BY the time they arrived at the walls surrounding the village, Nichika’s hair had become as much of a windswept bird nest as Oswald’s. Even Wolfie looked more like a giant, walking scruffy furball than a wolf. Shaking out his fur didn’t help much either.
Sighing, Oswald wearily muttered, “We’re finally here… This is the first time I’ve wanted to murder wind.”
“C’mon, cheer up. You’ll scare the villagers if you walk in there looking like a serial killer on the prowl.”
Wolfie spun around in front of them when they were within a stone’s throw of the walls. He howled and asked, “Hey! Master! Master! You’re all going into this village, right? Can I go for a run through the prairie? Just lemme know later if I can come inside, too!”
He bounded in the direction of the tall, swaying grass without waiting for an answer.
“Ah, there he goes. He doesn’t have to do that,” Lambert said discreetly to the others, correctly guessing why Wolfie suddenly decided to run off. “Windy Village doesn’t discriminate against the Long-eared Tribe.”
“Wolfie always acts cheerful, but I think it bothers him more than he lets on…” Nichika replied, concern for her furry friend clouding her face.
Wolfie had been ostracized and tormented by the people living near the forest where he lived with Oswald. His innocent joy over becoming friends with Nichika was burned into her memory. Interacting with people was still a sore spot for him.
Of course, Oswald had to go and ruin the emotional moment with his nonchalant dismissal. “Nah, he just wants to frolic. That peabrain doesn’t have the intelligence necessary for overthinking things.”
Nichika was about to argue with him, but swallowed the first words that came to mind. She went with giving him a taste of his own medicine instead.
“My bad. Someone as soulless and thick-skinned as you would never understand.”
Oswald blinked at his apprentice’s improving backtalk. Improving, yes; better than him? Not in a million years.
“Ha!” he crossed his arms and flatly shot back, “Possessing a soul that’s easily hurt will only drag you down.”
“There you go spouting nonsense again! Stubborn goat!”
“Who are you calling a goat?!”
“Aaaaaaah! Stop! Stop! You’re givin’ me a headache. Let’s go inside already,” Lambert interceded, causing the glaring duo to whip their heads away from each other.
Combing through his knotted hair with his fingers, Oswald knocked on the guardroom door. “Good day to you. My friends and I are travelers. Is it possible for us to apply for entry into your village?” he asked with faked pleasantries.
“Sure thing.”
There was a click and the guardroom door swung open. The bearded guard broke out in a big smile when he noticed the green-haired young man waving behind the traveler.
“Hm? Oooh?! Hey, is that you, Lam?! Aren’t you supposed to be at magic school? Did they finally kick you out?”
“Hey there, ol’ man. Long time no see. I’m on voluntary leave from school. Y’know, so I can help save the world.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Good one!” he laughed it off like a joke and invited them inside the guardroom.
Lambert turned and started off in another direction since he didn’t need to fill out anything as a resident.
“I’ll go on ahead and get the ball rollin’ for ya guys inside. Please come once you’re finished here. You can ask for directions from that ol’ guy.” With that, he left with the wind.
The remaining two were shown inside the guardroom. The good-humored guard slipped two documents out of the wall cubby while he struck up a conversation.
“I take it you came to watch the race?”
“What race?” Nichika asked.
“Oh?” He didn’t hide his surprise as he placed the papers on the table in front of them. “That’s not what you’re here for? Then you’re in luck. The Grand Race held only once a year is happening tomorrow. You should watch. Oh, you only have to fill out your name and put a check that you agree to our rules. Don’t worry about the rest. Really. Nobody’s gonna check it over anyway.”
“Is this race like a marathon or something?” Nichika ventured while completing the awfully lenient entry sheets.
“Hardly! Miss—lemme see, Nichika? This is Windy Village. There’s only one thing worth racing with here.”
“What’s that?”
“Enjoy discovering the answer with your own eyes. Trust me, it won’t take you more than a few seconds to figure it out.”
Once they finished, they asked where Lambert went and departed the guardroom. Nichika turned back to the guard who saw them to the door and asked for a favor.
“One last thing. A talking wolf should be coming by later today. He’s with us, so would you be so kind as to tell him where we went?”
“A talking doggy, huh? Don’t get those every day! Your message is safe with me!”
