Chapter 168

01 His thoughts churned, tumbling around and around. Spiraling thoughts at least implied movement, if only just a little, but there was nothing in this place to drive his mind toward anything meaningful. This boxlike room consisted of stone walls, a ceiling, a closed door, and a magical tool for ventilation that constantly fed in air of a suitable temperature. Although they were always the same, meals of a sufficient quantity were brought in through a small delivery entrance three times a day. He didn’t see the face of the person who brought the food, and even if he spoke to them, a reply never came. The windowless room had been set up to function as a bedroom, living room, toilet, and bathroom all in one. It was furnished with life’s necessities, but that was all. Other than the rare letter or book delivered from his family, there wasn’t anything to quell his ennui. Letters blotted out with censoring ink and the quiet, innocuous kinds of books were insufficient for him. Even if they provided a brief diversion, he was immediately pulled back into the endless circle of thought. The temperature never changed, and he saw nothing but the room. There was little to keep one aware of the passage of time other than the delivery of three meals a day. All he had in this room, where time seemed at a standstill, were the memories of a past he couldn’t go back to. If back then, if that person, if he’d done that, if, if, if… What meaning was there in reflecting on the past incessantly and imagining an impossible future? “Counting grains of rock brings about no change.” However, stone would change and erode if the prisoner kept rubbing at it. Could the circle of thoughts that continued to spin around and around eventually change in that same way? “We need someone to pretend to be a shaman.” How long had he been kept prisoner when that request fell into his lap? What form did his thoughts take when he obediently answered that he would? It was impossible for anyone to know. When Weishardt received a report of the man’s disappearance, it had said, “The letters from his family were inked out so that he couldn’t understand what they’d written. He may have seen through that kind of censorship, however. If that’s the case, there’s a high possibility he understands everything about the current state of the Labyrinth City.” 02 “P-Papa. W-we’re f-finally here. It’s the L-Labyrinth C-City.” “Yes, that’s right, that’s right. You did really well. Good job, Son.” A group of merchants had made it through the Fell Forest and arrived at the Labyrinth City before dusk. The guard protecting the southwestern gate frowned at their appearance. A petite man, who looked to be the head of the merchant caravan, had a spine so bent it looked like he was carrying a load on his back. His son, whose features resembled the father’s, was also rather small, but he stood up as one should. Some might’ve guessed he’d suffered a serious injury in the past, however. The younger man had a constant fearful look on his face as he restlessly took in his surroundings, the muscles in his face twitching as if he were having spasms. It wasn’t unusual for people in the Labyrinth City to have had serious injuries, though. The guardsman’s sour expression wasn’t due to the peculiarity of the pair’s outward appearance. The father-son merchant duo wore brand-new armor and helmets, unblemished by even a single scratch, along with expensive-looking cloaks. They fawned on the guard as they asked him to open the gate. Attending the merchants were men who wore tattered clothes and no shoes, save one who appeared to be a hired adventurer. It was clear from their exhausted, lifeless expressions, thin, dirty bodies, and long hair and beards that they weren’t treated well. Despite the pristine quality of the armor worn by the father and son, the slaves had been given broken weapons, and they didn’t even have shoes, let alone armor. Perhaps they’d suffered injuries during their travels, because blood oozed from gashes on their bodies here and there. It was likely the only reason they were able to survive the Fell Forest at all was because the Labyrinth City soldiers selling monster-warding potions at a station near the entrance to the woods had taken pity on them, and given them plenty of the concoction to use. Such cruel treatment was alien even to the likes of the Labyrinth City, where it was rumored that slaves who arrived never left alive. Moreover, despite appearing to be penal laborers, no slave brands were identifiable on their chests through their torn shirts. Do they really treat debt laborers this badly…? The guard felt the number of strange groups trying to get rich quick in the Labyrinth City had increased ever