Paladin Of The End Volume 3.2 Chapter Prologue
The room featured stonework walls, a small wooden chair and writing desk, and even a comfy‐looking bed set into an alcove in the wall. On the shelves and writing desk were everyday items, books, and countless memos that I’d left behind when I set off on my journey. It was my room in that beloved temple on the hill.
I had returned to that city of the dead.
A peaceful homecoming—if only that were the case. The number of demon-related incidents was climbing every day as the dragon howled in the Rust Mountains to the west. The god of undeath’s Herald had prophesied that I would die if I took on the dragon, but after a lot of deliberation, I decided to challenge it anyway for the sake of my oath, which I didn’t want to break. Of course, I had no intention of dying in vain. I had even put together a strategy. We would go up the river to slip by the demons and launch a surprise attack from the western side of the Rust Mountains. That required going through the city of the dead, and it was for that reason that I’d returned home. It was a small detour before the battle for our lives.
Gus had shown everyone to individual rooms around the temple, and for now we were taking a short moment of respite. The room given to me was this one, which I fondly remembered from my years as a boy. I traced a finger across the cold stone walls. It brought back several memories.
The three undead couldn’t tell much of a difference between hot and cold days, but for me, being a living human, the cold winter night had been pretty harsh. Gus grudgingly arranged for a heated stone for me to keep me warm. As I waited by the fireplace for the stone to warm up, Blood told one of his epic tales, with exaggerated gestures of his hands and body. Mary listened to Blood’s story with a smile on her face as she sewed, occasionally saying one or two words to keep him talking.
It was a dazzling, happy past. And though it was gone and Blood and Mary were no longer here, I was sure that didn’t take away from those days in any way. My happy past continued to shine. And probably, even after Gus disappeared, and even after I died, it would still continue shining forever, like beautiful sand settling at the bottom of the flowing river of time.
My face cracked into a smile. Returning to my home may have made me a little sentimental.
Then, there was a knock on the door to my room. The old door creaked as Menel poked his head around it. “Hey. Coming in.” He peered around the room with interest. “This your room?”
“Yeah.”
Menel hummed vaguely as he looked around. “Small.”
“It was a pretty good fit for me when I was a kid, though.”
These were originally mere sleeping rooms for priests who served the temple. They had a simple construction with almost no space to store anything unnecessary.
“Hey, Will, that old Gus guy, he’s pretty awesome.”
“I thought you were going to say he’s cruder than you imagined, or something.”
“Well, uh. He is. He is, but, uh...” Menel went quiet for a moment while he chose his words, and then spoke in a whisper. “When he was showing me to my room, I felt like he could see right into my mind.”
I nodded.
Many of this world’s greatest and most renowned sorcerers didn’t speak much. Telling lies weakened the power of the Words of Creation. Blunt and empty Words that had no edge and no weight wouldn’t result in anything. So the sorcerers who were called sages chose silence and never took part in common conversation. But as for Gus, he talked, and he talked a lot. He laughed joyfully as he willingly talked about money and women and other lowbrow topics. Yet the power of his Words never weakened. Just as a single word from a normally silent person carries extra weight, there was a cutting sharpness in every word of truth from that man who tempered his genius with worldly affairs.
“Yeah, he’s great, isn’t he?”
As far as I knew, there had only been a single occasion when Gus had spoken anything like a lie: when he decided, in that gloomy underground city, that he needed to kill me.
“He’s my grandpa,” I said proudly and laughed. Menel laughed too.
◆
After I’d set down my stuff, loosened my equipment, and allowed myself a little time to breathe, I left Menel in charge of everyone else and headed over to see Gus. I was looking for information from him.
Right now, Gus was a disciple of God—my god—and bound to this city, but at the same time, he was a sage from two hundred years ago. I thought he might know something beneficial, but that was not the case.
“Regarding the foul-dragon Valacirca, also known as the Gods’ Sickle and Calamity’s Sickle, I’ve never laid eyes on him.” Gus shrugged. “If I’d had the opportunity, I would have wanted to meet him for a negotiation at least once. If he hadn’t joined up with the demons’ forces, we would never have lost so many heroes’ lives in the fight against the High King.”
Gus explained that when it came to dragons as old as the gods, the choice of a single one to side with your forces or the enemy’s had an enormous influence on the balance of a war.
“If you’re going to fight him, I’d focus on his old wounds. Valacirca has fought all kinds of battles since ancient times, against Echoes and numerous heroes, and there are multiple rumors of times during those battles when he sustained wounds and had scales torn off. A dragon’s scales are tough. I’ll tell you now, I doubt even Blood could have cut to the skin through dragonscale.”
Joined by two dwarves, a human warrior, and a half-elf hunter, I was going to be heading to mountains ruled by a dragon, aiming to strike him where his scales had been torn off. It kind of felt like a situation I might have found in an old fantasy novel in my past world. It was no laughing matter that this was now my reality.
“What about the Word of Entity Obliteration?” I asked him about one of the plans I’d been thinking of. Gus had used that Word to take down the Echo of the god of undeath. If we used that, maybe we’d stand a chance...
“Well, yes, if it were to hit, then it could probably blast away a dragon, certainly.”
