I had to think about that proposition. Tagging along with the Murdock troupe would come with considerable benefits, first and foremost of which was food. While I could barely cook, the other three in my party were even worse. There was no way we could expect any decent meal along the way. We could manage while staying at inns, but if we camped out in the middle of nowhere, I would just starve alone. I mean, I was sure Baze or Hieronymus would hunt something for us, but if they handed me, say, some kind of bird, I couldn’t do anything to it.
In that sense, it wasn’t a bad choice for us to freeload on the troupe. We had been freeloading at Mister Milon’s the whole time we were at Lishua, and now we were going to freeload off the Murdock troupe on our way to Noura. Some Hermits we were.
Setting our lack of pride aside, it was undeniable that traveling with a troupe of performers came with some perks. Most importantly, we would attract much less unwanted attention. It would be a little tiresome to be worshiped as Hermits everywhere we go. If we could accompany the troupe under the guise of security, I expected that we would be able to avoid getting in trouble.
However, we would need to explain to the members of the Murdock troupe our true identities. It was just too dishonest to keep a secret when they would be accompanying us out of their good will, and keeping a secret only festered the potential damage if and when it ever came to light.
“We can’t stay transformed forever, either.”
“Is that so, Tia?”
“Mm-hm. The spell will break after twelve hours or so. Of course, I can always cast it again, but being in a skin that is not my own can be a little stressful.”
“That’s the way it is, huh?”
“For example, even if you dressed in drag for work, you wouldn’t want to keep it up off the clock.”
“I don’t remember working for such a free-spirited city that I would need to dress in drag to work as its clerk.”
That would be one funky city office. That being said, I understood what Tiamat meant. Blending into the crowd was one thing, but I didn’t think it was an uncommon desire to want to return to their true form at night or in private. I have been told that the first thing women want to do when they come home is to take off their makeup.
“If we’re going to be with the Murdock troupe, you guys, for the most part, want to do so in your regular forms.”
“Mm-hm. We’ll transform when we’re walking into a city.”
“We’ll see if that’s an acceptable condition for Mister Murdock.”
After a very short huddle, I returned to Mister Murdock and revealed my identity as a Hermit to see if they would still accompany us.
“Oh, that.”
Mister Murdock accepted my explanation much too easily. It seemed that he knew from the start. Egg on my face.
“When Mister Baze single-handedly took care of the bandits, he was too strong and too fast to be human. No one would expect his ‘Boss Man’ to be a mere human, either.”
He was laughing. Unfortunately, I was a mere human. If we went into combat, I doubted I could even beat Miss Eily the dagger-thrower. I didn’t have any cheat codes, after all. The truth hurt.
“You overestimate me, but let us redo our introductions. I’m Eiji, a Hermit. And this is Tiamat, also a Hermit.”
In response to my introduction, Tiamat poofed back into her dragon form.
“Baze the Fenrir, and Hieronymus the Cait Sith.”
The other two followed suit. While the members of the troupe were surprised, they didn’t fall into a panic. They had some guts. Syfer’s team was ready to die fighting Baze when they first encountered him. I wondered if the title of Hermits carried some weight here. By the way, the women were gathering around Hieronymus again. A good-looking human form and irresistible to women in his true form? He didn’t have to rub it in my face, dammit.
“Oh... Ohhh...”
While not panicking, one of the members was brought to tears. The storyteller, as I recalled, who told various legends and myths throughout the show. I imagined the role to be similar to an Ainu (the indigenous people of Japan) storyteller.
“A hermit leading a dragon, Fenrir, and Cait Sith... Embarking on a journey to save the world from destruction...”
Stop that. Don’t make it into a poem. Don’t go spreading this around like it’s some legendary story. Please.
The Murdock troupe, whom we stumbled into accompanying for the journey, was a group of ten members with an enclosed, two-horse-drawn carriage. They were a rather large travel group with a wide age-range, too, from a ten-year-old boy to an elder in his sixties. Mister Murdock was 46, by the way. Of course, everyone was surprised when I told them my age; I was getting used to it. They usually spent about two years at a time touring each nation in these parts, about eight in total. A grand tour spanning over one hundred cities.
“By any chance, have you noticed beriberi outbreaks in the cities you’ve visited?”
“Yes, of course.”
Mister Murdock nodded with a painful expression. As expected, the issue reached beyond the borders of Azur. The farming system that Mister Hero had brought over did, indeed, change the world. Steady production, efficient harvesting, and most importantly, better taste. That’s what a batch of Kirara 397, one of the best-rated varieties of rice today, would do to a medieval fantasy world. It’s tasty on its own to the spoiled taste buds of the modern Japanese. No one would substitute that for an inferior tasting product. Dear brother-in-law had really left us with quite the uphill battle.
“And how is beriberi understood in these cities?”
“For most, they don’t know what causes it. I’m sure the mage doctors are researching it, too.”
I shook my head. If magic could put a dent in the problem, neither Tiamat nor I would have been summoned.
“Healing magic isn’t even for curing diseases,” the dragon joined in.
She was slapping the ground with her tail. I somehow felt more comfortable seeing her like this.
“It isn’t, Tia?”
“Magic cannot regenerate lost blood nor eradicate cancerous cells. Or stop the aging process, for that matter. It is not omnipotent.”
Good point. If magic could cure diseases, there should be no one dying from any in this world. If magic could slow aging, there was no reason that the life expectancy in this world would be shorter than ours.
“But not in Lishua. We only passed through the city, but they all seemed healthy.”
“I’m glad.”
I returned a smile to Mister Murdock’s comment. While the venture was only in its infancy, both edamame and croquettes were slowly getting popularized. I was sure that the bran-pickling knowledge Tia left behind would eventually come to fruition, too.
“So that was thanks to your team, Mister Eiji?”
“I hope our knowledge was of help to them.”
I wanted things to go in a better direction, somehow.
“I think it’s admirable. By the way, why do we not catch that... beriberi, was it?” Mister Murdock asked, as the question seemed to spring up in his mind.
“Your diet,” I answered simply. “Mixing those grains into your rice is preventing you from being afflicted.”
“I see. How funny that us being cheap ended up saving us.”
We laughed. We can’t thoughtlessly relish our innovations and new conveniences. There can be quite the pitfalls hidden behind those conveniences.
“Everything is connected, somehow. Bringing in the wisdom of Hermits to this world warps that connection,” Tiamat said.
“And, to fix that connection, we have to use more Hermit wisdom.” I shrugged.
“The lesson must be that no problem is as simple as it seems,” Mister Murdock concluded. “It’s a harsh world we live in.” He chuckled.