THEY decided to leave early in the morning two days later for surveying the land in question. Until then, they would each handle their individual preparations for the three-day journey. Once packed, they would gather at the clinic and take the time to readjust the size and weight of their bags.
Due to Unen’s smaller size and her many crucial surveying tools, her belongings had to be split up between the other two. Naturally, neither of them found it a problem, and agreed to help her without so much as making a reluctant face. Then again, that could partially be because Ori wasn’t the expressive type in the first place, but Unen decided not to mull over the insignificant details.
Ori had rented a room at the inn near the saloon. Upon hearing him mumble, “I didn’t think I’d be able to leave my room in less than three days,” Unen realized Irena hadn’t been too outrageous by demanding his help in thanks for drastically shortening his search time.
“Oh yeah, one last thing,” Simon called out to Ori just as he turned to return to the inn. “Was it ‘Notsors’ who hired you to look for Hereh?”
Notsors was the name of the mage who frequently appeared in legends stemming from multiple regions. In these legends, he was said to have shared fire with people shivering from the cold; to have demolished a massive mountain to fill in a deep valley; to have dropped lightning down upon a village of thieves; and to have predicted incoming storms. On the kinder, lighter side of things, he was said to have found lost children and occasionally even appeared in anecdotes as assisting the births of calves. In other words, Notsors was a keystone figure in many universal tales.
However—or rather, as Simon expected—Ori’s eyes rounded the instant he heard that name. Shock written all over his face, he stared back at Simon, frozen.
“…Did Hereh say he was?”
“No.” Simon paused, then pierced Ori with a provocative glare. “The men who came by three years ago said, ‘Should Hereh ever come back, tell him that Notsors will never forgive him.’”
The harsh look on Ori’s face doubled. Simon scowled.
“Notsors: the legendary mage who’s lived for hundreds of years and has ninety-nine forms. I thought he was nothing more than an imaginary character from fairy tales, but do you mean to say you’ve actually met him?” Simon demanded.
After a long pause, Ori quietly turned his back to them. “Not disclosing my employer’s identity to third parties is a necessary component of my job.”
Unen, Irena, and Simon watched on in silence as his broad back melted into the darkness of night.