Gus obviously thought it stood almost no chance of hitting.
“Do you know the reason that Elder Dragons can soar swiftly despite their enormous size? The ancient dragons, as denizens of myth, are closer to the Words than we who live in the modern age.”
Therefore, dragons flew.
“Words soar through the air by nature. That’s why.”
Thanks to being closely connected to the Words, dragons could fly in disregard of all physical laws.
“That’s right. The most ancient of dragons are also users of the ultimate Words. What’s more, Valacirca isn’t a negotiator like the god of undeath. He’s a hardcore, seasoned warmonger. Will, you seem to have become a pretty good user of magic, but if you make this into a battle of Words, you will lose.”
“Magic battle: not in my favor. Got it.”
“A physical battle’s not in your favor, either. His size and the physical strength and toughness that come from it are no joke. As Blood would put it, you’re not a match in muscle.”
It wasn’t as if any of that was news, but it still hurt that I couldn’t win with overwhelming body strength. It meant that I couldn’t use the main strategy that had been leading me to victory so far.
“Since times of old, the tactic for killing a dragon has been to make full preparations, then wait for a moment when the dragon is unprepared and launch a surprise attack on its den. But this time... well, you know about the horde of demons around there. Valacirca is most likely using the demon forces as a replacement for a warning siren.”
“I get the feeling I’m starting to understand the reason the god of undeath tried to stop me.”
The dragon had the power of ancient magic, overwhelming size and muscle, and the experience and knowledge to compensate for his own weaknesses. No wonder Stagnate concluded that I had virtually no chance of winning right now.
“Hmph. Stagnate, huh? Was it a Herald?”
“A raven came.”
Gus snorted, unamused. “It sounds like he’s taken to you.”
“Much to my displeasure.” I frowned as well.
“His thoughts are those of a god. Most of us earthly beings can’t follow them.”
“Yeah.”
“And far too ‘friendly’ for a god! No, ‘devious’ is the word I’d use! Bringing us a contract at a time when we couldn’t escape—I’ve never known such slyness! It brought me great satisfaction to tear that contract apart, I assure you! It violated all sense and reason! You’d have thought a god could afford to be less underhanded! It’s no wonder he’s counted among the evil gods!” After getting all that off his chest, Gus sighed. “But I can’t say I’m not the slightest bit grateful,” he said, his expression sullen.
◆
“After becoming undead and being given the opportunity to raise you, Blood and Mary, two of my very few friends, who I even thought of as a son and daughter, were able to pass on in happiness.” Gus glanced away from me. Over there were Blood and Mary’s graves. “And I, too, was given the chance to raise you,” he said, without returning his gaze. “I never took a student. My knowledge and techniques would die with me, and I would blossom brightly and scatter gracefully away. I thought I was content with that, but far from it. You’d be surprised how much regret you feel once you die and all is lost.”
“Gus...”
“Thanks to you, they’ve been carried on. I guess this is all part of the richness of life. Though I’m long dead, of course.” He laughed loudly. Then, after a short pause, he spoke again with a more serious expression. “Listen, are you sure you understand?”
“Don’t worry. I know.”
That was why I’d come alone to talk to Gus. The reality was—
“There’s virtually no room for negotiation with a dragon.”
“Precisely.” Gus nodded. “Even the gods have acknowledged that there is no greater force in this region than you. That makes this the perfect moment for Valacirca to strike.”
“I think so, too. The gods are already wary of Valacirca.”
The god of undeath had told me that he would want to slay the dragon himself if he could manifest an Echo. And Gus had told me that whether a dragon that old and ancient sided with your forces or the enemy’s would have an enormous influence on the balance of a war. Dragons living in the current age were that much of a threat, and conversely, for a dragon to live in this age demanded he work that hard for it.
“Valacirca himself is probably aware that he’s in a situation where if he continues sleeping and becomes isolated, eventually some god will see him as an obstruction to their plans and send an Echo or one of their disciples to kill him. Once the injury Lord Aurvangr inflicted on Valacirca’s eye heals, he’s going to need to either take the initiative to build up a force of his own or join one somewhere else and start a war.”
“Precisely. He’s like a fish who must constantly swim to stay alive. Valacirca can only live within the maelstrom of war, and because of that, he’ll never regard you, with your peaceful views, as his master. If there’s no being as overwhelming as the High King in this modern age, he’ll have to raise his own banner or join with other forces to start a great war. In any event, he has no other choice than to throw the world into chaos and make the gods focus elsewhere.” He looked at me. “And you are the only one with any power to make him think twice.”
I nodded. “And I don’t have enough. From a dragon’s perspective, I guess he might hesitate a little, but I’m an obstacle he can overcome.”
Just as I had overcome every obstacle in my path that I thought was surmountable, the dragon would look at me in the same way, and attempt to overcome me.
“Will... You’re going to die.”
“Maybe, but I’ve decided to fight.” The warmth my god had left with me was still alive within my chest. “Leaving the dragon alone won’t help. A war will start anyway.”
“You could just run.” Gus looked at me intently.
“Gus...” While feeling grateful for his words, I gave him back a smile. “Living and being alive aren’t the same.”
Abandoning everything and just hanging on was only ‘being alive.’ I’d learned through both of my lives that that wasn’t good enough.
