Side Story 1: Montana’s Short Journey
THE town where Montana used to live faced the mountains on the northeastern border of the Principality of Dothart. After saying goodbye to his father’s apprentice, he decided to try to cross the mountains directly into the Independent Commercial City-State of Pleine, where he dreamed of becoming an adventurer. However, these mountains were crawling with gangs of outcasts who could no longer live in mainstream society. They wouldn’t attack an adventurer who looked strong, but they had no such qualms about children like Montana who happened to pass through.
Montana thought that if he used the skills and knowledge he’d acquired from the many adventurers he had met so far in his life, crossing the mountains alone wasn’t really such a reckless choice. A dagger hung on his left hip, and a hammer on his right. His bag was packed with the bare minimum supply of food. He knew how to catch small animals, and he knew which plants were edible. And though his small size was inconvenient in a contest of strength, it would likely work in his favor when it came to blending in with the forest.
Most of all, he had excellent eyesight. So Montana walked along the poor excuse for a path, eyes trained on both sides.
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AFTER half a day of walking, the barely-there road became absolutely overgrown with vegetation. Plants grew vigorously from spring to summer, so even mountain paths that people frequently traveled could sometimes disappear altogether. Wanting to cover as much distance as possible before dusk, Montana walked quickly, wagging his tail.
However, when he reached a certain point, he stopped dead in his tracks, scrutinizing what lay ahead of him. The exposed ground, the unnatural roughness of the bushes on both sides… It was a change you wouldn’t normally notice without paying attention—evidence that something had recently trampled down this path.
Montana’s ears twitched. He could sense that something was waiting to make its move. He glanced from side to side. Into the thicket, into the shade of a tree, on top of a tree…
Montana quickly dove into the shrubbery next to him. Barely a second later, an arrow pierced the ground where he’d been standing. He crouched down and blended into the low bushes. He knew he had to keep moving. If he stopped and waited, he might find himself surrounded.
The plants scraped against his exposed skin, leaving scratches, but it was better than being forced into a battle where he’d have been easily outnumbered. Since he didn’t know how strong his opponents were, he had to avoid getting into pointless fights. He heard angry voices in the distance. It sounded like they were searching for him, but the voices quickly faded away.
When he could no longer hear them at all, Montana turned ninety degrees and continued through the forest. Walking through the bushes wasn’t that difficult, as long as you weren’t in a hurry. He found some herbs along the way and picked them to chew on while he walked. The bitter taste made his nose wrinkle, but as the saying went, good medicine always tastes bitter. It is what it is.
Once the herbs softened enough, Montana spit them out and rubbed the resulting paste onto his scratches. Normally, he would have added water to soften the herbs, but he had no time, so this was a makeshift measure. As an added bonus, the herbs also served to mask the scent of blood, which attracted hungry wild animals.
The medicinal paste soaking into his wounds stung a bit, but again, that just meant it was working, so he endured the slight discomfort. His tail had been drooping the whole time, which was unsurprising considering his situation. However, adventurers were always ready for anything, so he refused to let himself be discouraged by his circumstances.
As he walked, he picked nuts, berries, and flowers that could be eaten raw. At this time of year, most berries were sour and unpleasant to eat, but they still tasted better than the herbs, so he popped them steadily into his mouth.
After walking ten minutes into the mountains, Montana looked up at the sky. The setting sun signaled he couldn’t go any further. Despite encountering the bandits sooner than he’d expected, the journey was generally going as planned.
He climbed smoothly up a big tree, sat on a thick branch, stretched his legs out, and leaned against the trunk. Just to be on the safe side, he secured himself with a rope tied around the trunk before nibbling on some dried meat from his small bag.
Montana was confident he could hold his own against a carnivorous animal, but he didn’t want to be attacked by a pack of them—or monsters. He didn’t think he should push himself too hard when traveling solo. He spent the evening dozing on his branch, though he knew it would be deadly to fall completely asleep. His eyes snapped awake to check his surroundings every time he heard a bird or the slightest rustle.
It was a full moon that night, bright enough for him to see his feet clearly. He thought about walking to cover more distance, but rejected the idea almost immediately when he remembered how active some carnivores were at night. Looking up at the huge round orb in the night sky, Montana thought about his destination.
A country built by adventurers. A country of freedom, where talent mattered. He was sure he would make friends once he got there. He wanted to be able to interact with people who didn’t know him at all. He wanted to be able to trust them. Though he wasn’t very good at talking, he would try his best to overcome that when he reached Oranz.
He dozed off thinking about these things as the night wore on and the sky gradually lightened.
When he woke up in the morning, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all, and he didn’t feel well. Still, he had rested enough to move around without any issue. He removed the rope from around himself and slowly climbed down the tree trunk.
After taking a sip of water from his canteen, Montana made his way back through the bushes, heading straight for the mountain path.
✦ ✦ ✦
ON his way to the border, Montana was attacked by bandits three more times. He scratched himself each time by running into the undergrowth, but by the time he finally crossed through the mountains and emerged on the main road, all his scratches had almost completely healed.
Finally, the city of Oranz came into view. It was much larger than his walled hometown. He reached the gate and started going through the formalities to enter the city. Then he suddenly felt a chill on the back of his neck. He turned around, looking toward the forest. All the hair on his body stood on end and his tail flicked with alertness.
The sky above the far reaches of the forest brightened for the briefest moment before the flash vanished.
“What’s wrong, boy?” the guardsman asked.
Montana remained motionless for a moment, then eventually shook his head and answered.
“Nothing.”
He had just sensed Haruka’s first use of magic since coming to this world. But of course, he had no way of knowing that at the time. He would meet the wielder of said magic the next day in the seminar for new adventurers—as well as the rest of his cohort, three people with whom he would be great friends for a long time to come. But he had no way of knowing that at the time, either.