Chapter 4: Pursuers

After three long months, Darke, a knight with the Bureau of Public Safety, was on her way back to the royal capital of Eaglesclaw.

She’d been working a smuggling case in a port town in the south of Midland, the royal domain. Going undercover, she followed an anonymous tip that a merchant was bringing in illegal dwarven valuables via the eastern nations. For months she’d tailed them, and in the end, she caught them red-handed with... obscene statues and lewd picture books of questionable artistry. Valuables, perhaps, depending on who you asked—but not illegal contraband.

Apparently, a rival merchant had leaked false information about his competitor. Unfortunately for him, the port town’s bureau was headed by a clerk with a wicked temper, and he would most likely literally put the screws to that lying merchant.

Naturally, Darke had had no contact with anyone back home while she was undercover, so she had absolutely no way of knowing when Gaius had given up his title and left the capital.

＊

The entrance to Gaius’s place looked completely different.

“Oh. Long time no see.” The person standing in the doorway was a knight even more senior than Gaius, William Kidd. He’d joined the Knights of the Chain two years before Gaius, and had also fought in the Five-Year War, but took a desk job in the royal bureaucracy upon his return. And since he was a senior to Gaius, he was doubly so to Darke.

Despite his peerage, William was good-natured and easygoing even to junior knights, and those who were close to him affectionately called him “Billy.” He’d even been kind to Darke, who had been sponging off of Gaius.

William’s adorable daughter, Niesse, stood at his elbow.

“It’s been a while, Sir Billy,” said Darke, “and you’re as lovely as ever, Lady Niesse.” She patted the young girl on the head. She giggled, clearly enjoying the attention.

“I take it you’re here for Gaius?”

“That’s right. Where on earth has that crazy old man gone?”

“That guy... He went and quit the Knights. Gave up his rank, too.”

“Ahh... That’s why he’s not here...” Darke slowly nodded, her expression grim, as if thinking He’s finally done it.

Gaius had enjoyed the confidence of the prior king, and the king before him had appointed him as a guard to his own daughter, Princess Lula. Igris’s current king, however, had been turned against Gaius by the prime minister and his faction. They’d dismissed nearly all of Gaius’s subordinates, and turned him into a glorified watchdog. Darke had suspected it would come to this eventually.

“...I get it. So he finally reached his limit. The man was never good at playing politics.”

“Yeah, he’d never have won against the prime minister. And you—I asked after you more than once, and got shot down each time by the Public Safety Bureau.”

“I couldn’t break my cover, Sir. So, where has Gaius moved to?”

“Oh, you know, there’s a letter around here somewhere...” After a quick search, Billy handed a letter over to Darke.

“Oh, God,” Darke groaned, “his handwriting’s as awful as ever.” She frowned as she began to decipher the letters.

Dear Darke,

I’ve quit the Knights and am returning to the countryside.

I’ll write you again.

—Gaius

Darke choked out a strange sound, and soon her nose was running heavily.

Billy had never seen her so emotional, and asked with more than a little concern, “Hey now, you okay?”

Niesse, too, grew flustered and tried to help out. Standing on her toes, she reached up as high as she could and tried to wipe Darke’s runny nose. Such a good child.

“‘Succinct’ doesn’t begin to describe this... It’s such an important announcement, and he said it like it was nothing...” For a moment, Darke stood doubled over as Niesse kindly wiped her face clean. She stood up with a sigh.

“Well then, I suppose there’s no reason for me to hang around here,” she grumbled, scratching at the side of her head.

“What, does that mean you’re going after him?”

“But of course.”

“Hey, hey, think about how that’ll make Gaius feel. It’s about time you left the nest, already,” said Billy, crossing his arms as he spoke his mind. “And wasn’t this your childhood dream, graduating from the Academy and becoming a knight?”

“Aha, did I say that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m afraid that was a lie.”

This time it was Billy’s turn to sputter and rub at his face. Niesse, however, didn’t lift a finger to help him; children can be cold when it came to their parents.

“‘A lie?’ Why, you—”

“I couldn’t care any less about being a silly knight. Truth be told, it was all a big pain, aheh.” Darke snickered with a harsh croaking laugh.

“What the...”

“All right! It sounds like there’s fun to be had elsewhere, so I think it’s about time I call it quits on this knight business.”

“Even if you wanted to, you work for the Public Safety Bureau now. They’re not going to let you just walk out the door.”

“It’ll be fiiine. I’ll give them some excuse. I’m quite the gifted liar, you know.” Darke made that strange, frog-like cackle again.

“Well, that’s it for me, then! Now that I know my new address, I’m off! Talk to you again soon, sir!”

Darke pounded a fist to her chest in an overzealous salute, held the pose for no more than a second, then took off at breakneck speed.

Billy was left dumbfounded in her wake, as Niesse enthusiastically waved after her.

...She’d turned in her resignation letter immediately afterward. Naturally, the Bureau rejected it, but that had not bothered Darke in the least—she fled the capital the very same day.

＊

“Ye bleedin’ tricked meee!” A tearful cry rang out from the kobold village square, frightening birds into flight from the trees.

The villagers cautiously watched the dwarf, as he screamed on his hands and knees.

“What is it, Emon?” Gaius’s voice called out. The village children had mobbed him as soon as he descended the wagon, turning him into a crawling mass of soft puppy fur.

“Don’t give me that! Ye told me there were loads of cute lasses here! You lied!”

“I didn’t lie to you at all. See? Aren’t these children adorable? And that woman over there is quite beautiful.”

“They’re dogs!”

“No, they’re kobolds. They’ll bite if you call them that.”

“Ye great big dobber! When I said ‘lasses,’ I meant—you know! Human ones, or ogres, or trolls! I wanted to sneak into some pure, innocent bird’s room tonight and hear her whisper ‘My heart’s racin’, but as long as it’s with you...’ before gettin’ it on! Or have my first time in a village with a tradition o’ older women that show young guys like me how it’s done! I wanted to get down n’ dirty in a beautiful little town in need of a man to repopulate it! Damn it all!” Still on his knees, Emon pounded his fists against the ground and screamed in frustration. If you ignored the actual words being said, it was a poignant scene of a young man unabashedly expressing his grief.

Gaius seemed to think so; he laughed and said, “I’m glad to see that young people have such active imaginations.”

“You’re glad, ye—?!” His shout was cut short by a slap to the back of the head from Fog.

“Help me unpack! Since you wanted to stay here so badly, the least you can do is work! You too, Gaius!”

“My apologies. All right, children, time to get down.”

