Ali and the 8 Followers 1 “I wonder where my Odr is.” —Here we go again. Ottar was struck by an impulse to cover his face with his boulder-like hand. “Hey, Ottar…” “You mustn’t.” “…I didn’t even say anything yet.” “You cannot go.” In his usual overbearing way, Ottar admonished his patron goddess, Freya, who was pouting like a moody child. They were on the top floor of Babel, the looming tower at the center of the Labyrinth City, Orario. This one-of-a-kind space was a physical manifestation of the special privileges granted to the patron goddess of the familia that reigned at the top of the city. The giant, flawless glass window that looked out over the metropolis below; an entire wall devoted to elegant bookshelves that were filled to the brim; the plush carpet so thick that crossing feet sank into it; striking depictions of the sun and moon; a side table that tastefully evoked the image of an apple tree. Compared to the conspicuous gaudiness of the avaricious wealthy, this room was furnished with relatively few items, but the craftsmanship visible in each and every item was enough to demonstrate the class of the room’s owner. It was here, in the beautiful goddess’s private chambers, that Ottar was trying to talk some sense into Freya. “You were about to say that it was time to search for your destiny again.” Freya was having another of her fits. The aforementioned Odr was the companion she was fated to be with one day, and she was planning to set off on an aimless journey to find them, wherever they were. For Ottar and the rest of the familia, Freya was the sole object of their absolute loyalty, the one they offered all their respect, veneration, and love to. As far as they were concerned, the idea of her going on a journey alone was nothing short of sweat inducing. If even a single scratch were to mar their goddess’s beauty, her followers would never forgive themselves. If such a thing ever happened, the members of Freya’s familia were liable to take on extreme penances, like scarring themselves worse than anything their goddess suffered as an act of atonement. In general, they were overly protective, but this attitude was emblematic of how devoted they were to their goddess and just how precious they considered her to be. Ottar’s response was a natural extension of those values. Normally the shining example of a perfect retainer, Ottar’s response smacked of a lecture. Freya, reclining in her regal armchair, took offense and elegantly raised an eyebrow. “Ottar? When did you learn to speak to me like that?” “Ordinarily, I would never take such a tone with you, Goddess. However, I only have your best interests in mind. As your vassals, it is our job to admonish you if it is necessary for your own safety.” “…” Beneath his almost excessively polite choice of words, Ottar was trying his best to communicate that Freya should restrain herself in light of her position as the patron goddess of what was arguably the city’s most powerful familia. The lack of a rebuttal seemed to indicate that she found his argument persuasive. Once in the past, Freya had gone for a stroll in Orario without bringing along any of her children. While she never went beyond its walls, she was still out on the streets of one of the world’s largest metropolises, all alone. Ottar and the others had understandably panicked and turned the city upside down looking for her. Mistaking Freya Familia’s mobilization as the prelude to some major operation, Loki Familia had raised their alertness in response, which ultimately led to an accidental clash. This racked up tensions between the two factions and the dispute came very close to escalating into open warfare. Incidentally, Freya had tried to play off that disaster with a cute smile and an “I’m sorry. ” (Given her demeanor at the time, it wouldn’t have been strange if she had giggled and stuck her tongue out to boot.) For once, Ottar and the other members of Freya Familia could do nothing but watch as the goddess Loki delivered divine justice to Freya with an iron fist. Returning back to the moment at hand, Freya understood that her current situation was liable to end in a similar fashion, so she reined herself in and opted to candidly express her displeasure instead. Her childish outburst was rather charming. This unexpected contrast was a perfect example of the “gap appeal” that many deities often spoke of. The sight of Freya pouting like a little girl was so bewitching that it wouldn’t have been strange if Ottar fell to his knees on the spot. However, he was certain that if a burly man such as himself openly reacted that way, he would be called out for being creepy. Fully aware of what was at stake, Ottar somehow managed to maintain control by sheer force of will. “How is it that you can spend so much time by my side and still not understand how I feel?” “…I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me. If you ask for anything else, we will gladly do it for you, even if it costs us our lives…” “You’re trying to keep me locked in a gilded cage, just like the foolish gods who tried to keep me cloistered up in the heavens.” She refused Ottar’s attempts to placate her and completely abandoned her usual sublime bearing, behaving like a fickle sprite. Turning away from him, she swept a dismissive hand to the side. “Leave me.” The enchanting goddess of beauty could never be satisfied with just one love. Not even countless loves could ever be enough. At a glance, her amorous nature appeared to simply be outrageous and immoral. However, that was merely by the standards of mortals. As a deity, there was probably nothing insincere about her feelings. Ottar had a faint sense of what Freya truly wished for, which made things complicated for him. While he could understand what it was she wanted, he had to do whatever he could to stop her from behaving recklessly. His desire to respect Freya’s will and his concern for her safety were at odds with each other. “…” At times like this, the expression that often crossed Ottar’s face betrayed his utter loss at how to respond. If anyone watching were asked to share their impression of what this warrior was feeling, it would definitely be described as sorrow. The young girls working as attendants were getting worked up in the corner of the room, looking to Ottar for cues on how to proceed. One of the boar’s ears on top of Ottar’s head bent over, as if to drive home the fact that he had no idea what to do next. Later that day, as the flood of light and the bustling chatter of the sleepless Labyrinth City filled the night air, several figures gathered around a giant round table. This meeting was not taking place on the top floor of Babel nor was it some nondescript bar on the outskirts of the city. It was inside Freya Familia’s home, Folkvangr, located in the city’s fifth district. They were in a conference room where only the top members of the familia were allowed to enter. “What’s this about, Ottar?” Allen Fromel, a cat person sitting at the table, was the first to open his mouth. Though he was only one hundred sixty celch tall, his gaze was piercing, so sharp that it caused others to shrink back. His very presence seemed violent, as if he might snap at any moment. The black fur and blue eyes he sported would have normally been considered quite handsome if not for how dangerous he seemed. He was a Level 6, a first-tier adventurer known as