Chapter 16 : Chapter 16
Chapter 16: A Perverse Sense of Humor
The swordsmen and Greatshield Warriors carried the Icehide Blue-Striped Bear’s carcass, along with the camp’s fences and tents, as they advanced in orderly fashion through the dark forest. Those in front held torches and lanterns, lighting the path for those behind.
Their strength might not have been especially outstanding, but in Cyril’s eyes, their performance was still decent enough.
At the very least, their discipline was beyond reproach.
Of course, that was related to the fact that the Northwind Tower was absurdly wealthy and could afford to maintain soldiers stationed there. But a place’s manner of operation was ultimately determined by its ruler. In an ordinary fief, that would be the local lord. In the Northwind Tower, it was the master of the tower itself.
From the small, one could infer the great. If even the lowest-ranked soldiers possessed this degree of order, then one could imagine the true strength of the Northwind Tower.
When Cyril and Caroline had entered the forest, they had needed to be cautious of the magical beasts. But now, faced with a group of more than ten people, those same beasts were the ones choosing to detour around them.
Without the need to scout and evade, their travel speed had nearly doubled.
The four-ring mage Cyril had been watching, Moum Morris, made no further suspicious moves. He merely continued lashing out at the soldiers with increasing irritability. Eventually, even the Greatshield Warrior Tos could no longer stand it. He approached Cyril respectfully and said:
“Sir Knight, could you maybe say a word to Mr. Morris for us? The brothers haven’t actually done anything wrong. We don’t dare disobey him, but being cursed at nonstop like this... well, in our hearts... Or at least, if you could tell us what exactly we did wrong, we could try to fix it.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Cyril replied. “It’s just that the way you do things may not suit Mr. Morris’s temperament. Is this your first time serving as a mage’s escort?”
“Yes. I used to be in Alderney. I was transferred with my unit to the Northwind Tower three years ago. Other than seeing a mage once when we first arrived, we never had any real contact with them.” Tos sighed. “He was perfectly fine on the way here, so why did he turn into this on the way back...”
Cyril could not help giving Tos a second glance. For such a rough-looking Greatshield Warrior, he was unexpectedly delicate in his observations.
“Then remember this,” Cyril said with a smile. “Most mages are temperamental creatures, and the stronger they are, the worse it gets. One moment they can seem kind and gentle, and the next they may explode into a rage.”
He tossed the remark out lightly, and Tos could not possibly tell that half of it was nonsense. Tricking NPCs with talk like this was something Cyril had learned in the very earliest days of the game, and it had even saved him a good bit of money on potions.
The Greatshield Warrior merely nodded, whether or not he truly understood any of it, in any case finding it deeply convincing.
In the soldiers’ eyes, this knight who had saved the whole squad was far easier to get along with than some so-called four-ring mage.
How could someone who muttered incantations ever understand the romance of real blades and real battle?
But Tos was not the only one listening. As one of only two girls in the party, Mia Christian had been talking with Caroline not far away this whole time. At last, she could hold back no longer and stepped forward.
“Mr. Vey, please don’t speak of my teacher that way. Mr. Morris has always been gentle, and he has guided me very seriously.”
“Oh? Then what do you think is making your gentle and beloved teacher, Mr. Morris, so violently irritable now?”
Cyril turned his head, studying Mia with interest as she boldly spoke up in defense of her teacher. The girl clutched the long hair that fell to her chest and bit her lip.
“Um... I think Mr. Morris is blaming himself for having made the wrong decision and causing us to be attacked by the undead...”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller as she spoke, until by the end Cyril could hardly hear her at all. Clearly, it was an explanation she could not even convince herself of.
Cyril almost laughed.
The girl before him looked like nothing more than a rich and ignorant young noble, a weak little mage apprentice wandering about with a staff worth one hundred gintres in her hands. Cyril truly did not know where she had found the courage.
He had to admit that he did possess a certain perverse sense of humor.
For instance, he rather enjoyed letting an innocent young girl come to understand a cruel truth little by little.
He shifted the shield on his back—that cumbersome thing he could not bear to throw away—into a more comfortable position, folded his arms, and said in leisurely fashion:
“Then let’s discuss this from another angle, Miss Christian.”
“Just call me Mia.” Mia visibly tensed at once, her fingers gripping the staff so tightly that her knuckles stood out.
“Very well then, Miss Mia.” Cyril deliberately kept his tone light. “I’d like to ask you something about magic—”
“Magic? Then Mr. Vey should speak with Mr. Morris. He is my teacher. I’m only an apprentice who has just begun— no, not even truly begun yet...” Mia answered in alarm, apparently thinking that speaking about such things with Cyril while bypassing her teacher would be overstepping her place.
But Cyril did not continue the discussion with her at all. Instead, he reached out and patted Caroline on the shoulder.
“Listen carefully, Caroline. This may very well be your path in the future.”
“Mr. A— Mr. Vey means magic?” Caroline blinked. The tip of her tongue even darted out now and then to lick her lips, as if some of the bear grease was still there. “Is magic very powerful?”
“Very powerful.”
“More powerful than Mr. Vey?”
“I would think so.” Cyril narrowed his eyes and casually rubbed Caroline’s still somewhat messy hair twice before turning back to Mia. “There’s no point talking endlessly. Why not let Big Sister Mia show you a little demonstration?”
“Ah— no, Mr. Vey, I can’t...” Mia nearly refused without thinking, but the suddenly sharp look in Cyril’s eyes struck her like a blade laid across her throat and froze her in place. Then, in a tone far gentler than that gaze, he coaxed:
“Miss Mia, I’m only an ordinary knight. I understand nothing of magic. Surely you wouldn’t cruelly reject a little girl’s longing for it?”
He watched her. Seeing the girl slowly and hesitantly raise her staff, he suddenly reached out and pressed a hand against the Deep Azure Crystal Staff worth one hundred gintres.
“It’s only a simple little spell. You don’t need the staff.”
“Oh... all right.” She hurriedly pulled the staff back, then freed one pale hand and awkwardly traced a circle in the air. “Gather, flowing water...”
She chanted with her eyes half-closed, her gentle face showing a trace of nervousness. She knew perfectly well how poor her talent was. If her practical use of mana had not been so dreadful, her teacher would never have brought her out for an examination like this.
But in the very next moment, she opened her eyes in shock, staring at the stream of clear liquid now pouring smoothly from her palm, like raindrops sliding in succession along leaves.
Meanwhile, Caroline actually began clapping, her eyes filled with admiration as she stared at the “amazing” Big Sister Mia. She was only one step away from blurting out, “Do another one!”
“Mr. Vey, I...”
Mia looked at Cyril in confusion, almost incoherent, wanting an explanation. It was exactly the same spell she had used before to wash the shield, yet the quality of the casting was utterly different.
But Cyril only waved a hand dismissively and strode off to chat with the other soldiers, quickly drawing bursts of laughter from them.
He left only the girl standing there, clear water still streaming from her fingertips, staring blankly into space.
Two days later, when the thick canopy of pine needles above them at last began to thin, Cyril knew they were about to leave the Pineleaf Forest.
And the Northwind Tower was just ahead.