🎂🎂🎂
FINALLY, I hear the full story from the trustee, servants, and other townspeople.
Though the details differ from person to person, the general narrative, passed down over generations, is the same. When I asked Rodney why nobody had thought to mention the tale earlier, he replied that they were reluctant to share their childish and superstitious folklore with someone so intelligent from the capital.
Honestly, so annoying.
The story starts with a warning, much like Longhurst’s version: Don’t go into the mountains. Don’t interact with those who live on the other side. They are all monsters in human skin.
The tale begins before the mountains even existed.
The lush green forest was home to all kinds of monsters, and unless one was trained to deal with them, to even step foot inside was unthinkable.
Yet there existed a settlement of farmers who were somehow able to enter the forest to harvest its ripe fruit and catch the plump fish in its rivers unbothered. They were never attacked by monsters, and their land was always fertile.
The farmers mocked any outsiders who came to marvel at their bounty, jeering that they were different from everyone else. Sometimes, they fired flaming arrows to chase the strangers away. Sometimes, the monsters themselves charged from the forest.
In spite of all that, the greedy king of a small country wanted that land for himself. Those farmers must worship the monsters, he decided. They offer sacrifices to the monsters; that’s why they aren’t attacked.
The king would make a name for himself. He would subjugate those who had strayed from humanity. He sent an army to do so that summer, yet when winter arrived, they hadn’t returned.
Then, on a sunny day so cold it chilled the bones, thousands of lightning bolts struck the small country.
The sky was soon blanketed in heavy black clouds. A blizzard of ice obliterated the region, and despite the freezing temperature, the river flooded. The earth cracked and folded upward, forming the mountains and a ridge that pierced the king’s castle like a sword.
That ridge became the boundary between humans and the monsters clad in human skin. If anyone dared to cross the border, they would be cursed and lose everything.
And thus the story ends, with a repeat of the warning: Don’t enter the mountains.
Frankly, the citizens of the small country didn’t seem to have learned much from the king’s mistakes. But what’s most hilarious is how the people of Longhurst are viewed as monsters themselves.
But flaming arrows? A fire that summons monsters from the forest? It can only be one thing.
✦ ✦ ✦
🎂🎂🎂
BURIED in rocks and rubble, the first floor of the castle is virtually impossible to enter. Of course, we could attempt to climb in through one of the open windows, but why bother?
“They say the roars sound nearer than usual, but it’s actually disturbingly close,” Rodney observes.
“Agreed. Especially when monster bosses can’t leave their own territory.”
“Oh, yes. That’s what the lady said about Little Piyo.”
“Right… But Little Piyo was flying toward Drewett that day, wasn’t he? Just because he didn’t leave the territory doesn’t mean he can’t.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
We’ll scale the rock face to try to glimpse what’s on the other side. Leaving our horses and effects at the bottom, we start the ascent. Really, the cliff is only slightly taller than the small castle beside us, so it’s hardly a mountain. With the aid of body fortification magic, we soon reach the top.
Yet the roars do not stop, and the way the stones tremble from the noise is worrying. The source must be close by.
A row of narrow peaks connects the cliff to the mountains surrounding the forest, as though a giant had shaped the landscape out of sand. Wasteland, devoid of even a single blade of grass, stretches out on either side of the ridge. There is nowhere for a human to hide, much less a dragon. So where is i—
A particularly loud roar thunders around us, and the rock a few paces away starts to crack and crumble. Rodney and I scream as we grip each other’s shoulders, jumping backward as the ground collapses beneath us.
“…It’s a sinkhole.”
“Yes.”
We cautiously crawl to the edge and peek into the gaping pit. It is a steep drop into darkness, in which a pair of green lights shimmer.
A leg with thick claws steps into the sunlight, followed by a head covered in smooth white scales. Taller than us when not in a hole, it stands slightly hunched, peering up at us with its green eyes.
I knew it! I knew it was you!
A rumbling purr escapes its throat, and it kicks its legs. Even its tiny arms, their size a stark contrast to its massive form, start to wave.
“Wait! Wait! Don’t jump! The ground! It’ll collapse!”
So the cliff is hollow?! That’s why the roars echo so loudly!
Wait, I said don’t jump!
After a while, the dragon calms. It studies me from its hole, then Rodney, something behind us, and me once more. Again and again as it seems to grow more upset, until it finally realizes…
“Abigail isn’t here.”
The dragon is still for a long while, so I must have guessed right.
“So you’re the one who created this mountain?” I ask it.
“You always speak so naturally to monsters, Master.”
“Abigail did say that this one’s quite intelligent.”
“Well, I guess it is… Though it still seems surprised.”
Abruptly, the dragon rolls a chunk of emerald ore toward me, a peace offering perhaps, and I make the mistake of moving closer for a better look.
An hour later, I’m still trapped in its grasp as it sniffs me all over.
I want to leave soon, and it’s holding me with just enough force that I can’t get away. Damn, and here I was looking forward to ending this monthlong assignment a few days early…
✦ ✦ ✦
“Can’t you find something? Anything to distract it?” I ask.
“It’s impossible… Oh, how about the handkerchief the lady embroi—”
“Definitely not.”
“Right…”
Another hour passes before Rodney manages to dig out an item with Abigail’s scent from our bags. It is the leather pouch he balled up to let her practice parrying. At last, I’m released.
The ever-resourceful Kofi family saves the day again…