Gus sighed. It was a deep sigh of resignation. “So be it.”
I switched my tone to a brighter one and changed the topic. “Oh, right, Gus. I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while. I heard a story about when you three killed a wyvern. Do you remember the human boy and half-elf girl you lent money and a dagger to?”
“Hmm? Oh, that takes me back. I do indeed.”
“They moved up in the world and became nobility. I heard the half-elf girl is still waiting now, even as an old woman.”
“I see...” Gus smiled. It was a lonely smile. “But, well, just look at me. I’m afraid I can no longer go to collect.”
“In that case, can I go in your place?”
Thankfully, Gus seemed to have understood what I was getting at. “Mm, please do. Collecting money is an important task, and a dead man can’t do it!”
“Right! It’s important to get people to give back what they’ve borrowed!”
Yes, I still had plenty of things I wanted to do. The odds were against me, but I had no intention of dying.
“Then it’s fine by me.”
I could tell that “since you intend on returning alive” was implied.
“If you’re going to be my agent, then I can’t very well have you dying, can I?” He grinned broadly, rolled up a sleeve, and clenched a fist. “The equipment used by our brothers-in-arms who took on the High King are still here in this city. Would you and your party like some new gear before you go?”
“Of course!” I grinned back and nodded.
◆
Saying he would show us some weapons, Gus led us outside the temple. By the side of the temple, there was a small storehouse. Mary had used it in place of a shed to store things like tools for taking care of the vegetable garden.
I frowned and cocked my head to the side. I’d been inside the storehouse before, of course, and there weren’t any weapons in there then. Come to think of it, though, where had Blood been storing his weapons? I never—
“Watch.”
As I got that far in my thinking, Gus muttered a couple of Words, and at one edge of the dimly lit storehouse, in a place that I’d thought was floor, a hidden door appeared. Everyone’s eyes opened wide. It was Misdirection magic.
“I didn’t know we had a place like this...”
“We couldn’t show you where they were as a child. Especially not after the recklessness of the Mary incident.” He gave me a look. “You can’t see through the Word of Misdirection without a suspicious mind. When you came to the storehouse, you always had a purpose. You would have been so preoccupied thinking about whatever you came for that you would never have bothered suspecting there might be a Word set upon the floor.”
Then he laughed and added that the trick to using Misdirection magic was to place it somewhere where the target would never even consider they were being misled.
Simple power aside, I still didn’t feel like I was even close to matching up with Gus in terms of crafty use of Words like this. I didn’t have the experience or the personality.
“You’re too honest, that’s your problem,” Gus said, grinning as if he’d read my mind.
I laughed and gave a resigned shrug.
“Now then. It seems that wine was once made here at this temple. Blood and Mary turned the part above ground into a shed, but this was originally a wine cave. Accordingly,” he said, opening the door with psychokinesis, “it goes underground.”
We followed Gus’s magical light down a set of stairs paved with flat stones and entered into a wide-open space. To our left and right, there were racks where wine barrels must have once been stacked, and—
“Whoa...”
“Ooh, wow!”
Menel and Al exclaimed in turn, and Reystov and Ghelreis stared in amazement. The place was full with weapons and armor. I could tell that each and every one of them was a work of equally fine craftsmanship.
“Take whatever you want,” Gus said, smiling. “I’m sure their owners would allow it.”
Everyone gave him a little bow and went around investigating the weapons. Even Reystov and Ghelreis’s eyes were shining. It really was true that no matter what age a man reached, he would always love things like weapons, steel, and leather.
And now that I knew they’d been maintaining a place like this, I had to wonder—
“Gus, was this Blood’s...”
“Mm. He was the one taking care of the armory. These are the weapons of the warriors who once joined us in taking on the High King. There are also some good-quality weapons here that were just left in this city by unknown owners. In any case, Blood said he couldn’t bear to leave them to rust up and get covered in dust, so he brought them in here and gave them regular maintenance.”
Now it made sense. All the various types of weapons Blood had brought out from somewhere for my training when I was young probably came from here. As I looked around at all the weapons in this new light, many of them did look kind of familiar. Hmm, except—
“When I fought Stagnate at the bottom of the temple hill, the skeletons that rose up had rusted weapons and stuff.”
“Yes. Most of those were nothing special, just ordinary weapons picked from the city to bury alongside them. It was Blood’s idea. He said a warrior always needs some kind of weapon, even on the way back to the eternal cycle. Did you notice that hardly any of them were wearing armor? That’s why.”
Gus added that the mithril mail I was wearing, which I’d gotten from one of the skeletons, was something that particular person had requested be buried with him.
“Oh! Then... I should—”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, keep it. It’s not worth worrying about at this point. Just think of it as a compensation fee for the trouble his corpse caused.”
“You just do things any old way, don’t you?!”
But I couldn’t relinquish it at this point. I faced the graveyard at the bottom of the hill and prayed. I have to take this mail. I’m sorry...
Gus laughed loudly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll forgive you. It’s for Blood’s son, after all.”
“What kind of person was he?”
“His name was Telperion. Silver-string Telperion.” If I remembered correctly, that elegant-sounding name was Elvish. “He was born in the Forest of Erin.”
