth to the spill and explained.
"Why'd you seek me out?"
"I contacted my family. No rush anywhere, so I figured I'd travel with you for a bit. It's convenient for you too, right? And I can get replies right away."
So that's how it was. Not a bad deal for Marhal. More time with her meant more chances to learn her true nature—and who backed her.
Still, agreeing to travel with a stranger outright seemed odd.
"What if I say no?"
"I'm an excellent mage. I can handle combat, chores—anything."
"Never short on fighters, and plenty handle the grunt work already."
"If needed, I can lend you the Silanatiell name."
"Now that's tempting."
He didn't know why she'd lend a name not truly hers, but the Silanatiell label opened doors.
"Marhal, sir?"
Marin descended the stairs, face heavy with sleep, rubbing her eyes. Marhal instructed her.
"Marin, go wake Karian."
"Right now?"
She blinked, confused—they'd planned a leisurely start after rest.
"Something urgent came up."
The Silanatiell name was usable. Passing up that opportunity meant he shouldn't be in business.
Marhal returned to his villa on the Border. Why stay at an inn if he had a villa? That inn was the new villa. The others must be out; no signs of life stirred.
As Marhal turned to leave again, Karian grabbed him.
"Right, Marhal. Got a quick question."
"What's up?"
"This Haily guy—can we trust him?"
"He wouldn't scam without reason."
"So if there's reason, he would?"
Karian nodded to himself.
"Why? Did he pull something?"
"Offered investment. Enough for five proper large warehouses."
"Conditions?"
"I never even mentioned warehouses to him. He brought it up out of nowhere. That's kinda scary."
"Fair point."
Karian hadn't solidified plans for his land yet. An outsider offering warehouse funds unprompted would unnerve anyone.
"How many know you're building warehouses?"
"Folks staying here, Ena, and a few village merchants."
"Ena's solid. Someone must've blabbed. Any suspects?"
"None."
Karian shook his head. No expertise, no insights.
"Our slip-up; I'll handle it. Take the investment—review terms closely."
"If you say so. Doesn't he have a business here?"
Landlords with means all had ventures on the Border. Karian had naturally grasped that much.
"Go with Hugo. Hugo."
"Yes, sir."
"Marin, wanna tag along? It'll help to see it once."
"Sure."
With Marin, Karian, and Hugo gone, only Marhal and Marina remained.
"Shall we head out too?"
"Where to?"
"Someone to meet. You don't have priest phobia or anything, right?"
"Don't call me so casually."
"Then, Great Mage Marina Silanatiell?"
"…Just Marina's fine. I hate priests, but not clergy in general."
It sounded absurd at first glance, but Marhal could guess the nuance.
Following Marhal led to a church on the Border.
"Quite the crowd for a church."
"They're giving out free miracles."
"That church?"
"One unusual nun."
Marhal entered. One side held patients awaiting treatment; the other, a priest eyeing them sourly.
Marhal tapped a boy he'd seen on his first visit.
"Mind letting Sister Alasil know?"
Recognizing Marhal, the boy darted inside. Soon, Alasil emerged.
"Long time, Sister Alasil."
"Brother Marhal. Good to see you."
"Did I ever give my name back then?"
"A priest mentioned it later. Said it was one to remember."
"I see."
Mercenary work and village lord duties had crossed paths with priests a few times; one must be here.
Marhal called to Marina, surveying the church.
"Marina, this is Alasil Egoman. Alasil, meet Marina Silanatiell."
As if on cue, both froze. Predictable. They'd never anticipated this. Marhal had only thought of it hours ago.