Vana Freya—Freya’s Chariot, a paragon of Orario whose name rang out far beyond the confine of the city walls. “How long has it been since the last emergency assembly?” “The all-out war with the Evils, wasn’t it?” “Then this must be for a battlefield to match that.” “Should we ready our weapons?” The same voice ringing out four different times came from the quadruplet prums sitting across from Allen. They were the Gulliver brothers, first-tier adventurers of Freya Familia often mentioned in the same breath as Vana Freya. The four of them were known collectively by the title Bringar, the Four Knights of the Golden Flame. As Level 5s, their teamwork was indisputably the best in the Labyrinth City, and they were powerful enough to overcome the physical disadvantage of being prums. Naturally, their features were identical. The only visible difference between them was the slightest variance in eye color. From the right, starting with the eldest, they were Alfrik, Dvalinn, Berling, and Grer. “The harbinger is upon us, the horn of demise signaling the twilight of Orario…a great war embroiling all the familia comes…M-my arm trembles…Heh. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…” “Don’t force yourself to speak, Hegni.” The dark elf’s lips twisted into an ominous grin marred by spasms that only aggravated his struggle to string words together. The one chiding him like this was a regular occurrence was a white elf. The elven duo, Hegni and Hedin, was often considered a pair even though they were not related by blood. Their full names were Hegni Ragnar and Hedin Selrand. The former had dark sable skin and silver hair that was almost a pale purple, while the latter had white, nearly translucent skin, and golden hair flowing down his back. They were both Level 6, first-tier adventurers, and they were both magic swordsmen who wielded powerful magic and their weapons with equal amounts of skill. The titles they were granted by the gods were Dáinsleif and Hildsleif respectively. Together, they were known as the black and white knights. The people currently assembled at this round table were Freya Familia’s pride as well as their greatest assets in battle. “The reason I summoned you all is…Lady Freya.” Looking around the table, Ottar’s solemn voice rang out as he got right to the point and raised the topic at hand. In other words, how to control Freya’s urge that had reared its head yet again. “…So that’s what it is.” Immediately, Allen and the others fell silent as everyone present assumed rather serious expressions. “In that case, I understand why we were all called.” “It was fairly touch and go last time…We were right on the verge of a direct confrontation with Loki Familia.” “Yeah, we nearly killed Nine Hell.” “Wait, I thought the real issue was that we had pissed off all the elves, even the ones outside Loki Familia, and barely managed to escape their wrath.” “““Shut up, Alfrik.””” While the elder brother bore the full annoyance of the other three Gulliver brothers for pointing out an inconsistency in their stories, Allen glared at Ottar. “I said it before, didn’t I? We’ve given her far too much freedom. Who cares if she’s passionate or whatever? We should force her to behave a bit more like a proper patron deity. Even if that means locking her away in a cage.” “—Watch your mouth, filthy cat.” “A stray like you has no right to infringe upon our goddess’s freedom.” The Gulliver brothers had instantly put their bickering aside to confront Allen for his comment, but he refused to back down, spitting back with venom in response to the four sets of murderous eyes now trained on him. “A bunch of nobody prums who can’t do shit by themselves shouldn’t be so cocky.” “Heh…Hee-hee…Now is the time for ones such as I, who have surpassed savage valor, to show their devotion…No one can match my zeal, and of course that includes you worthless rabble…” “I said quit talking already, Hegni.” With even the dark elf Hegni joining in, the meeting was quickly spiraling out of control. Hedin’s heavy sigh went unheard as the hostile atmosphere thickened around the round table. The leadership of Freya Familia, or rather all of Freya’s children, did not have particularly good relations with one another. In fact, the majority was often at one another’s throats. The only one they had sworn loyalty to was Freya. And the only thing they desired was her favor. The other followers with whom she had shared her ichor were nothing more than obstacles to be kicked aside. In order to demonstrate who was more deserving of her love, they held death matches masquerading as training every day. Despite knowing that was happening, instead of putting a stop to it, Freya would simply smile and say, “You get along well, don’t you?” But that severe internal rivalry was the secret behind the dominance of the city’s strongest faction. The ceaseless competition that cast aside cheap platitudes like “working together to grow and mature” was what enabled them to reach ever greater heights at a speed that no one else in the city could match. And they did all of it in order to court their goddess’s love. Freya’s charisma and divinity were what drove them. Theirs was a strength born of refusing to pay any heed to their comrades, the polar opposite of Loki Familia, led by Braver and other adventurers who banded together to reach their true potential. On one side was an assembly of powerful individuals who constantly probed one another to maintain their keen edge. On the other was an organization of like-minded allies who cooperated closely to cover one another’s weaknesses. That was the most fitting description of the two familias at the top of all Orario. “Starting another unsightly quarrel won’t solve anything. Whatever we do, we should do it quickly…” Hedin pointed out the meeting’s lack of progress in the hopes of making some headway. Unable to dispute the elf so handsome that even deities admired him for it, Allen and the others scoffed as Ottar nodded and returned to the original topic. “Restraining Lady Freya…will not be an option this time, either. Indeed, if we snatch away her freedom, it will only cause an even more severe outburst later. The best we can do is to protect her from the shadows.” Everyone’s eyes lit up at Ottar’s grave tone. They were all glaring, intent on keeping one another in check. The meeting had shifted to the next dispute on the docket: Of all the first-tier adventurers in the familia, who was best suited to protect Freya? “I’ll go with her. I’m her chariot.” Allen was the first to speak up. “Heh.” One of the prums immediately sneered at his response. “—Which of you assholes laughed?” The cat person exploded with murderous rage in the blink of an eye as the Gulliver brothers openly ridiculed him. “A cat pulling a chariot? Don’t make me laugh.” “Hey, we won’t get anywhere this way, so drop it, Dvalinn.” “Quit pulling chariots and just go plow the fields already, livestock.” “Listen to me, Berling.” “Filthy cat, rutting just because our goddess scratched your chin once or twice.” “I said stop already, Grer!” “““This is why pets like you are so worthless!””” “Stop this!!!” —More accurately, only three of the Gulliver brothers were mocking Allen. The eldest was desperately trying to hold them back. Alfrik Gulliver was the most worldly of the four brothers. Though he was older than his siblings by only a few moments, the role