“Owww ow ow...alrigh’, alrigh’,” Emon replied as he rubbed the back of his head. Looking at him now, one would never think that just yesterday, most of the bones in his face had likely been broken. Dwarves recovered frightfully fast.

“I’ll get started on dinner after we finish putting everything away, so if you’re hungry, you’d best start working fast,” Fog warned them, and the pair agreed in unison before quickly getting to work.

After having a good laugh at Emon’s tragic performance, the rest of the villagers stepped forward to offer their own help in unloading the wagon.

“So, you’re traveling in search of a wife?” asked Fog.

“Aye. When the time comes, dwarf blokes leave the Great Anvil and go on a grand adventure to find our soulmates.”

“Ho ho! That’s surprisingly romantic,” Gaius said with a smile.

“So it is... Nothing wrong with that, though.” Fog agreed.

Night had fallen. Fog, Fluff, Amber Blossom, Gaius, and Emon sat around the sunken hearth as they ate a dinner of kobold-style hodgepodge stew, which was called “kobroth.” It consisted of whatever meat or vegetables one had on hand, simmered with a traditional fermented seasoning. The dish was a staple in most kobold homes, and because it was so easy to prepare it was the go-to of every busy homemaker.

That’s exactly why Fog chose to cook it that night; unloading and sorting out the supplies had taken up most of the afternoon.

“Ye got that right! I’m ready to find me a sweet, gorgeous bride and go to town!”

“...I take it back.”

“‘Go to town’? I don’t know what that means, Emon, but it sounds awesome! You’re so cool!” cheered Fluff.

“Fluff, I don’t think it means something cool,” Blossom said.

Fluff cocked his head to one side in confusion.

“But just look at me! Dwarf men would never get married if we tried wooin’ ladies the usual way! We got tae go out into the wide world and make a name for ourselves, or go off to battle an’ come home a war hero, somethin’ like that!”

“Talk about impure motives.” Fog wrinkled her nose.

“Take it from me, acting valiantly in combat does not mean the ladies will come running,” Gaius chimed in.

“Y’know, coming from a stodgy old codger like you, that’s actually pretty convincing,” Emon nodded, to which Gaius replied with a bitter smile.

“Anywho, that’s why I cannae be wastin’ me time ’round ’ere. I jus’ know that somewhere out there’s a gorgeous lassie with a chest out to here waitin’ fer me. The princess, or warrior, or knight, or nun, or tactician, or dancer of me dreams is awaitin’ the day I light a fire in her heart ’n other parts in our steamy first encounter! I appreciate the hospitality ’n all, but tomorrow I’m headin’ west.”

“Huh? You’re leaving, Brother Emon? Stay and play with us!”

“Sorry, Fluff, but there’s something—an’ someone—I got tae do. Lots of ’em.”

“Aww...”

After watching this exchange, Fog and Gaius turned to each other and shared a chuckle.

＊

The next day...

“Come on, play with us, Brother Emon!” cried Fluff.

“Yeah, let’s play!” Blossom cheered. The kids’ tails wagged so hard they threatened to fly off.

“On me way! What d’ye wanna play today, kids?”

“Someone found a huuuge poop in front of the forest. Prolly from a one-horned boar.” With them was Fluff’s best friend Fishbone, snot running freely from his nose as he spoke. “Let’s go and poke it! Yeah, poop!”

“No bleedin’ way! What do ye wanna do that for?!”

“Boo...” the boys whined in unison.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’. How about I teach ye how to play a game called granny-walkin’ instead?”

“What’s that?”

“Sounds funny!”

“Yeah, show us!”

“Right, first the one who’s ‘it’ faces a tree, while everyone else...”

After explaining the rules and giving each child a pat on the head, Emon turned to leave Fog’s hut.

In the end, he’d decided to stay in the village a while longer. For whatever reason, the children naturally adored him; and they especially loved it when he taught them traditional dwarven games.

“Come back before dark,” Fog called after them, to which Emon and the children following him replied with an “Okaaay.” The other children, having lots of energy and nothing to do, joined the group one by one until they formed a crowd. It seemed Emon had temporarily taken up the role of village babysitter.

＊

As the children laughed and enjoyed their game of “granny-walking,” the wind carried sounds of a less light-hearted gathering somewhere else in the village.

“What’s that?”

“What’s goin’ on?”

The kids took off running on all fours, their shouting voices all the more child-like in their concern. Emon, who arrived after they did, saw a group of adults that had just returned from a hunt. Together with some of the other villagers, they stood in a circle, gathered around something in the center.

“Did ye catch summat rare?”

“Oh, it’s Fog’s guest. They caught something in their traps, but no one has any idea what to do with it.”

“Ooh, let’s see...” Now filled with curiosity, Emon moved forward until he was able to see the “prey” they’d caught, which was bound tightly in rope, making noises as it writhed.

It was slightly longer than he was tall, with bright red hair and long, pointed ears. He couldn’t tell if it had fangs or not, but its skin was as smooth as that of a young woman’s—in fact, it was a young woman.

“I am Sashalia Denan! I might be thin and scrawny, but I’m from House Denan, a noble family of warriors! And I’m a former Knight of the Chain! I refuse to be disgraced any further by you filthy beastmen! Kill me!”

“Huh? Kill you?” said one of the members of the hunting party, taken aback by Sashalia’s words.

“Eeyaaah! Don’t come near me! I promise I don’t taste good! I mean—try anything and I’ll bite you! I’ll bite you, okay?! I’m warning you, my bites really hurt!” she cried, flailing like a fish on land, her earlier bravado now completely gone. Her even, pleasant features were twisted as she screamed and wailed, her nose running.

“O-Okay, then. I won’t do anything,” the kobold nodded and backed away, completely cowed by her intensity. The other kobolds looked at one another, all at a loss as to what they should do with their catch.

Emon pushed his way through the crowd and walked up to her. “What in the—this is a wee elf,” he said. “What did ye bring her here for?”

As soon as the trapped woman—Sashalia, he remembered her saying—saw him, her face immediately lit up.

“Oh, thank goodness! A person! There’s another person here! Hey, hey, can you tell these little guys not to eat me?”

“No one’s gonna do that.”

“Really?!” In her excitement and relief, it seemed she’d finally started to breathe again.

Fluff followed Emon, his head tilted inquisitively as he pulled at Emon’s sleeve. “So if you’re not gonna eat her, are you gonna do that thing you said before? ‘Get down and dirty’?”

“Nooo! You pervert! Degenerate! Lech! You masher! Filthy wretch! Rotten crotch monster! Just try and lay a finger on me! I’ll bite my tongue off and choke to death on my own blood!”

