The wraith glanced up. “Perhaps. Perhaps not...”
“Did you or didn’t you?” Zenos asked bluntly, crossing his arms. “You know, Carmilla, you’re always dodging the question. What were you doing three hundred years ago, when you were still alive?”
“I have told you many times that I do not remember such ancient history.”
“C’mon, you never talk about yourself...”
“That would be neither a ghost story nor a silly tale. ’Tis not worth wasting a drink on,” Carmilla said as she poured herself a cup of wine, which she downed in one gulp. “Now, do not rush me. I shall tell you a tale of a time even more ancient—before the Great Human-Demon War.”
“Really...?”
The group exchanged glances as Carmilla tilted the bottle over her cup again.
“Four hundred years ago, the demon lord invaded the human continent, as you know,” she said. “But ask yourselves this: Why did he not invade sooner?”
The demi-humans all tilted their heads.
“Maybe the demons didn’t know the human continent existed?” Zophia offered.
“I think they knew, but didn’t have a means to get here,” Lynga posited.
“I’ve always figured maybe they just didn’t feel like it,” Loewe ventured.
Carmilla glanced over at Zenos. “And what do you think?”
“Umm... Maybe they had other stuff to worry about,” Zenos replied.
“You could say that,” Carmilla said with a slow nod before continuing. “Before the demon lord unified the southern continent, it was a chaotic realm crawling with all manner of foul creatures. They had to stabilize their own domain before even thinking of invading human territory. Eventually, the one who would go on to become the demon lord conquered all other demonic factions. But even then, there was more work to be done. Several other powerful species remained on the continent.”
“Huh. Really?”
“Indeed. And the greatest threat of them all were the fell dragons.”
“Fell dragons...”
“’Tis said that the demon lord’s battle against Galhamut, king of the fell dragons, lasted anywhere from a decade to a century. In the end, after a fierce, terrible struggle, the demons triumphed. The demon lord then spent a century recovering, rebuilding the demon army, and finishing up preparations to at last begin the invasion of human lands four hundred years ago.”
The demi-humans nodded, but nevertheless began to complain one after the other.
“I see...but that’s not a ghost story,” Zophia said.
“Yeah,” Lynga agreed. “It’s just history.”
“And not scary at all,” Loewe added.
“Patience,” Carmilla said. “My tale is not yet over.”
The wraith licked the remaining wine from her cup.
“Word has it that the king of the fell dragons was so powerful that even the demon lord could not kill him,” she explained.
“Huh?!”
“Gravely wounded, Galhamut fled the southern continent, which was now under the demon lord’s rule...toward this continent.”
“Whaaat?!”
Satisfied with the demi-humans’ shock, Carmilla decided to finish her tale.
“But Galhamut was in a near-death state, his strength almost fully drained. He hid deep, deep beneath the earth, simmering in his hatred for the demon lord, waiting for the day when his wounds would heal and he could rise again—”
Lily gripped the hem of Zenos’s cloak. “S-So that scary dragon is hiding somewhere on this continent...?” she asked.
“Well, ’tis but a rumor—quite close to a ghost tale, no? In my great-grandfather’s time, children were often told that they had best behave, lest the fell dragon Galhamut eat them. But...once the Great Human-Demon War erupted, people forgot about that threat.”
The demi-humans were silent for a while, then tilted their heads.
“I guess that counts as a ghost story of sorts,” Zophia conceded.
“Not exactly the kind of ghost I was hoping for,” Lynga commented.
“Indeed. The story was a little too grand for me to keep up,” Loewe concluded.
“What?! ’Tis a valuable tale, unheard of in this era!” Carmilla countered.
“Um...” Lily interjected in a timid tone before the demi-humans and the wraith could get into an argument. “Th-There are six of us, right?”
“There are, yeah.”
Zenos, Lily, Carmilla, Zophia, Lynga, and Loewe. Six people total.
“S-So who’s that over there?” Lily asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Huh...?”
Everyone held their breaths. Suddenly, a groan echoed nearby.
“...ooo...oood...”
“Wah!”
“Eek!”
“Whoa!”
The demi-humans all jolted upright in alarm. They all followed Lily’s gaze toward a figure standing in the dimly lit area just beyond the light of the campfire. The figure, dressed in dark clothes that blended into the shadows, weakly extended an arm.
“...eed...ooo...ood...”
“E-Eek! It’s a zombie!” Lily yelped, backing away.
Zenos quickly stepped in front of the young elf. “No, that’s...”
At first, he’d been wary that this might be a creature of some sort, but upon closer inspection, the figure appeared to be wearing a black apron dress, almost like a maid’s outfit. A hat was pulled low over the face, and if one listened closely, the delirious groans spelled out words.
“Need...food...” the figure said.
“That’s just a hungry person,” Zenos said with a shrug, relaxing his guard.
Though the figure’s face wasn’t clearly visible due to the darkness and the hat, from the voice, they sounded like a relatively young woman. She tottered closer to the campfire and collapsed to her knees in front of the large pot. Upon peering into it and realizing it was empty, she hunched forward with sorrow and despair. She appeared too weak to stand, holding on to the pot’s rim with both hands, unmoving, her head hanging low.
“Um...the pot’s empty, but we still have bread,” Lily offered timidly.
The unknown woman reflexively lifted her head. Her hat fell backward with the motion, letting her long hair slip loose. The locks were a soft pink color reminiscent of the height of spring, carrying a gentle fragrance like that of blooming petals. Her eyes, the same color as her hair, were slightly moist; like morning dew infused with sorrow, they had a compelling pull that held one’s gaze. Though her cheeks were slightly gaunt from exhaustion and hunger, the girl nevertheless looked like something straight out of a fairy tale, detached from reality.
“Sh-She’s so pretty,” Lily murmured.
Paying the elf no mind, the girl grabbed a piece of bread from the nearby basket and stared at it intently.
“This...is bread...?” she asked, strangely enough.
The bread had been made by the children from the school in the slums, so its shape was somewhat irregular, but anyone could recognize it as bread. Yet the girl stared at the piece in her hands as though it were incomprehensible.
Hunger won out in the end, however, and she cautiously brought the bread to her small lips.
“It’s...so good,” she mumbled. In a flash, the girl finished the piece she’d taken and cast a longing gaze at the basket Lily was holding.
The young elf offered the whole basket to the girl with a smile. “We have more, so help yourself.”
“R-Really?”
Eagerly, the girl began to eat one piece after another, and the basket was soon empty. Zenos gave her water, which she drank in large gulps before finally letting out a long sigh, seemingly at peace.
“Ahh... I thought I was going to die,” she said. “I didn’t know hunger could be so painful.” She lifted her head again, and only then did she realize something about the people around her. “Wait, you all...have tails and fangs? How come?”
Zophia folded her arms in exasperation. “You’ve never seen a demi-human?”
“Demi-human,” the girl echoed. “I’ve heard the term before. So you’re all demi-humans, then?” She slowly reached for Lynga’s tail, seeming oddly fascinated. “How does your tail work? Can I touch it?”
“No!” Lynga snapped. “Only Sir Zenos may fluff my tail.”
“I didn’t know about that privilege,” Zenos interjected.
“R-Right,” the girl stammered as she reluctantly withdrew her hand. She turned her gaze to Lily. “Now that I look closely, you have strangely shaped ears.”
“Yes, I’m an elf,” Lily explained.
“An elf! I’ve heard of those! They’re quite rare, aren’t they?”