of reining in his unruly brothers often fell to him. Even as it became clear that Alfrik was on the verge of tears from yelling, no one at the table seemed inclined to help. As far as the rest of them were concerned, they considered this business as usual. The situation was deteriorating and only getting more explosive by the minute, which prompted Ottar to speak once more in a heavy tone. “…As I suspected, I’m the one who should go with her.” “““Huh?””” In an instant, the air around the table froze. As if they moved with the will of one mind, every single person around the table glared at Ottar. “Know your place, boar. Bold of you to propose standing next to our goddess with that enormous head of yours.” “Besides, how exactly are you planning to sneak around with that huge body of yours, meathead?” “You’ll just make her uncomfortable, meathead.” “Have some shame, meathead.” “The only joke you should stick to is that ridiculous thing you call a body, meathead.” “Hee-hee-hee…M-meathead.” “You really are quite the disappointment, Hegni. That said, you are a meathead, Ottar.” “……” Unsurprisingly, Allen and the rest were quite unhappy with the boaz adventurer entrusted with serving as Freya’s retainer. Ottar’s face went blank as he fell silent, mercilessly berated from all sides by his heartless comrades. It wasn’t because he was the head of the familia and believed that he should be where the buck stopped when the familia members complained. No, even Ottar could get angry and had limits to his patience. He wasn’t that tolerant. However, he recognized that as a simple warrior, he could not win against them with his words. In other words, what he needed in order to silence them was—his fists. He exchanged gazes with each and every one of them. Even when empty, a first-tier adventurer’s fist could easily be considered a lethal weapon, and Ottar’s cracked as he clenched it. Right when it seemed like the tension was about to snap, Helen entered the room. “Umm…Lady Freya has left behind a letter and gone out…” “““What?!””” Ottar and the others all swung around to focus on Freya’s lady-in-waiting. They all froze, wide-eyed, like statues. —This bunch is beyond help. Helen’s eyes stared off into the distance as that single thought crossed her mind. “It should be fine as long as I don’t cause a fuss inside Orario, right?” Freya, would-be queen, spoke to no one in particular as she stood outside the giant walls enclosing the Labyrinth City. She realized her excuse was nothing but exploiting a technicality, but that was hardly enough to stop the capricious goddess from going where her whims took her. Just a few scant hours ago, the goddess had quietly forced her way into the Guild chief’s office. The head of operations, Royman Mardeel, was understandably flustered by her sudden appearance as she approached him with a seductive look. Once an enamored expression appeared on his face, Freya struck. “—You don’t want me to tell Ouranos the secret you’ve been keeping, do you?” Royman turned deathly pale, and Freya smiled broadly as she whispered a proposition. “If you find it agreeable, we could just say that I enthralled you and made you let me out of the city.” As she stood there with a smile that would captivate any victim, she was without a doubt the epitome of an enchantress. She was like the wind itself, slipping through any and every crack in the city, and even the highest-ranking official’s secrets were not safe. The Guild chief customarily forbade familias from leaving the city, let alone their deities, but Freya’s ultimatum left him little choice. In the end, he caved in to her request and allowed her to depart. “It’s rather refreshing to see the outside world like this…” She laughed to herself quietly. “…Or perhaps it’s simply the building anticipation that I’m feeling.” A sea of grassland plains spread out before Freya. All along the road paved with white stone stretching into the distance like a bridge, the smell of fresh blossoms and flower petals dancing in the air seemed to greet her. Spring was in full swing. Freya was certain the goddess of this gentle season was surely in a good mood and blessing her trip. “East, west, north, or south?…You there, which direction do you think would be best?” Freya called out to a group of people on their way to the city. The goddess was sensibly wearing a robe with the hood pulled up to conceal her identity. Passing her by was a traveling merchant with a horse-drawn cart, some travelers in road-worn clothes, and a demi-human bard. Staggered by the goddess’s beauty that was apparent even when obscured, they each pointed in the direction they recommended. The Beor Mountain Range to the north. “—If you pass through the rugged valleys, there is a hidden lake as beautiful as any in the Dungeon.” The saltwater lakes leading to the ocean to the west. “—This time of year, you should be able to see a sight that can’t be found anywhere else in the world: waterfalls rising up into the sky.” The stretch of land that led to the center of the continent to the east. “—You will be greeted by the wondrous bazaars that have thrived from trade that spills out from the Silken Road.” The unexplored expanses that had not yet been fully mapped to the south. “—The remnants and ruins lost to the passage of time will surely show you something that has never been seen in this lifetime.” Freya smiled faintly as the children of the mortal plane sung the praises of each respective direction, like odes in honor of a goddess. Her eyes narrowed bewitchingly as she looked out at the scene unfolding before her. “Now then, where could my Odr be waiting for me?” 2 The ship flew over the “sea.” There were two tall masts thrust into the air and large white sails opened wide to catch the westerly wind. The ship itself was a mix of wood and metal, large enough to easily carry more than fifty crew and passengers. This vessel cut a dauntless figure as it sailed, its prow slicing through the swells in its way. However, the ship was not sailing across a blue ocean but atop a sea of sand. “Crossing the desert on a ship seems more eccentric than groundbreaking,” Freya commented as glaring sunlight beat down on her. Not even the hottest days Orario had ever seen were comparable. She stood atop the deck of the ship, balancing herself against the railing and staring off into the vast expanse of the desert. To the average observer, there weren’t many scenes odder than what looked like a proper seagoing vessel crossing the desert dunes instead. “Still, it’s certainly a part of this world that I didn’t know about. Perhaps heading in this direction was the correct choice.” Freya smiled with her eyes as the bone-dry wind whipped past her. Her journey had started at Orario, once called the edge of the world for its location on the western fringes of the continent. After she departed from the city, she headed southeast in search of unknown lands she had never visited before. The first notable sight she encountered was an expanse of sand that reached past the horizon in every direction. This was the Grand Sand Sea, which was as about as far removed from the deep blue as a place could be. It was also known as the Kaios Desert, an arid region located to the southwest of the center of the continent, where so many countries were clustered. “Ottar and the others have brought back all sorts of items from Sand Land and the