“So... You do wanna die?” The kobold from the hunting party, still shaking from Sashalia’s earlier tirade, spoke up once again.

“Eeeyaaah! Captaaaain! Save meeeee!” Her screams resumed; it seemed conversation was doing little to clear up the confusion.

“This is really puttin’ me off elves,” Emon sighed. Behind him, the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer.

“W-Wait a minute, Blossom... I’ve been in the outhouse this whole time, what could be so urgent?”

“Just hurry up, Uncle! Over here!” When Emon turned around, he saw the large man frantically hoisting up his pants and redoing his belt as the young kobold hurried him on.

“Oh, gramps, yer timin’s perfect. The hunters brought back a real piece o’ work.”

“You know this person, right, Uncle?” said Blossom. “She smells like you, a little bit.” Sashalia and Gaius’s eyes met.

“Wha—?! Miss Denan?!”

“Ca...” Sashalia sat up lightning-fast and used her legs to drag herself forward, like an incredibly fast inchworm, until she was right in front of Gaius. Her next wail was so loud that it sent the surrounding kobolds running.

“Captaaain!”

“How on earth did you end up here, Miss Denan?” Gaius said as he knelt down. She threw herself forward and buried her face in his chest, knocking her glasses off of her face.

Gaius did not move once as he waited for her tears to stop, occasionally patting her on the shoulder or rubbing her back in an attempt at being comforting.

It wasn’t until a while later that Gaius realized he’d forgotten to wash his hands, at which point he went pale.

＊

“My name is Sashalia Denan! I once served as Captain Beldarus’s adjutant!”

“Ha ha ha,” Gaius chuckled affably. “When I was captain of the guard, Miss Denan was of great help to me as my secretary.”

Back at Fog’s house, Sashalia, who had regained her composure by now, sat side-by-side with Gaius as she made her introductions.

Inside sat Fog’s family; several villagers peeked in from the entryway, filled with curiosity.

“Really?” asked Emon. “A wee li’l quinie like you?”

Sashalia puffed out her cheeks and explained in a huff, “Excuse you, I’m actually twenty-three. I just age kinda slowly ’cause I’m half elf.”

“Ah, but ye’re not just half any elf, ye’re half high elf, righ’? I can tell by the ears. Twenty-three to ye’s about eleven or twelve in human years.”

Elves lived twice as long as humans, and high elves had lifespans four times as long, making Sashalia’s rate of maturity roughly the same as that of an average elf. Individual differences and environments meant that some with elf blood tended to take after one side of their family more than the other. Even taking that into account, Sashalia was not nearly old enough by human standards to enlist.

“I know, ’cause me mum’s an elf, and a high elf lives in me neighborhood, too.”

“‘High elf...’ Miss Denan, I always thought you were simply petite!” Gaius looked back at Sashalia in surprise, which prompted a hasty, flustered objection from the red-headed half-elf.

“N-No, Captain, I’m not a child, sir! I’m a knight—a soldier! I’m a warrior and an adult! That’s all, no more and no less!”

From her desperate protest and all her gesticulating, it seemed that the last thing she wanted was to be treated like a child by Gaius. Emon attempted to add something in reply, but a wrathful glare from Sashalia quickly shut him up.

“What’s a kid like you doing all the way out here?” Fog asked as she held out a cup of boiled water to Sashalia.

“I said I’m the Captain’s closest adjutant! It’s only natural for me to be by his side and support him, if you ask me.”

“But Miss Denan, I haven’t been your superior officer, or a baron, or a knight, for quite some time now.”

“Oh, but that’s not a problem, sir! It’s all right! I left the Knights, too!” Sashalia beamed with confidence, without specifying what exactly was “all right.”

“Whaaat?!” Gaius’s mouth gaped open with surprise, his jaw practically hitting the mat. “But why? You’re from a military family with a rich history, and you were valedictorian of your class at the Academy—you had such a bright future ahead of you!”

“With all due respect, sir, what do you mean?! The only one I serve is my Captain! Not the prime minister or the king!”

No matter what Gaius had to say in response, the glimmer in her eyes as she looked up at him told him his words would fall on deaf ears.

As Fog watched them, a knowing smirk soon spread across her face, as if she’d realized something; the kobold women hovering around the entrance wore similar expressions.

“Reminds me of my youth...me and my dear husband...”

“Aren’t they so sweet?”

“We’re rooting for you, missy!”

It seemed that no matter the race, women tended to enjoy storylines like theirs.

...And so, Sashalia Denan became the third guest to wander into the kobold village.

Naturally, the elder objected yet again. “The dwarf is another matter, but a second half-human is out of the question!” This earned him the collective wrath of the alliance of housewives, considered the strongest faction in the village, and he was quickly silenced.

＊

A few days had passed since Sashalia came to the village. Since there was nothing for her to do similar to her previous position as the captain’s aide, she passed the time by helping Fog with errands and chores.

“So we’ve fetched some water, gathered the kindling... What’s next...?” Looking around Fog’s home, Sashalia noticed that Gaius had left some clothes in the corner; he must have changed before joining the hunt going on now.

Oh! I’ll take those back to the lake and wash them! I’ve still got time.

“Hm! Hah! Hm!” She hummed a strange tune to herself as she gathered the discarded clothes and left.

...At least, that was what she’d intended. Instead, Sashalia stood unmoving. Rather, she couldn’t move.

“...Th-These are the Captain’s...” She stared at the underwear in her hand before freezing, swallowing hard. With her other hand, she reached into her breast pocket and withdrew a small drawstring pouch. It contained a single square of cloth—a handkerchief that Gaius had “lost” one day. Ever since the day Sashalia picked it up, she’d carried it close to her heart. To her, it was more precious than any blessed amulet, a shining light that helped her through difficult times. It was her hidden treasure, to a somewhat shameless degree; every so often, she’d hold it to her face and sniff it deeply, a drug she took that filled her with euphoria.

But now, in her hand...she held something even more precious than her secret treasure, a truly legendary piece of equipment.

The captain’s actual underwear! Sashalia gulped once more.

No, no, no, you can’t! A handkerchief is one thing, but sniffing these...that’s what perverts do! And besides, stealing isn’t something a lady—I mean, it’s not something a knight would do!

But her rationality was powerless to stop her body from acting on its own accord. Her hands brought the underwear up to her face, and her nose inhaled deeply.

Ah...the captain’s natural scent...

She breathed in again. And again.

...stinks!

Sashalia choked. It smelled as bad as one would expect—a mixture of what they call “old man smell” and a rather pungent body odor.