since the sale of monster-warding potions had started. But this party was especially bad. The guard left the gate-opening formalities to one of his fellows and headed for the City Defense Squad’s station to report to his superior. “A father-son merchant pair who brought several possibly mistreated slaves and an adventurer escort?” “Yes, sir. The adventurer looks about C Rank. Accompanying them was a man who seems to be a civil official.” Captain Kyte listened to the guard’s report, while Adviser Telluther, upon hearing the adventurer was C Rank, immediately lost all interest and began cutting his nails. Ever since he’d returned from the sandpit reclamation operation, Telluther had lost his aristocratic stiffness and became a far more frank individual. Or perhaps more placid, or maybe he was simply more like a slovenly middle-aged man. It was probably just a matter of time before he took off his shoes and began cutting his toenails in front of other people, too. “A man who looks like a civil official? A special Skill User?” “I don’t know about his skills, but he’s a man in his late twenties with black hair and greenish-blue eyes. From what little I saw, he didn’t seem to carry himself like someone with combat experience.” Demand was high for merchants, adventurers, and craftsmen, but currently there were few openings for civil officials in the Labyrinth City. If he had special combat skills, he probably wouldn’t look any different from an ordinary person, though. Captain Kyte was suspicious. His guardsman continued to tell him of the group’s peculiarities. “There’s no reason for adventurers with valuable combat skills to come to the City during this season, right?” Telluther said as he blew off the nail shavings he’d whittled with a file. Despite a startling lack of motivation and interest, the man did manage to say pertinent things at times like these. “Just in case, I’ll report it to the higher-ups.” A man who perfectly abided by the mantra of “report, contact, consult,” Captain Kyte left his seat to report to his superior, the colonel. “If you’re going to see General Leonhardt, I’ll go toooo,” said Telluther, and he stood as well. The eccentric man followed after Kyte to the colonel’s room without cleaning up his nail trimmings. 03 From the shade of the Fell Forest’s trees, a man shot a sharp gaze at the merchant’s party as it disappeared through the Labyrinth City’s large front gate. After the gate closed, the man finally emerged from the trees and approached the side gate next to main entrance to the City. The City Defense Squad guards stationed there seemed to be acquainted with the man, as they called out to him in a friendly manner while eyeing the large number of birds he carried on his back. “Ah, Mr. Meat, long time no see. Got a big catch today, huh?” “Rainy birds today? They live in suuuper high spots, right? That’s our Mr. Meat.” “…I was coming here to share them since I caught too many, but…” “Sorry, Siegmund.” Sieg had accompanied the City Defense Squad when they’d gone to clear the way to the sandpit. The one-eyed man had only served as the “Meat Man” for a week, catching and feeding game to the entire company of the expedition like a parent bird bringing food to its chicks. But the members of the City Defense Squad still seemed to think he’d come bearing food when they saw him. The imprinting was complete. Their words and actions all expressed the same sentiment: “Meat Man, I want to eat meat.” For Sieg’s part, he didn’t seem all that displeased with the soldiers’ joy. When he caught more than he needed, he would come to the large front gate and share it, like he had today. The youths of the City Defense Squad lived in a boardinghouse, where many of them took their shift work meals. Sieg’s provisions were brought into the dining hall and quickly settled into the lucky stomachs of the hungry soldiers. Sieg wondered what he was doing feeding all these men. Was it part of some kind of friend-making practice? Had he finally washed his hands of Edgan, who used to come to Sunlight’s Canopy to complain to Sieg about his latest romantic rejection but now completely ignored him in favor of talking about “fire”? If so, Edgan might’ve been in a larger, more inescapable danger than he realized. Sieg was probably the only man Edgan could count as a friend. Edgan and other members of the Black Iron Freight Corps had been staying at Sunlight’s Canopy since yesterday, which meant an increase in food expenses, but Sieg had still generously given five plump rainy birds to the guards. Was the one-eyed hunter ready to forget all about Edgan? “Whoa-ho, you sure we can have this many? This’s half of your day’s quarry.” “This much will be enough for my household.” “But rainy