like, but…it really is another thing altogether to experience it myself.” Towering dunes spanned a great distance, like a mountain chain that continued for as far as the eye could see. A never-ending carpet of sand and wisps of gritty clouds wafting into the blue sky. Was the hamada swaying at the distant edges of her vision a mirage or just a product of heat haze? When she managed to put the oppressive temperature and desiccating atmosphere out of her mind, the sights were stunning. Looking out at the majestic world of sand from the view atop a ship was what let her smile at it. An attendant with a veil covering the lower part of her face approached the goddess and suggested she retire to a room inside the ship, but Freya refused with a raised hand. Seeing that, a man approached her. “Is the desert cruise to your liking, Lady Freya?” He was a stoutly built human. The arrangements for the trip aboard this ship were thanks to him. “It’s quite stimulating. Never before had I imagined something like this was awaiting me outside of Orario,” she responded frankly. “Splendid! It is an honor that a no-name merchant such as I, Bofman Fazoul, can be of service to a goddess! Should you desire anything during your journey, don’t hesitate to let me know!” The merchant finished with a slick salesman smile. His name and body shape were reminiscent of the Guild chief, Royman, but Bofman was taller and broader. The black beard and tanned skin combined with the turban atop his head gave him the air of a true resident of the desert. “Truly, it is a blessing from the heavens to even meet the Lady Freya, whose power and jewellike beauty is praised throughout the mortal realm. A chance to accompany you like this cannot be anything but a stroke of good fortune! Surely the patron god of merchants smiles upon me!” Perhaps he intended it as flattery, but Freya was struggling not to laugh at Bofman’s bombastic, colorful speech. After all, when it came to gods in Orario who were most often associated with merchants, the first one who came to mind was Hermes with his shady grin. Moreover, Bofman called himself Freya’s companion, but it was not like Freya had gone out of her way to employ him as a guide or anything. She had simply met him in a town right before crossing the Kaios Desert. Upon entering a tavern, Bofman had noticed Freya’s peerless beauty peeking out from beneath her hood and could barely contain his interest. Once she had revealed her identity, he leaped at the chance to volunteer himself as a guide for Freya’s journey that had no specific location in mind, free of charge. Of all the merchants there who had offered their services, he had simply been the fastest. All of that just so he could have the honor of assisting Freya on her travels, probably in the hope that he could earn a favor from Freya Familia while also making sure that the Goddess of Beauty, Freya, remembered his name. To a merchant, such an achievement was no different from earning an immense profit. Connections with a powerful familia were profitable in all sorts of situations, ranging from the obvious—like selling supplies, equipment, weapons, and the like—to being able to call upon them to deal with dangerous or difficult jobs. “Better to join hands with a powerful familia than weak royalty or nobles any day of the week” was a well-known saying among merchants. And when the familia in question happened to be arguably the most powerful faction in the city hailed as the center of the world, then the return from that connection might well be considered immeasurable. The costs of an aimless journey were a cheap price to pay if it meant building a relationship with Freya. It was a sign of how far Freya’s reputation had spread to the rest of the world when even a lowly merchant like Bofman flew into a frenzy at the sight of her. “Bofman, I came here to escape boredom, and I chose you because of your talents. Since you’ve accepted the job, I expect you to provide an experience that can satisfy a goddess’s ego.” “But of course, Lady Freya! Leave it to the great merchant Bofman, who has crossed this desert countless times!” “First of all, I’d like to go someplace where the children gather.” “Leave it to me! Hee-ho-ho!” Setting aside his penchant for boasts, Freya recognized that Bofman was actually a skilled merchant. That said, the way he spoke and laughed annoyed her from time to time. But in any case, Freya allowed herself a bit of anticipation for what was to come. A smile unlike that of the queen of Orario crept across her face as she enjoyed the scenery of the desert without pretense. The goddess of beauty’s smile, tinged with a hint of childlike innocence, left Bofman and the attendant beside Freya stunned, entrancing them both. “That reminds me…Was this ship made in Altena?” Freya suddenly asked. “Huh? Ah, yes, yes it was!” Bofman’s voice was a whole pitch higher than normal as he snapped back to his senses. “It is called a desert ship! Altena recently started selling them here in the Kaios Desert!” He made the declaration proudly as the speeding ship raised sand clouds in its wake. Alongside Orario, the magic country of Altena was considered another major global power and this ship was effectively a giant magic item that had been manufactured within its borders. Produced from the dedicated work of dozens of mages, it was the world’s first desert-sailing ship. “What powers the ship? With how many dunes there are, it can’t possibly be driven by wind alone, yes?” Freya asked as the ship crested over another dune. Unlike a normal ship that was propelled by wind and currents, this vessel had to operate on different principles. Bofman pointed down below the deck. “It uses magic. Over thirty slaves are held at the bottom of the ship. The ship is able to sail thanks to the power they provide. Controlling a ship with magic is rather fitting for Altena, wouldn’t you say?” According to further explanation, there were apparently several crystal orbs positioned on the bottom of the ship that were designed to absorb magical energy when hands were placed on the orb. A magianaus—a magic ship rather than a military trireme powered by oars. I see. That is rather like Altena, Freya thought. Altena was a country with a fundamental belief in the supremacy of magic. They had an elitist bent toward mages and the like and the citizens of Altena could readily be seen saying “Magic is everything” with straight faces. Between the thousands of people making a living thanks to magic, it was plausible a significant proportion of residents were elves—that was why they were hostile toward Orario and its powerful mages… Those without magic are not qualified to control this ship. The voice of Altena’s magic supremacy could almost be heard emanating from the ship. “It seems we should be wary of Altena…” Recently, the magic-stone-based items that were the pride of Orario’s economy were being exported to the rest of the mortal realm. It was common knowledge that they were the most used tools due to their utility, but this desert ship was an amazing development as well. Because it could not operate without magic power, it was not a product that could be used by the masses, but at the very least it had the potential to power a new method of commerce in the desert regions. Altena and the other countries and cities around the continent were serious about not letting the Labyrinth City