She coughed violently and mumbled, “I really, really shouldn’t have done that,” ...before taking one more quick sniff. Her reason said one thing, but her heart and hands betrayed her.

...She spent quite a while experiencing a total lack of self-control.

After having her fill of that exceptional fragrance, she looked away, satisfied—and there at her feet sat Fluff, looking up at her in curiosity.

“...Did you see all that?”

“Were you sniffing Uncle’s smell, too, Sister Sasha?”

“No. That’s how I measure the level of contamination on a garment, in order to determine the most efficient way to wash it. It’s a very necessary step, okay? This way, I use only the bare minimum of effort required to clean it, so in terms of time and economics, it’s very effective, in other words, by doing this I can conserve precious water while also avoiding wasting any time, and for someone like me, having served in the illustrious Knights of the Chain, under the direct command of the royal family, such behavior is not only expected, but extremely necessary, so in conclusion, I’m not doing anything creepy, okay?”

Sashalia’s defense came out in a jumbled rush of words, but Fluff, sitting at her feet with his head tilted to one side, did not appear to have understood any of it. It was only natural, since Sashalia herself did not quite know what she had been going on about.

“Sometimes I sniff his clothes, too. They really stink, huh!” Fluff giggled, like children do.

“Huh? O-Oh, yeah.”

“They stink, right?”

“Y-Yeah...they do. I think. They do stink. Aha-ha-ha...” Sashalia laughed dryly, pretending to agree with him. After their bonding session, Fluff’s ears pricked up and he turned away from Sashalia.

“I hear lots of footsteps! Uncle and the others are back from hunting! They’re real close!”

“R-Really? Well then, why don’t I just wash these tomorrow? Oho ho ho!”

Fluff responded with an enthusiastic nod before dashing out of the house.

I did it...I managed to trick him... She breathed a huge sigh in relief.

“Uncle! Mommy! You’re back!”

“Hiya, Fluff. Your mother caught a one-horned boar today!”

“Wow!”

“Heh, man, these weapons Gaius got us slice through stuff like a dream.”

Gaius and Fog’s voices were audible through the walls of the house. It sounded as though their hunt had gone well.

Just as Sashalia was on her way out of the house to greet them—

“Hey, Uncle, guess what? Sister Sasha thinks you stink, too!”

—she fell spectacularly on her face.

＊

“All right, the meat’s all cooked...hm? Emon, where’s Gaius gone off to?”

“Oh, he went down tae the lake to have a himself’ a bath.”

“Huh? Now? But the water’s so cold.”

“Who knows? All’s I know’s ’e looked real glum.”

“Again? Ah, well, let’s go ahead and eat. Go on then, missy, that one’s already cooked, so go ahead and grab it before it burns.”

“Aha, ahaha...ha... Yes, thank you...” The former knight, who was the cause of Gaius’s depression, laughed weakly as she shakily reached out for a skewer.

＊

Snap! A dry sound rang out as a wooden stick fell to the floor. A small figure rushed forward and held a stick against the young dwarf’s throat, even as his own stick was still falling to a clattering halt.

“That’s enough!” Gaius called out, at which Sashalia released her prey.

“Emon, it’s only natural that you’re a lesser fighter than me,” she sighed.

“’Cause ye’ve been bloody trained in combat!” Emon snapped back, cradling his numb hand.

“Excuse you? I’m your elder, so watch how you speak to me, boy.” She punctuated her retort by tapping his head lightly with her wooden stick. “I think it’ll be kinda tough to become a great hero king, seeing as how you just lost a swordfight to a ‘wee li’l quinie.’”

“Grr...” Indeed, the two former knights were teaching Emon how to wield a sword.

“Oi, gramps. Ye got any tricks on how tae get tougher? Any secret special moves?”

Gaius shook his head, laughing, and told him he didn’t. “You know, Emon, the western kingdoms you’re so keen to get to are much more dangerous. No major conflicts have happened around here for a few years now, but the west is in a near constant state of war.”

“...I know that already. Tha’s why I’m tryin’ tae toughen up now,” he huffed, his cheeks puffing indignantly.

“It will be a challenge to earn fame with the skills you have now. You were nearly killed by a group of bandits, after all.”

Emon winced.

“Very well, then,” Gaius continued. “Why don’t we train a little? At least until you’re vomiting blood.”

“‘Vomiting blood’?!”

“Ha ha ha. That’s right. Just like I used to, back in the day. Miss Denan never once took a day off in her training.” The men, like the conversation, both turned toward Sashalia, and she started in surprise. “Huh? What is it?”

As Gaius had said, Sashalia had tirelessly continued to train and study even after joining the Knights of the Chain, seeking to hone her other abilities and make up for her great lack of physical size and strength. In the process, she’d read through every last document and book in the royal library and military archives. Her carefree youth, her free time—she’d spent them all so that she could one day be useful to Gaius. So that she could stand by his side. So that she could repay the one who had given her hope. That was why she’d been willing to throw everything else away.

Naturally, Sashalia had never revealed any of this to Gaius. Quite the opposite—even when her body and hands were in pain, she did her utmost to never let it show. Without any close friends, she’d never had anyone to open up to, and so she was very surprised that Gaius knew.

“Look at her palms and you’ll see. She most likely got those callouses by practicing with a sword for far too long. It looks like she’s been slacking a bit lately, though, ha ha.”

Sashalia’s nose grew warm and began to burn, and she turned her face away. If she were to make eye contact again, she would most likely start to cry.

“You need to apply yourself, as well. Combining proper technique with your natural strength would make you a fine swordsman.”

“How long will that take?”

“Let’s see... How about this: we’ll spar ten rounds, and if you can best me once, you’ll be ready to go.”

“Aye, le’s do it! That won’t take much time at all!”

“Indeed, it won’t.” The two of them laughed.

With her back still turned to them, Sashalia sat sniffling. “That’ll take years...” she said under her breath, shivering at the thought.

＊

As the group sat around Fog’s hearth after dinner, idle conversation turned into lively discussion as they talked about current events.

“A supply run?”

“That’s right,” Fog replied. “Just about everyone’s been asking when we’re planning to go again.”

Fog and Gaius had made four trips into Ryburgh by now. The villagers had come around to the idea of using human-made tools, and Red Eye and Rain Grass had accompanied them on the last excursion.

“So this time it’ll be me, Gaius, and Emon...”

“I’m coming, too!” Sashalia’s exclaimed.

Fog smiled knowingly. “Reeeally? You don’t haaave to, you know?”

