The rambling song was nonsense, to be honest. Nevertheless, the minstrel was showered with applause for his glorious recitation.
The general summary was correct, but all the accomplishments of battle had been greatly overblown. I didn’t remember any hero forming a mountain of corpses, nor even going up against ten thousand orcs. All I’d ever cut down there were dogs.
On top of all this, every single knight who had taken part was given their own dramatic scene, making the whole ballad seem endless. Each participant had at least one line, with a whole stanza dedicated to those who’d contributed most notably. Apparently, each and every fighter had taken down between ten and twenty orcs on their own. Meanwhile, as I recalled, there had only been about two hundred orcs opposing us in total.
Despite how ridiculous the ballad was, those who had survived that scene cheered in excitement. Torturously, the minstrel was made to repeat the same song over and over, smiling as he fulfilled the men’s calls for encores. The tray beside him piled higher and higher with silver and copper coins upon every repetition.
It would have been rude of me to speak out about it. Anyway, it was through the song that I learned what had happened to these men after we parted. Though they had ultimately prevailed, it had not been an easy journey, a number of them having died along the way.
The minstrel finished the song yet again. In high spirits, Galeom dug out a silver coin and threw it at the pile. A few other coins scattered at the impact, but the minstrel paid it no mind. He had earned so much, he didn’t care about a little lost change.
When he was back in his seat, Galeom turned toward me. “You don’t have to be a stranger, Hero. If you’d told me in advance you were coming, I’d have prepared something better. Unfortunately, quite a few of our men are away on a bit of business today. I’m sure they’d be saddened to know they missed you.”
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude by just appearing like this, but, truth be told, I’m here on urgent business.”
“Oh, some important mission, then?”
“Yes. I heard I could find a hermit here who was exiled from the temple.”
“I see! You came to take him in!”
“Not exactly. He was originally a scholar, and I need to borrow his wisdom.”
“Wisdom, eh? What sort of information are you after?”
This was where things could get dicey.
“I was told to keep that part a secret. I hope you understand.”
“Very well. I’ll lend you some troops. Having locals with you would definitely help in a missing person search.”
“Please, that’s not necessary. I already know the general location, and I travel by dragon. I’d be thankful, though, if I could have official permission to search.”
“Hmm…”
After staring pensively at the ceiling for a moment, Galeom returned his gaze to me.
“I’ll write you up a letter, then. You won’t be suspected of any suspicious activity if you have me vouching for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Where is this hermit of yours hiding, anyway?”
“Near a village called Aenidem, apparently.”
“Aenidem?” Galeom furrowed his brow. A nervous-looking man beside him whispered something in his ear.
“Oh, there? Quite a remote place, that.”
Even more remote than this remote region? Impressive.
“I’ll have my man here draw up a simple map for you. It’s a tiny place. You could try asking someone for directions, but I doubt you’d find anyone who knows where it is.”
“Seriously, thank you for everything.”
“It’s no trouble. We’ve exchanged the vows of comrades, after all!” Galeom threw back his head and laughed happily.
Then I enjoyed another three repetitions of that song, and a fair bit of alcohol to make it more endurable. Later, with the letter of permission and map in hand, I returned to the dragon house at the port.
Thanks to Galeom’s map, I managed to arrive at Aenidem without difficulty. It lay in a valley in the depths of a jagged coastline. There was a small, stony beach lined with numerous banged-up boats that I suspected were no longer seaworthy. Facing the beach and running up the slope of the valley was a clump of around ten ramshackle cottages. They were so battered, in fact, that I would consider the orc shed at Kadann Hill a welcome improvement. This place seemed terribly poor, and was smaller than anticipated.
Fighting against the gusts of wind blowing off the cove, I finally managed to lower my dragon onto the slender stretch of beach. The dragon rider who had followed me gave up on touching down with his own dragon, and instead remained circling overhead.