have a monopoly on all the good ideas. However, for the slaves used to run it, life was just as harsh as ever. Even if a revolutionary new magic item was developed, even if they did not have to row the oars, they were still exploited and drained of magic in order to power the vessel. “Does your firm also handle slaves?” Freya asked. She was a goddess, but she had no intention of declaring it inhumane. “We do, though it would perhaps be most accurate to say that all of the Kaios Desert region does. Unlike Orario, where you’ve established your castle, this land is barren, a harsh world of sand where the institution of slavery is accepted,” Bofman responded carefully, explaining the system of slavery they had developed, which was not present in Orario. There were several areas in the mortal realm where slavery existed, even outside the Kaios Desert. In fact Orario, which was hailed as the capital of adventurers, was considered the exception for its complete lack of a slave market. While it was true that the Guild maintaining the familia system imposed more structure and regulations on its residents than other countries and cities did, the biggest reason for the lack of slavery surely lay in the intent of Ouranos and the other deities who worked with him. They were trying to build a promised land where a hero would be born, so they rejected what they considered to be a heretical system. “I didn’t really ask before, but your company is mostly a trading company, isn’t it?” “As expected, Lady Freya! I underestimated your all-seeing eyes! You are correct. We immediately purchased a desert ship when it became available and handle a portion of the trade routes that cross the desert!” She had just asked on a whim, but that was all the encouragement Bofman needed to start a heated explanation. “Even as large as the Kaios Desert is, the number of firms with a desert ship can be counted on one hand! The Fazoul Trading Company is truly the most suited for ensuring you the perfect journey!” Freya could easily tell that Bofman was boasting as he rubbed his hands together enough to wear away his fingerprints, but she could also tell that it was not a lie, either. Even looking out into the distance, there was not another desert ship to be seen anywhere in the sand, which reached all the way to the horizon. A traveling merchant train on camels fading into a dot in the distance was all there was. Those who owned a desert ship like the one she was riding were surely rare. And when it came to trade, while a ship sailing the sand certainly evoked a certain sense of oddity, it was entirely reasonable when imagining the desert as a sea. Considering how valuable sea routes were for trade, and considering the fact that cargo ships able to carry large amounts of goods were often the most favored, it was reasonable that someone who owned a ship that could sail the sands would be successful. History told the tale of how important ships were to commerce, so a desert ship to cross the Great Sand Sea was certainly well suited for that task. On that point, Bofman could certainly be called an influential merchant. “And I must say, the clothes I prepared for your journey suit you quite well.” However, he talked too much, and his constant patronizing tone was also quite off-putting. Slightly fed up with him, Freya looked down at herself. She was wearing a short white dress, a red hood to avoid the sun, and a matching red waistcloth paired with a sheer black skirt that enticingly veiled her legs. All the pieces were decorated and held in place by various rings. The outfit was sort of understandable for both dealing with the brutal sun beating down on them while staying cool, but she could just wear a cloak for that. And as an eternal, unchanging deity, getting sunburned was of no concern. The new clothes she had acquired for the long journey had also been provided by Bofman. From the outset, members of the crew were constantly mesmerized by the alluring figure of the goddess atop the deck. That was to be expected to some extent, since it was the goddess Freya standing there after all, but she was still a little bit concerned that it might be impacting the ship’s navigation. “Gee-hee-hee…” The other concern was Bofman, who could not restrain his lustful gaze. The merchant certainly appeared extremely rational and composed, but his sticky gaze crawled over every inch of Freya’s body. “Hee-hee! Lady Freya, considering how I’m contributing to this by bearing not insignificant expenses, in the event you are able to achieve your goal with this journey, I’d quite like to ask a favor, if it pleases you…” “…” The merchant was leering at the luscious, otherworldly legs peeking out from Freya’s skirt. Perhaps because he was true to his desires, he was filled with motivation in anticipation of getting a little something for himself. Besides the commercial benefit of pleasing a deity, being invited to share a bed with a beautiful goddess was both the greatest privilege as well as the greatest pleasure possible in the world. Even if it cost him everything, he wanted to experience that one night’s dream. There was a never-ending supply of people with that same thought, though. To the goddesses of beauty, shallow people like that were the most boring of all, and they largely just ignored them. However… Avaricious in addition to being lecherous. He has the worst sort of character, but there is no question he is extremely shrewd…In a way, he’s the quintessential merchant. When she saw right through Bofman with her divine sight, Freya felt the same sort of disinterest as every other goddess. Because she recognized the appeal of her own body, she did not feel overly unpleasant to be subjected to such lust-filled gazes. She observed it with detachment, merely thinking, It’s a good thing Ottar and the others aren’t around. If the crusaders who worshipped at the altar of the Goddess Freya—namely her followers—had been present to see someone acting so impudently, they would have immediately crushed, pulverized, and blasted any who dared to gaze at their goddess with such impure thoughts. Truly, Bofman was lucky. It was unknown how many times those who had been impolite to Freya had been discovered having suffered tragic accidents, and it would be safe to say that there were none left in Orario who would behave so insolently. As a beautiful goddess, annoyance and discomfort were always with her. And also, other goddesses’ jealousy, other goddesses’ jealousy, and other goddesses’ jealousy. Because of that, Freya was well schooled in not letting minor irritations get to her and revealed no visible signs that she was dissatisfied with Bofman. She just naturally brushed her hair behind her ear, and then— “I can hear something.” “Huh?” “It’s not a very pleasant sound, though,” Freya said as she closed her eyes. As Bofman stared at her in confusion, the strange noise that only the goddess could initially hear gradually approached. The roar of the surf and the cries of seabirds could not be heard on an ocean of sand. And there was no such thing as rough seas or whirling maelstroms. There was not even a sandstorm happening, so if there was a noise shattering the lonely calm of the desert, then it could only be— “—GUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” —caused by monsters. Right in front of the ship, a massive plume of sand blasted into the air like