“No, it’s only natural that I, Sashalia Denan, adjutant to the captain, accompany him! And besides, as a secretary, management of the budget and goods is my specialty! Who else could assist you better than I could?!” Her arms were crossed, so excited she was breathing heavily.

“All right, already. You’re coming with us, then. That okay with you, Gaius?”

“Hm? Ah, I apologize. I wasn’t listening.” Gaius looked up from what had previously been taking up his full attention—bouncing Fluff and Blossom around on his knees—to reply, though it made him look quite dense.

“Ugh, Gaius... You really are something else. Hey, missy, you really took orders from this dopey blockhead? I bet you had your hands full taking care of him.”

“I...cannot deny that.” Gaius rubbed the back of his head, and the children sitting on his lap copied him.

“But that’s not true!” Sashalia, on the other hand, did deny it vehemently. Fog enjoyed seeing her so irritated, and continued to prod her.

“I bet the big oaf doesn’t even remember what we had for dinner last night.”

“And I bet he does!”

“Yeah? Okay, then—hey, Gaius! What was last night’s dinner?”

“...Hm?” Gaius rubbed his chin in thought. “Ah, er...kobroth, wasn’t it?”

“No. I stir-fried some tree-eating lizard meat.”

Gaius winced, as the working mother flashed Sashalia a victorious smirk.

“So you worked with him and didn’t even realize how hopeless he is, huh?”

“Huh?! Excuse you?! For your information, I’ve known the captain for way longer than you have! As his aide, I know how hopeless he is in all sorts of ways, and I don’t mind!”

“Oh, really?” Fog snorted. This push-back from Sashalia now genuinely made her mad.

“Yes, really! Did you know that the captain could never remember the proper procedure for filling out forms, so I’d have to rewrite them every time? And that he’d always forget the deadlines to submit reports to the castle? Or the way his desk was such a mess that he’d always lose his seal, and everything else, and had to spend ages looking for them? Or how if I didn’t go to meetings with him he’d never manage to hang onto any documents? Or that he never read the manual for any equipment and would end up using them incorrectly? Or that he’d just wander into random shops and buy weird things because he thought they’d come in handy someday? And that he’d buy the same things over and over again because he’d forget he already had them? Or the time he was depressed for a full month because he found out he was the ‘demon’ in a song all the children were singing? Or how once, a young knight called the captain ‘Dude,’ and even though he had to reprimand her, he was secretly happy about it? Or did you know that he once wanted to take candy to an orphanage, but bought lots of animal treats instead on accident? And how it was such a hot day that they melted? And then he cried because he couldn’t give them to the children? Or that he and cats...”

“U-Uh. Okay, so you do know some stuff. But now it’s my turn—”

“Hey, lady!” Emon hissed, breaking his silence to interrupt them.

“What, Emon?! This is important!” Sashalia snapped at him.

“Yeah!” Fog agreed. “Little boys should mind their own business!”

Emon sighed deeply and jabbed a thumb over in Gaius’s direction. “Might wanna cut it out. Gramps looks like he’s two seconds from bawlin’ his eyes out.”

＊

Back in Ryburgh, at a certain smithy, the master of the forge was speaking with a mountain of a man. His apprentices, who would usually be toiling away with enthusiasm, were nowhere to be seen; they’d fled into the back of the workshop at the sight of the foreboding customer. This time, he was accompanied by a young woman with a hood pulled low over her eyes. The head blacksmith was rather doubtful of her and her unassuming appearance, but the matter at hand was more important than getting her story. He only allowed himself a small sigh in disapproval before turning his attention to the other customer.

“Got your order all ready, boss. I’ll send them to your lodgings, as usual.” He set a spearhead and a sword before the customer, samples from the latest batch. The man picked up both small items and turned them over in his hands.

“Very nicely made. I daresay you’re a finer smith than any in the capital.”

“Aw, now that warms my old heart. By the way...” the blacksmith looked over at the young woman that stood close beside his customer. “All these small weapons—are they for this little lady to use?”

“Her? Oh, no. They’re for even smaller hands.”

“Say what...?” said the blacksmith, stunned. “You’re forcing a bunch of little’uns to fight?”

“Oh, no, they all want to. They’ll make fine warriors.”

“That—That’s inhuman!” Even though he believed the man to be in a seedy line of business, this was well beyond anything he had expected.

“Ha, ha, ha. Well, it’s a good thing there are no humans involved.”

A voice echoed in the blacksmith’s mind: The man’s a demon. A bonafide resident of the underworld. He felt the strength start to leave his legs, and practically collapsed into a chair.

“I’ll be awaiting the rest at the lodge. I look forward to doing business with you again.”

“A-Ah...” The blacksmith, however, was in another world. As the large man and his companion left the workshop, he remained slumped over in his seat.

...Eventually, he arose on trembling legs. He made his way into the kitchen, withdrew a bottle and a cup, and poured himself a large measure of alcohol. Realizing the customers had left, his apprentices peeked into the workshop.

“What happened, boss? Why’re you drinking all of a sudden?” The blacksmith, however, only replied with a glare and emptied the cup a second time.

“Workin’ a smithy means gettin’ blood on your hands...”

“Um...”

“But you know what? I... I gotta keep hammerin’ that iron!”

“Huh?”

“Even if a demon walks through that door, I’ll make him the knives he needs to kill! ’Cause I’m no saint myself, far from it! This is what I was born to do.” His apprentices could only tilt their heads and mutter non-committal noises in response.

＊

Their business concluded, Gaius and Sashalia made their way back to the inn where Emon and Fog would be waiting for them.

Emon had asked them to show him “the lewdest shops in town,” but a blow from Sashalia had cut that conversation short; he was now stuck holding down the fort and Fog was tasked with keeping an eye on him.

“Excellent. Now we’ll have enough spears for everyone who wants to hunt.”

“More importantly, sir, that blacksmith completely misunderstood you!”

“Did he, now?” The fact that he had to ask made Sashalia sigh in exasperation.

“Please be more careful, Captain. People tend to get the wrong idea about you. A lot.”

“About that, Miss Denan...”

“Yes, Captain?”

Running a hand over his unshaven jaw, Gaius looked down at Sashalia, who was gazing intently up at him.

“I’m no longer captain of the Knights, so I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that anymore.”

“Oh, of course! I understand!”

“Right, so just Beldar...”

“I’ll call you Sir Gaius!”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“And you can just call me ‘Sashalia’ from now on!”

“Wha...?”

“Yes!” Sashalia whispered with a mighty pump of her fist.

“Why are you celebrating?”

“N-No reason! Emon and Fog have waited long enough, don’t you think? Let’s hurry back, Sir Gaius!” And with that, the half-elf turned on her heel and walked ahead.