“When the glittering silver bowstring sings, there is no enemy who does not fall.” A voice drifted like a cool breeze. It was Menel. I looked over, and saw that he was gazing upon a glittering silver bow and smiling. “I’m from the same place.”
◆
“Ohh, so you’re from the Great Forest of Erin.”
“Pretty much,” Menel replied curtly.
Gus had the eyes of someone looking at something long lost. “Your silver hair—do you have a blood connection to Telperion?”
“Distantly related, but both part of... Ithil... Silvermoon Branch... uh...”
“Is it what in human society we would call a lineage?”
“That’s the one. Huh. Surprised you knew that.”
In elven society, a clan with shared mythology was called a Trunk, and a lineage that could be traced back to the family relations was called a Branch. Each of those was prefixed by a name in some way associated with the beauty of nature. I’d learned this from Gus.
“Telperion once stumbled over the translation for the same word.”
“Huh.”
“So what kind of person was this Telperion?” I said while peering at the pieces of gear Menel was looking at: leather gloves, a bow with a silver string, and several strangely shaped mithril arrowheads.
While I was looking at these, Gus thought for a moment, then said, “He was incredibly conservative and proud. A very elvish elf. He used to fight a lot with Blood back when they’d only just met.”
“Ahh...”
Despite how he looked, Blood was a man with quite a lot of common sense. However, he could definitely be quick to anger, and if he ran into the typical elf that you heard about in the stories, an argument was all but certain.
“Telperion was descended directly from the head of the Ithil Branch,” Menel said. “Noble blood. Wouldn’t surprise me if he had a high opinion of himself to match. Probably annoyed the crap out of anyone who had to deal with him.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Why did someone noble like that go outside the forest?” I asked.
Menel hummed.
“Why don’t you tell him the story?” said Gus, smiling wryly. “When a warrior inherits a famous weapon, it’s an ancient custom to talk about its history.”
Telling the history of the weapon—Blood had said the same thing when he’d passed Overeater down to me. Menel’s expression turned a little bit complicated, and then he started to speak in a clear voice.
“Silver-string Telperion. He was a master of the bow; he had fellowship with the fae; he flew like the wind across the plains. His flute whistled elegant and bright. He could recite countless traditions and legends from memory, and even among the wise elves, few could match his wisdom. So they say.”
Menel recited well. He was clearly familiar with this, even if not to the same level as Bee. The sound of his voice had started to draw the others around as well. He was good enough to make money off this—in fact, he seemed to have been doing all kinds of work before, so maybe there was a time when he earned money through telling stories.
“Telperion had a friend. A kid who was born the same year as him—rare for elves, who don’t have many children. They grew up together as foster brothers. The foster brother wasn’t as talented as Telperion, but he had passion and a dream.”
It was a dream of one day going to the outside world.
“The foster brother talked about his dream, but Telperion couldn’t understand. All things pure and beautiful are in the forest—why would he want to go to the corrupted outside world? Telperion and his foster brother got on well, but when it came to this, they always argued, apparently.”
Speaking eloquently, Menel continued. “But the foster brother died. They were hunting beasts that had trespassed into the forest. They took down one, but then Telperion was attacked by a second that they didn’t realize was there. And the foster brother shielded him, even though the day he’d leave the forest, the day he’d dreamed of for so long, was just around the corner.”
It was a sudden death, with no last words.
Menel dropped his tone slightly. “Telperion held his corpse and let out three long, sorrowful screams. The screams echoed around the forest, lingering long after they had ended, and the fae are said to have shed tears at the sound.”
There was a mystery-filled atmosphere about this story of the past, told in a storehouse lit by magical light as weapons with history surrounded us.
“And after Telperion spent seven months in mourning for his friend, he decided to set out on a journey. Shrugging off opposition from his elders, he donned his friend’s chain mail and took his silver-stringed bow in hand.”
Without having any idea what good there was in the outside world—
“He went in search of the indefinable ‘thing’ his friend had dreamed of.”
◆
After getting that far, Menel looked back at Gus. “That’s as much as I know. That, and he died hunting the High King. The elders in the Forest of Erin mourn Telperion’s death even now. I heard it enough to make my ears bleed.”
“Hmm...”
“This is perfect, actually. I was thinking about asking you this anyway, Gus the Sage.”
“Gus is fine.”
“Old Gus, then.” Menel fixed his jade eyes on Gus and asked, “Did Telperion find the ‘thing’ he was looking for?”
Gus smiled when he heard that question, with eyes that seemed to look off into the distance, as though recalling a very nostalgic memory. “Mm, he did indeed. Telperion certainly did discover something wonderful!”
“I see.” There wasn’t much of a change in Menel’s expression, but his mouth turned up at the corners slightly. “That’s good. Glad to hear it.”
Menel didn’t ask anything more—not about Telperion’s answer, nor about the person himself. Instead, he lowered his eyes and fell silent, perhaps in prayer, then put on the gloves and took hold of the mithril string shining silver.
Gus laughed. “All that aside—Meneldor or whatever, can you handle that? Mithril strings are a good match for fae, but it’s said that an average archer will lose fingers.”