birds are high-class game, right? And these’re so fat…” The guards verbally showed restraint, but their hands gripped the birds’ legs with all their might and didn’t seem likely to let go. The meat of a rainy bird was tender, and it harbored no bad smells or peculiarities. It was, in a word, delicious. Generally, even if the flavor was at a similar level, animal meat was sold at a higher price than monster meat. The cheapest of all was that of the humanoid monsters. In the Labyrinth City, where there was no land to raise livestock for food, monster meat was considered well and good to eat. But the fact that some monsters were reminiscent of humans meant it was avoided in places with a wealth of other foodstuff, like the imperial city. Ordinary citizens hardly touched such meats. In the Labyrinth City, where orc meat was a staple, a high-class item like a rainy bird would never grace the dining tables of low-class soldiers. “Should we take it to the boardinghouse kitchen and eat with everyone?” “Yeah! We’ll have a feast! Ahh, I wish my shift would hurry up and end.” “Hey, I said ‘with everyone’! That means after the guy who went to report comes back!” Guardsmen who had been entrusted with watching over the border to the dangerous monster-infested forest, now saw nothing but the tasty birds they had been gifted. “Anyway, were the people who came through just now merchants from the imperial capital?” “That’s right, Mr. Mea—Sieg.” “You must’ve seen ’em, too, right? Those merchants were the only ones wearing that fancy-pants armor, even though they were tucked away all safe in their carriage! If they’ve got the money to buy that kinda gear, they could at least buy shoes for the other guys!” “Debt laborers, weren’t they? I sure couldn’t see any brands, even on the ones with ripped clothes. Do people really treat debtors that badly?” The soldiers seemed to have taken great offense with the party of tradesmen who so abused their slaves. “Looked like they could cause some trouble. I’m going to warn everyone in Sunlight’s Canopy to be careful. You know where those merchants heading?” “Well, just be vigilant. We’re reporting to the higher-ups just in case, but it’d be better if you stayed away from trouble. Let’s see…” Sieg had, rather easily, obtained the information he’d wanted. The meat had proved exceptionally effective. It made suffering a nickname like “Mr. Meat” worthwhile. The insular nature of the Labyrinth City was rather strong, and it was unavoidable that word of troublesome outsiders would be passed among the City’s denizens. Sieg gave them an additional rainy bird as thanks, then passed through the side gate and headed for Sunlight’s Canopy. “Thanks for the feast. Be careful,” the guards said as they saw him off. Their gazes were locked on the delicious-looking poultry, so they hadn’t noticed how Sieg’s eye had darkened. The sun had long since set by the time Sieg returned to Sunlight’s Canopy, where Mariela and her fiery master were waiting for him. “Welcome back, Sieg. Wow, so much meat!” “Thanks, Mariela. I caught a lot today, so I gave a few to the guards.” “I already made today’s dinner, so I’ll cook them tomorrow. Any requests?” “Aww, c’mon, Mariela. I want to eat them todaaay. Let’s prep and fry up one of them.” “Geez, Master, you just ate. Are you getting senile?” Freyja was most assuredly not getting senile. She said a lot of stupid things, but it was still a little early for her to be cognitively impaired. “Well, nobody’s here, so can’t you use alchemy and cook it up quick?” They hadn’t known when Sieg would be back, so the two women had already eaten. Today he’d gotten back after everyone else had gone home. “Master, you’re so selfish.” Mariela made a pouty face at her teacher, while Freyja reached out to grab the young alchemist’s cheek. Mariela was still unaware that her master kept a thorough eye on things while she slept. Even the salamander had left by the time Freyja returned. The sage had made sure to get back before Mariela woke up, however, so her pupil would continue to only think of the woman as a drunkard. Perhaps that was why when Freyja reached out toward her, Mariela didn’t hesitate to grab her index finger and thumb and yank them in opposite directions. “Gaaah, Mariela, you’re gonna rip my hand apart!” Freyja cried while roaring with laughter. Sieg smiled slightly at the exchange and offered to assist with the cooking. “I’ll help.” “Then I will, too.” “Master, you’ll get in the way. Stop complaining and wait.” While Freyja pouted at Mariela’s cold remark, the other two headed into the kitchen. Mariela got the spices and oil ready, and Sieg began to prepare the rainy bird itself. Mariela said that just the leg meat would be fine for