“All right then, er, Miss Sashalia.”

“Yes!”

Gaius was still had no idea what had just happened, but he decided to let the matter rest since Sashalia was in such a good mood.

＊

A merchant was pulling up to the lodge just as they arrived, delivering goods they’d purchased from another shop. Gaius showed the merchant to his own wagon, and Sashalia headed for their room as the men began loading the goods.

And just like that, we went from boss and subordinate to being on a first-name basis! Oho ho ho hmm ho! Humming, she skipped up the stairs, where Emon stood waiting at the door; it seemed he’d been eagerly awaiting the sound of their return.

“Sashalia! There’s someone ’ere what says she knows the old man. She’s been waitin’ for ’im.”

“She knows him?”

Emon continued in a whisper. “Aye, and she’s practically drippin’ with a real...indecent energy.”

“Huh? And your hormones aren’t driving you crazy? Wait, nevermind that—you can’t just be letting people into our room.”

Sashalia kept one hand on the hilt of her sword as she entered, just in case. Once inside, she was greeted by the sight of a swordswoman sitting in one of the room’s chairs.

Her skin was pale as death. She wore a soft cap with a bill, and her hair, black as midnight, stopped at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were the same jet-black color as her hair, and the circles under her eyes were almost painfully dark.

Her ample curves were impossible to miss, however, even under the men’s clothing she was wearing. While the word “beautiful” never seemed to quite fit her, the discrepancy of her unhealthy pallor and voluptuous figure nevertheless gave her an alluring and lascivious air.

Sashalia had seen this woman before—many, many times.

“...Darke?!”

The swordswoman’s name was Darke. She and Sashalia had been in the same year at the Royal Knight’s Academy, and they had both been members of the Knights of the Chain at the same time. Sashalia had never known what to make of her, though; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking behind that aloof demeanor.

“Oh my my my, long time no see, Madame Adjutant! I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance since you were transferred out of the Knights, have I?” Darke cackled like a croaking frog as she stood. With a huge, exaggerated movement, she thumped a fist against her chest in a salute before sticking her hand out for Sashalia to shake.

“Oh, I, I think so...but why are you even here?!” Sashalia was so confused that she didn’t know how else to react but shake the hand offered to her. Darke, on the other hand, did not answer the question.

“Lady Sashalia, I heard someone left the royal bureaucracy...and as soon as I did, I knew why. You went after the captain, didn’t you? Goodness gracious me, there is simply no stopping a maiden in love!” She gave that peculiar laugh again.

“Who’s—! What are you talking about?! Are you crazy?! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oho! This is the part where you go beet-red and deny it! It’s so very adorable!”

Sashalia couldn’t even begin to deny Darke’s description of her face, as she knew it was spot-on. She stamped her feet in frustration.

“Just answer my question! You work for the Public Safety Bureau! What in the world are you even doing here?!”

“Ah, about that, you see...”

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Come now, keep it down in here. You’ll disturb the other guests.” Gaius entered the room, looked around—and made a small sound of surprise.

“Oh, Sir Gaius. I really can’t tell why, but Darke...” Sashalia began an attempt to explain the situation, but Darke cut her off by briskly walking in front of the young half-elf and in a sickeningly sweet, coquettish voice, cried:

“Faaatheeer—!”

Sashalia choked in shock, and half of her nose began to run. The moment she saw Darke embrace Gaius affectionately, the other side of her nose also began gushing profusely, and she found it impossible to stem the flow.

“Oh? Does that mean you’ve come around?” Gaius asked as he peeled Darke off of himself.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what—the matter of your adoption.”

“Oh, that...”

“Yes. That.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Then why did you...?”

“Call you ‘father’ just now? I just wanted to tease you a little.” Darke turned her head just enough to shoot Sashalia a sidelong glance as she laughed her croaking laugh.

“You never change, do you? Honestly...” Gaius’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh. He’d suspected she was only poking fun, but Sashalia knew who Darke’s real target had been. Gaius, on the other hand, remained completely oblivious and instead went on to introduce the women as if they had never met before.

“I apologize for the late introduction. Miss Sashalia, I’m sure I don’t need to introduce her to you, but everyone else, this is Darke. She used to loaf around in my home during her time at the Knight’s Academy. For a brief time, we were fellow knights, but she now works for the Public Safety...Bureau... Say, why are you here?”

“Becaaause I quit. It bored me.”

“You did what?!” Gaius’s high-pitched shout was practically hysterical.

“And so, since I no longer have a place to stay, I’d just love it if you would look after me, Faaather.” She twisted her shoulders back and forth as she drew out the last word in a singsong and traced circles against Gaius’s chest with a finger.

“If I knew it was going to come to this, I would have just found you someone to marry.”

“And become a housewife? I never would have bothered with all that!” Darke cackled raucously as she slapped Gaius on the back.

As if waiting for the right time to cut in, Fog, who had been curled up on the bed, gave a great big stretch. “Ahh, time to relax. If you’re like a daughter to Gaius, then I don’t need to pretend to be a dog anymore.”

“Woah! Your dog talks?!”

Gaius chuckled. “Her name is Fog, and she’s a kobold. She’s allowed me to stay in her home for the time being.”

“Well, I’ll be. Has my Gaius been causing you some trouble?” She made sure to emphasize their pseudo-familial relation. Sashalia’s cheek twitched.

“So ye’re not blood? No wonder—I thought ye were far too sexy tae be related tae the old man.”

“Ah, and I’ve already made this young man’s acquaintance. A dwarf from Asshole Mountain, was it...?”

“Excuse me, it’s ‘The Great Asshole!’” Emon said proudly. “No, hang on...” He cupped his hand in his chin as he attempted to work through what had just been said, but Darke paid him no more mind. She swiveled around to survey the room before bobbing her head in a quick nod. She smiled at everyone—and whether she meant to or not, her drooping eyes and the way her lips were curled created a depraved expression. It was difficult to imagine someone like her under Gaius’s care.

“I, Darke, will be accompanying you from now on. I do so look forward to it.”

＊

“M-Madame Adjutant! Wait just a moment, if you would!”

The group had rented another room, as there were no more available beds, and it was into this second room that Sashalia dragged Darke. Breathing heavily, she slammed the door shut behind them and turned the lock so firmly that the sound filled the room.

“Darke, where on earth did all this come from?!”

“Whatever do you mean?” She smiled sweetly and seductively. Sashalia wasn’t used to being smiled at like this—but this was no time to get flustered.

