Despite not being able to follow a normal conversation yesterday, he became unusually talkative when it came to explaining battle mechanics. It must be a matter of experience. He’s likely been through a lot of fights. And now, this seasoned warrior was looking at me and Yune and laughing like he genuinely found us amusing. Not in a mean way. If anything, it looks like he’s... I had to think for a moment to decipher the man’s behavior. It looks like he’s pleased?
“You might be thinking you were just getting saved the whole time during that goblin fight. But, in reality, that was a party battle.”
“That’s...” I struggled to get the words out. “That can’t be right.”
“Y-Yeah,” Yune agreed, her lips twisting with disbelief. “I can’t accept that either.”
Of course she couldn’t. Neither could I. That was nothing but self-serving rationalization. A party battle? I got caught off guard, didn’t cast a single spell, and just stood there watching Kiri fight and rescue us. How did any of that help the party?
“Of course it doesn’t sit right with you,” the warrior said with a shrug. “If you walked away from that thinking, ‘Yep, we totally did our part,’ that would be a problem.” He laughed loudly, almost mockingly, and took a big swig of his drink. He was clearly in a good mood. Having drained his mug, he raised a hand and called out for a refill in a booming voice. He was only on his first drink, but maybe he couldn’t hold his liquor as well as Sheya because his cheeks were starting to turn a little red. “Hey, if you’re actually feeling down about it, that’s not a bad sign.”
It was hard not to think he was just having fun teasing us. There was no guarantee these two were telling us anything we could take at face value.
“There are all kinds of situations in combat,” Sheya said, poking the man’s arm with her own mug. Then, with a glance, she silently ordered another drink. She’d already finished three using our story as entertainment, and now she was going for a fourth.
Sheya lifted a single slender finger and pointed at Yune and me. “Mages or healers are meant to be in the rear guard. Close combat is one of the worst-case scenarios you can be in.”
Technically, Yune was wearing light armor, and she’d received a little pole mace training from the church. But getting technical with Sheya wouldn’t change anything. We really had been in a terrible situation.
“Still, dangerous situations happen. If you’re going to keep adventuring, you’ll have to push through those kinds of things again and again.” She took another quiet sip, then set her mug on the table. Raising her pale, slender hand, she slowly traced the rim with her finger in a gesture that reminded me of a fortune teller. “Why didn’t he shout out at the very beginning?”
It took me several seconds to understand what she was asking. And when I did, my breath caught in my throat.
“Shouting could have drawn the goblins’ attention. That might’ve reduced the pressure on you two. At least, one of the goblins would’ve turned to deal with him, giving you the chance to regroup.” Speaking more freely than usual, the beautiful mage laid out a hypothetical that had never happened.
This felt like the crux of our whole conversation. Or was she just a bit loose-lipped after drinking? I really wasn’t sure.
“But he didn’t make that choice,” Sheya continued. “He used the fact that you two were being attacked to prioritize taking down one of them first. You became part of his strategy.”
Back then, I’d only realized Kiri had come to save us after the spearhead had pierced through the goblin’s throat. Just as Sheya said, he hadn’t shouted. Not once. The goblin hadn’t even noticed him until the moment he drove his spear in from behind. All of its attention had been on me.
“He made a judgment call. He couldn’t defeat all three goblins unless he handled the fight that way. He understood he couldn’t win alone better than anyone. That’s what the money on the table means,” Sheya explained.
I looked over at the coins sitting at the edge of the table. They were mostly copper pieces—the reward was far too small for the risk he’d taken. And yet, there it was.
“That money? He wouldn’t have gotten it if you hadn’t been there. So he figured he ought to split it with you and left it behind on purpose. Pretty damn honest of him, huh?” The warrior’s casual, indifferent tone carried the unspoken message: It doesn’t matter what you think about it.
Whether we felt like we were saved, or that we had just gotten in the way, or that we had done something unforgivable... No matter how strongly we believed any of that, Kiri had no intention of listening. From his perspective, the only fact that mattered was this: He didn’t have the strength to beat three goblins on his own. That was the truth he had acted on.
“If you’ve got three people, the enemy’s gotta divide its attention. Just being there made you part of the fight, whether you like it or not.” The warrior shrugged.
“A special case,” Sheya added coolly, her fingers tapping her mug. “The division of the reward is up to those involved. If he left that money behind, then it’s yours to take.”
My jaw clenched, and I felt my back teeth grinding together. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t accept it. I refused to accept it. “I-I made the wrong call,” I said quietly. “I went off on my own, got us into that mess, and in the end, we had to be saved.”
“Everyone screws up,” the warrior said with a smirk.
“Falling into danger is part of the job,” Sheya echoed, lifting her mug again.
Their words chopped mine down and sliced them away as if they didn’t matter. And maybe they didn’t.
“Adventuring doesn’t always go smooth.” The warrior took another swig. “Actually, if it did, it wouldn’t be called adventuring, would it?”
Adventuring meant facing danger and pressing forward in spite of it.