today, so he pierced it with a knife, twisted the joints backward and snapped them with a crack, and then stripped the meat from the bone. Sieg himself didn’t notice that the way he used his hands today was slightly rougher than usual. “Thanks.” Mariela took the poultry, cut it into large bite-size pieces, tossed it into a Transmutation Vessel along with some spices, and lightly mixed it while saying things like “Pressurize just a little. Saves time, and the flavor will soak in.” Rainy birds were medium-size creatures, bigger than a person’s head. They built their nests in tall trees and had a distinctive cry. Their plump bodies were ill suited for flight. So much so that no one had seen them take to the sky. Some folks even wondered if they took sustenance purely from the air they breathed. The name “rainy bird” came from the fact that their birdsong usually preceded rainfall. However, the reality wasn’t nearly as lovely as the rumors. Their way of life was closer to that of ants or bees than most other birds. Much of the species was indistinct and possessed no gender, save for the egg-laying queens and their mates. Most of the time, the birds simply gathered food and carried it to their nests. Their distinctive voices didn’t call rain, but rather soldier of their species to protect them from rain and invaders. Unlike the queens who were so fat it seemed impossible for them to fly, the soldier birds were small and thin, no bigger than the size of one’s open palm. Such distinct differences made it difficult to accept the two were part of the same species at all. Stab. Siegmund thrust the edge of a knife into the flesh of a queen bird, who had grown plump and comfortable from the slave labor of soldier birds. While Mariela cooked one of them, he prepared the remaining birds so it would be easy to cook them some other time. Sieg cut open the belly and took out the internal organs, which were glistening with fat. He sectioned each body part and scraped the meat from the bones. The feel of cutting off the pale pink flesh, the sight of the meat being torn up when he stripped the muscles from their bones, the sensation of bending the joints backward with all his might, the white color of the bones protruding from the torn flesh. He thrust the knife in, ripping and tearing the flesh apart. What was reflected in Siegmund’s lone blue eye as he prepared the rainy birds? “Sieg? It’s ready.” Mariela’s voice brought the one-eyed man back to his senses. All the rainy birds had been prepared, and some had been cut into easy-to-eat pieces. “Cooking these will be a cinch since you sliced up so much for me. Thank you.” Mariela placed the poultry in a container and deposited it in the magical tool for freezing and refrigeration. Sieg’s dinner and the deep-fried rainy bird were lined up on the kitchen table. Freyja had slipped into the room unnoticed and was now sitting in wait with a conspicuous bottle in hand right in front of the large plate of cooked bird. Just as one might expect from a sage, Freyja had understood exactly when the cooking would be done. The food had been fried with a Transmutation Vessel rather than a pot. Temperature control in a Transmutation Vessel was Mariela’s specialty, this enabled her to prepare the food much more skillfully than when she used normal cookware. The outside was flaky, and the inside was juicy. It was a dish even the owner of the Yagu Drawbridge Pavilion couldn’t beat. Perhaps as proof of how well it turned out, Freyja devoured the food with incredible gusto. The inside of her mouth was likely just as fiery as the rest of her, as she chowed down on hot food without batting an eye. Freyja could have made for an absurdly strong contender in a piping-hot-food-eating contest. If left unchecked, she might even eat everything the two had prepared. “Master, you’re eating too much. Time for some lemon juuuice.” “H-hey! Mariela! Add your lemon on your own plate!” “It’s fine; since you’ve already eaten enough. Sieg and I love lemon.” To keep her master in check, Mariela squeezed lemon juice onto the large plate of food. Freyja disliked the sour taste; one could say this was a method of “firefighting.” “Delicious,” Sieg muttered as he watched the master-pupil dinner theater. He was having a rare drink with his dinner. The way he thoroughly chewed each bite and deliberately savored his meal called to mind the day Sieg had first joined in a toast. Mariela gazed intently at him as he partook. Finally, she said, “Sieg, your hair’s gotten long. Want me to cut it later?” There was a mirror and a magical tool for illumination in the bathroom of Sunlight’s Canopy, so Mariela generally made use of them when she cut Sieg’s hair at night. With a sheet wrapped