“You know! All that about you living in Sir Gaius’s home! And possibly being his adopted daughter! When we were in the Academy, and in the Knights of the Chain, you never told me about any of that!”

“Oh, come now. We weren’t what you would call the best of friends, now were we? When we joined the Knights, I was under very, very strict orders from Sir Gaius: ‘Don’t tell a soul that I’m your guardian! Everything between us has to be completely professional while we’re on the job!’”

Darke did have a point; the two had hardly spoken in school, and Sashalia’s only impression of her was of a pale classmate lurking in a corner, that unusual grin always on her face.

And she knew Gaius. He would never have allowed personal affairs to interfere with his work. It made complete sense that he wouldn’t give her special treatment despite their relationship. In fact, Sashalia now realized, he even seemed to treat Darke just a little more coldly than the other knights under his command.

“B-But how did you track him down?”

“Surely the same way you did, Madame? I knew where his hometown was, so I did a little sleuthing here and there. All I had to do was ask about ‘a terrifyingly large brute of a man’ before the stories started rolling in—none of them mentioned the name ‘Beldarus,’ but even so, it was immediately obvious. And so I’ve been lying in wait here, knowing he’d need to come to town to do some shopping.”

Once again, Darke was right. Sashalia had followed his trail in much the same way. There was a difference, though: Sashalia had made it to the site of Gaius’s former home and found the tracks from his wagon, which had spurred her to continue following him. After they’d been reunited, Gaius had scolded her about the dangers of entering the Greatwood, even just its outskirts.

Darke continued her onslaught, watching Sashalia with a broad grin. “Sooo... ‘Miss Sashalia’ and ‘Sir Gaius’—I take my eyes off of you for one minute, and suddenly you’re on a first-name basis!”

“W-Well, he isn’t my commanding officer anymore, so why can’t we use our names with each other? Which reminds me, you need to stop calling me ‘Madame Adjutant’!”

“Would you prefer ‘Mrs. Gaius’s Stalker’? Oh, if I do decide to allow Sir Gaius to adopt me, I could call you ‘Mother Dearest!’ Wouldn’t that be a laugh! Maybe I will after all, if only for that. Ooh, I think I’ll head over to his room now and seal the deal!”

“No, no, no! Why me and Sir Gaius?!” With burning red cheeks, Sashalia flung out her arms and did her best to block Darke’s path, darting left and right.

“Aaah...but everyone knows about Lady Denan’s undying love for the captain. Everyone but the man himself, that is.”

“Huh?!”

“And I do mean everyone. The other knights, the recruits that joined after us, the students from the Sorcerer’s Academy who were visiting on research, the merchants passing through, even the women of the street corners—everyone knew it, everyone saw it, and everyone was in agreement about what it was!”

“You’re kidding me!” Sashalia dropped to the floor in a crouch, her hands pressed against her head. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and yanked on them, exposing her wide forehead; this habit had earned her the nickname “Little Miss Forehead,” whispered behind her back among the knights.

“So when I heard about how you’d found Sir Gaius, I understood why right away. You know, for quite some time now, I’ve thought you would make a fine partner for him.”

“Wha...?” Sashalia lifted her face, her hands still in her hair.

“After all, Lady Denan, you’re of such noble birth. Even without a court rank, House Denan boasts a gallant history of decorated soldiers! And on top of that, you yourself are quite the scholar—you graduated second in our class, after all. You do still look quite immature, to be sure, but anyone with eyes can see you’re going to be an exquisite beauty! In just a few years, you’ll make a breathtaking bride, I just know it.”

Sashalia scowled—this time not at Darke’s teasing, but at the mention of her family.

“The only reason I was adopted was as insurance. After their son passed away, the Denan family needed an heir, but I’m an illegitimate child—and a half-breed, too. Once my adoptive mother had another child, I wasn’t needed anymore, so they shut me away in the academy. I’m hardly a Denan, really.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re of noble lineage! And what does it matter that you’re of elf blood? Why, Sir Gaius’s mother is half troll herself! You were both brought into honorable households, as well—such similarly beautiful stories!”

“...I knew that already.”

Gaius was the illegitimate child of the Earl of Grenwyk, of House Bargylus, and a half-troll female knight. After his mother’s death, House Bargylus had taken him in for a short while, but his father passed away soon after. In the ensuing disputes regarding inheritance, Gaius, as an illegitimate child, was banished; it wasn’t until long after that the royal couple had rescued him. “Beldarus” was the name of a long-dead branch of House Bargylus. The previous king had gifted Gaius with the surname as a reward for his acts of valor in the war.

“Pedigree! Intelligence! Beauty! All present and accounted for! And your heart is already his! I ask you, Lady Denan, could the situation be any more perfect?” Darke nodded in agreement with herself, arms crossed and one hand on her chin.

Sashalia simply stared at her for a while before her dispirited reply. “...Never mind that. What about you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Sashalia recalled the image of Darke clinging to Gaius, her finger trailing against his broad chest... Her cheeks flushed and her voice grew louder. “You keep saying ‘adoption’ this and ‘daughter’ that, but that’s not what you’re after, is it?!” .

“Ah? Hm—ah. Aha ha. Ha ha haaa. You needn’t worry about a thing, Lady Denan.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“We aren’t in direct competition, is what it means. Quite the opposite, really: we can work together.”

“And by that, you’re saying...?”

“Lady Denan, your ultimate goal is to become Sir Gaius’s wife, yes?”

“I don’t—that’s—I only respect him! As one knight to another!”

“Ha! If you insist. That particular assignment is not something I have my mind on.”

“Assignment?”

“So I do hope you can relax, as far as that’s concerned.”

“Relax?”

“What I’m after...is Sir Gaius’s virtue.”

“V-Virtue?”

“And so we’re both aware, I’m saying that he has never had any carnal knowledge whatsoever.”

“I-I-I-I know what the word means!” Sashalia sprang back to her feet, her face beet-red and her voice painfully shrill.

“Ha ha ha. Please, Lady Denan, do keep your voice down. The others will start to worry,” Darke cooed, her hands outstretched as though pacifying a startled horse. “That is why I propose a plan: the two of us will catch Sir Gaius in a trap!”

“A trap...?”

“Bind him up tight!”

“Bind him...?”

“Undo his magic seal of castration!”

“Undo...?”

“And after I’m through with him...”

“Through...?”

“You confess your love to him without delay!”

“Confess...?”

“And once I have thoroughly robbed him of his purity, the two of you are free to begin the rest of your lives in joyous matrimony.”

“Matrimony...?”

Darke took Sashalia’s hands in her own and made them applaud. Clap, clap, clap.