“No problem.” He changed the string over to his own bow and drew it back a few times. The bow bent back like a full moon, and the string sang a beautiful note as it was stretched to its limit. Gus listened nostalgically to the bow’s prelude to battle.
“See?”
“So... aren’t you going to let it go?” I said.
“N-No, you idiot! Dry-firing damages the bow, don’t you know that?”
“What?! Really?!”
I didn’t use bows, so I had no idea. Ah, but now that I thought about it, that would mean that all the energy that would be used to fire the arrow would instead go into the bow. Yeah, that didn’t sound very good.
“I can’t believe the stuff you don’t know sometimes when you seriously know pretty much everything else.”
“It’s how I was educated.”
“Don’t try to push the blame onto me, boy.”
Al and the others listening to us laughed.
“Uh, guys,” Menel said, “we don’t have the luxury of using time like elves. Quit looking at us and go find a weapon you think you can use. Go on!”
“I’m decided,” Reystov said, unfazed. “Don’t want one.”
◆
“You don’t want one?” Menel said in disbelief. “They’re all pretty good weapons, brother.”
“Yeah, it’s a hell of a sight. But I don’t care how well a weapon performs, if I ain’t used to it, I can’t trust it,” Reystov replied pointedly. Gus and Ghelreis nodded in understanding.
“I guess.” Menel still sounded doubtful.
“Umm...” Al was tilting his head, so I decided to say something.
“Right... This depends a lot on your style. Menel’s style is tactical, I guess—he makes use of whatever’s around, so he can be more flexible with his weapons. He can always borrow the power of the fairies, after all. So long as he can disrupt the enemy with his feet, staying at medium-to-long range and attacking from there, he’s happy with anything.”
Even if Menel had to go defenseless through a wasteland with monsters roaming around everywhere, he’d probably do just fine by picking up rocks or something and calling to the fairies for help.
“In contrast, Reystov’s specialty is close-range fighting. When your thing is battles at a risky distance where a single moment can make the difference between kill or be killed, you can’t help being insistent about some things. It’s not like he can’t fight with a makeshift weapon, but he’s specialized for his current one.”
Reystov optimized his weapon for his body and his movements and made sure that he could unsheathe it in a split second if anything happened. He became one with his weapon. His modified sheath, the sturdy handle, his neatly trimmed nails—all of it was for that purpose.
“So he can’t swap his weapon for an unfamiliar one at the eleventh hour,” I concluded.
Reystov nodded and agreed. I could use pretty much anything as well, but when it came down to it, my mindset was closer to Reystov’s, so I understood well how he felt.
“Boring or not, I want to fight with a weapon I’m comfortable with,” he said.
Al blew out a puff of air, seemingly impressed at how Reystov could say that so firmly with all these incredible weapons in front of him. “That’s amazing.”
“That said, ah... Reystov. You know what you’re up against. Are you sure?” Gus sounded apprehensive.
“Doesn’t bother me. But—”
“But?”
“Gus the Sage, I want to borrow your skill with the Signs.”
“Oh?”
“If you could carve some Words into my weapons and armor just so much that it still feels basically like what I’m used to, that’d be great. I could get used to a small change like that in a few days.”
“I see. Alright, let me have them a moment.” Using psychokinesis, Gus took Reystov’s sword and leather armor. He took them apart effortlessly and examined them closely from all kinds of angles, beginning with the sword. “Hmm. It’s ordinary, but... northern-style equipment, I see.”
“Yeah.”
At the foot of the Ice Mountains in the far reaches of the northern continent of Grassland, there was a group of warlike folk who continually forged steel in a canyon where freezing wind blew. They constantly fought against the evil gods’ minions coming down south, and they specialized in blades with the cold, crystal clarity of ice and robust, practical construction.
“Blood preferred the wider swords of the south. I haven’t seen a northern one in a while. Hmm, it’s a good sword. Well-used and cared for, even though it has been worn down somewhat.”
Swords couldn’t be used endlessly. If you gave them a proper sharpening, you would lose an amount of steel about the size of a small ring. Repeated enough times, the weapon would become thin and eventually either bend or break. However, at times, names given to swords survived longer than others, in just the same way as the names of old heroes—like Blood, Mary, and Telperion.
“One day, they will speak of this as ‘Reystov’s sword’ and not as an ordinary one.”
“Yeah.” Reystov nodded. “Hope so.”
◆
After that, Al and Ghelreis upgraded their weapons and armor as well.
“Hmm. I will take these.” Ghelreis chose metal armor, a large shield, and a one-handed mace. The armor was large and rounded, and I got the impression that it was specialized for glancing off attacks. The shield was also large and sturdy, and I could tell that it must have belonged to a famous dwarven warrior. And the mace, which was diamond-shaped, had a number of protrusions called flanges and looked like it would pack an incredible amount of blunt force.
“Ohh, Sword-smasher Bavor’s set. You have discerning taste.”
“There are many users of blades.”
Some demons had outer shells that were hard and smooth. Blades weren’t very effective against enemies like that because the blade would slide and leave you open. If we needed to, both Reystov and I could perform stunts like using our swords to deal a blunt-force hit or strike at the joins in their shells. Even so, I was grateful to have at least one person with a blunt weapon.