explosives going off. A giant worm burst out aboveground. Its skin was a sandy color, and its long body undulated in a way that evoked a visceral disgust. It did not have anything that could really be called a face, just a giant round mouth around where its head would be that was filled with hideous fangs. Raising its upper body off the ground, it was tall enough to match the desert ship. “That’s a…a sand worm?! And it’s a big one!” Bofman exclaimed as he lost his composure and grabbed onto the side of the boat. In the ancient times when monsters spread all across the surface world from the giant hole, their territory encompassed the land, sea, sky, and everywhere else in the mortal realm. The Kaios Desert was no exception. Sand worms moved underground, and when they detected the presence of prey, they burst out from their hiding places. The abnormal sound that Freya had heard had been caused by the monster burrowing its hole. “T-turn the ship arouuuuuuuund! On the double!” Bofman shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. The merchant train riding camels in the distance panicked and was already fleeing. The human guard on lookout on the deck turned pale and seemed to be getting ready to use the cannon the ship was equipped with, or perhaps some kind of magic, but it was already too late. In response to Bofman’s command, the slaves poured in more magic in order to speed the ship up, but they wouldn’t be in time, either. It was a perfect surprise attack. Their guard had not been diligent enough. The monster was too close. The worm’s giant mouth was about to tear into the ship’s mast and smash against the side of the ship. And while all this was going on— “That’s not necessary,” the goddess announced matter-of-factly. “What?!” “Unfortunately…” Freya’s tone was not one of surrender. Instead, as if finishing her thought for her, the sand worm’s head was blown backward. “Gueeeee?!” The cries it raised in the throes of death were drowned out by the sound of a large amount of blood spurting out. A sharp flash of silver reflected the sun’s light. By the time that flash was visible, it was already over. “…………Huh?” Time froze for Bofman and the rest of the crew. The monster slowly collapsed in a fountain of gore. Billions of grains of sand shuddered, unable to bear the load of the giant worm, and began billowing up into the air, causing a sandstorm as a thud echoed across the desert. As Bofman and the others stood in shock, Freya finished her sentence with a smile. “…it seems like they’ve already caught up to me.” Inside the swirl of sand, eight different figures were visible: four small prums, two elves, a warrior with a giant sword on his shoulder, and the catman who had sent the monster’s head flying back with such blinding speed. They were like the classic image of knights arriving to save a goddess from monsters, a fairy tale come to life. “…!” Bofman’s face tensed up as he glanced over at Freya, who was calmly watching it all without any concern. The lust abruptly drained from his gaze as he started to tremble in trepidation. He apparently finally realized exactly who the deity before him was and just what kind of familia that Vanadis, the Goddess of Love and War, could call upon. He broke into an intense, uneasy sweat, fearful of being condemned for the disrespect that he had perpetrated earlier. However, Freya simply said, “Shall we go?” to the many trembling gazes accompanying Bofman’s. She nudged the journey back into motion with a light tone. And as the sailors finally came back to their senses, their shoulders heaved while they quickly hurried to demonstrate their obedience to the goddess’s divine will. The ship left the monster’s corpse in its wake and continued to sail the sea of sand. “We finally caught up, huh?” Allen’s silver spear whistled through the air as he swung it down to remove the monster’s sticky blood. He was wearing a hooded robe over his standard equipment. Audible annoyance at the free-spirited master who was always causing him trouble rose into the air, carried by the desiccated breeze. “Let’s go,” Ottar said. The Gulliver brothers, Hegni and Hedin, and Allen had already started running on their own, not waiting for his instructions. They moved so silently and so quickly they seemed to have been erased from the scene, leaving only footprints and the slightest trace of unsettled dust in their wake while the members of the merchant train that had just been starting to flee wondered whether they were seeing a mirage. The goddess’s followers chased the ship disappearing into the distance, determined not to let her escape again. Freya and the desert ship arrived at the town of Leodo. A town built around an oasis praised for its clean, refreshing water, it felt almost like a small island situated in the middle of an endless sea. A port specially designed for desert ships had been constructed in the south part of town. By following the three-meder-high wall surrounding the town that kept out monsters, they arrived at the port. Because it was a sea of sand, there was no lowering of anchors. The ship was instead fixed to a docking pillar with chains. Down on the wharf, a scene similar to that of a seaport unfolded at the large desert port built of stone. Cargo was unloaded from the surrounding ships and carried away. Because desert ships were so expensive and rare, there were not many of them, but the mass of people moving around them did not seem particularly any less busy than what would be seen in an average port city. Most of the activity was done by well-built men, though there were many children who appeared to be pages rushing around, too. In terms of races, dwarves, who were well suited to heavy manual labor, were unsurprisingly well represented. The main difference between this desert mooring and a normal seaport was the lack of a salt smell and the fact that most people were not showing much skin in order to avoid the intense sun. Nearly everyone was wearing clothes that were designed to be breathable and comfortable. “It’s a bit late to be commenting on how dry it is,” Freya said as she climbed down the gangway lowered from the ship and set foot in the port. Despite the fact that she was wearing a robe with a hood, there were still those who caught a glimpse of her and stopped moving, their attention stolen away by her beauty. Young and old, men and women alike. Accustomed to such occurrences, Freya easily led Bofman and his protégés, cutting through the center of the port. “I’m sure Ottar and the rest have already slipped into the town…” Freya said to herself, the murmur drowned out by the bustling docks. “Hmm? I’m sorry, did you say something, Lady Freya?” Bofman asked. “It’s nothing,” Freya said, brushing it off. Her followers had not shown themselves, but it was entirely impossible that they would have failed to track the ship, so logic dictated that they were somewhere nearby, hiding, positioned so they could immediately react if anything should happen to Freya. Since she had already gotten this far, and because they did not want to ruin their beloved mistress’s mood, that was their sign to her that she should do as she pleases. She could just imagine Ottar’s brusque face silently nodding and Hedin closing his eyes and sighing. And Allen would be getting progressively more annoyed even as he made sure to stay closer to her than anyone else. Smiling