“—That’s never going to happen! I’ll never allow it to happen!!”

“No? You don’t like it? Aw, and I thought it was such a fine idea...all I ever studied in school was how to undo that spell.”

“So that’s why you were so close with the students from the Sorcerer’s Academy...” Sashalia heaved a sigh, as though exhausted. Darke, on the other hand, laughed brightly as she scratched the back of her head.

Sashalia had seen that gesture many times when they were classmates, but it was only then that she realized: Darke must have picked it up from Gaius.

“As long as I can be Sir Gaius’s first, I will be satisfied. With that as my only condition, I humbly pledge to you my assistance,” Darke said, another sly grin spreading across her face. This time, however, the look in her eyes sent a chill down Sashalia’s spine.

“I will be the one to pluck that black rose.”

＊

A flurry of distressed clucks rang out from the covered wagon. They came from cages that housed a small flock of chickens that they’d purchased in Ryburgh. In the crowded wagon bed, Darke and Emon sat practically face-to-face as they spoke, and the chickens behaved as though they couldn’t stand listening to the conversation any longer.

It was Sashalia who had realized the kobold village was supported solely by agriculture and hunting; they had no tradition of raising livestock, and so she’d suggested purchasing some chickens. They were relatively easy and inexpensive to raise, since they foraged for their own food. And above all else, they were the one breed of livestock that the kobolds could manage, given their size. Their eggs, while not enough to sustain the village, would still be a welcome addition to the food supply.

“...Ye know, sometimes me nethers itch so bad it does me ’ead in. They get this nasty red rash, and I think I seen pus down there once.”

“You don’t say?!”

“I got a li’l worried and did some readin’—it sounds a lot like somethin’ you’d get off a seedy wench or somethin’.”

“My, what a scholar you are!”

“I know I don’t look it, but I’ve actually never been wit’ a lady before. How’d a virgin catch somethin’ like that?!”

“Now, now, don’t fret. In all the world, there is nothing more splendid than an unplucked flower. You should be pleased with that!”

“I’m wonderin’, though, what if one o’ those dream demons got her ’ands on me? Ye know, a ‘suckybus’? They’re out there, right?”

“I’ve never seen or met one before, but I have heard the legends.” Tales did abound of several kinds of low-level demons said to visit people at night and take advantage of them; succubi are the female variety of that sort of demon.

“I’ve done me research and come tae a conclusion: one night, a suckybus must’ve done all kinds a’ nasty things tae me and gave me the itch wit’out me realizin’. And that means that I’ve actually already ’ad me first time, I just didn’t know it!”

“You have quite an active imagination, Emon,” Gaius chuckled as he drove the wagon.

“Don’t listen, Sir Gaius! If you get involved with those idiots, you’ll catch their stupidity!” Sashalia chided from beside him on the driver’s bench. Fog slept soundly in her lap.

“Ye don’t have tae be so mean! I’m serious!”

“That’s even worse!”

“Come on, now! Tell this li’l elfin lass to stop, sis!” he pleaded to Darke; it seemed that she’d won him over and earned herself the position of “older sister” in his eyes.

“Calm down, Emon.”

“But...”

“First of all, I regret to inform you that your theory is off the mark.”

“Why do you regret that?!” Sashalia shouted.

“There certainly are many venereal diseases that exhibit those symptoms. But the unhygienic conditions of life on the road are a more likely culprit. If left unchecked, accumulated dirt can cause disease-like symptoms. Isn’t that right, Sir Gaius?”

“Now that you mention it, we rarely bathed during the war. I myself once got rather—”

“Stop it, Darke! Don’t drag Sir Gaius into your filthy conversation!”

“Ooh, Lady Denan, you’re so very strict.”

“No, you’re just going too far!” Sashalia bristled as she shot back a reply.

Emon, the topic of the conversation, now looked incredibly crestfallen. His head hung listlessly. “So that mean’s I’m...I’m...”

“Still chaste, unfortunately for you. Might I suggest washing up daily from now on? Be sure to scrub until it sparkles, especially after use! That’s crucial.”

“...Alrigh’, sis, then that’s what I’ll do! Every day!”

“Indeed. So very glad you understand.” Darke smiled gently back at him. She was the very picture of a kind mentor, gently dispensing life wisdom to a young man...as long as one ignored the subject matter.

Sashalia, on the other hand, grumbled, “Honestly, I wish you two would just fall off the wagon, already...”

“Crivens, if I’d’ve known that, I woudn’ta used so much of my medicine...” Emon sighed.

“Medicine?” Darke tilted her head inquisitively.

Emon reached between the chicken cages to grab his bag, prompting a fresh wave of noisy clucking. He withdrew a small bottle and held it up to show the small amount of red liquid remaining. “This here’s magic medicine I brought from home.”

“Oh, is it a secret dwarven concoction?”

“Aye. It works on most anythin’, whether ye drink it or rub it right onto yer wounds. Yer flesh’ll start healin’ up before yer very eyes.”

“Oho? This liquid can do all that?”

Healing magic was not unheard of, but it did not usually have so many applications. Nor did everyone who had learned the magical arts know spells that could heal wounds and staunch the flow of blood. Such sorcery could only be wielded by certain, especially skilled casters, particularly when it came to internal injuries and illnesses, which were all the more difficult to treat. In such cases, magic alone was not enough; one needed suitable facilities as well as a working knowledge of medical science to deal with the complexities of the living body.

If this was not another of Emon’s boasts, it would mean that the liquid’s puissance was far more powerful than the work of sorcerers who “merely” manipulated magical elements and energies. It would also make dwarves the keepers of a priceless technology that reached into the mysterious realms of true magic, one never before seen in human lands.

“It’s true, I swear on me mum! I told ye dwarves don’t lie! Jus’ a wee bit o’ this on the ol’ rash and all the festerin’ stops.”

Sashalia couldn’t help but blurt out, “Do you know how valuable that is? And you’ve been using it...down there?!”

“I suppose it does make sense to apply a secret medicine to one’s secret areas,” Darke quipped.

“Wipe that look off your face!” Sashalia scolded Darke, who was indeed wearing a self-satisfied “I’ve just said something incredibly profound” smirk.

Just then, Fog’s eyes suddenly flew open. “What’s that...?”

“Oh, Fog,” Sashalia looked down at her. “I’m sorry we woke you!”

“Nah, you’re no worse than the ruckus I deal with at home. I don’t mean that.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Something stinks.”

Emon bent over to inspect his crotch, but Fog did not even notice the misunderstanding. Instead, she looked up at Gaius and whispered to him.

“I smell fire and smoke...and burning flesh.”