Maybe the guard didn’t think too deeply about things. But Oswald was unusually baffled by him seeing them off with a hearty smile.
“What a stupidly peaceful village… They shouldn’t let someone like me in so easily,” he insisted, dead serious in expression and tone.
“Master, that’s not something you should say about yourself,” Nichika contended, following him through the dark stone passage leading into the village. Her eyes spread wide open at the scenery beyond the sunny exit. “So this is Windy Village!”
It looked like a village straight out of a fairy tale. Cutesy homes with colorful walls and triangular roofs made of dazzling white plaster lined the red brick road. The houses had an unusual amount of floors for this world—most had more than three stories. Towering apartment buildings higher than the eye could see were scattered throughout as well. A soft breeze blew through, and the windmills installed everywhere were spinning.
And there was one decisive difference between Windy Village and all the places Nichika had visited before: residents zoomed by on brooms.
“Wow! Everyone is so good at flying!” Nichika enthused, awed and a little envious.
A woman riding a broom smoothly flew to her house’s veranda on the second floor while holding a paper shopping bag. Shockingly, about half of the people in the area were traveling by broom. One particular question rose to the forefront of Nichika’s mind when she saw a man fly by.
“Huh. Men can fly with brooms, too?”
“Aren’t they embarrassed?” Oswald’s heavy brow slanted in strong disapproval.
“Whatever do they have to be embarrassed about?” a sonorous voice boomed in answer behind him.
Startled, Nichika turned to find someone standing on top of the bulwark they had just passed through. The sun was directly behind them, skewing their features in the shadows, but from their voice, it appeared to be a man with long, flowing hair.
“Roses?”
Nichika caught one of the dark-red flower petals falling from the sky and raised an eyebrow. The villagers stopped going about their business and turned to pay their respects to the mysterious person.
“Lord Sylmia!”
“It’s Lord Sylmia!”
“Oh my, he’s as lovely as ever today!”
Squinting, Nichika tried to make out what this Lord Sylmia or whoever he was looked like. Mint-green, thigh-length hair fluttering in the wind behind him, he kissed the rose in his hand and struck a polished pose.
“I am…beautiful.”
“Oooooooooh!”
On a completely different frequency from the cheering crowd, Nichika’s jaw dropped and Oswald scowled with utter disgust.
“Hah!”
The strange man jumped off the bulwark with a shout and landed without a scratch. Rose petals danced around him, making Nichika want to ask what kind of cheap theater show he was putting on.
Garbed in clothes seemingly made to flap in the wind, “Lord Sylmia” presented a rose to Oswald and pushed his hair up off his face in his cheesiest move yet.
“I am beautiful… And I naturally love all beautiful things. Beauty is a gift granted by God. You can be proud of your good looks.”
“Don’t come any closer, narcissist.” Oswald slapped the rose away.
Undisturbed by his rejection, Sylmia turned to Nichika next. “Welcome, cute little lady. Right now you are a pretty bud, but your beauty will someday bloom into a breathtaking flower. I can tell.”
“U-Um, hello?” Nichika hesitantly greeted with reddening cheeks.
Stars twinkled in Sylmia’s deep green eyes as he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned. “Aaaaah! Marvelous! What a splendid day today is turning out to be!”
“?!”
Sylmia threw his arm around Oswald’s shoulder, flicked back his cape, and struck a pose. Cries exploded from the street. Far from being a fan of the limelight, veins popped on Oswald’s forehead.
“What the hell is the deal with this nutjob?!” he raged.
“B-Beats me.” Nichika instinctively stepped away before she got pulled into the craziness with him.
“Oh, there you are! I was lookin’ all over because you weren’t at home. Sheesh.” A young man she was becoming all too familiar with ran around the greengrocer’s festive vegetable display.
“Lambert! Make that meeting with the Wind Spirit happen NOW. I want out of this freakish village ASAP!” Oswald shouted, engulfed in the crowd that broke out in song and started dancing in the streets.
Their guide just laughed. “Silly Oswald. He’s right next to ya.”
“Come again?”
Doubting his ears, Oswald looked to his left. His eyes made contact with the narcissist who winked and stuck out his tongue.
“That there’s the village chief and Wind Spirit, Sylmia.”
Right as Lambert finished talking Oswald put everything he wanted to say into his fist and slammed it into his collarbone.