to herself, Freya decided to not hold back anymore and just follow her whims. “Bofman, tell me more about this town,” Freya said. “It could best be described as a merchant town. It is located in the country of Israfan. Israfan is a country that has grown quite prosperous from its trade, and Leodo is a town centered around an oasis close to the country’s border,” Bofman—who was carefully following two steps back and one to the side of the goddess—explained as they cut through a section of the warehouses that the Fazoul Trading Company owned. The Kaios Desert was split into east and west by the giant Nire River running through it. And Israfan, the country of merchants, was located on the western side. In telling the history of the Kaios Desert, the closer to the great Nire River a country was, the more likely it was to flourish, and the farther it was, the smaller it was likely to be. Israfan was one of the latter countries. It was surrounded on all sides by several different countries in the middle of the western desert. And the town of Leodo was located near its northern border. “The town itself is not particularly large, but thanks to the oasis, it is a place that is easy for people to gather. And on top of that, it is almost at the exact center of the western Kaios Desert, so it would not be hyperbole to say it is a crucial location for trade.” “So that’s why its port is so well furbished, too?” “That’s it exactly. Both in terms of the logistics of moving goods around the surrounding countries and being able to observe the trends in nearby countries, this town is a crucial base for merchants, a place that is easy to live in without the risk of losing touch with the market trends.” Apparently there were several other towns like this one, but Leodo was the most convenient of the lot. It was safe and orderly and had limited exposure to monster attacks. In other words, it was a town that was blessed by geography and had become rich because of it. Freya herself could tell that the town was thriving just by the fact that it had built a desert ship port. That they had recognized the utility of the Altena-made magic item that had not yet become the norm for the desert world and invested a significant sum in it made it clear that the town was an important hub for merchants, just like Bofman had said. “And from here, we can easily reach any country in the western desert, so we should be able to find whatever you are looking for, Lady Freya—or at least, that was what one such as I was thinking!” Bofman finished decisively, still intent on earning her favor. Incidentally, she had not told him anything about what she was searching for: her fated companion. While Bofman was acting proud for no particularly obvious reason, Freya splendidly ignored him, moving forward like the unfettered breeze. As they emerged from the warehouse district adjacent to the port, the field of view dramatically opened up. “Ooooh…a merchant town really is a fitting way to describe it.” What greeted Freya was the bazaar. It was probably the main street, since the wide avenue was filled to the brim with stalls. There were humans and demi-humans wearing the same kind of turban as Bofman, street merchants accepting valis coins and exchanging them for various products. Luxury goods like carpets and vases, clothes for crossing the desert, swords and guns and other weapons and gear, as well as oil and gunpowder. Any- and everything was being sold in a decidedly organic and unorganized fashion. In terms of food, there were a variety of freshly made breads and dried beans as well as all sorts of dried meats. There were several different kinds of preserved fruits and dates shining like jewels. Burlap sacks and jars filled to the brim with spices imported from places outside the desert realm by merchants like Bofman were flying off the shelves. There was a veiled elf taking orders, mixing the spices like a magic powder into a soup filled with dried meat; a prum trying to entice customers by raising a full ladle from a cooled water pitcher and sipping at it as if it were the most refreshing thing in the world; and a teenage beastman barbecuing a fresh fish. Most likely that was something bred in the giant oasis. As befitting a place called a merchant town, seemingly no expense had been spared in developing the local industries. The ground was a copper color, hardened by the countless people constantly moving around over it. An Amazon on a camel pushed her way through the bustling crowd. The buildings on either side of the street made of sun-dried bricks likely belonged to this or that trading company. There were also many taverns. One of the round tables shoved out into the street a bit was surrounded by red-faced dwarves enjoying a hearty lunchtime drink. The busy street never seemed to rest. Just like with the sun overhead, there was a different sort of energy in the air compared with Orario. It was more chaotic, more intense, and had a wilder, freer feeling to it. At least that was how it felt to Freya. As she walked along the street, she elegantly looked around, basking in the unique atmosphere of the desert country. “The oasis is quite grand as well,” she commented. Looking straight ahead, the big oasis was visible up ahead at the center of the city. Beyond the bazaar, what looked like an emerald-blue lake was visible. On top of that, there was a great deal of greenery as trees that could usually only be found in the southern countries were growing around the oasis. And on the island at the center of the oasis that was connected by a bridge to the rest of the town, dozens of luxurious buildings lined the streets. Even the pavement of the roads was different. And among all that splendor, the most eye-catching thing of all was surely the giant mansion featuring a majestic dome. It almost looked like a castle. Its magnificence easily blew any mid-tier familia’s home out of the water. It was well within the realm of upper-tier familias’ homes. “The flow of people and goods is certainly lively. Always something fresh and interesting to see.” “Yes indeed, yes indeed!” Bofman had settled comfortably into his role as guide, rubbing his hands, beside himself with excitement. Upon further observation, there were many vendors dealing with magic-stone goods. The designs were a bit different, but there were stalls lined with dozens of lanterns with designs befitting the desert. Orario’s magic-stone goods were leaving their mark even in the desert world. The Guild must be proud, Freya thought without any particular emotion. And then her eyes suddenly narrowed. But the atmosphere here stings. The bazaar itself was booming, but something in the air was on edge. Freya, with the all-seeing eyes of a goddess, had astutely noticed the mood of the town. “As you can see, this is a town where many people and things are gathered,” Bofman said as he held out his hand, gesturing to the surroundings, entirely unaware of Freya’s observation. “Goods from other countries, of course. And slaves as well.” As if timed with his words, a different sort of stir spread through the bazaar. “Ah, speak of the devil,” Bofman said. As the two of them turned around, a group emerged onto the main road from one of the side streets. Males and females of various races were paraded out, all wearing the same rags that could hardly be called clothes. Every face looked exhausted. Some were