“Bavor was a wandering dwarven warrior, not part of any clan, but he had a playful personality. He was a master at bending and smashing blades of any kind, but he was friendly, you see. I don’t get on well with dwarves, but he could hold a friendly conversation even with me. He had that kind of wonderful warmth to him.”
“Oh?”
“He took part in the defeat of the High King. He called it revenge for the Iron Mountains.”
As Ghelreis listened to this anecdote of a hero of his race, a subtle smile crossed his scarred face.
I heard Menel’s doubting voice again. “Oh, come on, don’t you think that’s just a bit too heavy?”
“No, I can handle it, I think.”
I turned around to see Al holding a hefty halberd, tentatively and gingerly swinging it and pulling it in as Menel watched him. It had a pretty bulky construction and was made fully of metal right down to the handle.
“Yes, it’s okay. I can swing it, no problem.”
“Ohh! That’s some impressive strength you have to be able to swing that around.” Gus was blinking his eyes in astonishment. “Its former owner was Ewen the Immense.”
I remembered hearing that name in Blood’s stories when I was a child.
“Skill aside, he was Blood’s twin in monstrous power. He had a round body and was always smiling. He was a good guy. He wasn’t very fond of fighting, though. If things had been more peaceful, he might have been able to continue as a skilled farmer, who knows.”
He’d had Blood’s back during the battle against the High King, plowing down the demons without end until he himself was ended.
It wasn’t just Ewen the Immense, it was Sword-smasher Bavor and Silver-string Telperion, too—in fact, all these heroes that Gus was now speaking of and that Blood had spoken of fondly in the past had lost their lives for the sake of the effort to defeat the High King. Each one of the hundreds of weapons and pieces of armor filling this armory had a story, and each of those stories was now concluded, the final period struck by war and death. Now only these arms still slept here in silence, with many stories that once mattered greatly to someone locked away inside them.
I found myself in prayer, as if something had prodded me to do it. I felt like it would have been wrong not to.
God, god of the flame, please, wherever they may go—
I whispered. “Let there be guidance and repose.”
When I returned from my transcendent state of prayer, Gus was smiling at me. It was a different smile from normal, a smile that seemed to say he was thinking fondly of his old home.
“Hey, Gus?”
“What?”
“After I do something about the mountain demons and the dragon and come home again, can I bring this poet girl back here with me? She’s a halfling and she does get a bit excited... if that’s still okay.”
“Sure, do what you want. I’d be happy to tell her any story she wants told.” Gus really was wise. He was very quick to understand what I wanted.
“Thanks.” So many stories here had gone untold. I was sure that Bee would be very glad to retell them.
“Say...”
“Hm?”
“By the way, Will...”
“Yeah?”
“Could that girl be...” Gus’s eyes shone expectantly.
“She’s a good friend, but we don’t have the relationship you’re hoping for.”
Gus’s shoulders drooped. For some reason, he looked terribly disappointed.
◆
After that, we found some well-built dwarven armor for Al as well. This city was originally a place where both humans and dwarves lived, so there was plenty of armor for the dwarven physique.
How was it that dwarves, a foreign race, had lived here? That had struck me as strange once or twice when I was training in the underground city, but now I understood. This lakeside city was a transfer point for trade with the Iron Country, which was why people and dwarves lived together here. Its ruins told of a prosperous city, big and wealthy to the point that Torch Port as it stood right now didn’t even compare. It must have been a place full of smiling faces.
I wondered—I wondered if one day I would be able to bring such a sight back to this area and this city. Would I be able to smash apart the demons’ schemes, avoid being roasted by the dragon’s flames, safeguard the peaceful activity of the city and help it to grow? I wanted to.
As I thought about this, I picked out a few items from the many weapons and pieces of armor here.
“A big shield?”
“Yes.” I nodded back to Reystov. “As a measure against dragon breath.”
It was an impressively large and obviously heavy-duty shield, big enough for a person to hide their entire body behind, and it had the Word of Protection engraved upon it countless times. The circular shield I’d been using so far was useful, and I intended to keep on using it, but that shield’s primary emphasis was portability.
“Considering our opponent, the bigger the shield, the better.”
There were disadvantages as well: the larger shield would make it more difficult for me to attack with my own weapon, and its increased weight would be more of a pain to handle. However, I now had enough strength and skill that I didn’t have to give even the slightest thought to those differences.
“And some additional armor...”
I added on several pieces of metal armor. When I left this temple years ago, I had no idea how far I was going to have to travel, so I couldn’t possibly have worn these. But now that I knew the rough distance to the field of battle, that wasn’t a problem anymore.
“And this.”
It was a pretty thick—in other words, heavy—dagger with straight edges and a well-sharpened point.
“Hm? What’s up with that dagger?” Menel said. “Isn’t the handle the wrong way?”
“Ah, you’re right,” Al said, peering at it. “That’s unusual.”
“It’s meant to be worn on your right.”
Most bladed weapons are worn on the left of the body. That’s to enable the familiar movement of holding the sheath in place with the left hand while the right hand grips the handle and pulls it out. However, this stiletto had been made to be worn on the right, to make it convenient to pull out in a grappling situation. It was made so that if you got into a close quarters fight where it might be quite difficult to draw your weapon, you could conclude everything with two actions: first, grabbing the handle with your dominant right hand and pulling it out with a backwards grip, and second, swinging it down forcefully.
