I explained to Wal that Arowa was the name of an old friend from my home village.
“I see,” he said plainly.
I didn’t tell him that Arowa had fought in the war alongside me, nor that he had also been at Croway Plains.
The Gaelius platoon had been positioned at the far eastern edge of our formation. If they had been near the Black Forest, they should have been able to escape through the woods thanks to the monster-warding scented pouches I’d given them. I knew that they were alive.
Climbing back onto his horse, Keith said he was going to patrol around the area to ensure no monsters were milling about, and he left the rest area. After a while, a caravan traveling along the highway toward us came into view.
Coincidentally, Keith returned at the same time.
Given that this spot was surrounded by open plains as far as the eye could see, I doubted that any dangerous monsters would be milling around these parts.
And so, the caravan of traveling merchants, surrounded by their protective entourage of adventurers, entered the rest area. In the blink of an eye, the empty area morphed into a proper campsite.
The coaches lined the perimeter of the campground, providing cover should the camp be attacked by outside enemies. That was a tactic made possible by the fact that their caravan had so many people. Since there were only two of us, the prince and I would set up camp near the entrance to the open rest area, closer to the road. That would reduce the number of weaknesses in our own defenses.
While the rest area prevented monsters from entering, it had no such effect on humans. In other words, we had to plan around potential bandits.
At least we didn’t have to worry about fire arrows; bandits weren’t likely to destroy what they were trying to steal.
Keith brought me and Wal to a large, broad-shouldered merchant—the leader of the caravan. We introduced ourselves to each other.
After that, Wal made a spectacular showing, and he was officially commissioned by the merchants for his water magic.
After first filling a watering trough for their horses to drink, he refilled the barrels of water they kept for human consumption.
Mages were priceless. Especially water mages—their magic helped fulfill people’s basic daily needs.
Boy, was the prince ever popular. I supposed it wasn’t surprising, and people couldn’t stop showering the handsome young mage with attention.
The women who were handling the dinner preparations, both young and old, watched the prince. They kept getting distracted by him.
And as I kept an eye on that spectacle, I was holding a wooden training sword and facing off with Keith for some reason.
How did things end up this way?!
Keith grinned. “I’ve been itching to get a practice round or two in ever since I arrived,” he said. “I can’t get rusty. But I’ve long since learned how my mates fight, so I can see right through every move of theirs. Sometimes I just really want a new training partner; you know how it is. Thanks, Arowa.”
The adventuring party Keith belonged to was a traditional six-person group typically seen in RPGs. Their members included a swordsman who handled offense and a shield-toting warrior who handled defense. The lanky man astride the horse we saw earlier was a ranger who was in charge of scouting. To round out the rest of their party, they had an archer, a fire mage, and a healer.
Holy priests who could handle reviving the fallen were affiliated with temples, so they didn’t become adventurers unless it was part of their training.
The man with the shield was also their leader. He was an older man—the gruff, silent sort. I had gotten the impression that he’d seen a lot of battles over the years.
He also had a daughter—the young archer. The two magic users were also young women. This party was well put together and cohesive; they probably had their daily affairs in fine order.
It was clear that everyone in the party adored their leader. They all respected him—he seemed to be the type to look after the rest of his party and help train up the less experienced members, regardless of their skill level.
And Keith was their swordsman. He specialized in two-handed broadswords.
I was already at a disadvantage in combat against him because of that, and to top things off, I appraised him and found that he was a B-tier fighter—the highest proficiency tier for an NPC.
Their taciturn leader was at B-tier as well. The ranger was C-tier, and the girls were all D-tier, but since their pillars of offense and defense were rock solid, this party would be a tough one to defeat.
We faced each other in a space we’d cleared out in the center of the rest area, near the bonfire but not intruding on the area directly around it. The merchants who had finished their own tasks to set up camp sat down nearby to watch our duel, shouting and jeering in merriment. I guessed that in a way, this was a show for them.
I wish I could sit around and chill too.
“So,” Keith said, drawing my drifting attention back to him and our fight. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
He kicked off against the ground into a full dash, bolting toward me.
I was holding a wooden one-handed sword, identical to the one he was wielding with perfect familiarity. Had Keith furnished himself with a broadsword, he could definitely kill me if any of his blows were to land in a bad place.
Our swords clashed. I let his attack slide along my blade as I threw myself into a dodge, slipping behind him. Our spots now reversed, Keith threw his weight into his momentum to swing himself around. He turned and took a half-step backward—narrowly dodging the tip of my own sword thrust with perfect prediction.
But I couldn’t let him keep pushing me backward. If I did, I’d end up trapped with my back to the wall.
I kept dodging his blows—one and another and another—as if stepping in time to a dance. If I couldn’t avoid them, then I took advantage of his attacks to put distance between us.
His defense was impenetrable; I couldn’t find a single opening. Whenever I tried to feint, he saw right through me and took the opportunity to launch his own counterattacks.
I saw through his feints as well, but I couldn’t fight back. I was stuck defending. Even if we continued fighting, I doubted anything would change.
“Damn, Arowa! You’re not bad at all!” Keith exclaimed jovially. “You can go ahead and attack me too, you know?”
“That’s not happening,” I wheezed between his strikes. “You know you’re not giving me any openings!”
Stuck in a close-range fight, I had to muster every ounce of effort I could to keep him from landing a hit.