around his neck, Sieg was sat in the chair facing the mirror and gazing vacantly into its reflective surface. Mariela touched Sieg’s hair with unsteady hands. She took a piece and snipped, used her fingers to untangle it, and snipped again, cutting it short little by little. He felt her fingers gently holding his hair. When he washed and combed it himself, some of it got tangled in his fingers, causing him to tug on the knots, but Mariela had a far softer touch that never painfully pulled at his hair. Could this be what it felt like when small, fluffy animals groomed each other? Mariela’s expression in the mirror was surprisingly serious for a girl administering a haircut. Her eyes, which tended to cross when she was doing this, sometimes widened suddenly. Her mouth, too, opened large as if she was about to say “Crap!” Her eyes would often dart to his reflection, then soften with relief as she continued her work with the scissors. Sieg did his best to stifle his laughter, pretending not to have noticed. There was a barbershop in the Labyrinth City, and people like Edgan, who were particular about their appearance, got their haircuts done there. Mariela had skillful hands, but someone whose main occupation involved cutting hair could still have done a far better job. For that reason, Mariela had encouraged Sieg to go to such an establishment. “It’s really fine if you want to go get your hair cut somewhere else,” she’d said, but Sieg had given some excuse or another to have Mariela do it. This gentle, pleasant time was precious to him. “Hey, Sieg. Did something happen?” Mariela asked as she moved the scissors with a snip, snip. I’m just an open book to her, huh…? Mariela usually had a carefree smile on her face, but she was incredibly shrewd when it came to Sieg being worried. “I was just a bit caught up in the past—that’s all.” Sieg was positive that the man he’d seen at the gate was the merchant who used to be his master. Sieg wasn’t foolishly honest enough to tell her that the tradesman who’d once abused him had come to the Labyrinth City. Even if he needed to talk to someone about it, Nierenberg would’ve been more suitable. If he told Mariela, it would probably just upset her. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it anyway. Although Sieg had ended up a penal laborer due to false accusations from the father-son merchant pair, he still had no proof of his innocence. Above all, Siegmund had grown very accustomed to using his bow, thanks to Freyja’s unreasonable demands, and although he didn’t yet have perfect accuracy, he was now able to hit his targets. The day he would achieve A Rank and be released from slavery was most certainly drawing nearer. He felt it would be unwise to start seeking trouble now. Yes, it was best not to get involved. Even if they crossed paths on the street, Sieg looked quite different from how he used to. His former master probably wouldn’t recognize him, even if he stared Sieg straight in the face. The one-eyed hunter was doubtful the men even remembered their former slave at this point. Right, there was nothing to worry about, excepting the dark thoughts surfacing in Sieg’s own heart, of course. What had he been thinking about while he prepared the rainy birds? The moment he saw that father and son, the feelings he had repeatedly, irrationally suppressed, transformed into unbridled anger. Although he’d managed to keep ahold of those feelings, a black serpent of hatred and bitterness had coiled its way into his heart. Sieg resented not only the father-son tradesmen, but the world that had driven him into those circumstances in the first place. These days the dark hatred seemed likely to burst forth from him at any moment. Now he understood how unfairly he’d been treated. The merchants had brought debt laborers with them; people just like Sieg used to be. The slaves suffered atrocious treatment and appeared to be dead on the inside. Looking at them, the pain his body endured from regular beatings; the rebellious screams he’d silenced in the face of verbal abuse; and the painful death of his will to live all violently surged to the forefront of his mind in a furious eruption. The torrent of frenzied, raw emotion threatened to overcome Sieg’s very reason. He didn’t know why that father and son had made him a penal laborer, but he often thought it was to hide the abuse of their debt laborers, or perhaps to make him a scapegoat for their actions. He would shoulder the guilt of their failure as door-to-door salesmen. Maybe it was for some other, extremely self-centered, unjust reason. Sieg never would have suffered such inhumane treatment had those tradesmen not purchased him. No, even before that, the former comrades in his party