“You take this, Al, and get yourself used to it. I’m sure that halberd will come in useful, but you aren’t going to be very nimble with it.”
“Oh! Okay! Umm... Who owned this dagger?”
“My dad.”
Al’s eyes went wide in shock. “I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay. Take it.”
Blood had once told me with a proud grin that this right-wield was a great trick. He said that he had claimed victory over countless monsters and formidable opponents in situations where he couldn’t use his more familiar two-handed sword. He had even brought it to that final battle, so there was no doubt it was one of his favorites.
“I just felt like it would be better for you to hold onto it for some reason.” It was just a gut feeling. But Blood was one to trust his gut. So I decided to do the same.
“So it’s a momento.”
“Yes. But I’m giving it to you. You should have it.”
It looked like he didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay.” I handed over the dagger. “I’ve already received a lot of precious things from them.”
Right, Blood and Mary?
I whispered those words inside my heart.
◆
And so we finished our preparations and decided to stay the night in the city of the dead. Also, there was of course no food or anything of the sort here. I could receive bread from God, just as Mary had been doing, but that was essentially the minimum amount needed to physically survive. Menel looked at me incredulously and said, “I have no idea how you survived in a place like this for over ten years,” as he went out into the woods to find us some food (and test his bow). He’d probably be back with something before it got dark.
Menel had always been pretty skilled at a variety of things, but he had taken an even greater leap forward in the past two years. He could pull tricks like sneaking up behind a wolf stalking its prey, and surprising it by petting it on the back. It really was incredible. Even I couldn’t do that.
Reystov and Ghelreis had also gone to look for food, except they had gone fishing at the lake. It hadn’t been so long since those two had met, but it seemed that as two hardened warriors, they’d already connected on some level. They were probably having some kind of conversation, or maybe just sitting there saying nothing with their fishing lines dangling into the water.
Starting tomorrow, we would probably find ourselves in situations without adequate access to food regularly. We were heading into completely untrodden land. It would be a treacherous and difficult journey. All of us understood that this place, guarded by Gus—who was currently cooped up in his room to engrave Signs on all of our equipment—could be our final safe haven.
“Finally finished,” I said with a sigh. I had been cleaning up the kitchen area with Al as I waited for the others to return.
For the past two years, the only one here had been Gus. In addition to being unable to feel heat or cold, Gus never got hungry or tired, so the kitchen was completely covered in dust. After wrapping a cloth around my mouth, I’d dashed around doing the routine I was used to. Cleaning was something I’d done a lot of while helping Mary. The temple was big, so there were quite a lot of places that needed it.
“You could have left it to me.” Al’s expression was a little complicated. He seemed kind of surprised that his master the Paladin would do housework.
“It was faster to do it together. Besides, what about you? You’re royalty.”
“Only in name,” Al said as he raised one hand and spun it in a small circle. It was a dwarven gesture of mild disagreement. “Everyone in the clan treated me very well, but we were still poor. I learned to repair, to craft, and much more. Many times I thought, ‘Why was I not born as a simple workshop lad?’”
“If you’d been born as a workshop lad, you would have imagined this instead.” I placed my hand dramatically against my forehead and said in an exaggerated, serious voice, “Could it be that I am actually the last prince of a fallen land, with a mission to resurrect my kingdom?”
Al laughed out loud. “I’d like to tell that version of myself that it’s not actually as good as it sounds!”
“Yeah. You’re not kidding.” Dragon slaying was not my idea of fun in real life. “But you’re still going to go ahead with it.”
“Yes, I am.” Al’s eyes were clear. As usual, he looked quiet and gentle on the outside. But the self-deprecating impression he had once given off was now completely dormant.
◆
“In truth, they all miss their old home,” Al said. “They want to go back, and they want to take it back. But they’ve been through so much that even wishing for that is now more than they’re capable of. I probably understand that better than anyone.”
I remembered the expressions of the many dwarves I’d met so far, as well as the joy I’d felt upon returning to my own home.
“That’s why I want to go,” he continued. “I want to show them all that they can take back their old home, that it’s okay to try. If by risking my life I can light a fire in everyone’s hearts, I think that would be a very wonderful thing.”
I nodded quietly. It took kindness and courage to say something like that so earnestly. It occurred to me that perhaps a person like this was the most suited to being a king.
“But it seems that I’ve gotten you involved in it, and—”
“No, you haven’t.” I denied it immediately. That was definitely wrong. “I knew I’d have to fight. If I abandoned everything here and rushed to protect myself, I wouldn’t be able to face my parents or Gus.”
After all, the three of them had taken on the High King with all his formidable strength, betting on the slim chance of victory.
“And I wouldn’t know what to say to my god.”
God gave me one more chance out of pity for the regret carried by my soul. If, in full knowledge of the fate that would eventually befall me, I once again shrunk away from risk and feared stepping forward, slowly coming to the same end as before where I was afraid to venture anywhere, how could I possibly face my god then?
“I have something I want to do someday,” I said.