I dismounted and looked around, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen. Perhaps the place had already been abandoned? But no, that couldn’t be true. From on high, I had seen smoke coming from one of the houses. Surely someone still lived here. They were most likely just wary of these strangers with dragons. I would have to be the one to initiate contact.
I handed Veralgon’s reins off to the keeper, then turned my feet toward the nearest hut.
As I approached, I noticed the door was open ever so slightly, with two pairs of eyes showing in the gap, one set above the other. Judging by their low positions, they likely belonged to children. Perfect. Since the hermit taught kids how to read, they’d be the best bet for guiding me to him.
“Hello there,” I called, smiling.
The eyes withdrew, and someone slammed the door shut. The slender arm I’d glimpsed likely belonged to their mother. Undaunted, I continued to the door and knocked on it. There was no response.
I knocked again and this time spoke.
“I’m sorry for startling you—I don’t mean any harm. There’s something I’d like to ask, if you can spare a moment.”
There was still no response. What now? The door didn’t appear to be locked, so I could just open it to look inside, but I didn’t want to alarm them. Perhaps I was better off giving up and trying another house. I was starting for the next one over when a child’s voice called after me.
“Mistah, are you the hewo?”
I turned just in time to see a small boy dragged back into the house.
“Shh! I told you to keep quiet!” I heard an adult woman scold him in a whisper. I took care to sound as affable as possible when I called out again.
“Oh, so you are home. Trust me, I’m no one to fear. As you can see, I have a permit from the lord.”
I took out Galeom’s parchment and unfurled it. The door cracked open again, and a haggard woman’s face was framed in the gap.
“From our lord, eh? Well, unfortunately I can’t read. You should try asking the chief.”
She pointed to a decrepit hut only a little larger than her own, then began shutting her door again. Before she could, however, that small boy poked his head out. When the door slammed on him, he groaned, fighting against his mother’s attempts to drag him back.
“I can wead! Show me!”
“Go right ahead. Look here.”
I showed him the paper.
“Err… ‘Th-this man is the h-hewo sum…summoned from a-anodder world.’ It says he’s the hewo! I knew it!”
At that exclamation, another boy around three years older popped his head out.
“Hey, hey! Let me see too!”
This kid pushed his younger brother’s head out of the way, and scanned the parchment paper. It was his turn to read aloud.
“‘This man is the hero summoned from another world, and my comrade-in-arms. He searches for the…hermit?…of the cave. I ask that everyone in my territory do what they can to assist him.’”
Having finished reading, the boy’s eyes opened wide. Their mother seemed bewildered, unable to catch up with what was going on.
“It has the lord’s crest too! He really is the hero!”
“I toad you! He wode a white dwagon!”
The brothers jumped in excitement, but their mother went pale. It seemed rumors about me had reached even these far-flung settlements.
“What is the hewo here fow?” the younger one asked me.
The older one immediately scolded him. “Stupid, it says right here. He wants the hermit of the cave!”
“What’s a hewmit ovacave?”
The older boy didn’t have an answer for that.
“I came here to find an old man who lives in one of the nearby caves,” I replied gently.
“Oh, I know him! You want Old Man Badjah—mmph!”
The older brother clapped a hand over the younger one’s mouth. The man who had once been the keeper of all the temple’s knowledge, in the role of chief scholar, now apparently went by the nickname Old Man Badger.
“Shh! He told us not to tell anyone!”
The boy thought he was whispering, but I could hear everything. The mother looked between the letter and her children, more confused than ever. In any case, it seemed Old Man Badger was liked well enough around here for these boys to want to protect him.
I spoke in a tone so placating it disgusted even me. “I came to borrow his knowledge. I won’t do anything bad to him.”
“You got pwoof?” the smaller one snarled. What a brave child he was. I hoped he carried that quality into adulthood.
Well, what evidence did I have? I placed my bag down and fished through it.
“Look, I brought a present for him,” I said, and I held up the bottle of liquor. I didn’t expect them to understand its value, but the simple fact that the bottle was made of glass would hopefully make an impression.