had abandoned Siegmund after he’d lost his Spirit Eye. Sure, he’d certainly acted arrogant, but they should have been able to recognize that being with him was still their best chance at success. It was their fault…no, it was that other group’s fault, too. The frantic, contradictory thoughts spiraled in his mind, and the dark emotions grew like a rising tide in his chest until they became unbearable. Sieg wanted desperately to cry out, forgetting what others might think of him. Just as he felt himself beginning to break… Softly, softly, softly. Mariela’s hand stroked Sieg’s head. “I wonder if there’s too much hair in this spot.” She gently grasped Sieg’s hair and went to town with the scissors as she untangled his grayed locks. There was a comfort in her soft hand and gentle fingertips that hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. Siegmund looked at Mariela’s reflection in the mirror. Mariela caught sight of his gaze, and she gave him a warm, kindly smile. The cruelties the merchant father had inflicted upon Sieg probably held some manner of purpose to that man, even if he was a monster. Sieg had suffered all that pain for another’s vulgar amusement; he had been treated like any sense of self-worth was a delusion. Such an inhumane life was nothing short of absurd. Sieg wondered if perhaps Mariela was, in her own way, trying to bury her loneliness by showing him affection. Being by her side, protecting and being protected, supporting each other. Living with the childish Mariela might’ve seemed to some like playing house, but the care Sieg received was unconditional. “I’m going to try trimming your bangs a bit.” The blackness that had taken hold of Sieg’s heart was promptly vanquished from Mariela’s smile, her gaze, and the touch of her warm fingertips. If not black, then what color was his heart now? If hatred was a dark ebon, this complicated feeling that was even harder to control was accompanied by a lot of light and a little bit of gloom. Siegmund knew what this feeling was, but he decided to hold it for a little while yet. He wanted to doze a little longer in this place full of pure calmness and warmth. I’ll let things develop naturally. That’s what seemed best to him This place was the greatest thing Siegmund had ever had in his worthless life. If he hadn’t ended up a penal laborer, if that merchant hadn’t bought him, if his comrades hadn’t abandoned him, if he hadn’t lost his Spirit Eye, he would never have ended up here. If Sieg were ever asked whether he’d rather have his Spirit Eye or Mariela, his answer would come without hesitation. After all, if he hadn’t lost the Spirit Eye and had continued being an adventurer, he never would have experienced a day like this. Mariela had stretched her hand over Siegmund’s lost right eye to cut his bangs. This gentle, irreplaceable hand had come to his rescue when they’d first met, and she had been picking him up when he was down ever since. Unable to control his overflowing feelings, Siegmund reflexively grasped her hand. Snnnip. “Agh!” Mariela stiffened; her mouth opened with a gasp. She’d cut Siegmund’s bangs drastically short. “S-S-S-Sieg, you moved! I…I…I’m not going to cut it anymore. You can get it cut somewhere else!” Mariela’s eyes filled with startled and embarrassed tears. “I’m sorry. Mariela! Wait, isn’t it nice and clean this way?! Yes, I think it’s great! Look, it’s fantastic! Well done, Mariela! Thank you!” Even though Sieg was the one who’d been given overly short bangs, he issued a flurry of earnest apologies for some reason. He should’ve been angry, but instead, Mariela was. Why did she have to scold him? Maybe it was partly his fault, but she was being completely unreasonable. “…Really?” “Really! So, I hope you’ll cut it for me again next time!” After promising to get her sweet pastries, rare fruit, and the meat of an orc king, Sieg somehow managed to fend off Mariela’s frown and teary eyes. It was, in its own way, quite the expensive haircut. What an absurd and wholly nonsensical world. Yet even so, Sieg no longer felt the sting of the barbs that had so tightly wound themselves around his heart, even if after coming across his former master again. No matter what kind of awful treatment he’d endured before, it meant nothing compared to these silly little moments. Sieg invited Mariela to eat honey-soaked lemons to improve her mood. Honey was a high-class item, a trump card Sieg had set aside for Mariela, who still clung to her frugal tendencies. As soon as he brought it up, Mariela was excited. “Hurry up, hurry up,” she urged. When the two returned, Freyja was absent. She wasn’t in the living room, kitchen, or shop interior. All that remained was a note that said “I’ve gone drinking.”