“Something you want to do?”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t want glory. I didn’t want wealth. I was even prepared to throw away happiness. There was only one thing I wanted.
“I want to hold my head up high. One day, when I return to the god of the flame, I want to hold my head up high, acting just a little bit cool, you know...”
To stand facing that expressionless god with confidence, not feeling the least bit hesitant—
“And say, I was able to live a proper life, and it’s all thanks to you.”
And thank her as directly as possible.
Al listened quietly as I spoke.
“So I won’t run from the dragon. I’ll fight. And it’s because of you, Al, that I was able to make that decision.” What would have happened to me if I hadn’t heard Al’s shout of resolve back then? Who knows—I might even have chosen the wrong path. “So thank you.”
Al smiled. “Thank you, sir. It was you who made me your squire and taught me confidence and courage. I swear on this dagger you have given me that no matter how this may end, I will never regret that decision.”
Feeling very slightly embarrassed, I nodded.
In the battles ahead of us, circumstances weren’t always going to allow us to fight while protecting or being considerate of each other. I was glad to hear that he was mentally prepared.
“Yeah. I’m counting on you, Al.”
“Yes, sir!”
We shook hands once again. Then, I heard someone calling out from somewhere a good distance away outside my window. Apparently Menel had come back.
Al ran to the window, peered out, and let out a cry of surprise. “He’s got a deer! A deer!”
“A deer?!” How had he hunted that so fast?! “Quick, let’s get everything ready to butcher it!”
“Yes, sir!”
Things suddenly got hectic.
◆
Fat dripped from the roasted deer’s thigh onto the fire and hissed. A gorgeous aroma filled the air. The wild vegetables to go with it had been washed, cut, and were already sauteing slowly in the pot.
“Wow...” Al was visibly excited. Menel looked a little bit triumphant, and Reystov and Ghelreis were unusually quiet.
“Hahah. No hard feelings, ya?” Menel slapped them on the shoulders annoyingly as a joke. The two of them knocked away Menel’s hands simultaneously with grumpy looks on their faces, causing Gus to burst out laughing.
They hadn’t caught a thing.
“It was bad luck.”
“Mm.”
They both looked in too much of a bad mood for that to be true.
Incidentally, I wasn’t sure about Ghelreis, but Reystov’s hobby was fishing. In his spare time, I often saw him with his line in the water, but he’d pretty much never split any catches with me, so I had a reasonable idea of his skill level.
“I mean,” I started, “it’s not like everyone’s expecting you to be great at fishing just because you’re a strong warrior—”
“It was bad luck.”
“Uh...”
“You hear me? Bad luck.”
“Y-Yeah, ahaha, terrible,” I said awkwardly, deciding not to push it.
I’d known him to put some seasonal flowers into the empty wicker basket that should have held the fish and give it to Anna or someone, saying it was a flower offering to the gods. Personally, I thought that was pretty nice and romantic, so I really didn’t see a problem with him never catching anything, but from his perspective he probably wanted to get better at it.
“Right, should be ready to start now,” Menel said.
The way to eat an animal that was roasted whole like this was to cut off parts with a knife as they finished cooking. We also had holy bread, so our evening meal was something like sandwiches, filled with sauteed vegetables and the roasted venison we’d carved off. We’d left the extra meat to smoke so we could keep it for tomorrow onwards.
“Okay, let’s eat.” I said grace to the good gods as usual and tucked in.
“Sir Meneldor, I must ask, where and how did you kill this deer?”
“I was walking along animal trails, keeping quiet and hidden, and just bumped right into it.”
Al seemed surprised. “Right into it?!”
“Ya. Didn’t have time to think about anything, so I just fired on reflex, and it was like the arrow was sucked right into the sweet spot.”
“That is most fortunate.” Gus ran his fingers through his ghostly beard as he nodded.
“The blessings of the fae god were with you.”
“Not with us, though.”
“Mm.”
“How about you just own up and admit you suck at fishing? You’ll feel a lot better.”
“J-Just bad luck.”
“Give it up!”
Not wanting to get involved, all I could do was sit back and laugh awkwardly.
For some reason, I remembered the time when Blood and Mary were still around. My chest tightened a little with a helpless feeling of nostalgia.
After our meal was over and everyone had returned to their rooms, I wandered outside on my own. Under the starry sky, I sat in front of Mary and Blood’s graves and spoke to them inside my heart about all kinds of things.
I’m back, I said. You not being here makes me uneasy, but I’m doing okay. I made both friends and allies.
I filled them in on all kinds of things: what I’d done since I’d been gone, the people I’d met, the things I’d gained.
I remember your last words. I promise I’ll continue to abide by them. I’ll see you again.
I looked behind me. Gus was there. He hesitated for a while, choosing his words as he floated in place in the air. “How I wish I could go with you and help you along,” he muttered in a pained voice. “It hurts me that I’m powerless when it’s most crucial.”
I shook my head and smiled at him. “Just those words are enough. Don’t worry, Gus. Just wait here, with Blood and Mary.”
“Mm. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Yeah.”
“And when you next come back, make sure you bring your wife with you.”
“E-Enough already!”
And so my short homecoming came to an end, and my journey to slay the dragon began.
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