tinged with despair, others with disappointment. There were many with wounds covered by clotted black blood. They had iron manacles on both wrists to keep them from fighting back and collars around their necks connecting them to one another with rusted chains. Slaves. “…Bofman, what are they doing with those slaves?” “I imagine that’s a fresh batch one the slave traders brought in, since this town has a slave market as well.” “That seemed like quite a few slaves. Do they go hunting for people like that often?” Freya did not feel particularly shaken or disgusted, but she did feel a bit suspicious. That was too many slaves. Even at a glance, she could count more than a hundred of them, which was absurd. Just simple kidnapping or people selling themselves to pay off debts would not reach that sort of a number. That line looked more like someone had raided several villages and then sold everyone they captured into slavery. “No, of course not! They would not under any circumstances disrupt the order in the countryside here! However…” Freya could generally guess the answer Bofman had for her. The tense mood of the town and the large number of slaves. Those two taken together would mean— “In the western half of Kaios, there is currently a war going on…” That. “A war, huh?” “Yes. The country directly north of Israfan, a kingdom known as Shalzad, is being invaded by Warsa, which lies to the east.” Freya did not know much about the current state of affairs in the desert, but she did have a basic understanding of region. Every country established in the Kaios Desert was a kingdom. There were not any country-style familias influenced by a deity’s divine will, and the majority of familias in the desert were generally managed as the military arms of kingdoms. It was common to see low-intensity conflicts, but full-scale wars for supremacy were rare—or at least they were supposed to be. “There have been rumors in recent years that Warsa has been paying a powerful mercenary familia to support their military, and then they unilaterally declared war on their neighboring country, Shalzad…” “And Shalzad was immediately defeated?” “Yes. They were apparently incapable of resisting Warsa’s military might. Their capital fell and the interior of their country is being overrun…” “Hmmm…meaning their country has fallen into chaos, creating a convenient environment for hunting slaves.” “Indeed.” Soldiers drunk on blood and violence could easily become beasts. In the process of invading Shalzad, Warsa forces had surely attacked every settlement they encountered along the way. Innocent villagers and townspeople were brutalized, and those who just barely managed to escape would have been easy pickings for slave traders. “That explains the heavy mood over the town.” It also explained all the weapons and gunpowder and the like in the bazaar. The merchants had caught the scent of war and were stocking up on items that would be crucial if more conflict broke out. Meanwhile, the residents of the town were feeling nervous at the signs of war. “D-don’t worry! The capital of Shalzad did fall, but the Shalzad army still has their prince, who managed to escape, and there is still a resistance movement rising up in every corner of the country! Warsa surely has their hands full with dealing with that, so there won’t be any sparks flying in our direction!” Meaning the invasion was an ongoing process. Even if the capital was taken, as long as the country’s officials and soldiers continued to resist, the war would drag on, and they would not dare bring a third country into the mix. Bofman tried to assure Freya of the town’s safety while carefully watching her face. “A-anyway, the rumors say that Warsa’s soldiers are even now rampaging through the towns and villages of Shalzad. The fleeing refugees are falling into slavery, but…that’s not an uncommon sight in this desert realm.” “…” It was a long procession of young and old, men and women, being forced to walk through the center of the bazaar. The crowds split to the sides to avoid them, whispering to one another as the people passed. Whether their whispers were filled with scorn or pity did not particularly interest Freya. However, with her ability to see the radiance of children’s souls, as far as she was concerned, it was a boring spectacle. The souls of those who had been enslaved were all a dull, ashen gray. For Freya, who prized brilliant, gleaming souls, it was a spectacle that bordered on viscerally distasteful. Not many people would be pleased to see a mountain of sludge and waste. Even though it was another country’s problem, the flames of war burning brightly would cause the scene before her eyes to occur again—the number of slaves would continue to grow. If that happened, she would not be able to search for her Odr in peace. “L-Lady Freya, your clothes…!” As even Freya looked on at the procession in discontent, the wind blew. Bofman became flustered because it had blown her hood down. He was concerned about the bazaar grinding to a halt if the people noticed the goddess of beauty’s dazzling figure. After all, he himself had been captivated by her profile. Just as it seemed like the surroundings had been hit by a wave of murmurs, it quickly died back down. Those who had noticed Freya stopped moving, their faces blank as if they were in a dream. The same was true for the slaves as well. They stopped walking, their eyes widened, and their mouths dropped open. Even in the midst of the despair that had caused them to close off their hearts, they just had encountered something entirely not of this world. No matter how much the slave traders pulled at the chains and cracked the whip, they could not break hold of the goddess’s beauty. The procession of slaves ground to a halt. “—!!” Something new had appeared. Freya’s silver eyes noticed a glimmer. Hidden in the middle of the chaotic line, there was a girl who seemed to be hiding behind the others—as if concealed by the shadow of the countless stagnant souls. She had brown skin and disheveled black hair. Her eyes were a light purple. Her face was a bit dirty but exceedingly well proportioned. Her figure, hovering on the edge between young girl and adult, evoked the image of a not-quite-ripe fruit in Freya’s eyes. She was probably fifteen or sixteen, wearing the same sort of rags as everyone else, while looking down at the ground as if trying to hide herself as much as possible. “…!” Seemingly noticing the goddess’s eyes, she met Freya’s gaze, and just like the other slaves, her eyes opened wide—and then she immediately looked away. That was a shock to Freya. The girl had by her own will resisted the figure of a goddess alluring enough to entrance any mortal. The girl was again pointedly looking at the ground, her face twisted by her predicament and yet still dignified. Her grim, sharp gaze had not faded yet. Like that of a tiger biding its time, waiting for the moment to strike. At least that was how it appeared to Freya. As the slave merchants finally regained their senses and cracked their whips to get the procession moving again, the girl disappeared from Freya’s sight in the press of slaves. “Bofman, we’re going.” “Yes, Lady Freya…? Wh-where did you want to go?” Fixing her hood, Freya started walking like the wind as Bofman desperately tried to keep up with her. The goddess’s lips curled into a crescent smile.
Chapter 13
52 min read